The world returns to Me in fragments.
First comes the soft, rhythmic hum of hospital lights. Then, the faint scent of cologne, and the gentle weight of a blanket pressing against my chest. My body feels light yet strangely charged — like i've awoken from a power nap rather than a coma.
I blink, light bleeding through my eyelashes as the ceiling swims into focus.
Memories follow in a rush — the mimic, the collapsing corridors, Sarah screaming my name before everything went dark.
A voice slices through the haze.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Agent Yuwon."
'Agent?'
I turn my head, wincing at the stiffness in my neck. Sitting by the window, half bathed in sunset, is a man in a black Bureau suit and long coat. His slicked-back hair catches the dying light, his expression unreadable — calm, but sharp enough to make the air feel colder.
Recognition strikes like lightning.
'That man... the one who offered me a deal. Employment in exchange for our lives.
So it hadn't been a dream. This strange new world, these overlapping memories, The maze, the monsters — they were real.'
"Supervisor Ash…?"
A faint nod. "You've been out for three weeks. Recovery Potion kicked in instantly, but your body apparently didn't get the memo. Bit of a sleeper, eh?"
My throat burns as i try to speak. "Sarah…?"
Ash stands, brushing invisible dust off his coat. "Alive. And doing well enough to make me reconsider my retirement plans." His tone is dry, but there's relief buried somewhere in it.
Later that evening, we leave the sterile halls behind. The city outside hums like a machine exhaling — neon reflected on rain-slick asphalt, distant sirens blending with the faint buzz of a monorail overhead. The sunset stains the skyline in copper and red, painting the Bureau's silhouette against the clouds.
We end up in a small corner pizzeria that smells of melted cheese and nostalgia — an odd contrast to the life-or-death conversations the Bureau usually breeds.
Julian Ardent — Agent Ash's real name — bites into a tuna pizza overloaded with cheese, leaving a mess of crumbs on his suit sleeve.
'Not exactly the place I imagined him taking me' I think to myself, amused.
'But honestly… I prefer this to some sterile Bureau restaurant.'
"So, Weaver," Julian continues, his mouth half full. "The Investigation Department, huh?" He gestures vaguely with his slice. "I'm surprised. I told you how much more dangerous that department is compared to every other one."
I take a sip of overpriced water, collecting his thoughts.
'If my theory's right— that an anomaly pulled me into this world-, then the Investigation Department is my best chance at finding a way back. But I can't tell him that.'
"Well, Supervisor,"
"Julian," he interrupts flatly. "I told you to call me Julian. We're friends now."
'Since when..?'
"Alright, Julian, then… I just want to understand," i explain, steady but cautious. "I want to know why this is all happening."
Julian exhales slowly, leaning back. "Curiosity killed the cat, Weaver. Ever heard that one?"
"You make it sound like joining that department means certain death."
He chews, swallows, then shrugs. "Because it does. For most people, at least."
There's a pause — just the low hum of jazz from the restaurant speaker and the clink of utensils from nearby tables.
"Well then, contamination is the main concern in your case," Julian continues.
"Contamination?"
"I already gave you the rundown on anomalies. Contamination is the side effect — the progressive degradation of the self. It starts small: headaches, memory gaps, nausea. But if it keeps advancing…" He taps the table once, a soft click of his ring against the wood. "It ends badly. We have treatments, containment methods, even a few miracles reserved for higher-ups... but nothing's foolproof."
I listen carefully, half-fascinated, half-horrified. The city outside glows faintly blue through the restaurant window.
"How badly are we talking?"
Julian wipes his mouth, voice lowering. "Best case? Borderline insanity. Worst case…" He meets Yuwon's eyes. "You merge with the anomaly that infected you. Lose what makes you you. Sometimes the body survives. The mind doesn't. And if you're really unlucky, you transform completely — a walking, talking anomaly with Bureau clearance."
He takes another bite, smirking faintly. "So, congratulations in advance. You'd earn yourself superpowers and a lifelong employment in the Security Department."
I stare, half in disbelief, half amused at the man's gallows humor.
'He'd make a great teacher. He's got that calm voice that makes even horror sound routine.'
"Wait, so you're telling me the Security team is full of... supernatural humans? And if the Investigation fieldwork is that dangerous, why aren't they helping out more?"
Julian snorts. "Strictly speaking, they're more anomaly than human. And they live very restricted lives. Some have triggers that send them spiraling into madness if exposed too often. Others are too unstable to even walk in daylight. Their leader helps out with special operations sometimes — once every few years. Last time was four or five years ago, back when I was still a rookie."
My head feels hot-, maybe from the absurdity of it all, or the grease-soaked pizza slice I'm forcing down.
"And you said there's some sort of miracle treatment for contamination, right? Why's it only for higher-ups? Wouldn't the Investigation Department survive better and the Bureau benefit of it if it was available to everyone?"
Julian bursts into laughter. "Jeez, Weaver— never heard of corporate corruption?"
"Of course I have, but the BAA? The same people who save others from anomalies?"
The laughter fades, replaced by a small, knowing smile. "You've got your image of the Bureau mixed up. Investigation and usage of anomalies take priority. Rescue operations? That's just good PR, makes for nice headlines and easy recruitment bait."
He takes a slow sip of his diet coke. "Corruption runs deep, Weaver. Hell, some of us think the Bureau was founded on it."
I blink, caught off-guard by his bluntness.
'He's no loyal lapdog, that's for sure.'
