The Bureau's conference room always looked like a surgery ward forgotten by time—cold steel table, lights so bright they could fry your corneas, and walls resembling unfinished cement. If not for the pile of files stamped "TOP SECRET," I might've thought I'd stumbled into a discount plastic surgery clinic.
Today's meeting was unusually "grand." So grand, in fact, the coffee had been upgraded from cheap instant to paper-cup "freshly ground." Still tasted like it had been scooped out of an interrogation cell's toilet.
The Director sat at the center, that canyon-deep wrinkle on his forehead looking deeper than the cracks in the wall. His voice rasped like a dying cassette player:
"Ladies and gentlemen, our Bureau faces an unprecedented threat. The Shadow Dossier has been confirmed, and its risks are—worse than a nuclear bomb dropping into a marketplace."
The room buzzed with whispers. One agent couldn't hold back:"Sir, worse than a nuke? Isn't that a little exaggerated? Last time you said a hacker could 'end human civilization,' but all he did was max out your wife's credit card."
Everyone struggled not to laugh—some even faked coughs. The Director's glare nearly wrote that agent's obituary on the spot.
I cleared my throat, seizing the moment:"I can vouch for it. The Shadow Dossier isn't just a file, not even a prophecy. It's an update patch—installed straight into the human mind. Roll it out, and everyone gets rebooted back to factory settings."
Silence. Then expressions like they were digesting my nonsense.
"Sounds like…" the Deputy Director drawled, "Capitalism 2.0."
"Wrong." I shook my head. "Capitalism still gives you the illusion of choice—you get to agonize over Starbucks or Luckin. The Dossier? It turns you into a button masher who can only press 'OK.'"
The air froze like pork in a freezer. Someone muttered, "That's… pretty efficient."
The Director slammed the table so hard my ears rang:"Efficient? Then what the hell do we need agents for? No secrets, no rebels, no terrorists—and not even us!"
That sobered the room quick. A world without paychecks was scarier than doomsday.
"Then… why the emergency meeting?" someone whispered.
The Director bared his teeth: "Judgment. Either destroy the Dossier, or use it. Today, we vote."
Eyes turned on me and Yechuan. He lounged back, smirking like he'd just hit the jackpot in Vegas:"My vote's to use it. You people love interrogating, manipulating, controlling—this is your dream tool. A Dossier that makes lies truth, rebels kneel. This isn't a nightmare, it's your kink."
A few agents shifted guiltily, like he'd nailed their secret fetish.
I sneered: "Don't buy it. That thing wipes out everything—even your greed, your promotions, your bonuses. You'll be cheaper than NPCs. At least NPCs drop loot."
The room tugged back and forth until finally, the Director growled:"Then we vote. Destroy, or use."
Hands rose like they were heading to the gallows. The tally? Dead even.
The Director's temple bulged. He exhaled through his teeth:"Perfect. We're half-cooked rice—neither raw nor done."
His gaze landed on me."You're closest to the Dossier. You decide. Destroy, or use. Three days."
Dozens of eyes stabbed into me. I forced a smile:"Three days? Great. I wasn't planning to live past the weekend anyway."
The lights flickered overhead, clapping for this absurd verdict.