"Fuuuck!"
Zhou Zhuang jolted upright in bed and blurted out the vulgarity—then immediately panicked about his image and glanced downward.
Thank god. Everything was still properly on.
He let out a breath, but the moment he remembered what had happened in the "dream," his anger shot right back up.
"Goddamn it… I still didn't snag that free labor! I finally ran into that sin-soaked guy, and I still couldn't turn him into my cheat-code grandpa. Next time I see him, I'm making sure he leaves with an extra accessory hanging off his leg!"
"Manager, did someone offend you?" a familiar female voice asked from inside the room. "Why would you want him to have an extra accessory hanging off his leg?"
Zhou Zhuang's whole body went stiff.
He turned toward the sound on his left.
Not far from his blankets, Angela was standing there quietly. If she hadn't spoken just now, he wouldn't even have realized there was another person in his room.
"A-Angela… ahaha, you're up early."
"No, Manager," Angela replied. "You're up too late."
"Huh?"
Zhou Zhuang's heart dropped. He thought he'd missed the clock-in time. He yanked the blanket off, grabbed the clothes he'd taken off before bed, and threw them on in a frantic mess.
"What time is it?"
The room was lit only by a faint glow on the walls, so he picked up his phone to check. The screen read 5:00 AM.
Eliminating the possibilities of an uncalibrated clock and some absurd company schedule, Zhou Zhuang came to the conclusion that Angela was probably joking.
Still—just in case—he asked.
"Uh… Angela. What time do we clock in?"
"Eight o'clock. Why?"
"Then what do you mean I'm late?! It's only—only five!"
He shook his head, exasperated, then crossed his hands on his thighs and propped his forehead on them.
"…Sigh. The golden window for going back to sleep is already gone. Fine. First day on the job—I'll show up early and leave a good impression."
His natural-born virtue kicked in, and within seconds he'd talked himself into it.
He looked at Angela standing there with perfect posture and suddenly remembered a bunch of classic "morning-after" scenes.
He swallowed, then—trembling slightly—asked the question he was terrified of asking.
"Angela… you. I mean—you. When you came in… did you see anything… indecent?"
"Haha… it's fine, I'm just asking."
Angela smiled.
To Zhou Zhuang, that smile was more horrifying than four half-naked muscle-bound thugs walking toward him at the same time.
Angela opened her mouth and said the exact words he never wanted to hear.
"Manager, do you mean the blanket you kicked open… and your pants halfway pulled down?"
At that moment, Zhou Zhuang felt like his soul had been blown out of his body, leaving nothing behind but an empty shell.
He performed the "defeated forward bend," then went to wash up like a man serving a life sentence.
Warm, amber lighting softened the corridor's chill—yet no light, no matter how warm, could illuminate Zhou Zhuang's pitch-black, hollow heart after that social death.
He shuffled toward the cafeteria like an old man halfway into the grave, dry limbs dragging, eyes empty and fixed on the floor.
In the wake of this incident, Zhou Zhuang felt his heart had dried up completely—no more joy, no more sorrow, just ash.
He stole a subtle glance at Angela walking beside him and sighed silently.
I finally managed to toughen up my pure, fragile little heart from all that close contact with Angela… and then this happens first thing in the morning.
Now I'm too embarrassed to even talk to her again.
And when that memory floated back up, the calm he'd forced onto himself instantly unraveled. His face heated up again, cheeks burning.
"Manager," Angela said, breaking the awkwardness before he could drown in it, "you don't need to feel embarrassed about what happened this morning."
Zhou Zhuang was still struggling to figure out how to bury his shame permanently when Angela calmly delivered something far more explosive:
"To me, every part of your body is already completely familiar."
In that instant, the morning's incident didn't even feel like the main problem anymore.
Zhou Zhuang stammered, "W-when did that happen? Why don't I remember anything?"
"Of course you don't remember," Angela replied. "It happened when you were diving to retrieve Abnormalities."
"To allow you to descend properly, everything external on your body must be removed."
"That's when it happened. And yes—your clothing was removed and put back on by me, personally."
Zhou Zhuang's eyes went wide.
"…So that means even Binah saw it too?!"
"…Yes, Manager."
Angela sounded mildly speechless at where his priorities had landed, but she still answered.
"…Sigh. Fine. Whatever."
What else could he do? Pretend it never happened? Act like being an ostrich would erase reality?
Please. He'd have better odds ripping the roof off and calling it a "new window."
They'd reached the cafeteria. Zhou Zhuang checked his stomach—yep, basically empty.
"Let's eat."
He stepped inside and discovered his employees were already eating.
Zhou Zhuang paused and looked at Faust and Anna's group. Then he leaned toward Angela and whispered:
"I didn't think City people got up this early. It's barely after five, and there's still ages before work starts. They're insane… just a bunch of tryhard grinders."
In the distance, Anna and the others spotted him. They immediately stood and greeted him loudly.
"Good morning, Manager!"
Zhou Zhuang smiled and nodded, signaling them to sit and keep eating.
Then—without hesitation—he grabbed Angela's hand and practically speed-walked toward the same service window he'd eaten at yesterday noon.
Watching their Manager retreat like he was fleeing a battlefield, Lain looked worried.
"Boss… did we piss him off yesterday or something? Every time we greet him, he bolts away like his life depends on it."
Anna shook her head—she didn't know either.
But Faust, who had become Anna's roommate, spoke up to explain.
"Faust believes you have not offended the Manager."
"Based on Faust's observation, the Manager is not accustomed to gratitude expressed with excessive enthusiasm."
"Faust believes you may learn from Faust's manner of speaking to the Manager: concise, direct."
Lain and Sif glanced at each other, trying to imagine themselves speaking like Faust.
Their brains failed to render the image—until, in the corner of their minds, the other guy started imitating Faust's delivery.
Both of them immediately felt nauseated.
"All right, you two clowns," Anna said, smacking the backs of their heads hard. "Hurry up and eat. Department Head Malkuth has something to say to us."
…
They entered the same window as yesterday.
As the perspective shifted, they were once again in that familiar restaurant—except this time it wasn't packed with shadowy figures like it had been at noon.
Morning here was quiet.
Zhou Zhuang looked around at the sparsely populated room and strode straight up to the counter.
The menu clearly had breakfast options. He scanned the selections.
This place is ridiculous… they have everything. Every style, every staple food.
Decision made, he turned to Angela.
"Angela, what do you want? You haven't eaten yet either, right?"
"The same as you, Manager."
"You can handle noodles?"
"Anything you order is acceptable."
Zhou Zhuang nodded, then tapped the little bell on the counter. The same cashier girl from yesterday walked out from the back.
He cleared his throat.
"Hello. Two bowls of Liu Association Crossing-the-Bridge Rice Noodles, dining in. Thanks. And the payment—"
"I'll handle it, Manager," Angela said, stepping forward.
"Certainly. The total is *****. Thank you for your purchase."
Zhou Zhuang watched Angela pay, then took his seat at the same table as yesterday.
....
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