To get to the basement, you hit the elevator button. But if you want to descend into the bottomless pit of this schizophrenic mind, you have to... sleep.

  This "synchronized sleeping" procedure sounds indescribably stupid. Three grown men lie stacked on the cold snow, trying to force their brains to shut down while their teeth are still chattering.

  "Hey Reo," I mutter, eyes shut tight but my brain still firing rapidly. "Since we are making the trip, should I find a cage or a latrine to lock that guy up in? Kill two birds with one stone, save me the eyesore."

  "Can you stop being a glutton for punishment?" Reo groans from beside me. "Are we here to save the kid Kaito or to torture ourselves? Focus on the job."

  Pop.

  A thick, harsh scent of artificial sweetener rushes straight to my brain, strangling my lungs.

  "Urgh..."

  I pinch my nose, launching myself high into the air, trying to escape that nauseatingly cheap fragrance.

  Revealed beneath my feet is a sea of golden Nectar, viscous and bubbling like a forgotten pot of soup.

  That damn elixir I hate with a passion. Turns out my rotten subconscious has been secretly hoarding an entire ocean of this disgusting sugar water at the bottom.

  "Is this Layer 3?" I squint, my stomach churning. "Why does it look like vomit?"

  This place is truly an insult to architecture and art. It looks no different from the works of some money-laundering painter who splashes paint randomly on a canvas, slaps a million-dollar price tag on it, and calls it "contemporary art".

  Giant coffee machines sprout from mountains made of tattered report papers. They shake violently, their nozzles spewing rainbow-colored liquid that drips into the Nectar river below.

  In the sky, bright red stamps are flapping their wings like hungry crows, their collision sounds creating a maddening clatter that hurts the ears.

  "What is this mess?"

  I shudder, my tail fur bristling. After hundreds of years of ignoring it, who would have thought that down here it would degenerate into nothing more than an office garbage dump.

  While I am busy criticizing my own trashed aesthetic sense, a familiar white streak catches my eye.

  Down there, on the giant floating piles of files, a white fox is running for his life.

  His Kariginu is stained with mud and covered in that sticky sugar water. Tail tucked tight between his legs, ears pressed against his skull, he runs and stumbles, looking as pathetic as a stray dog being chased away.

  And the thing hunting him looks absolutely ridiculous: trash cans.

  Dozens of metal trash cans have sprouted two spindly legs, chasing hot on his heels. The lids flap open and shut like gaping mouths, with jagged teeth made of rusty paperclips and broken ballpoint pens.

  "Help!!! Don't eat me!!!" Snow-Itsuki screams, his voice cracking.

  I hover above, arms crossed, looking down at this tragicomedy. Inside, I can't help but feel annoyed.

  The urge to dive down and punch him rises again. But deep down, something else surges up, even more uncomfortable than anger. The interrupting thought makes me feel a bit guilty, mixed with a vague fear.

  What this society needs is a useful and professional employee. Otherwise, what do I exist for? No one needs a hollow person with no ambition and no purpose. He is simply there, forcing me to question whether I should just quit my job, retire to the mountains to live in peace, and wait to fade away to clear the debt.

  Without me, this world wouldn't be much different. But without him constantly lounging around, my life would have been much happier. At least I wouldn't be tortured by these random, nonsensical thoughts.

  Reo lands beside me, his floral shirt flapping, completely out of place in this artistic junkyard. He glances at the white fox being bitten on the butt by a giant trash can below, then turns to look at me as if looking at a cold-blooded creature.

  "Enjoying the show?" He clicks his tongue, adjusting his sunglasses. "Watching yourself being tortured without batting an eye, I'm starting to respect your callousness."

  "Screw him," I reply curtly, eyes still scanning around. "See the kid yet?"

  "Yeah. 3 o'clock direction," Reo points toward the horizon, where black clouds are swirling into a giant spiral, swallowing even the paper mountains. "The stench of negativity is reeking worse than a septic tank on a hot day. The kid is definitely in the eye of the storm."

  "Let's go."

  I flick my hand. An invisible divine force grabs the collar of the screaming Snow-Itsuki below, lifting him up like a kitten, then drags him trailing behind us toward the black clouds.

