Chapter 2
764words
'Creeeeak—'
The sound shattered the dead silence.
The eerie morgue he'd expected didn't materialize. Instead, the interior was exceptionally neat—almost obsessively clean. Stark white lights illuminated the mirror-like floor. The air reeked of disinfectant mixed with an indescribable scent like aged sandalwood—the kind that made your head swim after a few breaths.
The front desk stood empty, an old-fashioned desk lamp casting a dim yellow glow.
'New here?'
A hoarse, dry voice rasped from behind him.
Owen spun around, his hair standing on end!
A figure in a faded, oddly-styled uniform—like mortuary attire from decades past—stood behind him. The hunched figure wore a hat pulled low, its face obscured by what looked like gray mist, features indistinct except for a pair of hollow, unfocused eyes.
'I…' Owen's throat turned to sandpaper.
'Take these.' The Blurred Face handed over a cold metal badge and a thin gray booklet with a blank cover. 'Your workstation is the first room after turning left at the corridor's end. Rules are inside.'
He pointed to a deep, dark corridor, his voice flat and emotionless: 'Remember the time. Don't make mistakes.'
After speaking, he melted into the adjacent shadows as silently as he'd appeared—as if he'd never existed at all.
Owen clutched the badge and booklet, his palm slick with cold sweat. The badge bore his name and photo, along with a small line of text: Intern.
He took a deep breath, tamping down his churning fear, and walked toward the corridor's end.
Pushing open the door marked 'Intern Room,' he found only a desk, a chair, and a small, equally dim desk lamp inside. Terrifyingly sparse.
He placed the booklet on the desk. Blood-red text slowly materialized on the cover:
《Twilight Funeral Home Employee Handbook - Intern Level》
He opened it with trembling hands.
[Working Hours]: Your shift runs from midnight to 4:00 AM daily. Enter through the employee passage (the only entrance) before 11:55 PM. At 4:00 AM sharp, regardless of your task, immediately drop everything and exit through the employee passage. Overtime will trigger the 'Night Patroller's' cleaning procedure.
[Client Identification]: Only the deceased with a 'Black Envelope' are your service targets. The envelope will appear in your workstation drawer. Do not contact or handle any remains without a black envelope, no matter how 'normal' or 'in need of help' they appear. They belong to the 'Regular Department.' (See Appendix A)
[Last Wish List]: Inside the black envelope, you'll find a Last Wish List written in faded blood letters. The content may be vague, contradictory, or seemingly impossible. Follow the literal meaning strictly without interpretation or alteration. Upon completion, the blood letters will vanish, and the envelope will self-combust.
[Maintain 'Professional Distance']: During work hours, avoid direct conversation or emotional exchange with any 'client' (including crying, comforting, anger). Your duty is to execute the checklist, not to empathize. Excessive contact risks 'cognitive contamination.'
[Tool Usage]: The facility provides all necessary tools (makeup kits, specific spices, special containers, etc.). Only use facility-provided tools for 'Black Envelope' clients. Using external items (even pocket change) constitutes a serious violation.
['Night Patrollers']: Facility cleaners known as 'Night Patrollers' have shifting forms (sometimes shadows, sometimes humanoid figures in worn uniforms). Do not look directly at them, speak to them, or block their path. They handle rule-breakers and 'Residual Entities.'
[Mirrors and Reflections]: All mirrors in the building (including makeup mirrors and elevator interiors) have been specially treated. If you see a reflection that isn't yours, or if your reflection moves independently, immediately close your eyes and slowly back away until you're out of the mirror's range. Never communicate with or attack mirror images.
[Scent Warning]: If you detect a strong, sweet floral fragrance in the facility that doesn't belong to disinfectant or perfume, please immediately stop your current task, find the nearest lockable storage cabinet to hide in, and remain there until the scent dissipates. This usually indicates a "Garden" infiltration. Appendix A: Characteristics of Regular Department Clients (blurry, as if water-damaged): ...no Black Envelope...maintain silence...do not disturb... Owen Grant felt his scalp tingle and his body turn ice cold. What the hell kind of place was this? Rules? Contamination? Night Patrollers? The Garden? Every word exuded ominousness! Just then—"Dong...dong...dong..." Heavy, distant bell sounds echoed from an unknown source, as if penetrating through time and space. Midnight, twelve o'clock, it had arrived. The first drawer of the desk in front of him silently slid open. Inside, an envelope lay quietly. Pure black. Cold to the touch, like a block of ice.
