Chapter 4 Hanging on Till Clock-out
As if to validate Catherine's warning, TechFront employees began filing back into the office just as she finished speaking.
Catherine said nothing more, giving Charles a meaningful glance before hurrying away.
Charles sat paralyzed at his workstation, even more bewildered than when he'd first arrived.
His profession alone made it obvious—he excelled at literary work but knew absolutely nothing about coding or programming.
Then he realized that "work" wasn't limited to writing code.
In any workplace, primary duties were work, but so was bringing tea or water. He could start with something he actually knew how to do.
With this in mind, Charles bent down and began collecting the scattered papers from the floor, organizing them neatly, then he distributed them to his colleagues' desks.
The other employees remained fixated on their computer screens, completely oblivious to how Charles had transformed the previously messy floor.
"Haven't cleaned a room this thoroughly in ages. Pretty exhausting." Charles wiped sweat from his forehead and stretched his back.
However, the eerie beeping sound returned.
"Work. I need to keep working. Let me see what else needs cleaning."
After glancing around, Charles moved to the office corner, grabbed a vacuum cleaner, and began removing dust from the floor.
He cleaned deliberately slowly and meticulously, mainly to kill time.
The computer screen showed it was 1:00 PM.
If TechFront operated like a normal company following standard eight-hour workday regulations, employees would finish around 5:00 PM, which meant he needed to hold out for four more hours.
Clearly, cleaning alone wouldn't carry him through.
As the dusty areas diminished, Charles grew increasingly anxious.
"What next? Clean windows? Take out trash to the dumpster downstairs?"
"Both combined might only fill half an hour. What else could I do...?"
Just as he was running out of options, a nearby employee stood up, apparently heading to the restroom.
As he passed Charles, the employee whispered, "Follow me."
Without hesitation, Charles set down the vacuum and followed him out of the office.
"Excuse me, you are...?"
"Shh, don't talk." The tall young man put his finger to his lips, signaling Charles to be quiet.
The two walked in silence until they reached the bathroom.
The moment they entered, the tall young man's shoulders slumped as he exhaled weakly, "So exhausting."
Charles nodded. The man's behavior clearly revealed he was an "anomaly" like himself.
The young man turned on the faucet and asked while washing his hands, "Are you new here?"
"Yes."
"Name?"
"Charles. Charles Jones."
The young man shook water droplets from his hands, turned with a smile, and extended his right hand.
"Edward White. Friends call me Eddie. You can too."
"Nice to meet you, Eddie. I wanted to ask—"
Eddie waved before Charles could finish. "I know what you want to ask. How to make it until closing time, right? Believe me, when I first arrived, I was just like you—trying every trick to delay the inevitable."
"But later, I discovered these little tricks don't work. The trial standards are strict. The same technique only works once."
"Coming to the bathroom like this is fine because everyone has natural needs. But remember, you can't stay too long. From my experience, we should head back in about ten minutes."
Eddie's enthusiasm and naturally friendly personality allowed Charles a brief respite from the high-pressure work environment.
After some thought, Charles asked, "What should I actually do? To be honest, I can't understand a single character of that code."
Eddie chuckled. "You talk like anyone here understands it."
"Listen carefully, newbie. The trials are strict, but they don't adapt—like an inflexible machine. That means we can find loopholes."
"Oh? What kind of loopholes?"
"Just pretend you're working hard. It doesn't matter if you understand the code or not—just type. Even random gibberish will do. We're frontend developers. Fixing bugs and programming—that's backend work. Not our problem."
"That actually works?" Charles was genuinely shocked by Eddie's brilliant insight.
If this counted as work, weren't all TechFront employees essentially getting paid for nothing?
"Why wouldn't it? Think about it—you work, the company pays you. That's normal compensation. But the money you earn while slacking off? That truly belongs to you!"
Though this logic seemed strange, Charles had to admit Eddie's method would solve his immediate crisis.
Eddie checked his watch and saw that nearly ten minutes had passed. He patted Charles's shoulder encouragingly. "Good luck, rookie. It's been ages since I've seen a new unfortunate soul appear here. After work, I'll treat you and Catherine to the best bar nearby. We can relax and talk about how you ended up here."
The two left the bathroom and returned to the office.
Charles attempted Eddie's method, typing a string of nonsensical code into the program interface.
Sure enough, the disturbing beeping noise didn't return.
But this novelty lasted less than thirty minutes before Charles grew bored.
Seeing his colleagues engrossed in their work, he boldly created a new document on the desktop and returned to his true profession.
He tried incorporating his experiences into a story, wondering if this method might somehow swap his position with Sharlec's.
Unfortunately, it seemed that once brought into the mental world, he couldn't alter predetermined outcomes.
Suddenly, his computer screen went dark.
Charles looked down and discovered he had accidentally kicked out the power cord.
He quickly bent down to reconnect it.
While he was preoccupied with this task, a face materialized on his computer screen.
It was pale and bloodless, as eerily white as a vampire from a horror film—only without fangs.
But those cold, piercing eyes were far more terrifying than any movie monster!
"Charles! It's working hours. What exactly do you think you're doing?" An angry voice boomed behind him.
Charles whipped around to see a middle-aged man with slicked-back hair standing in the office doorway, glaring at him.
