An elevator that had been out of service for a long time, and a building that had already been cleared of its staff.
So who else could come out of the elevator? Or rather, would whatever came out of it still be human?
Han Su didn't know. When he asked the question, little fatty clearly pressed his lips together, but from his expression, it didn't look like he didn't want to answer. It was more as if he didn't know either.
Han Su was beginning to understand what it meant to be an operative for the Disaster Management Bureau. No matter how strange or absurd the mission, they had to carry it out to the letter. That was all they needed to do.
But another thought suddenly occurred to him. If all that mattered was carrying out orders, then people like the camouflage man, or agents who'd undergone rigorous training, would probably be better at the job. Why was the Disaster Management Bureau recruiting from outside?
Was this connected to some deeper issue?
Was his mission really just to stand guard? If something came out of the elevator, was he supposed to open fire?
And what about the Spell he'd learned? Could he use it at a critical moment, too?
As he pondered this, Han Su's head felt ready to explode. Strange missions like this easily led to situations where the questions just kept piling up.
"Time's up."
But he hadn't found the answers to all his questions. Just as little fatty had said, he answered whatever he thought needed answering. For the rest, he merely shook his head and kept quiet.
It wasn't until ten o'clock that night that he finally gave a low reminder. Tightening his grip on his gun, he faced the elevator squarely and fell silent.
Han Su and the other trainees followed his example, turning to face the elevator.
For a moment, the air around them seemed to fall silent. The lights nearby had already been dim, but now some stiff, heavy atmosphere seemed to spread around them, filling the quiet.
The feeling made Han Su deeply uneasy.
Following the mission's instructions, he stared straight at the elevator. The more ordinary it looked, the stranger it seemed now.
It felt as if the elevator doors might open at any moment. Gradually, he even began to feel that no matter what crawled out, he wouldn't find it surprising.
But time passed, second by second.
Every half hour, the walkie-talkie reminded them of the time and the things they needed to watch out for. Little fatty would pick it up and respond, while Han Su and the camouflage man remained silent, as if they'd turned themselves into clay figures in the night.
Their hands stayed on their gun grips until even the cold metal warmed up. Then, little by little, sweat from their palms dampened them.
The mission instructions hadn't forbidden them from using the restroom.
But after the mission began, not one of the trainees moved.
Whether it was the eerie nature of the mission or the seemingly important rating, the pressure weighed on them from all sides. They would rather endure the suffocating stiffness of the strange surroundings, staying silent and on guard.
Until three in the morning.
Nothing appeared.
"Mission complete. All operatives, return to base immediately."
Only when that hoarse voice suddenly came through the walkie-talkie did Han Su and the others finally relax a little.
He glanced at little fatty out of the corner of his eye and saw that he was already standing. Han Su then followed suit, stretching his stiff back and rubbing his numb backside. Looking puzzled, he asked, "That's it? It's over?"
"We watched all night, and nothing happened?"
"..."
The other trainees seemed to feel the same way. Their expressions were odd, but they still looked wary, unwilling to let their guard down.
They had a feeling this evaluation couldn't be that simple. There had to be something else going on.
"What were you expecting?"
Little fatty's brow twitched. He gave Han Su an odd look and said, "Having nothing happen is what our work usually looks like, okay? If something really does happen, you might not know whether you'll ever get off work again."
Han Su paused, but he understood what little fatty meant. He stood up and pounded his lower back. "So we can go back now?"
"How will our evaluations be decided?"
"I'll submit a report based on how you all performed, but I'm not the one who makes the final call. All I know is the mission's finally over. Let's hurry back and get some late-night food."
As he spoke, he put his own walkie-talkie away in his backpack.
Perhaps because they'd spent so long watching the elevator and were all exhausted, everyone finally had a chance to move. They hurried to their feet, stretched, and twisted their stiff backs. By coincidence, they all turned around.
Behind them, on the unguarded elevator, a faint red light suddenly flickered on the pitch-black indicator panel.
Like an eye slowly opening in the dark.
The elevator car shuddered slightly. There was a faint, taut twang from the cables. Without a sound, the elevator they'd been watching all night had somehow begun to open, leaving a narrow gap.
