The next couple of days weren't much different. We sat in the office doing what we did best — nothing.
Theo was slouched beside my desk, scrolling through his phone with the intensity of a man saving lives, while Mira typed something on her keyboard across from us, eyes fixed, expression unreadable.
'Do anomalies get rest days too?' I sighed, leaning back in my chair until it creaked under the weight.
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, washing the room in that sterile, sleepless glow that made time feel meaningless.
'I guess I can't really complain about not having to risk my life, though…'
Lunch breaks with Theo and Mira had become a routine — quiet meals, shared exhaustion, and the occasional joke about our questionable life choices. We even got dinner together after work once, though Theo spent most of it arguing that his burger tasted "government-issued."
But that peace didn't last.
Just after our lunch break, Mira's phone buzzed with a call from the Research Division. A supervised anomaly had been acting strange — its electromagnetic readings spiking higher than ever before.
Within the hour, we were descending in the elevator to Floor 12, one of the levels reserved for the research department. The air there always felt colder, heavier — like the concrete itself remembered what had been studied behind those doors.
We turned right at office 12C, entering a small meeting room with ten chairs and the faint smell of coffee that had long since burned away.
An employee from the Research Department was already waiting for us, his crisp white lab coat replacing the standard office jacket of the Bureau. He looked up from a clipboard as we entered.
"Vice Teamleader Vigil." Mira nodded in acknowledgment.
"Senior Investigator Flux." Theo grinned, as if this was some casual catch-up.
The man's gaze shifted to me. "And… Investigator Weaver, was it?"
"Yes," I said, straightening slightly. "That's me."
He gave me a quick, perfunctory glance before sliding three folders across the table — one for each of us.
"The anomaly [The Diner That Never Closes] has been showing structural fluctuations and increased electromagnetic activity," he began. "We need your team to verify if the normal route through it is still accessible."
He paused, eyes flicking between Mira and Theo.
"You two should be familiar with this one by now."
Then his attention turned back to me — and lingered.
"As for you, Investigator Weaver," he said flatly, "read the manual carefully. The anomaly may seem friendly, but it turns deadly very quickly if you ignore its rules."
He tapped a finger on the cover of the folder. "Most who break them don't even realize what they did wrong."
A small chill crept down my spine.
---
When we left the meeting room, I flipped the folder open as we walked down the corridor.
Inside was a neatly typed report stamped with the Bureau's insignia — a circle enclosing an all-seeing eye. The title read:
Anomaly #2187 – [The Diner That Never Closes]
Supervised Anomaly / Mid-Tier Threat / Behavioral Type
I skimmed through the introduction.
A temporal-anchored establishment manifesting as a 1960s-style roadside diner. Interior design and staff remain consistent regardless of entry time. They look and sound human, but prior reports state they're corpses the anomaly uses as puppets. The anomaly is available for Humans and other anomalies alike. The anomaly exhibits stable reality integrity but displays lethal behavioral responses to broken internal logic ("rules").
Below that was a section labeled "Rules for Entry and Interaction."
The font was clean, but the red underlines made my stomach twist.
---
RULES OF THE DINER THAT NEVER CLOSES
1. Do not enter if it's raining outside.
If it starts raining while you're inside, finish your meal--, leave the exact change on the table and leave immediately.
2. Always sit where the waitress tells you.
Do not ask for another table. Do not swap seats with your partners.
3. You must finish any meals they serve you. You dont get a say in the order and showing disgust will lead to lethal consequences.
4. When the waitress asks if you'd like dessert, always say "No, thank you."
Saying yes leads to an extension of your stay. The Diner doesn't like long stays.
5. Do not touch the jukebox.
If it starts playing by itself, hum along quietly. Pretend you enjoy the song, or any sound it makes.
6. If the lights above your table flicker, place exact change on the table.
It's not a malfunction. It's your cue to leave. Leaving before the lights flicker might deem as disrespectful towards the anomaly. Lethal consequences to be expected.
7. Never ask what time it is.
Clocks inside do not reflect reality. Asking draws attention. You dont want the anomalies attention.
8. Do not interact with other Anomalies or Humans that don't sit at your table. Even if they attempt to.
9. You may use the restroom, but only one at a time. Leaving stains of vomit or other liquids might lead to lethal consequences.
---
I exhaled slowly, the page rustling between my fingers.
"...You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.
Theo leaned over my shoulder, grinning. "What? Sounds like a normal diner to me."
Mira, as usual, was unreadable. "Normal isn't a word I'd use for a place that kills you over dessert."
Theo patted my shoulder "Dont worry Yuwon, this one is surprisingly neat. View it as a second Lunchbreak."
"A slightly extended lunchbreak if anything" Mira added.
I closed the manual, the paper still warm from my grip.
'Alright then,' I thought grimly. 'Let's see how welcoming this Diner really is.'
---
Forty minutes later, Theo's car rolled to a stop in front of a crumbling building on the far edge of the city. The sign above it — "Miller's Diner" — hung by a single rusted chain, swaying faintly in the wind.
Cracks crawled up the walls like veins, the windows shattered and blind. Graffiti covered the sides — faded letters spelling CLOSED FOREVER.
"This is it?" I asked, peering through the dusty glass. "Looks empty. Nothing inside but mold and bad decisions."
"It's just the gateway," Mira said, exhaling smoke from her cigarette. The ember flared red against the gray sky. "The real Diner's... somewhere else."
Theo lit his own and leaned against the car. "The food's not bad, actually. Depends on what it feels like serving that day."
I wasn't sure if he was joking.
It took them five minutes to finish their cigarettes. When the butts hit the asphalt, we moved toward the door.
The "Open" sign hung crooked, glowing faintly despite being unplugged.
---
The moment we stepped inside, the air shifted.
It wasn't immediate — more like crossing an invisible line. The smell of dust and rot gave way to warm air and the faint scent of bacon grease, coffee, and rain-soaked asphalt.
The diner looked alive. Chrome counters gleamed, stools stood neatly in line, and a jukebox hummed quietly near the corner, its lights flickering a lazy rhythm. Outside, the world beyond the glass shimmered — dark but colorless, like a sky trapped between midnight and dawn.
Theo whistled softly. "Yep. Still hate how clean this place looks."
A waitress turned toward us from behind the counter. Her face pale, small maggots crawling across her lifeless eyes. Her nametag read "Ellie."
Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Welcome to Miller's Diner," she said cheerfully. "Three for a booth?"
Mira nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Ellie's head tilted slightly — a smooth, unnatural motion. "Booth five's waiting for you. Right by the window."
Theo leaned toward me as we walked. "See? Friendly service."
"Yeah," I muttered, watching Ellie's dead eyes follow us. "A bit too friendly."
"At least we seem to be the first customers," Mira yawned as if bored. "If we're lucky, we'll get through our meal without the usual crowd."
'...'
I wanted to ask what crowd meant but I didn't. Probably for the best.