“Are you sure this is the one? It doesn’t look a single bit like it.”

I was practically yelling into the phone, as my uncle was checking the map.

“No it said it’s right there”

‘What is right “there?” I hold back the urge to punch him through the phone, and check the address again.

The bronze plate was decade old rusty, with barely visible lines squashed together in a manner that I doubt even when brand new, recognizable enough to read.

Uncle Renza was a jerk, but surely he won’t trick me about the job after two whole days of traveling, right?

I anxiously knock on the door. The dusty veil that fell off doesn’t do my belief in Renza any good.

“Hello? Is there anyone?”

Silence for a few minutes, except for my uncle distort’s yawning: “Don’t worry, I’m sure that’s the one.”

Before i can throw my phone at the door, it opens up. Appear from the darkness is a man in red jacket and a monkey mask. His baggy blue pants was tightened around the ankle by a golden bracelet. I unconsciously step back for a bit, not because of his weird mask, but because of a dozen pair of glowing eyes of multiple colors are staring at me behind him.

“Mr. Hour, I supposed?”

“Ye-yes?”

I was not in my best speech performance here. But fortunately for me, my answer seems to satisfy whatever is behind the door, and the pairs of eyes slowly fade away.

It’s weird, but i can feel like the corner of the mask’s mouth raise a little. He make a welcoming gesture.

“We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Hour”

“Uh, thank you”

“Before we go in, do you have any questions?”

Yes I do, ‘how’s the pay here’, ‘is there a vacation day’, ‘do I get an insurance for trying to feed an alligator but end up losing my hand’, but all of that crumble down to:

“Uh, no”

And so I head in to the dark hall.

…