The air fell silent.

For a moment, those who had been drooling or gaping stood frozen in place.

No one knew how to react.

Ruan Xing lifted his eyebrows. “What’s wrong? The poster is still up—it means you’re still hiring, right?”

The customers exchanged bewildered looks and turned toward the front desk.

The receptionist’s expression was stiffer than the giant mango on his head. “Where did this poster come from?”

“It was posted downstairs, right at your entrance.”

The receptionist craned his neck, leaning forward to scrutinize the poster on the counter. After a long look at Ruan Xing, he finally spoke.

“We are hiring. You can start today.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the once-chaotic customers seemed to rewind like a tape being played in reverse, gradually returning to their previous states.

The little girl let out a cheerful, bell-like giggle and tugged at her parent’s sleeve, asking for popcorn.

Ruan Xing blended in perfectly, just like any other ordinary customer, drawing no further attention.

“Follow me.” The receptionist led Ruan Xing to a break room and handed him an employee badge along with a uniform identical to his.

“Your shift starts at ten. Don’t wander around.”

Ruan Xing glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already 9:50.

“If a customer asks for something, just give it to them.”

Ruan Xing asked, “When does my shift end?”

The receptionist’s voice was stiff. “After the guests in Theater 4 leave.”

That was an odd response. Ruan Xing made a mental note of it.

Once the receptionist left, Fu Gui’s voice trembled in his ear:

[What are you doing?! Those customers are pollutants! Do you have any idea what the detector's reading was just now?!]

The crow chattered anxiously: [This is a polluted zone! You’re just a newly awakened weakling—how do you expect to go up against them? And now you want to dive straight into enemy territory? I’m still in my prime, okay? I don’t want to die here, ahhh!]

[We’re not dead yet.]

Fu Gui whined, [We will be soon! Unless we can take down the boss of this polluted zone, surviving alone is nothing but a delusion.]

Ruan Xing put on the uniform.

Whether by design or coincidence, it fit him perfectly.

The small bow tie beneath his Adam’s apple rose and fell subtly with his breath. The fabric was crisp and structured, accentuating his tall, slender figure, narrow waist, and straight legs.

His slightly wavy black hair was thick and voluminous, with a few mischievous strands falling over his eyes. Ruan Xing brushed them back, revealing a pair of emerald-green eyes.

After changing, he didn’t rush out of the break room.

Instead, he took a careful look around.

The walls bore clear traces of old adhesive and were plastered with movie posters of various sizes. After searching carefully, he found a date printed on one of the newer posters.

New Calendar, Year 31, June 8.

The summer of the 31st year after the Great Pollution.

Behind him, a bunk bed and a wardrobe took up most of the room, leaving barely enough space to turn around. A small stool beside the desk was piled with wrinkled clothes, stained with dark, unidentifiable marks.

On the desk sat a vanity mirror, hair wax, and cologne. Next to them was an open velvet jewelry box, its original contents unknown.

Scattered across the table were various cosmetics—eyebrow pencils, lipstick, and more.

This employee clearly put effort into their appearance.

But their personal life… not so much.

On the floor beside the desk was a half-eaten meal in a takeout container, looking unappetizing. Worse, it was covered in a dense layer of furry mold.

The mold was black and green, shaped eerily like a human face. Upon closer inspection, it was wriggling—slowly creeping in Ruan Xing’s direction, as if dissatisfied with its current meal and eager for something… else.

Ruan Xing rummaged through the room a little longer and finally left after failing to find any useful clues.

He glanced around as he stepped out in the hallway.

Directly across from the break room was the storage room, its door sealed shut with official tape. He decided not to rip it off just yet.

Further down was the staff office, which was also locked tight.

Ruan Xing turned right, gathered his equipment, and made his way to the front desk.

The original receptionist was nowhere to be seen, and a long line had already formed.

Many customers looked visibly impatient. Some had cracks running from the corners of their mouths all the way to their ears, quivering as if they might split open at any moment.

“Hurry up! It’s your first day, and you’re already slacking?”

Ruan Xing looked up—it was the little girl in the red dress. She smiled sweetly, but her words were chilling:

“If you don’t start working, I’ll eat you.”

