Outside the hospital, the storm had long since faded into a dripping, misty drizzle. But something dark lingered on the ground: an inky, viscous pile, half-hidden by rain-soaked pavement and scattered debris. A rather disgusting thing, one that had infected many people, causing them to retch uncontrollably, thus transferring and infecting new hosts.
A gloved hand reached down, fingers closing carefully around the strange substance. The glove was black, pristine, and far too deliberate for an ordinary passerby. The hand lifted the sludge closer to eye level for inspection.
It belonged to a man in a crisp officer's uniform, the insignia on his shoulders marking him as someone far above the average rank-and-file, someone used to making decisions that would decide life, death, or worse. The man's eyes narrowed at the residue, calculating, professional, precise.
Footsteps approached quickly. A subordinate jogged to his side, panting slightly from the exertion.
"Captain!" the officer reported, voice clipped and urgent. "We've rounded up everybody who was in contact with Demonic Anomaly #934, Black Sludge! All infected individuals are currently in quarantine and are being treated!"
The captain nodded once, the motion sharp, deliberate. "Anything else?"
"Yes, sir. We've also detected traces of Demonic Anomaly #3312, 'Resentful Taxi Driver.'"
The captain's brow furrowed, a subtle but noticeable tightening around his eyes. It was clear that this one was far more dangerous than the black sludge. "Do we know who the victim is? Or how strong the anomaly might be?"
"Not completely certain," the subordinate admitted. "It was raining heavily when the trace was found. The marks could be fresh, from a weak anomaly, or potentially very strong, but most of the residue was washed away by the storm. The victim may be… this: Zhee-an-lan. (*white guy saying a chinese person's name*) They booked an Uber, but never showed up for the car. It could be someone else, however. We can't be sure."
The captain considered this in silence, the shadows of early morning cutting across his sharp features. Finally, he nodded, as if confirming a silent thought.
"See if you can locate their residence," he ordered. "It may be a false alarm, but we cannot risk overlooking it."
The subordinate frowned, wondering what looking at a dead man's apartment would do, but bowed quickly, already jogging off to carry out the order.
The captain stared down at the dark, inky puddle for a long moment, fingers flexing around the gloves. Even washed by rain, the residue shimmered faintly, almost as if it had its own heartbeat.
Somewhere, deep in the city, a mundane college student was blissfully unaware that his absurd Uber ride had triggered the attention of people who could (and would) make a small disaster look like a national emergency.
Xu Jianlan lay upside down on his couch, limbs draped across the cushions like a wilted, disgruntled noodle. For once, the apartment was spotless. He'd stress-cleaned like a madman after getting back, probably because the apartment had smelled horrible compared to the crisp, sterile air of the hospital.
That lingering funk had been the last straw. Every counter, every corner, every mysterious crumb of his miserable life had been scrubbed, polished, and shoved into neat little corners of denial.
He sat there, dazed, upside down, staring at the ceiling like it might answer the question of why his life existed.
Then… his phone rang.
"Dude, I didn't know you actually got hit by lightning!"
Ah. His brother. His Da Ge. His… complicated emotional disaster of a sibling. At least (finally!) Jianlan felt a flicker of proof that he was cared about!
But then:
"Mom's gonna gut you after she realizes you switched your emergency contact to me," the brother added, voice tinged with that infuriating mix of panic and amusement. "Hide. She'll be on a warpath!"
Jianlan blinked.
"You… didn't believe me? Betrayal… from a brother-o'-mine?!" His voice rose dramatically, shaking the walls of the spotless apartment. The ceiling probably winced. The couch might've groaned.
His brother's voice was sheepish over the line. "The hospital called me, and I hung up because I thought it was a prank. And, like… uh… you aren't the best. At… uh… not exaggerating."
Jianlan huffed, rolling his eyes, letting the phone dangle precariously. He wanted to be offended. He wanted to cry. He wanted to feel betrayed to the core of his melodramatic being.
Instead… he just slumped further into the couch, upside down, and muttered to himself, "Family. Why…?"
He huffed again. "Glad to know you love" he crooned.
They chatted for a bit longer, the conversation slipping into familiar sibling banter, the kind that balanced insulting each other's intelligence, and insulting their faces. Whatever, it was sibling love. Jianlan recounted, in exaggerated detail, the lightning, the taxi, the hospital, and the absolute absurdity of his life. His brother chimed in with teasing commentary, ribbing him mercilessly while trying to sound concerned.