  The closer we get, the heavier the pressure on my chest. The wind screams in my ears like metal grinding against metal.

  Kaito is right there, but his condition is a bit unsightly. Who would have thought the brat was actually this entire storm?

  Fragments of memory combined with the rage of justice are spinning wildly, grinding everything around into fine dust, making the air uncomfortably suffocating.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "It's a total wreck," Reo squints, having to hastily erect a thin shield to keep his floral shirt from blowing away. "How do we save him, boss? Or should we prepare the body bag?"

  "He can be saved," I look at the storm furiously plowing the earth. "But we have to be a little ruthless."

  No sooner said than done, I swing my arm. The poor white fox is thrown like a bag of garbage, flying straight into the face of the storm.

  "Aaaaaahhh!!!"

  Snow-Itsuki's desperate scream is swallowed by the wind. But the storm seems to sniff the "scent" of the trouble source. It pauses for a beat, then changes direction, roaring as it chases the fox like a starving beast.

  "Wow," Reo raises an eyebrow, mocking. "So you do know how to feel pain for yourself?"

  "Did you hit your head?" I glare at him. "I said ruthless meaning ruthless to Kaito over there."

  "Huh?" Reo is dumbfounded.

  I don't bother explaining. My hands begin to form seals. Long fingers interlace, claws clicking together with a crisp, decisive sound.

  RUMBLE!

  The ground beneath our feet shakes as if an earth dragon just turned over. The paper mountains, the sticky Nectar sea, and the bizarre coffee machines suddenly twist, crushed by an invisible force and then erased.

  From the void, pillars of pure white marble rise majestically, piercing the filthy ground. Arched stands appear, encircling the storm, forcing it into a structure.

  The artistic junkyard dissolves into nothingness like passing clouds. Rising in its place is a giant Colosseum the size of a five-star stadium.

  "Holy..." Reo looks around, jaw dropping. "Do you plan to beat him until he wakes up?"

  The dust storm, now confined within the arena, has shrunk in size but still growls aggressively, spinning in the center of the stage.

  "Setting the stage," I reply, leisurely adjusting my tie and smoothing my coat. "The kid's mind is now only thinking about executing justice. To make him manifest, we have to give him a moral anchor to satisfy his ego first."

  "Cast distribution as follows: I will be the Great Villain. The cruel, cold-blooded antagonist, the scum of society. That crybaby alter ego will be the pitiful Victim needing salvation. And Kaito..."

  I look at the storm slowly coalescing into a blurry figure, hand gripping a gavel of judgment.

  "...He will be the Judge. The Executioner of Justice."

  Reo swallows hard. Gulp. "What about me?"

  "You?" I turn to the teacher in the flashy floral shirt. "Your role is the most important. Play the Saint."

  "Saint... The Saint?" Reo points at his face, then down at his rainbow shorts. "With this 'beach bum' interface?"

  "Focus your will," I snap my fingers. Snap. "Transform to look as transcendent and dignified as possible. Don't ruin the image of an enlightened master."

  "Your mission is simply to stand there, waiting for the time to be ripe."

  "Waiting for what?"

  "Just wait there, until he understands that stupidity plus enthusiasm equals destruction, then jump in and preach."

  The dust storm stops spinning, spitting out a high school boy panting in the center of the raised platform. Kaito stands there, hair standing on end, pointing straight at my face as if I just stole his breakfast money.

  "You..." The boy screams, his voice cracking with frustration. "Look at yourself! Torturing your own self to this extent, is that acceptable to you? Where is your conscience?"

  I lean back against the cold stone pillar, picking my ear.

  "Conscience?" I sneer. "In this dump, there is no such luxury. Kid, stop preaching textbook morals. This is a mental landfill, not a Civics class."

  Kaito doesn't back down. He jumps off the podium, rushing to shield Snow-Itsuki who is flattened like a rag pile.

  "Bullshit! You're just making excuses!" He yells in my face, spittle flying. "Look at him! He is this pathetic and you still kicked him! You are a dictator! A bully!"

  I shrug, tapping my claws on my suit sleeve. "So what? What do you want now? Make me kneel and apologize to this useless pile?"