The inside was pitch-black. They couldn't see a thing.
But a ghastly white hand slowly reached out of the elevator, inching closer and closer to little fatty's shoulder...
The camouflage man reacted the fastest. The moment a flash of ghastly white caught the corner of his eye near the elevator, his spine shifted. Everything seemed instinctive as he spun around, drew the pistol from his waist, and raised it in both hands.
"Bang!"
He fired.
As the muzzle flashed, he aimed at the hand reaching out of the elevator and fired shot after shot.
The bullets flew, striking the hand with deadly accuracy. The hand and its arm were ripped to shreds, and the gunfire was so loud it made everyone's ears ring.
They heard the shots, and even the bullets ricocheting off the elevator's metal doors and the concrete floor beside them.
But they didn't hear any screams.
And through it all, neither Han Su nor even little fatty managed to react. Little fatty was startled by the gunfire and even covered his ears as he stumbled back two steps.
The camouflage man kept firing until his gun was empty. Then he stopped and used one hand to replace the magazine, keeping his pistol steadily trained on the elevator the whole time. Not a trace of panic showed on his face.
The gunshots also lit up the elevator lobby's sound-activated lights, allowing them to see everything in front of the elevator.
The doors of the out-of-service elevator were riddled with bullet holes, and bits of metal were scattered around them. Gun smoke still seemed to be drifting through the air, but other than that, there was nothing.
The elevator hadn't started up by itself, and there was no abnormal arm reaching out from inside it.
The camouflage man watched for a long while. Once he was sure nothing else strange was happening, he turned his head slightly and asked little fatty, "What's going on?"
"You reacted pretty fast..."
Little fatty stared at the elevator. It took him a while to answer. "Your aim was good, too. More importantly, you didn't panic. The moment you saw that thing, you stayed calm. Drawing your gun, firing, reloading—you did all of it flawlessly."
The camouflage man's expression didn't change, as if the praise meant nothing to him.
Then little fatty shook his head and said, "I'll recommend a B-class rating for you in my report."
At first, the camouflage man didn't catch what he'd said. When it finally sank in, his clay-like face showed a reaction at last.
He blinked and stiffly turned around. "What?"
"The mission's over..."
Little fatty was startled by him and took half a step back, but continued, "The mission's over, so whatever happens here has nothing to do with us anymore. We should evacuate as quickly as possible."
"Even if we observe an anomaly, the first thing we should do is report it to the team leader. We only open fire after we receive orders, right?"
"It's all written clearly in the rules. Didn't you memorize them?"
The camouflage man was still stunned. He slowly shook his head. Out of that thick stack of rules, he'd only managed to memorize two sections.
Little fatty wasn't surprised. He shook his head and said, "Even if you didn't memorize them, your instructor should've at least reminded you of two words."
"Follow orders!"
His cautious gaze swept over the trainees. "During the mission, you can only do what I tell you to do."
"So..."
After saying all that, satisfied he'd explained it clearly enough, he nodded at the camouflage man. "The most I can do is recommend a B-class rating for you in my report."
"You're different..."
He looked at the other trainees. "You didn't break a single rule during the mission. When something unexpected happened and you weren't sure what the anomaly was, you drew your guns in time, but saw that I hadn't given the order and didn't fire."
"Good work."
"..."
The others couldn't help smiling when they heard that, though their smiles were a little strained:
Could it be that we just didn't react in time?
"But the Disaster Management Bureau sure is interesting. Operatives only need to know the procedures. This is just a grunt's job, yet they actually set up an illusion to test you..."
As little fatty spoke, he packed up his things and casually turned around. "Let's go. Time to get some late-night food."
Most of the others felt relieved. A few even glanced at the camouflage man with a hint of schadenfreude. They were about to follow little fatty out when a clear, drawn-out "Ding" rang out behind them.
Little fatty paused, then turned around. All four elevators were flashing red at once, and their displays showed that they had arrived at the floor where the group stood.
His expression turned strange. "Did one of you press the elevator button?"
No one around him said a word. They all felt an inexplicable stiffness creeping through their bodies.
It was as if winter had suddenly descended upon the elevator lobby. An intangible chill slowly crawled up their backs.
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