"You know," the brother said at one point, voice thick with mock solemnity, "if you survive another week, I'll start calling it a miracle instead of just bad luck."
Jianlan snorted, flipping his hair over his face as he lay inverted. "Miracles are overrated. I'd rather not die in a puddle again."
Eventually, the conversation drew to a close.
"My fiancée just woke up," his brother said casually, the unmistakable sign that Jianlan's moment of sibling attention had ended. "Talk later." Click. Lucky dog, having a nice and wonderful girl. Pride of the family, she was. Jianlan bet that if things ever didn't work out between them, his mother would kick his big bro to the curb and keep the fiancé.
Jianlan lay there even longer, staring at the ceiling. His limbs sprawled in every improbable direction, couch cushions forming small valleys around him. Studying? Ha. Writing essays? Impossible. Even opening a textbook felt like a violation of some cosmic law. He was too busy processing his life, after all.
Minutes stretched lazily into eternity.
Then,
A knock at the door.
Jianlan's head snapped up.
Strange. He hadn't ordered any takeaway for once. No food deliveries, no packages, nothing that should warrant the sudden sound of someone intruding upon his pristine apartment.
He froze. Aw hell no. social anxiety can suck m-
Another knock. Louder this time, sharper. Persistent.
His pulse ticked up. Every instinct screamed at him: Do not answer. Yet curiosity, melodrama, and a certain stubborn streak compelled him forward.
He swung his legs over the couch, planting them carefully on the floor, and crawled upright. Every creak of the hardwood felt like a spotlight announcing his presence.
"Who is it?" he called, to the empty apartment, voice wavering.
No answer. Just the faint patter of rain outside and the ever-present hum of the city.
Jianlan's hand hovered over the doorknob, hesitation battling thrill. He was just a dweeb that was wayyy too scared to face any human contact.
He swung the door open…
And froze.
Two officers stood there, with very sharp uniforms, very serious expressions, badges gleaming faintly under the morning light. Their presence screamed authority and totally not a casual visit.
Jianlan's mind raced.
No. No. Too young. Too innocent. Too melodramatic for prison. There's no way this can happen to me. I have so much left to do. My essays! My ramen! My lukewarm tea! I'm too young to die!
Okay, maybe he was exaggerating.
Before reason could stop him, Jianlan's panic muscles engaged. With a theatrical flourish that would have made any stage actor jealous, he slammed the door right in their faces.
BANG!
The officers stopped. Their eyes blinked, unamused. One of them tapped lightly on the door. Jianlan's heart skipped several beats.
"Hell no." he whispered to himself, leaning against the door as if sheer proximity would ward off arrest.
Then…
A soft, deliberate cough came from outside.
Jianlan froze. The sound carried a weight that made his stomach flip. He glanced through the peephole (or rather, tried to) but the morning light was unforgiving, revealing nothing… except the unmistakable, patient presence of people whose jobs were to notice everything.
He slowly backed away from the door.
Oh no. Oh no.
His face burned hotter than any thunderstorm, including the one where he'd been hit by lightning, hotter than the soggy puddle of failure outside the hospital. His limbs felt like lead, his stomach did somersaults, and his brain scrambled desperately for a plausible excuse.
He had just… slammed the door on real officers.
Embarrassment swelled to catastrophic proportions. Melodrama surged through him like a tide. He wanted to sink through the floor, curl up, and disappear forever.
Instead, he just stood there, staring at the door like it had personally betrayed him.
Xu Jianlan tousled his hair frantically, trying to look more… innocent? More harmless? Less like someone who had just slammed the door on two uniformed officers? He wasn't sure if innocence was visible through panic, but he hoped.
He inhaled sharply, squared his shoulders (or tried to), and reopened the door.
"Ahem. Sorry. I was… surprised," he offered, voice wobbling slightly like a badly tuned instrument.
One officer raised an eyebrow, sharp and skeptical, cutting through the air like a blade. The tension was immediate, palpable, as if the next word could decide Jianlan's fate. It was annoying that they looked that cool.
The other officer, by contrast, smiled. Gentle. Calm. Almost… friendly. A perfect embodiment of good cop, bad cop. Dark and moody, crew cut black hair, versus short and bubbly, fluffy auburn hair.
