Zhou Zhuang woke up—but it felt as though only his consciousness had awakened.
He tried his best to open his eyes, only to realize he couldn't control his body at all.
Even though he couldn't move, Zhou Zhuang seemed to see a sun—a sun formed from a towering, luminous tree.
But that "sun" was slowly sinking toward a far-off horizon. As it descended, scattered rays of afterglow spilled across the land where he stood.
When the last glimmer vanished, this world filled with cries of grief and the grinding of teeth—human and inhuman screams echoing all around.
A faint, scorching wind carried a choking stench of blood.
Decadent, sinking music stroked at the heartstrings of whoever entered, coaxing them into ruin.
Then a bright moon appeared overhead.
Zhou Zhuang realized his eyes were now open.
Under silver moonlight, all he could see was a gray, washed-out earth and a sky laced with blood-red veins.
Who am I?
He turned that question over in his head.
And under the moon, he began walking forward without purpose.
In this scenery—unchanging, lifeless—he remembered his name.
"My name is Zhou Zhuang."
Where is this?
A new question formed.
He changed direction and continued walking, because Zhou Zhuang knew the path he'd been taking would not yield an answer.
A new direction brought new things.
A road appeared beneath his feet without him knowing when it had formed.
At a fork in the road stood a twisted signpost.
And here and there—one or two human silhouettes traveling the same way he was.
Yet no matter how many forks there were, no matter how warped the signposts became, Zhou Zhuang always chose his direction without hesitation.
The silhouettes appeared, vanished.
They met, separated.
They stood, then fell.
Zhou Zhuang stopped at the end of the road.
This was inside the Well.
He remembered where he was.
Looking at the figures still moving forward, Zhou Zhuang understood that his road ended here.
Now he had to seek the answer to his final question.
What do I need to do?
In the distance, in another direction, the sky was packed with storm clouds.
Zhou Zhuang knew the last stretch of the journey would be unveiled in the storm.
When he stepped toward it, the moon was swallowed by cloud.
In the pitch-black Well, only flashes of lightning lit his way.
As he went deeper, furious wind and heavy rain began to fall.
In the darkness, whispering voices circled him again.
Annoying things from his life began replaying in his mind.
With them came a swelling sense of power—as if he were the world's only tyrant.
The fire in his heart ignited, like the never-extinguishing flames of hell.
Rotting, obscene scenes unfolded before his eyes, inviting him into a feast of flesh and desire.
In that twisted banquet, he could satisfy the bottomless cravings inside him.
The hunger of the body urged him onward—urging him to be filled.
Then fatigue rose from within, demanding rest.
Though it was weaker than the other two, it smothered rage and dampened desire.
It persuaded him to calm the pulse of life itself: Stop walking. Stop moving. Just rest. Just be safe for a moment.
Hunger gnawed at his senses.
Everything around him began to look delicious.
Even he himself seemed to emit a tempting aroma.
The saliva in his mouth became the sweetest drink in the world—he only needed to swallow to taste a blissful intoxication.
He stared at what others possessed, and jealousy sprouted.
Why does he have something I don't? Why is what I have worse? What he has should belong to me! No—others aren't worthy of sharing anything with me. I was born the highest of all!
The whispers of original sin looped by his ear.
Zhou Zhuang said nothing—only continued forward, repeating the same mechanical motions.
Gradually, the whispers ended.
All that remained was the echo of rain striking the ground.
"I've never seen another human consciousness in here before. My name is [ ]."
Zhou Zhuang stared at the woman who had appeared before him at some unknown moment.
Her voice felt strangely familiar.
"Hiss—" He tried to speak, to question her, but for some reason, no sound came out at all.
"Don't be nervous. Just think of me as your considerate senior."
"May I travel with you for a while?"
Although he couldn't see her face, Zhou Zhuang felt like she was smiling.
He neither agreed nor refused.
He simply continued walking in the same direction.
The woman immediately stepped forward and followed him.
…
"Strange, Angela. This time, the Manager actually deviated from his path."
Binah stared at the instrument readouts in surprise, then glanced at Zhou Zhuang lying on the bed.
"How interesting."
"Because his gaze didn't linger, the lost butterfly noticed this sweet, fragrant garden."
"Do we need to forcibly bring him back up?"
"No." Angela's reply was calm. "Trust the Manager."
"The butterfly's wingbeat merely brought her existence here."
"The company likes an existence that can bring the Manager something familiar."
…
All along the way, Zhou Zhuang kept moving forward.
The woman at his side kept asking questions.
But for reasons unknown, Zhou Zhuang felt the same as the first time they met:
Her speech always seemed to be missing something crucial in the key parts—as if a section of her words would simply vanish.
Unable to stand someone speaking in "missing fragments" forever, Zhou Zhuang finally asked about her origins.
The woman—[ ]—seemed surprised he would ask.
But she still answered sincerely.
From their conversation, Zhou Zhuang learned that [ ] had once been an ambitious progressive youth.
Along with a childhood friend who shared her ideals, she gave speeches in a big city and recruited a group of like-minded young people.
In unseen corners, the small group formed a small research institute and conducted experiments.
But later, because of a research bottleneck—and then sacrifices made by members afterward—she couldn't bear the pressure and chose to escape.
Though Zhou Zhuang still hadn't heard everything clearly, at least this time he caught the overall outline.
"I didn't expect you to be such a big shot, Senior."
"Unlike me—I'm just an ordinary person."
"As for your final choice… honestly, there's nothing 'wrong' with it."
"It just made things easier for you, while hurting the people who trusted you."
"Still… if it were me, I might have chosen to run away too."
"After all, other people's expectations are too heavy. I can't carry them."
After sharing his feelings, Zhou Zhuang sensed that he'd walked far enough.
He stopped and looked at the senior who had strolled beside him.
"Alright, Senior. My endpoint is here."
"I don't know where you're going, but our journey together ends now."
"Some of what you said earlier was a bit sharp—but sorry, I don't have that many troubles for you to 'break my defense.'"
"Until next time… if there even is a next time."
After saying goodbye, Zhou Zhuang stepped backward—
And the sensation hit like he'd stepped into empty air: weightlessness, free fall.
"Huff… huff…"
He jolted awake like someone ripped out of a nightmare.
He turned his head, scanning the surroundings, only to find the same unfamiliar environment.
Then he saw two familiar figures: Angela and Binah.
Only then did he begin to relax.
"How was it, Manager?" Binah looked at him with a hint of teasing. "Your first time diving into the Well to salvage?"
"Didn't feel like anything."
"Wait—have I already gone down into the Well?"
Zhou Zhuang was confused.
From his perspective, it was like he'd simply fallen asleep and then abruptly awakened—yet the salvage seemed to be finished.
"Yes, Manager." Angela confirmed. "This mission has concluded successfully."
"You have retrieved three Abnormality eggs from the Well."
"The specifics will be left for you to judge once work begins tomorrow."
"…Then what am I supposed to do now?"
"The Manager may go resolve his physiological needs."
As soon as Angela finished speaking, a loud gurgle came from Zhou Zhuang's stomach.
-------
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