Lord of the Mysteries Chapter 1427 - In Modern Day (25)

I provided the policeman with an honest account of my suspicions regarding the firm next door. Given that this business predates my own tenure here, their ability to remain inconspicuous for so many years suggests a sophisticated knack for obscuring evidence and covering their tracks.

Admittedly, I lack any concrete proof that the neighboring company is engaged in a pyramid scheme.

Eccentric attire and bizarre conduct hardly constitute valid criminal grounds.

My call to the authorities was motivated purely by concerns for Mr. A’s well-being. Having consumed that mutated mushroom man, there was no telling what might occur if he were left unattended. I was in no position to observe him or mitigate the situation personally.

However, I harbor no doubts about the police's capability to handle matters involving the supernatural.

This conviction stems from elementary logical deduction.

Madam Dai, an expert in exorcism, is engaged to Officer Deng;

Old Neil, a police consultant, possesses a clear sensitivity to ghosts and effective methods for neutralizing them;

And the enigmatic cult mentioned by Officer Deng is capable of manifesting extraordinary beings.

Synthesizing these facts, it is simple to conclude that the police force maintains a deeper grasp of supernatural phenomena.

Given this advanced understanding, they surely possess the resources and strategies to address such threats.

Slipping my phone away, I cast a sidelong glance at the firm next door, which appears perfectly normal. Pushing aside my anxieties, I settle at my desk to resume my duties.

The entire morning is swallowed by mundane tasks related to my final project. I am far too occupied to even spare a moment for a break.

As noon approaches, my phone pulses with an incoming call.

I retrieve it to find a number I do not recognize.

Who could it be? A telemarketer? Perhaps a spam caller? The number is unlisted... I mutter, accepting the call.

“Hello, are you the individual who reported the suspected pyramid scheme at Aurora Company, located at 10-188 Fengfei Road?” A weary voice speaks from the other end.

Has the police response been so swift? Have they finished their vetting process already? These questions cross my mind, instantly replaced by a vivid mental image: Mr. A, the cosplaying cultist—usually a handsome figure—now stumbling toward the officers while covered in fungal spores with golden spots.

The mere thought is chilling. I shiver and quickly respond, “Yes, that was me.”

“I find their activities highly suspicious. Did... did you uncover anything?”

“They are a registered company,” the officer sighs. “You cannot assume a pyramid scheme just because they hold morning gatherings. Numerous firms shout slogans or conduct group dances at the start of their day.”

“But one look at their assembly makes it clear it isn't standard behavior,” I subconsciously retort.

The policeman replies with palpable exasperation, “Are they forbidden from cosplaying in the morning? Is a morning masquerade party against the law?”

“You can lodge a noise complaint if they disturb the peace, but calling it a pyramid scheme is a reach.”

“They have already justified it as part of their corporate culture.”

Should a company with such a 'culture' be classified as a cult? I consider saying this, but remembering news reports of firms forcing staff to crawl on the ground, I decide the neighbors haven't quite crossed that line yet.

“Understood. My apologies, I was being oversensitive,” I say hastily.

The officer heaves a sigh of relief.

“Do try to avoid such calls in the future...”

I cut him off before he can conclude. “Did you find anything else?”

Had anyone suffered from mushroom-induced food poisoning?

“What exactly would we find? They are simply hard at work,” the officer states impatiently.

He reiterates that I should not be so suspicious and promptly hangs up.

It seems Mr. A is unharmed... A sense of relief washes over me. I rise and scan the room.

Only two or three people remain in the office, waiting for food deliveries. My other colleagues have already migrated to the canteen on the second floor.

CEO Huang has always been generous with employee benefits, providing a meal allowance strictly loaded onto our company cards, which only function within the building’s canteen.

Fortunately, the canteen's quality is commendable. The ingredients, portions, and preparation are consistently satisfactory.

The only drawback is a limited selection of staples—restricted to rice, noodles, and wontons. Those craving pancakes or rice noodles must rely on external delivery services.

To me, this is a minor inconvenience. As long as the side dishes vary, the base staple is irrelevant.

Besides, it would be wasteful to ignore the allowance, especially since it cannot be used anywhere else.

Rubbing my stomach, I retrieve my staff card from the drawer and head toward the elevator.

Upon entering the dining hall, I secure a window seat.

Looking out, I notice a group of individuals standing outside.

CEO Huang leads the pack. He quickly enters a Rolls-Royce, which pulls away, trailing behind another vehicle.

I recognize that lead car—I was a passenger in it just yesterday—it belongs to our partner, Rosago.

Thinking of that reckless driver, I feel a sudden wave of nausea approaching motion sickness.

So, Mr. Zaratulstra has arrived by high-speed rail? And CEO Huang is fetching him personally... He must consider this meeting vital. I push these thoughts aside and focus back on the food selection.

Anyway, my involvement in the project has concluded. What follows is no concern of mine.

After finishing a satisfying meal, I drift back to the office and prop my neck against a pillow.

I have a habit of catnapping in the afternoon to avoid the post-lunch slump.

To block out the random office chatter, I always listen to music during my nap.

I quickly insert my earphones, open my music app, and begin the hunt for a lullaby.

Ah, a new track. An international release with favorable reviews. My interest is piqued.

I prefer foreign-language tracks for my naps; because I cannot easily comprehend the lyrics without focus, they tend not to trigger my imagination or keep me awake.

The reviews seem solid... I decide to purchase the track.

The translated title of the song is “Advance! Advance!”

The vocalist is one Alger Wilson.

A quick check reveals his backstory is quite moving—he began as a lowly crew member adrift at sea before overcoming great adversity to become a singer.