Chapter 3 Work Is Trial?

Charles was awakened from his nap by the familiar ringtone of his cell phone.

He opened his eyes in confusion, finding himself in an unfamiliar office. Besides him, there was no one else around—only blank papers scattered across the floor.

As Charles slowly rose, he accidentally touched a badge hanging from his chest. When he examined it, he found it read: [TechFront Level 1 Programmer, Charles.]

"Nap time's over, Charles." A short-haired woman in a gray business suit strode through the office door, carrying a stack of documents as she approached his workstation.

"Nap? What are you talking about?" Charles looked at her with confusion.

"Though the company hasn't explicitly forbidden it, sleeping at your desk is clearly against protocol. Don't try to make excuses." The woman lightly tapped his forehead with her folder.

"Wait, you misunderstand. I'm not making excuses. I just want to know—where is this place?"

The woman frowned impatiently. "This is TechFront Company. You're a programmer hired by the company. You've been working here for three years with a monthly salary of..."

"Any other questions? Ask them all at once. We don't have time to waste," She spoke rapidly, but Charles caught every word.

"No, that's wrong!" Charles shook his head. "What's TechFront? I've never heard of it. My name is Charles Jones. I'm a full-time author living in Burmington, Constan. Listen—I was brought here by a fictional character. This isn't my original world!"

Charles expressed his situation with equally quick and precise language, though the content was shocking.

Most people would think he'd lost his mind after hearing such claims.

But the short-haired woman's eyes widened in shock.

This surprise lasted only a moment before vanishing completely from her face.

She pulled up an office chair and sat facing Charles. After a moment's thought, she said, "If that's the case, then we're the same kind of person."

"The same? I don't understand what you mean."

The woman considered her words. "Where should I begin? Let me ask you something first. Do you believe there are other worlds beyond the one we originally come from? Something like parallel dimensions?"

This time, Charles didn't answer immediately. Instead, he carefully observed the unfamiliar environment around him. Then he pinched his palm hard.

The sharp pain confirmed he wasn't dreaming.

"I believe it."

"Good. That makes my explanation much easier." The woman cleared her throat and spoke seriously. "First, Charles, you need to understand that where you are now isn't your original reality, but the mental world. Artists' ideas, writers' inspirations—they don't come from nothing. They exist because these creators formed connections with the mental world, allowing them to manifest things in reality that didn't previously exist."

"But a world with too much freedom isn't as wonderful as you might imagine. Everything you can imagine—and even things you can't—exist here."

"The sign that you're about to enter the mental world is when, at some point, you suddenly encounter someone in the real world who looks exactly like you, with the same build and even the same name."

"The moment you make contact, your worlds switch. You, as a person from reality, enter this mental realm, while the fictional character you shaped in the mental world takes your place and lives in the real world."

"Any questions so far?"

Charles shook his head. What the woman described matched his own theories.

"Good. You've probably figured out that I know these things because I was originally from the real world too. Here, everyone calls me Maeve, but I'd prefer you use my real name, Catherine."

"Nice to meet you, Catherine—"

Before Charles could finish, the piercing beeping sound erupted again.

This noise far exceeded the volume of any cell phone alarm. Its range and penetrating power were so intense that even the nearby window glass began to crack.

Charles instinctively covered his ears, but the noise seemed to bypass his hands and enter directly into his brain.

Bright red droplets of blood began seeping from the corners of his eyes, his nostrils, and even his ear canals, dripping onto the floor.

"What... what the hell is happening?"

Catherine's face also contorted in pain, though her reaction wasn't nearly as severe as Charles's. Perhaps she had already adapted to this environment.

"Charles, this is the second thing I wanted to tell you—the most important thing. People who don't originally belong to the mental world are judged as anomalies. Periodically, this world subjects us to various trials."

"If we pass these trials, we can survive a while longer. If we fail..."

Though she didn't finish her sentence, Charles understood her meaning.

If they failed the trials, they would be rejected by this world as anomalies.

Who could guarantee the mental world would properly return them to their original reality?

More likely, they would be banished to the space between worlds, never tired, never hungry, enduring the torment of immortality until their consciousness finally dissipated completely.

"So this is a trial? What's it about then?" Charles's gums had begun bleeding. He looked horrific, completely covered in blood.

Catherine closed her eyes, seemingly concentrating intensely on listening to something.

After a moment, she slowly spoke, "Get back to work."

"What?"

"The content of this trial is work! Until closing time, you cannot show the slightest sign of slacking off, or you'll be immediately judged as an anomaly!"

"Work is a trial?"

For Charles, who wrote diligently year-round and completed every book with dedication, work was a pleasure.

He enjoyed being immersed in fantasy, loved devising strange and horrific plots as diversions from his boring life.

But now Catherine was telling him work had become a trial? He found it hard to imagine.

"Yes, you heard correctly. Now, hurry back to your position and process these files I've given you. If others see us chatting during work hours, we won't need the mental world's judgment—our colleagues will consider us anomalies themselves."