Cornered like rats in a collapsing drainpipe, the air thick with the stench of their own fear and the cloying, metallic tang that clung to the… *thing* blocking their only way back.
It hadn't moved, not really. Just shifted, a subtle rearrangement of its impossible, glistening mass. Was that a face pressed into the dark surface? Lie Qiye squeezed his eyes shut, then forced them open again. Didn't matter. Seeing it, not seeing it – the terror was absolute.
Ms. Wang stood rigid, her earlier attempts at command dissolved into a statue of pure dread. Xiao Liu was practically vibrating beside him, stifling sobs against her own hand. Her knuckles were white.
And Manager Zhou… oh, Manager Zhou was coming apart at the seams.
He'd been muttering for minutes, nonsensical fragments about deadlines and quarterly reports, his eyes darting wildly around the dead-end corridor. The peeling, water-stained mural opposite them seemed to draw his frantic gaze. It depicted a writhing knot of figures, their limbs tangled in an Escher-esque nightmare.
"No… no, this isn't right," he whispered, his voice raspy. "This is… a mistake. A system error." He took a shuffling step back, bumping into the wall.
Lie Qiye flinched. Any sudden movement felt like suicide. "Manager Zhou, stay calm," Ms. Wang managed, her voice thin as spider silk.
"Calm?" Zhou laughed, a high-pitched, brittle sound that cracked in the heavy silence. "Calm? Look where we are! Look what happened to Zhang Wei! What *is* that thing?" He gestured vaguely towards the corridor's entrance, towards the lurking darkness.
His eyes fixed back on the mural, on the painted suffering. "It's the walls… they're watching. Always watching." His breath hitched. "Trapped… like them." He pointed a trembling finger at the painted figures.
Lie Qiye felt a cold dread that had nothing to do with the creature down the hall. Zhou was losing it, spiraling down into the madness this place seemed to breed.
"Manager Zhou, please," Lie Qiye started, trying to keep his own voice even. "We need to think."
"Think?" Zhou shrieked, whirling on him. "Think our way out of *this*? There IS no way out! Don't you get it? It's a game! A sick joke!" His face was contorted, slick with sweat despite the chill.
He turned back to the mural, his gaze locking onto one particularly grotesque figure, seemingly trying to claw its way out of the plaster. "Stuck! All of us! Just paint on a wall!"
And then, with a strangled roar that was more animal than human, he lunged.
Not towards the exit. Not towards them. Towards the wall.
His fist, surprisingly solid for a man who spent his days behind a desk, slammed into the painted figure's face.
The sound wasn't the dull thud of flesh on plaster Lie Qiye expected. It was sharper. A *crack*. Like striking hollow wood, or brittle stone.
Dust and flakes of ancient paint rained down.
Manager Zhou staggered back, clutching his knuckles, a raw sob tearing from his throat. He stared at his hand, then at the wall, confusion warring with hysteria on his face.
Where his fist had landed, the mural was shattered. Not just chipped paint, but broken through. A ragged, dark opening, roughly the size of a man's torso, gaped in the wall.
***
Silence descended again, heavier than before, broken only by Zhou's ragged breathing. Everyone stared at the hole.
Darkness lay beyond it. Not the absolute, consuming darkness of the creature, but a deep, dusty blackness that swallowed light.
Lie Qiye's heart hammered against his ribs. An opening. An actual, physical opening. Not a door, not an exit, but… something else.
Ms. Wang was the first to react, her paralysis breaking. She took a hesitant step closer, peering at the jagged edges of the hole.
"What… what is that?" Xiao Liu whispered, her voice trembling.
Lie Qiye edged forward too, drawn by a desperate, irrational flicker of hope. Could this be it? A way out? Or just another layer of the trap?
He peered into the darkness. It smelled different in there – stale, like undisturbed dust and decaying paper, maybe a hint of mildew. It was utterly black.
Behind them, a low, wet dragging sound echoed faintly from the corridor. The sound of the creature. Shifting? Moving closer?
Panic flared anew, sharp and cold.
"We have to go," Ms. Wang said, her voice suddenly firm, decisive. "Now. In there." She pointed at the hole.
Manager Zhou looked from the hole to the corridor entrance, his eyes wide with terror. He seemed unable to process, caught between two horrors.
