The helmet was smarter than I thought. It locked onto sixteen contaminants scattered across the sewer. From what I could tell, none of them had any human shape left.

I couldn't smell a thing thanks to the helmet’s filters, but this place probably reeked like death. The floor was littered with broken, rotting meat—nothing too scary, just more monster corpses. I’d seen worse.

But the weird part? The stuff floating off the bodies.

Tiny drops of blood were seeping out, rising into the air, and just hanging there. Some kept their usual droplet shape, but others had mutated into these twisted, claw-like forms. They floated around like creepy red jellyfish, glowing faintly.

Standing there, I almost felt like I’d stumbled into some ancient, cursed cave.

It’s kinda beautiful in a really messed up way...

I remembered what the training video said: when the contaminant dies, the spores don’t. They’re still alive and searching for a new host.

That host could be anything—human, plant, animal. Hell, sometimes even lifeless objects like walls, tiles, or even robots could get infected.

Emily had mentioned that the spores were why robots short-circuit. Apparently, these things can corrupt machines, even invade networks.

So those floating blood drops? They were spores. And they couldn’t be destroyed—just contained. That’s why cleaners like us were needed.

The video had shown just one tiny spore. Now I was surrounded by them. Mind blown.

A shuffle of feet behind me signaled Emma and Daniel dropping down next to me.

“You didn’t throw up,” Emma said, surprised.

Apparently, most new hires’ first reaction was to puke. Am I supposed to fake it? I mean, it’s gross, but... I’ve seen worse.

I just shrugged.

“Ugh,” Daniel groaned, wrinkling his nose. “Water-type contaminants. The worst.”

“What’s up with water types?” I asked.

“They hold more moisture, so the spores are more active,” Emma explained.

Now that she mentioned it, the blood droplets were moving a lot faster than in the video.

A loud clang echoed above as a metal plate sealed off the entrance, leaving us in complete darkness.

"They sealed us in?" I asked, a little uneasy.

Emma’s calm voice came through the helmet. “Don’t worry, it’s standard. Keeps the spores from escaping. Once we’re done, it’ll reopen automatically.”

Great. Being locked in a sewer wasn’t exactly on my bucket list, but I guess it made sense.

“This is a class E mission,” Emma continued. “Not a big deal. The contamination’s mild. We’ll be done in no time.”

The spores were slow-moving, the contaminants had only recently died, and the contamination hadn’t spread much yet. Daniel had mentioned 2,500 cubic meters—basically the size of an Olympic swimming pool. But those numbers weren’t exact. It could be two pools or more. They gave rough estimates to avoid any surprises.

Honestly, I found the work kind of interesting. I’d spent my whole life fighting monsters. This was my first time handling the cleanup.

“Be careful,” Emma warned. “Don’t let the spores touch your skin.”

Spores could latch onto skin and spread. That’s why our suits were sealed up tight.

Emma gave me a quick demo. She pulled out a straw-like device from her cleaning pack and gently poked one of the floating blood droplets. There was a faint pop as it got sucked into the straw.

The end of the straw led to a transparent box. Once the droplet fell inside, it gathered with others, and when there were enough, they formed a cube about the size of a green pea.

Honestly, kinda satisfying.

Emma worked slowly, no rush. It was a meticulous job, like... picking cotton.

Am I seriously comparing this to picking cotton? I couldn’t help but laugh at myself.

Our job was simple: gather the spores, clean up the corpses and any soil, water, or rocks they touched, then scrub the area down to make sure nothing was left behind.

So, basically... garbage duty.

I joined in, straw in hand, and gently poked at a spore.

The moment it was contained, I heard a faint ding in my head.

Stolen story; please report.

System: Primary contaminant. Purification value +1.

Purification value? What the hell’s that?

I tried it again. Every time I contained a spore, the voice chimed in.

Well, whatever it is, I’m racking up points.

I sped up, sucking up spores left and right. Daniel glanced over at me, clearly confused. Most newbies just coasted through their first day, but I was working like a machine.

Sorry dude, I’m not slacking off today.

After a while, my arm started to cramp up. I’d hit a purification value of 45.

“How long does this usually take?” I asked, shaking out my stiff arm.

“About an hour,” Daniel replied.

The work wasn’t dangerous or thrilling—it was all about endurance. And to be honest, I found it... kinda calming.

“If you start feeling off mentally, let us know,” Emma said, still focused on her task.

“Off... mentally?” I asked.

“Our suits can’t block everything,” she explained. “They’ll stop the spores from attaching to you, but they can’t block the mental contamination.”