  "Return justice to him!" The boy's eyes are red. "He also needs to live! To be respected! If you don't reconcile with your 'inner child', what right do you have to fight Gakai? What do you have to protect the world?"

  "Tsk."

  I click my tongue. This brat watches too many movies and his brain has rotted. Does he think just yelling "The Power of Friendship" will automatically turn everything into rainbows?

  But... it is too noisy.

  "Fine, fine." I wave my hand, turning to the white fox trembling on the ground. "Hey, loser. Heard what the Messiah said? Now what do you want? Want to rule the world? Want unparalleled power? Or want to be hugged and comforted?"

  Snow-Itsuki slowly lifts his head. His teary smoky purple eyes look at me, then at Kaito. He takes a breath, his voice trembling but despicably sincere:

  "I... I want you to quit."

  Kaito freezes.

  "Come back here and sleep with me," he pleads, reaching out to grab my pant leg. "Don't go to work anymore. Let's just lie here, ignore the world collapsing... okay?"

  I turn to Kaito, smirking, revealing a sharp fang.

  "Hear that clearly, little buddy?"

  Kaito's face goes blank. But the stubbornness of puberty is no joke.

  "Then... then you have to find a way to balance it!" He stammers, trying to salvage his logic. "Why be so extreme? You work yourself half to death just to avoid him! You are afraid to see your own weakness!"

  "I am me! Do you want me to split myself in half?" I snap.

  "Isn't he you?" Kaito screams, voice cracking. "Why do you deny him? Why don't you dare admit that you also want to rest?"

  I fall silent. My breath comes out as white smoke. A weary exhaustion seeps into every muscle fiber.

  "Fine," I lower my voice. "You win. I'll try."

  "Come on," I force a twisted smile toward Snow-Itsuki. "Peace, okay?"

  Kaito sighs in relief, his face relaxing, eyes sparkling with hope for a happy ending like in a comic book.

  But Snow-Itsuki does not.

  As soon as he sees me reach out, his pupils contract to pinpricks. He screams in terror, clawing the ground to back away as if seeing a ghost.

  "No! Don't! Don't touch me!"

  And then... that scent hits. The distinct, overpowering perfume I haven't had the chance to smell again in over a hundred years. It brings with it some not-so-pleasant memories and images.

  Not just perfume, but also the smell of sandalwood mixed with expensive musk, rushing straight into my nose, strangling my lungs.

  Click.

  The white marble world shatters, giving way to walls covered in blinding gold velvet. Brilliant crystal chandeliers shine down, burning the retina.

  A figure sitting on a towering armchair appears before me.

  He possesses golden hair, meticulously groomed strand by strand. His suit is perfectly tailored, not a single wrinkle. His face is handsome, benevolent, always wearing a fake gentle smile. The feeling this time is so real, even more than the image that appeared during the drinking session with Zhen Shan the other day.

  "Itsuki," his voice rings out evenly. "This month... the numbers aren't very pretty, are they?"

  I open my mouth, wanting to say something, but my throat is stiff. Cold sweat pours out like a bath, soaking the back of my shirt.

  "HR is considering," his long finger taps on the termination notice. "You are on the chopping block."

  "WAHHH!!!"

  Behind him, Snow-Itsuki bursts into sobbing tears, sounding like the cry of an animal cornered in a slaughterhouse.

  As for me... I can't breathe anymore. It feels like someone poured concrete into my lungs. Now all reason has completely vanished, leaving only the most primal fear to rise up.

  The blond man stands up, stepping closer. Shiny leather shoes stop right in front of me. He leans down, whispering into my ear.

  "You know, little fox," he whispers. "If you get a black mark now... don't dream of finding a job later."

  My knees turn to jelly, my whole body shaking like a leaf.

  "Please..." I wheeze, voice broken. "Don't... I will work... I will be diligent... just give me a chance"

  "I know you try very hard too," he chuckles softly. "I always have ways to help diligent, polite employees."

  He stuffs a stiff business card into my breast pocket.

  "Tonight. After hours."

  "We will have a private training session to improve your performance, remember to be on time."

  The image of the man dissolves into the void, leaving me prostrate on the cold arena floor.