"In… in there?" Xiao Liu stammered. "But we don't know what's in there!"
"We know what's *out here*," Lie Qiye said grimly, the dragging sound seeming infinitesimally louder now. A low, guttural click punctuated the air.
That decided it. Fear of the known, however monstrous, was momentarily eclipsed by the immediate, slithering threat behind them.
"Go!" Ms. Wang urged, pushing Xiao Liu towards the opening. "Quickly!"
Xiao Liu whimpered but scrambled towards the hole, needing only a little boost from Ms. Wang to clamber through the rough opening. She disappeared into the blackness.
Ms. Wang turned to Manager Zhou. "Manager, come on!"
Zhou stared blankly at the hole, then back down the corridor. He shook his head, muttering, "No escape… only the maze…"
Another drag, closer this time. A shadow seemed to deepen at the corridor's mouth.
"Damn it, Zhou!" Lie Qiye grabbed his arm. "Move!" He practically shoved the older man towards the opening.
Zhou stumbled, his eyes still wide and unfocused, but instinct seemed to take over. He clumsily pulled himself up and through the hole, his suit jacket catching momentarily on a jagged piece of plaster before tearing free.
Ms. Wang went next, agile and quick, disappearing after the manager.
Lie Qiye hesitated for a fraction of a second, casting one last terrified glance down the corridor. The darkness there felt… thicker. Pregnant with menace. He could almost feel eyes on him.
He scrambled forward, scraping his hands on the rough edges of the break, and tumbled through into the unknown.
***
He landed awkwardly on a dusty floor, the impact jarring his teeth. He coughed, the air thick with particles that tasted ancient and unpleasant.
Darkness. Almost total. But not quite.
Faint, almost imperceptible light filtered in from somewhere high above, perhaps cracks in the ceiling, illuminating swirling dust motes like ghostly constellations. It wasn't enough to see clearly, but enough to make out shapes.
They were in a room. Not large, but cluttered. Boxes. Stacks upon stacks of cardboard boxes, reaching towards the unseen ceiling, forming precarious towers and narrow canyons between them.
The air was still, heavy with the smell of old paper, dust, and something else… a faint, dry, almost chemical scent underneath.
Xiao Liu was huddled near the opening, crying silently. Manager Zhou was slumped against a stack of boxes, his head in his hands, rocking slightly. Ms. Wang stood near the center, turning slowly, trying to pierce the gloom.
"Is… is everyone okay?" Ms. Wang asked, her voice hushed, absorbed by the oppressive silence and the sheer volume of clutter.
Lie Qiye pushed himself up, brushing dust from his clothes. "I think so," he whispered back. His eyes scanned the periphery, adjusting to the dimness.
Besides the boxes, he could make out the faint outlines of doors. Not just one, but several, set into the walls between the towering stacks. Dark, featureless rectangles promising… what? More corridors? More rooms? More dead ends?
The hole they'd entered through looked impossibly small from this side, a jagged wound in a wall otherwise obscured by boxes.
It felt like a storage room. An archive, maybe. Forgotten, neglected. But the number of doors felt wrong. Why would a simple storage space need so many exits? Or entrances?
The low hum, the one that had permeated the rest of the building, seemed fainter here, muffled by the sheer mass of paper and cardboard. But it was still present, a subliminal thrum beneath the silence.
"Where… where are we?" Xiao Liu asked, her voice barely audible.
Lie Qiye looked around at the oppressive stacks, the shadowed doorways, the dust motes dancing in the ghost light. It didn't feel like salvation.
It felt like they'd just traded one cage for another. A dusty, cluttered, perhaps even more confusing cage.
"I don't know," Lie Qiye admitted, the words tasting like dust in his mouth. "But… maybe we're safer here? For now?"
The silence that followed wasn't comforting. It was watchful. Expectant.
Safer? Lie Qiye wasn't so sure. The silence felt different here. Not empty, but… listening. Like the dust motes weren't just dancing, they were observing.
Ms. Wang seemed to share his unease. She took a slow breath, her gaze sweeping across the shadowed stacks. "Okay. Okay, we're… somewhere else. That's something." Her voice was tight, trying to project confidence she clearly didn't feel.
