If you woke up one day to find a Mini-Human about the size of your pinky finger sitting on your nose and gesturing wildly, what would you do?
Shi Rang's response was to turn his head and shake it off, sending it tumbling onto a thin sliver of sunlight on his bed. Then, amidst its high-pitched protests of "Hey, you cannot ignore me!", he bolted into the bathroom, desperate to find a pill.
But all the orange plastic medicine bottles were empty.
He could not recall the mindset that had possessed him to line them up behind the mirror like a stamp collection. Right now, he simply swept them all into the trash can, cranked open the faucet, and splashed a handful of cold water onto his face.
By the time Shi Rang grabbed a towel and returned to the bedroom, his bed held nothing but a crumpled blanket.
No Mini-Humans.
No supernatural phenomena.
"I am fine... I am fine..." he muttered, staring at the haggard man in the mirror, striving to reinforce his fragile grip on reality. "It is just like back then. My old illness is acting up..."
For a long time after losing Ying Shang, he had been utterly unwilling to accept reality. Devastated by grief, he had met the concern of others with sheer hostility, and even suffered from visual and auditory hallucinations.
'Please, just let me return to the real world!'
Today was Monday, a workday. Ten minutes past seven in the morning.
The sunlight was perfect. A good day to submit a Resignation Letter.
Shi Rang habitually reached for his phone, felt its shattered screen, and finally reconnected with his fractured memories of the previous night. He tossed the ruined device aside, hastily threw on his clothes, and bolted for the door. Failing to find his usual shoes, he snatched another pair from the rack and dashed out. A second later, he jammed his foot in the doorway and doubled back to grab a piece of bread. Then came yet another return trip—this time to double-check that the front door was locked and that his keys were in his pocket.
He felt exactly like he was nursing a terrible hangover, only worse. He practically floated down the early morning streets in a hazy jog, navigated through several familiar intersections, and trudged up to the second floor of the Newspaper Office. There, he forcefully choked down the bread, washing it down with a cup of free coffee.
As the hot drink and food pumped energy into his system, the world finally snapped back into focus.
Once his mind steadied, his heart skipped a beat.
'Oh, crap... I forgot to bring the Camera.'
He had borrowed that from a colleague.
The dark brown liquid in his cup reflected his face, which looked just as atrocious as it had in the mirror that morning. He appeared to have lost over two kilograms. His eyes bore the weight of worldly sorrow and the bitter vicissitudes of life, while his heavy eyelids and layered eye bags suggested he had forgotten the very concept of sleep.
Just end it all quickly. He had had enough.
The psychological trauma from the terrifying ordeal of nearly being buried alive cut much deeper than he had imagined.
If things continued like this, he would genuinely lose his mind.
Quit immediately, walk away, and take a solid few days to rest. Maybe even see a Psychologist. That was exactly what he needed...
A fierce itch crawled down his forearm, trailing toward his cuff.
Shi Rang set down his cup and reached over to scratch it, only to see a tiny head peek out from beneath his fingers.
"Are you even listening to me? You clearly saw me, so why are you pretending not to notice?"
'Hallucinations...'
'It is all a hallucination...'
Shi Rang's pupils trembled. His brain swelled against his skull, throbbing as though it might explode at any moment.
"Oh, Shi Rang, you are here early?"
A colleague strolled into the break room, stepped up to the coffee pot, and casually topped off Shi Rang's cup.
"I thought our great hero would get a few days off. But sure enough, the Chief Editor is still his usual stingy self."
Shi Rang mechanically turned his head toward the voice, then snapped his gaze back to his cuff. There was nothing there anymore. He ripped his sleeve back, flipped his arm over, and lowered his head, frantically searching his own clothes.
There were no Mini-Humans.
"Are you alright, Shi Rang? Are you sure you shouldn't ask for a few days off to rest? You look like—"
Shi Rang stumbled away, fleeing the break room and leaving his colleague to stare bewilderedly at his erratic, swaying back.
"Good lord, what is wrong with him?"
-----------------
"This is not working! This guy will not listen to me at all. Damn it, what do we do now?" The boy frustratedly ruffled his blonde hair, making it even messier, and plopped down cross-legged inside Shi Rang's left pocket.
"Jack, you are pushing him too hard. He just narrowly escaped the Red Meat Mass yesterday. Right now, he is still in the denial phase. His brain might be suppressing severely traumatic memories as a defense mechanism. Give him some time. Besides, if he admits that his entire worldview needs to be completely rewritten, it would be no different from forcing him to accept that he is our accomplice..." a minuscule voice chimed in near his ear.
"Why are you talking to me in that tone, like you know better than I do?"
"Kid, I used to be a Psychologist."
Another tiny voice piped up. "Yes, we need to let him gradually 'recall' everything on his own initiative. Listen to the doctor. He can definitely help us recruit this—"
"Do not call me 'kid'! I am the only Big Guy here now, and the rest of you are just Tiny Ones. I am in charge here! What I say goes, and not even The Sheriff can overrule me!"