"Apologies for the scare, sir," the friendlier one said, voice smooth. "We came by to ask if you'd been at the XXX Hospital this morning. A sudden, new type of virus had spread from there, and we were hoping to prevent any further infection."
Jianlan blinked. His mind tripped over the words. Virus? Infection? Hospitals? His brain, still in dramatic overdrive from lightning, taxis, and inky puddles, tried to process it.
"I mean… I was there," he said carefully, voice pitched in that "I'm totally fine, I promise" way. "But I ain't sick. I mean, I'm not unwell? Definitely not…" He trailed off, doubt creeping in.
Silence.
The officers stared. The eyebrow of suspicion was still raised, and the smile of patience flickered like a warning light. Jianlan shifted nervously, hands fidgeting, hair tousled in desperation.
Finally, the other officer (the "bad" cop) rolled their eyes. "We came because we thought you were kidnapped," they said bluntly, voice low and urgent. "Security footage shows you getting into an unknown car… before your Uber pulled up."
Jianlan blinked.
Blinked again.
Blinked one more time, just to make sure his brain wasn't hallucinating.
He had. Gotten into an unknown car.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
This was exactly the kind of melodramatic catastrophe he'd been hoping to avoid. And yet… here it was, staring him in the face, in uniform, with badges and clipped authority and the not-so-faint smell of bureaucratic judgment.
His brain short-circuited, replaying the Uber incident, the taxi's sputtering engine, the fogged-up separator glass… and the inky puddle from the hospital outside.
Yes. The universe had officially decided: today, Xu Jianlan would panic at the intersection of infection, authority, and his own spectacular incompetence. At least he hadn't actually been kidnapped.
The nicer officer shot a sharp glare at his partner, clearly unimpressed by the bluntness of "you got kidnapped." He leaned slightly forward, voice soft but firm.
"Ahem. Could you perhaps tell us if you noticed anything… unusual about the car?"
Jianlan blinked rapidly, struggling to organize his scattered thoughts. Every memory of the Uber (which was already very traumatic, thank you very much) flooded back in vivid, judgmental detail.
"Uh… it was… pretty normal? I guess?" he began, voice quivering as he gestured vaguely. "Well, the… window thing, you know, the separator between the driver and me? It was really foggy. And, uh… the seatbelt? Super tight. And, oh! The place smelled… really weird. And it was cold. Really cold."
The officers exchanged looks. The one with the pleasant smile raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak immediately, letting Jianlan's escalating panic paint the rest of the picture.
"Oh my god," Jianlan whispered to himself, clutching his chest dramatically. "Was I… getting drugged? Roofied? Poisoned? Poisoned and kidnapped?!"
His head snapped back and forth, eyes wide, hair tousled, and his heart was hammering like it was auditioning for an action movie soundtrack. Every rational part of his brain was screaming Calm down, but the melodramatic, hyper-imaginative portion, the part that thrived on catastrophe, had already painted him in black ink on the floor of every possible worst-case scenario.
"The smell… the cold… the foggy glass…" he muttered. "It all adds up! They must have… roofied me! That's why the taxi was so… so…" His hands waved vaguely, as if waving could somehow convey the sheer criminality of the experience.
The nicer officer's glare softened slightly, more amused than annoyed now, but she didn't smile. Instead, she let the tension linger just long enough to let Jianlan feel that he might be standing at the precipice of actual disaster, all because of a slightly foggy window and a tight seatbelt.
Back in the apartment, Jianlan finally exhaled. He shut the door with a quiet thud and sank to the floor, leaning against the wall. Relief washed over him in slow, deliberate waves. For the first time all morning, he felt… safe. Thank fuck he hadn't been arrested. No way did he have the money for bail. But… if he was arrested… maybe he could skip finals…
Meanwhile, the officers walked briskly back to where a sleek, unmarked vehicle waited. The captain stood beside it, posture rigid and authoritative, eyes scanning the cityscape like he could already predict its next crises.
The first officer nodded respectfully. One of them lifted an arm and twisted a dial on their wrist. Almost immediately, a shimmering barrier sprang up around the car. It was transparent to the eye, but enough to prevent most forms of eavesdropping, recording devices, or prying ears from intercepting or listening in on their conversation.
"Sir," the officer began, voice clipped and professional, "the victim is alive. They had not even realized that it wasn't their original car. They did, however, note some of the most common traits of the Resentful Taxi Driver."