She glanced back at the ragged hole they'd crawled through. "Can we block that? Just in case?"
Lie Qiye looked too. The wall around the hole seemed solid enough, despite the break. "Maybe. With some of these boxes?" He gestured towards the nearest teetering pile.
It seemed like a monumental task in the near-darkness, shifting heavy, dust-laden cardboard. And what good would it do? If that *thing* wanted in, would a few boxes stop it?
Still, doing *something* felt better than cowering. "Let's try," he said, moving towards a stack that looked slightly less precarious than the others.
Ms. Wang nodded, joining him. Even Xiao Liu, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, hesitantly approached, looking small and lost amidst the towering clutter.
Manager Zhou remained slumped against his chosen stack, unresponsive. Lie Qiye spared him a worried glance. The man looked utterly broken, vacant. Maybe it was better he stayed put, rather than risk another outburst.
Moving the boxes was harder than it looked. They were heavy, awkward, and coated in a thick layer of grime that clung to their hands and clothes. The cardboard felt strangely dense, almost petrified.
They managed to wrestle three large boxes in front of the opening, creating a flimsy barricade. It wouldn't stop a determined assault, but it blocked the view back into the corridor, and maybe, just maybe, muffled any sounds they made.
It was a small comfort, but Lie Qiye clung to it.
With the immediate task done, the oppressive silence returned, amplifying the sound of their own breathing, the faint thrum from beyond the walls, and the dry rustle of disturbed dust.
"So… what now?" Xiao Liu whispered, hugging herself. "Which door do we try?" She looked nervously at the dark rectangles scattered around the room's perimeter.
Lie Qiye followed her gaze. There were at least four he could make out, maybe more hidden behind the stacks. Each one looked identical – plain, dark wood, no handles, no markings.
"Hold on," Ms. Wang said, her eyes narrowed in thought. "Before we go rushing into another corridor… what *is* this place?" She gestured around at the boxes.
"Looks like old records," Lie Qiye offered, rubbing dust from the side of one box. Faded characters were stenciled on it, but they were smeared and illegible in the dim light.
"Maybe there's something useful in here?" Ms. Wang mused, tapping a finger against a box lid. "Supplies? Information? A map?" The last word hung in the air, heavy with desperate hope.
A map. Could it be that simple? Lie Qiye doubted it. Nothing about this place felt simple. But the alternative was blindly choosing a door and hoping for the best.
"It's worth a look," he agreed. "Better than charging into the unknown again."
Xiao Liu nodded vigorously. "Yes. Let's look. Maybe… maybe there's water? Or food?" Her voice cracked on the last word.
The thought hadn't even occurred to Lie Qiye, overshadowed by the immediate terror. But she was right. How long had they been here? Hours? It felt like days. Thirst was a dull ache in the back of his throat.
"Okay," Ms. Wang said, taking charge again. "Let's search. Carefully. Don't knock anything over."
They started opening boxes. The lids were often sealed shut with age and grime, requiring them to pry them open, sending clouds of choking dust into the air. Inside, most contained exactly what Lie Qiye expected: files. Stacks and stacks of brittle, yellowed paper covered in dense text or complex, meaningless diagrams. Some crumbled to dust the moment they were touched.
It was slow, tedious work, made harder by the gloom. Their hands became coated in filth. The air grew thicker, heavier. Lie Qiye felt a headache starting behind his eyes.
They moved from stack to stack, canyon to canyon, opening box after box. Files. Ledgers. Blueprints for buildings that seemed to twist in impossible ways. More files. Nothing useful. Nothing remotely helpful.
Manager Zhou hadn't moved. He just sat there, a statue of despair amidst the decaying archives.
Lie Qiye was starting to lose hope. This felt pointless. Another dead end, just a dustier, more cluttered one. He ripped open another box, this one lighter than the others. More paper, but different. Rolled up documents, tied with faded ribbon.
He pulled one out. It felt strangely smooth, almost like parchment, not brittle paper. He tried to unroll it, but it resisted, stiff and tightly bound.
"Anything?" Ms. Wang asked from behind a nearby stack, her voice muffled.
"Just… scrolls, maybe?" Lie Qiye squinted at the object in his hands. "Feels different."