Ruan Xing ignored her and calmly operated the computer.

With Fugui’s guidance, he finally handed over the first movie ticket just as the customer was about to open their wide mouth.

When it was the little girl’s turn, she took her ticket and pointed at the popcorn machine.

“Uncle, I want some popcorn.”

Ruan Xing grabbed a popcorn bucket from the cabinet and approached the machine. A rich, buttery aroma hung thick in the air, so sweet that it was almost nauseating.

The popcorn was perfectly popped, round and plump, with crisp, defined ridges and a golden hue tinged with red.

But when Ruan Xing scooped into it, the texture felt strange.

Popcorn should be light, airy, and slightly crisp. Yet as his scoop pressed in, it felt like it was sinking into a pile of grapes—firm yet disturbingly fleshy.

No matter how much he scooped, the bucket never seemed to fill up.

The amount inside the machine didn’t decrease either. Instead, it seemed to pulse and shift, continuously producing more popcorn, spilling forth in an unending flow.

The more he looked, the stranger it seemed.

The popcorn's intricate textures blurred together, warping his vision. The sweet, buttery patterns twisted, contorting into something else—something pulsing, like veins throbbing under his skin.

The golden-red popcorn glistened, its deeper red streaks rising and falling like tiny, breathing entities.

Like a mass of living eyeballs.

The eyes swiveled rapidly—then, all at once, they stopped.

They stared at Ruan Xing, radiating malice so thick that it was almost tangible.

Fu Gui flapped his wings in terror.

The little girl in the red dress giggled sweetly. “Uncle, do you want to try one?”

Ruan Xing remained unfazed as he handed over the freshly filled bucket.

“Here’s your popcorn.”

The terrifying eyeballs reverted to ordinary popcorn.

The little girl blinked in surprise, hesitating for a moment before accepting it.

Ruan Xing added flatly, “Eating random things can be deadly.”

She pouted but hugged the bucket and skipped away.

Ruan Xing continued serving the next customer.

Meanwhile, the clock on the wall slowly ticked toward 4 PM.

“Dong!”

The chime of four o’clock rang out.

As if it were a signal, a wave of people suddenly poured in from outside. They arrived together, yet their attire bore no similarities whatsoever.

One man was tall and burly, his face covered in layers of fat, and his bloated belly strained against his suit, which seemed on the verge of bursting. Another strolled in wearing beach shorts, a T-shirt, and sunglasses, while another had nothing on but a bath towel.

“Movie tickets. Theater 4.”

Normally, customers select a movie first and are assigned a theater based on the screening schedule. But this group’s leader skipped that step entirely, directly specifying Theater 4—as if it didn’t matter what was playing inside.

Ruan Xing quickly counted the number of people and handed the thick stack of tickets to the man in the suit.

“You’re new here?”

The suited man was so massive that Ruan Xing had to tilt his head back to see his lips moving. His voice didn’t seem to come from his mouth but from somewhere deeper inside him—like a creature wrapped in human skin, its true vocal cords hidden beneath.

“Yes, I just started today.”

The man leaned down toward Ruan Xing. As he bent over, his suit let out a strained, fabric-tearing groan as if it couldn’t withstand his bulk any longer.

A wave of putrid stench hit Ruan Xing’s face—a mixture of rotting fish left out for days and the pungency of spoiled eggs.

Fu Gui was so overwhelmed by the smell that he shut his eyes tight and burrowed his head deep into Ruan Xing’s fluffy hair.

Ruan Xing, however, remained unfazed.

Some alchemy ingredients smelled far worse than this.

The suited man narrowed his eyes. “Not bad.”

With that, he and his group headed upstairs.

The moment they disappeared, the surrounding customers also vanished, as if a performance had ended and the actors had left the stage.

Everything strange about this place seemed to lead back to Theater 4.

Ruan Xing took a step forward.

Fugui squawked in panic: [No way! Big Bro, calm down! This group might not have a high pollution level as the previous customers, but there are so many of them!]

Ruan Xing responded calmly: [Didn’t you say that as long as we follow the rules, we won’t be attacked? We don’t have any leads right now, so why not take the initiative?]