Julian sets his glass down and leans forward, his tone dropping. "But the main reason our little miracle treatment is so restricted… is because it's directly handled by the Vice-Director himself. And you don't get near that man unless you've bled for the Bureau."
He pauses, watching me quietly-- his gaze sharper now, almost testing.
"The Bureau doesn't hand out salvation for free, Weaver. You want to live long enough to find your answers? Earn it."
I blink at him, half in disbelief, half in exasperation.
'Wow. The Bureau really is a shithole wrapped in wings and a halo, huh?'
"Speaking of PR, you're awful at it, Julian. You just tanked my work morale by like two hundred percent. Pretty sure you'd get a disciplinary hearing if our dear vice-director heard this." I smirk.
Julian snorts, amused. "Oh, trust me, there are levels to it. But let's talk about your employment before you start planning your resignation speech six months early."
He glances down at the half-empty plate. Three slices remain.
"By the way," he says, deadly serious, "I call dibs on the last slice."
"Unfair. I've been in a coma for weeks." I shoot back, though I'm not exactly dying for more cheese.
"You know what's really unfair?" He wipes his hands on a napkin, mock offended. "Spending a year's rookie salary on a recovery potion just to have the guy I saved refuse me a pizza slice I paid for."
"You know what's even more unfair?" I counter. "Being a nine-to-five slave in the most dangerous job on the planet for six months because of that potion."
"Wow, Weaver." He leans back, grinning. "No wonder you killed that mimic. You're stubborn as hell."
"Sore spot, Julian. Let's just get back to the important stuff."
I bite into a slice, molten cheese stringing between my fingers.
"You said there's a physical evaluation and a theory exam, right? What's the deadline for both?"
Julian hesitates, giving a nervous little chuckle. "You... kind of missed both, actually."
"…Eh?"
"Don't worry," he adds quickly, waving a hand. "I mentioned you in my report about the Labyrinth anomaly, so the physical test isn't needed."
"And the theory exam?"
"Er—" He chews another bite of pizza. "I'll let my connections play."
I take a sip of water as My stomach sinks. "Connections? Who?"
"Oh, just the vice-director."
It takes every ounce of my willpower not to spit my drink in his face.
'The vice-director? As a rookie? Great. Just great.'
"Is it really okay for a rookie like me to catch the Vice-Directors attention? Before that— you really think he'll just... go along with that?"
"For what it's worth, he's a kind man," Julian says, far too casually. "But I'll owe him a favor. Which means you'll owe me."
'The audacity on this man…'
"You forced me into this, Julian. I don't owe you anything."
"Force is such a harsh word," he says, smirking. "Let's call it a bargain. Besides, you'd be dead without me. You're welcome-, by the way."
I stare at him, half-convinced he's an anomaly himself.
'The more this guy eats, the more personality leaks out. I should really get him tested.'
"Anyway," he says, brushing off crumbs, "we keep drifting off-topic."
'And whose fault is that, huh?'
He leans forward now, tone shifting-- less playful, more measured. "You asked if it's okay for a rookie like you to catch the vice-director's attention."
The restaurant's neon reflections crawl across the window between us. Outside, a siren wails distantly; the city feels like it's holding its breath.
"It depends," Julian says quietly. "On whether you're planning to impress him… or survive him."
'Please just stop with the intimidation talk,' I groan internally, though my face stays calm. I've had enough mysterious warnings for one lifetime.
"Does doing your job count as impressing him?" I ask, half-dry, half-serious.
Julian smirks. "Not really. But he won't regret helping you out, at least."
"Good enough for me," I mutter. "Anything else I should know before I start?"
He leans back in his chair, finishing off his crust. "Yeah. You're gonna need guts, Weaver. Before official deployment, every recruit has to go through a trial anomaly. No supervision. No safety net. The Field Investigation Department's is... let's just say, not beginner-friendly."
'The good news just keeps rolling in, huh?'
Julian takes another bite, speaking around his food. "Oh, and there are benefits to working for the Bureau—especially in your department. Decent pay, equipment allowance, a few free therapy sessions per quarter. But one of the main perks is Bureau housing. You can sign up for company apartments ahead of time. Might have to share with a roommate, sure, but they're free and close to HQ and other BureauFacilities. Pretty convenient."
He points his slice at me. "So, do I put your name down?"
"No."
Julian stops mid-chew, eyebrow raised. "...Okay. That's rare. Most people fight for a spot. Care to explain?"
'Company housing might be free, but I'd rather have peace than free rent. The last thing I need is some Bureau weirdo analyzing my sleep schedule or practicing containment rituals in the kitchen. Besides, pretending I'm still just an average office worker helps me stay sane.'
"I just like the house I'm in," I say simply.
"Fair enough," Julian shrugs. He looks down at the plate—only to find it empty.
"You sly bastard," he says flatly. "More manipulative than half the mimics in that maze."
I wipe my hands with a napkin, flashing a smug smile. "I was hungry. You can have the last slice next time."
He snorts, tipping his soda can back for the last gulp. "Anyway… about that evaluation trial."
I narrow my eyes. "Yeah? When's that happening?"
He sets the empty can down with a soft clack, grin spreading slowly across his face.
"Tomorrow, actually."
For a moment, the world goes silent except for the hum of the restaurant's fridge and a faint siren outside.
I stare at him. "…Fucking bastard."
Julian laughs, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. "Welcome to the Bureau, Weaver."