He tried again to open it, applying more pressure. The ribbon holding it snapped with a dry crack, disintegrating into dust. But the scroll itself remained tightly furled, refusing to yield. It felt oddly dense, heavy for its size.
"Can't open it," he reported, frustration mounting. "It's stuck."
Ms. Wang emerged from behind the boxes, wiping her dusty hands on her trousers. Xiao Liu followed her. They peered at the scroll in Lie Qiye's hands.
"Let me try," Ms. Wang said. She took the scroll, her brow furrowed in concentration. She twisted, pulled, tried to find a seam, but it was no use. It was as if it were sealed by more than just age.
"Weird," she muttered, handing it back. "What else is in that box?"
Lie Qiye reached back into the box. Beneath a layer of dessicated packing material, his fingers brushed against something hard and cylindrical. Metal?
He pulled it out. It was heavy, black metal, cool to the touch. A flashlight. An old-fashioned, bulky one.
"Hey! Look!" Relief surged through him, sharp and unexpected.
Xiao Liu gasped. "Does it work?"
Lie Qiye fumbled for the switch, his thumb sliding over the dusty casing. He clicked it. Nothing.
His heart sank. Of course. Why would anything be easy here?
He clicked it again, harder this time. Still nothing. He shook it instinctively. Something rattled inside.
"Batteries are probably dead," Ms. Wang said, disappointment evident in her voice. "Or corroded."
Lie Qiye unscrewed the bottom cap. It came off with a grating screech. He tipped the flashlight over, and two fat, corroded batteries tumbled into his palm, leaving greenish-white residue on his skin.
"Damn," he muttered.
"Wait," Xiao Liu said suddenly. "Maybe… maybe there are more batteries? In another box?"
It seemed like a long shot, but it was better than nothing. They renewed their search, this time specifically looking for anything that might contain batteries. Box after box yielded only more paper, more dust, more disappointment.
They were getting tired. The initial adrenaline rush of finding the room had faded, replaced by bone-deep weariness and the grinding tension of their situation. Lie Qiye's arms ached from shifting boxes, his throat was raw from the dust.
He slumped against a stack, catching his breath. Ms. Wang leaned against another, rubbing her temples. Xiao Liu sat down on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest.
The silence stretched, punctuated only by Manager Zhou's soft, rhythmic rocking.
"Maybe… maybe we should rest," Ms. Wang said finally, her voice heavy with fatigue. "Just for a little while. Trying to search in this light… it's exhausting. And we need to conserve energy."
Lie Qiye nodded. She was right. Charging blindly through one of those doors in their current state felt like suicide. And continuing the fruitless search felt almost as bad.
"Okay," he agreed. "Rest. But… stay alert." He glanced nervously towards the flimsy barricade blocking the hole, then at the dark, silent doorways surrounding them.
Xiao Liu looked relieved. "Yes. Rest."
They found relatively clear patches of floor amidst the clutter. Lie Qiye sat with his back against a solid stack of boxes, the unopened scroll resting beside him, the useless flashlight in his lap. Ms. Wang sat nearby, while Xiao Liu curled up again, her eyes already drooping.
Manager Zhou continued his silent rocking, lost in his own private nightmare.
The dim light seemed to fade even further. The dust motes swirled. The low hum vibrated through the floor, a constant, unnerving reminder of where they were.
Rest. But sleep felt impossible. Every creak of the building, every rustle of paper, every shift in the shadows seemed magnified, pregnant with threat. They had found a temporary reprieve, a dusty sanctuary, but the feeling of being trapped, of being watched, hadn't lessened.
It had just followed them into the archives.
Lie Qiye clutched the heavy flashlight, wishing desperately it would work. Light felt like the only weapon they might have against the encroaching darkness, both outside and within.
He looked at the scroll again. What secrets did it hold? Why wouldn't it open? Was it a clue? A trap? Or just another piece of meaningless junk in this godforsaken place?
He closed his eyes, but the darkness behind his eyelids was no more comforting than the gloom of the room. Images flashed: Zhang Wei dissolving, the glistening mass blocking the corridor, the painted figures on the mural, Manager Zhou's shattered face.
No escape. Only the maze.
Rest, he told himself. Just rest. They would need their strength for whatever came next.