[I don’t want to know anything! I just want to run away!]

[And where exactly would you run? We can’t escape, so we might as well figure things out. I thought you understood that.]

Fugui whimpered. [I do, but I’m still scared.]

Ruan Xing ignored him and walked up the stairs.

The handrails had been worn down through frequent use, resulting in a glossy sheen that he wisely avoided.

As he passed the second floor, the sound of movies playing filled the air—every theater there was in use.

But the third floor…

The third floor was unnervingly silent.

Ruan Xing’s footsteps echoed lightly as he walked.

Theater 7. Theater 4.

No strange loops this time.

“What are you doing?”

A voice, cold and abrupt, spoke behind him.

The attendant had appeared out of nowhere, his tone laced with something eerie.

His face was shrouded in backlit darkness, making his features hard to distinguish. But the slick black hair on his head gleamed under the dim hallway lights.

“Making rounds?”

“Yes.” Ruan Xing replied smoothly, picking up the conversation naturally.

The attendant’s pupils shifted slowly. “Go turn on the air conditioning in Theater 7. If it gets too hot, the customers will complain.”

Ruan Xing gave a slight nod.

The attendant curled his lips into a slow, unsettling smile that barely qualified as human. “Hurry up and go in.”

Ruan Xing stepped into Theater 7.

A typical movie theater would have two exits, both positioned near the screen at the front.

But here, whether by design or by accident, there were two distinct doors—one labeled “Customer Entrance” at the front and another marked “Staff Entrance” at the back.

Ruan Xing had entered through the Staff Entrance.

From his position, he had a full view of the theater.

On the large, bright screen, a romantic comedy was playing. The lead couple was on a date, basking in warm sunlight as they shared a kiss. The atmosphere was sweet and lighthearted. The warm light from the screen outlined the silhouettes of the audience seated below.

The movie currently playing in Theater 7 was a romantic comedy. Ruan Xing hadn’t seen it before, but he had spotted its poster in the break room earlier.

It didn’t seem to be a well-known title—just an unremarkable little ad tucked away among many others.

The air conditioning control panel was in the farthest, least noticeable corner of the theater.

As Ruan Xing pressed the button, the screen lit up.

The current temperature was 28°C (82°F). He turned it down to the lowest setting—16°C (61°F).

Fu Gui whispered nervously: [Something feels really off. Have you noticed? The entire audience in this theater is male.]

A romantic comedy should have been filled with couples or primarily female viewers.

It was hard to imagine a large group of burly men sitting neatly and silently to watch a sweet love story.

On the screen, the movie had reached its climax—the male lead was proposing, slipping a sparkling diamond ring onto the female lead’s finger.

However, the moving scene evoked no emotion from the audience. The men sat in eerie silence.

Ruan Xing noticed this as well, but since he hadn’t watched movies before, he lacked the common sense to fully understand what was wrong.

Fu Gui pressed himself tighter against Ruan Xing’s neck, his tiny, furry body trembling. [This is too weird…]

Ruan Xing asked, [What exactly is weird?]

[Normally, when people pick their seats, they choose the ones with the best view—middle rows, center seats. The front and back rows are usually the least popular unless all other options are unavailable.]

[But look at this theater.]

[The front rows are packed. Even the edge seats where no one usually picks are completely filled.]

[Meanwhile, the best seats—the middle rows, especially the 6th and 7th rows—aren’t even half full. Isn’t that strange?]

The theater had 11 rows in total.

The front rows were crammed full, while the 6th row was barely occupied.

It was as if someone had deliberately assigned them their seats—filling them in one by one, in a strict order.

Like an eerie game of seat-filling Tetris.

Who would be the next person to take a seat?

If Ruan Xing had accepted a movie ticket earlier, would he have been assigned a seat among them?

A chilling realization crept over him.

Then, the customers in the front rows turned around one by one.

The wedding scene continued on the screen. The bride and groom, frozen in their blissful moment, also turned their heads, looking straight at the audience.

Their gaze seemingly pierced through the screen, staring directly at Ruan Xing, and their blissful smiles twisted into something sinister.

They were all watching him.

Inviting him.

As if asking him to join their game.