Following this petulant outburst, the Tiny Ones all fell silent.
Standing merely a few millimeters tall, they obediently sat down on Jack's clothes and clung tightly to their respective fabric fibers.
Once the shaking subsided, Jack grabbed the edge of the pocket and carefully poked his head out, peering around with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.
Shi Rang was staring blankly at a document on his computer screen. The cursor had been blinking at the end of the phrases "Resignation Letter" and "I Quit" for quite some time.
He seemed to feel that was far too brief, so he typed out, "I deserve a cut of the profits from the news I investigated, otherwise you can deal with the Alliance," before deleting it all, his brows knitting tightly together in frustration.
Just then, the glass door at the far end of the office—the one belonging exclusively to the Chief Editor—swung open. A Smoke Cloud billowed out alongside the harsh squeak of the door hinges. Shi Rang immediately stood up, but the colleague who had been holding his breath while fleeing the office completely bypassed him, waving instead at a workstation further back.
"Shi Rang, hold on a second. And, uh, who was it again... the new Intern! Right, you. The Chief Editor says your draft is no good. Head on over there—"
A nervous-looking young man in the back row let out an anxious squeak of acknowledgment and trudged toward the Chief Editor's office.
As he passed by, the Intern had to turn sideways to squeeze past Shi Rang, who was standing completely frozen and spaced out, blocking the majority of the narrow aisle.
In the brief instant they brushed past each other, a miniscule figure leaped out of Shi Rang's pocket and latched onto the Intern's pant leg.
For Jack, whose height had drastically shrunk to less than ten centimeters, clinging to a violently swinging leg was pure torture. He rapidly scaled the fabric and dove into the man's left coat pocket—one that was clearly rarely used—hitching a ride straight into the looming Smoke Cloud ahead.
Acrid smoke filled the air, causing the Tiny Ones to cough and complain incessantly.
Covering his nose, Jack took the opportunity to direct them to do a headcount, confirming that all 325 Tiny Ones were present and accounted for.
The "Intern Express" carrying the group of Mini-Humans quickly came to a halt. Accompanied by a loud smack, a thick stack of documents was slammed onto the towering desk high above them.
"Read it out loud yourself," a gruff, unfamiliar voice demanded.
The Tiny Ones began to murmur among themselves:
"Bad throat, congested nose, raspy voice—this guy has been smoking for a long time."
"That must be the Chief Editor."
"He sounds like a thoroughly unpleasant fellow."
Jack shushed them and perked his ears to listen closely to the ensuing conversation. Though they were small, their ears were proportionately tiny, meaning they had to concentrate intensely just to make out the booming voices of the "giants."
"Dockside Discovery of Hundred-Person Stowaway Pit. The main text reads: On April 5th, Pingyuan City Police received a report that in the Old Industrial Zone..."
"Enough! What kind of garbage is this?"
"I... Chief Editor, I wrote it based on the information provided by the police department, as well as the firsthand Photographs..." The Intern lowered his head meekly.
"Yeah, written so rigidly it reads like a damn Police Bulletin. Look at this Photograph. Tell me, how are you going to write a description for it?"
The Chief Editor waved his hand and dismissively tossed something into the middle of the desk. The Intern righted it and examined it closely.
"A stowaway's... corpse..." An uncomfortable gulp caught in the Intern's throat. "It might be female, age roughly—"
"Forget everything you learned in school! Let me tell you what real news is: 'Young Woman with No Money Smuggles Herself to Meet Lover, Trades Body for Boat Ticket, Later Buried Alive'. Now look at this man. If you are going to write about him, write: 'Middle-Aged Man Forced Out, His Corpse Exposed in Deep Pit, Wife and Children Only Take Compensation, Not the Man'."
The Intern's next words choked in his throat for a long while.
"...Where did you get all this background information on these people? I heard the police have not even—"
"When you have Photographs, what other background information do you need? Are you worried that the families of these stowaways will cross the ocean from the Ninth District just to sue us? There is a mountain of news making up stories about them; let them try to sue everyone if they have the guts. For the women, write trashy and scandalous angles. For the men, write about their marriages, their kids, and their affairs. Traffic will determine what the truth is! These are the 'Rumors' that people press their noses against the screen to read! This is the 'Inside Story'! We put what they crave on the screen, and they revel in it. People only believe the 'facts' they want to believe! Tsk, it is a shame everyone in this scene is so filthy, otherwise, we would have some prime material to hype up..."
"What absolute scum!" one Tiny One cursed. "Society's morals are ruined by people like him."
The other Tiny Ones murmured in agreement.
"I have an idea!"
Jack's eyes lit up.
"That guy Shi Rang wants to quit, so he is definitely going to come in here soon. Since he refuses to accept reality, we will give him proof. We will prove to him that we absolutely exist!"