I knew the auditors were close because the dungeon started pretending.
The moss along the walls looked greener. The drip lines hit buckets instead of splashing wherever they felt like. A gravity trap that had been coughing all morning suddenly behaved, pulling dust straight down like it had read the manual.
The Mimic noticed too. It kept bumping into things that had been moved half an inch to the left. Thump. Thump. Confused.
"Don't worry," I told it. "They do this before inspections. Like hiding stains."
The auditors appeared at the bend in the corridor like they'd been summoned by paperwork. Three of them. Clean boots. Shiny helmets with no dents. Clipboards that hadn't been sweated on yet.
Marla walked with them, jaw tight. She saw me and did the smallest possible head shake.
Too late.
The lead auditor stopped. Looked at me. Looked at the Mimic.
The Mimic wagged its lid.
"That's a Mimic," the auditor said, like he'd found a typo.
"Yes," Marla said.
"It's… unattached," he said.
"It's walking," I said. "That's different."
He ignored me. "Why is it following the probationary hire."
Marla opened her mouth. Closed it. I felt the weight of the toolbelt dig in like it knew something was about to be taken.
"It picked him," she said finally. "Happens."
The auditor sniffed. "It shouldn't."
The Mimic crept closer to me, pressing its dented side into my boot. Thump.
"Does it respond to commands?" the auditor asked.
"No," I said. The Mimic sat. Immediately.
"…Usually," I added.
The auditor made a note. The pen scratched like a verdict.
"Demonstrate non-bonding," he said.
"I don't"
"Don't," Marla said softly.
The auditor pointed. "Tell it to go."
My mouth went dry. The dungeon hummed. The Mimic looked up at me, lid cracked, teeth quiet. Waiting.
"Go," I said.
It didn't move.
"See?" I said, too fast. "Non-bonded."
The auditor raised an eyebrow. "Again. Firm."
"Go," I said. Louder.
The Mimic took a step back. Thump. Another. Thump. It stopped, confused. The lid drooped.
My chest felt tight. Stupid. It's a trash can.
"Enough," Marla said. "You've seen compliance issues. Write them."
The auditor frowned but nodded. He scribbled. "We'll flag it. Temporary observation."
"Temporary is fine," Marla said.
They moved on. Clean boots receded. The dungeon relaxed a notch. Moss dulled. A drip missed its bucket.
I leaned against the wall and slid down until I was sitting. The bell rang like it was sorry.
The Mimic crept back. Thump-thump. It pressed against my knee.
"I told you to go," I said.
It licked my boot.
Marla came back. She crouched. "You okay?"
"No," I said. "But I will be."
She nodded. "That's the job."
She stood. "Observation means they'll watch the Mimic. You screw up, they take it."
I swallowed. "What if it screws up."
Marla's mouth twitched. "Then you learn fast."
She left me there with the flickering light and the weight of the belt. I stood, chalked the seam I'd been ignoring, pressed until the stone gave. The Save Point steadied.
The Mimic sat. Didn't move. Didn't eat.
"Good," I told it. "Stay weird."
The bell rang once. Audit trail logged.
Back to work.