At night, the Bureau's headquarters looked like a giant, insomniac cockroach—scattered lights, always one window glowing at the wrong time.When Ethan stepped into the elevator, the corner camera practically yawned at him. Its blinking red dot whispered: There are no secrets here, except secrets themselves.
He expected another boring briefing. Instead, opening a side door to the archive, he found seven or eight figures huddled together, looking shifty.They still wore Bureau uniforms, but their badges were covered with black cloth—like a budget underground rock band.
A stubbled man greeted him: "Welcome to the Shadow Faction, Ethan. Don't worry—we're the only sane ones here."
Ethan blinked, then laughed. "That's your opener? Sounds like a pyramid scheme. Next line: 'Join us—six-figure salary, glorious death!'"
No one laughed. A short-haired woman's voice was ice:"You really think the Director and his cronies are protecting humanity? They're staging the Great Nightmare, turning everyone into lab rats. We're done playing along."
"Oh," Ethan nodded, tone like ordering at a bar. "So it's an inside feud. Perfect—I love bureaucrats biting each other. What's your plan? Slip sleeping pills into the Director's coffee? Pipe clown music into the dream machines?"
The stubbled man sighed. "We've seized partial dream-control access. Together, we can crash the Director's plot—bring it down before he executes it."
"Crash it early?" Ethan arched a brow. "That's like saying: 'Since the car's going to explode, let's light the gas tank ourselves—at least we'll have control.'"
The woman smirked. "Better to pick our own death than wait for theirs."
The room froze, except for the sound of a rat gnawing paper in the file cabinet.Ethan scanned their eyes. Each gleamed with a different shade of madness:— One said "martyrdom incoming."— One said "can't wait to watch the world burn."— One said "damn, should've picked another career."
"So, what do you want from me?" Ethan spread his hands. "I'm not the dream server admin. I don't code bug patches. You want me to hand out flyers? Chant slogans? 'Down with the Great Nightmare, bring back lucid dreams'?"
The stubbled man stepped closer, lowering his voice. "We need someone who can move between factions. Someone unafraid of dying. A… pawn."
Ethan barked a laugh. "Of course. Classic line: Liberty, equality, brotherhood—now shove the rookie on the pyre."He shrugged. "Fine. I'm used to being the Bureau mascot anyway. At least I'll hear a few crazy plans before I croak."
The woman tossed a stack of files on the table.Stamped in red: Dream Control Allocation List.
It read like an absurd chore chart:
Director: Controls dream climate. Chooses whether it rains knives or cats.Senior advisors: Manage the "Nightmare Asset Library," able to deploy tigers, exes, missed exams, etc.Shadow Faction: Labeled "Unstable—scheduled for elimination."
Flipping to the end, Ethan spotted his own name under "Test Subject A-13." Notes: "Sarcastic, suitable for villain or sacrifice."
He stared, then burst into louder laughter."Perfect. Even my role in the dream's pre-written. Do I get a script with my death lines too?"
The woman's face was stone. "So you must choose. Join us to wreck the experiment, or stay their puppet."
Ethan lit a cigarette. Smoke coiled in the dim light, impatient as a snake."Honestly, I hate choosing sides. Every time you do, both turn out to be selling snake oil. One promises immortality, the other redemption—both hand you a tombstone in the end."
The stubbled man protested: "This time's different. We can really chan—"
"Stop!" Ethan cut him off. "Don't say 'change the world.' That's every conman's favorite opener. You want rebellion, fine—but don't expect me to cry patriotic tears. At best, I'll slip some fireworks into the Director's dream, or sneak porn into the meeting notes."
Silence thickened—until the door creaked open.The Director's assistant stood there, familiar silhouette framed in the doorway. Her lips curled into a knowing smile.
"Well," she drawled, "looks like we've got ourselves an unauthorized brainstorming session. Did you fools really think the Director doesn't know your little game?"
Everyone stiffened.Ethan blew smoke, grinning."Relax. Even if he knows, he won't stop you. Because deep down, he knows faction wars are the Bureau's only real entertainment."