The captain tilted his head, eyebrow raised, silent but demanding clarification.
The other officer stepped forward, eager to provide details. "The individual noted foggy glass, an unusually tight seatbelt, strange air, and a chill inside the vehicle. All of these are common signs of the Resentful Taxi Driver's presence. None of the effects were deadly in this instance."
The captain's gaze swept over the surrounding area, evaluating, calculating. "So… the anomaly manifested subtly. Left a mark, but did not directly harm the victim?"
"Yes, sir," the officer replied. "It appears that the anomaly's goal may be… psychological, or possibly observational. The individual remained unharmed, but their encounter fits several established parameters of the Resentful Taxi Driver phenomenon."
The captain nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Keep monitoring. If the anomaly escalates, we must be prepared. Inform headquarters of the situation and update the quarantine protocols for any secondary effects."
The officers saluted and moved to continue their surveillance, leaving the street quiet again—though beneath the mundane exterior, a dangerous, subtle pattern of supernatural disturbances continued to unfold.
The captain murmured under his breath, tone low and deliberate, almost to himself.
"I've never seen a non-Order member survive that specific anomaly before. Perhaps it truly was just a weak anomaly. It might attempt to target him again, but… unlikely. Monitor him. See if he's fit to join the Order."
The officers nodded sharply, committing the instructions to memory.
"Return to headquarters for now," the captain added.
With that, the protective barrier around the car dissolved, fading like mist in sunlight. The officers saluted crisply and climbed into the vehicle, the engine purring to life.
The captain paused, one hand lingering on the door frame. He felt a presence like a weight on the edge of perception. His gaze swept the street, sharp and precise.
Then he saw it.
A figure, half-hidden in shadow, up in one of the windows watching him. A man. Young. Unremarkable at first glance, but the face? He recognized it instantly from the files. Jian-lan.
The man's eyes widened at the captain's stare. For a heartbeat, their gazes locked. Then, with a small, high-pitched squeak, the figure ducked back out of sight, disappearing into the folds of the curtain.
The captain furrowed his eyebrows, lips pressing into a thin line. Something about the encounter had set his instincts on edge, though there was no immediate danger.
He shook his head, dismissing it (for now) and climbed into the car. The engine roared, and the unmarked vehicle slipped smoothly into the city streets, leaving the quiet street behind.
But in the captain's mind, the image lingered: a young man, oblivious, untamed… and perhaps, unknowingly, already marked by forces beyond his understanding. Best to keep him under observation.
Xu Jianlan dialed one of his siblings for the fourth time that day, because (let's face it) he didn't have any friends. The phone barely rang before he was yelling.
"Ah'Xuan! Ah'Xuan! I nearly got arrested!"
There was a pause on the other end, followed by the faintest sigh of confusion. A sweet, patronizing voice rang out.
"Did you take your pills, honey?"
Jianlan's eyes practically bulged out of his head. "Shut up! You know I don't have halluci—Argh! Shut up!"
"Fine, fine," she said patiently. "What happened?"
He babbled, flailing in words as if punctuation were a form of betrayal, recounting the lightning, the Uber, the hospital, the inky puddle, the officers… and then, because melodrama has a hierarchy, he mentioned the guy at the car.
"And then there was this really hot guy waiting at the car for them! And they talked for a long time! What if… what if they think I'm a drug dealer and they're just waiting for me to slip up?!"
His sister let out a scoff, a sound perfectly calibrated to infuriate him further.
"Dude," she said, voice dripping with amusement, "you just mentioned how hot this guy is like… four times. Chill. Let's do an exercise. What's the first thing you notice when a guy walks up to you?"
Jianlan, no hesitation, fired back: "The audacity."
She whistled. "O-kay. You probably aren't gay then."
"Wha—what? Wrong thing to focus on here! I nearly got arrested!"
She laughed, calm and relentless. "Chill. I was just thinking… how cool it would be to finally have someone fruity in the fam."
Jianlan's face felt like it could melt off. His eyes widened. His hands trembled. For a second, he wondered if he could hang up and teleport out of existence simultaneously.
He hung up.
Phone click. Silence.
He lay back, staring at the ceiling, wondering if his life would ever stop spiraling between near arrest and family-fueled humiliation.
He hated his life.
It was like upon birth, someone high above was like, Oh - my - me! That is one ugly baby! And then cursed him with bad luck for life.
He never, ever wanted to step out of his apartment again.