I twitched as I sucked up another spore. Mental contamination? Suddenly these little guys looked way more annoying.

Even with physical barriers, spores could still mess with your head.

“What happens if you get mentally contaminated?” I asked.

“Mild symptoms include nausea, nightmares, and constant fatigue. Moderate symptoms include hallucinations. One of our old coworkers once thought he’d turned into a two-headed pink lotus flower.”

Wait, what?!

Emma sighed. “Severe cases... well, they start attacking people. Or worse, they become so obsessed with the monsters that they start worshiping them. Some kill themselves. Some kill others. There’s a lot of cases.”

Fantastic. Mental contamination wouldn’t turn you into a zombie, but it’d screw with your mind enough to make you dangerous.

“Do you feel anything yet?” Emma asked, probably checking if I was showing symptoms.

I thought about it. “No, not really.”

And I wasn’t lying. I felt totally fine.

Emma glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. I could tell she found me... different.

“I’m out,” Daniel panted, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I need a breather.”

His voice sounded strained. “How do we ‘breathe’ exactly?” I asked.

“Just move away,” Daniel said. “The farther you are from the spores, the less they affect you. A kilometer or so away, and you’re good.”

That makes sense. Spores had a limited range. If they had unlimited reach, the world would’ve been contaminated long ago.

“Go with him,” Emma said, waving me off.

I was fine, but it was clear Emma wanted me to keep an eye on Daniel. He wasn’t looking great.

Leaving the spores behind, we headed deeper into the sewer. No lights—just the green glow of our helmets guiding us.

Daniel kept going farther and farther. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was leading me somewhere to kill me.

Finally, he stopped after what felt like two kilometers.

He ripped off his helmet, taking a deep breath. “I was suffocating in there.”

His face was pale, drenched in sweat. He looked like he’d been through hell.

“You good?” I asked, not taking off my helmet.

“Shit,” he muttered. “My head’s killing me.”

I already knew Daniel was the type to get worked up, but right now, he seemed more than that. He was... agitated.

Is this mental contamination?

I watched him closely, fingers brushing the gun at my waist. “Maybe put your helmet back on?”

The handbook said never to expose your skin. The training video said the same. Right now, Daniel was acting more like the rookie than I was.

“I can’t breathe with it on,” he snapped.

He wasn’t just struggling to breathe—he was full-on panicking.

Why does he look worse out here than he did back there?

His eyes were bloodshot, and the pressure must’ve been building in his head because the veins in his eyes were bursting, slowly filling with red. He didn’t even seem to notice, just kept rubbing at his eyes.

I took a step back, hand gripping my gun. Is he infected?

“Should I call this in?” I asked, thinking back to the rulebook.

Rule No. 1: If you suspect contamination, report it to your superior.

Quit if necessary.

Daniel waved me off. “Nah, I’m fine. Just need a minute. We’ve still got work to do.”

He didn’t sound totally insane, but I wasn’t letting go of the gun.

Rule No.2: Always watch your teammates.

I kept an eye on Daniel, debating whether to report him, when I heard it.

Shhhhkkk.

I frowned. What was that?

Shhhhhhhhh.

The sound wasn’t coming from Daniel. He was still rubbing his eyes. It was coming from farther down the sewer.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh.

“What the hell was that?” I asked.

“Huh?” Daniel sounded dazed, too distracted by his own issues to notice.

I reacted on instinct, pulling out my gun and aiming it into the darkness.

Daniel, who was already on edge, jumped. “Whoa, what the hell?! I’m not contaminated!”

He was freaking out, probably thinking I was about to shoot him.

Cleaners were always on edge about mental contamination. I was watching Daniel, but he was also watching me. And now, I could tell he was wondering if I was the one who’d lost it.

“Relax,” I said, eyes still on the shadows. “It’s not you.”

Daniel didn’t lower his guard. “You know we can’t even use our guns, right?”

Cleaners weren’t allowed to fire without orders from the superior. I couldn’t just shoot when I wanted to.

Just then, Daniel squinted, examining my steady, perfectly balanced stance, as if wondering how the hell a 19 year-old girl would have experience with firearms.

Did he notice what's wierd about me?

'Watch your back!" I tried to interrupt this.

Daniel snapped out of it. “What’s behind me?”

I nodded toward the shadows. “Something’s there.”

Daniel spun around, looking into the dark sewer behind him. Night vision only went so far—all we could see was black.

“What?” He glanced back at me. “Lower the gun! It’s probably nothing!”

Ignoring him, I spoke into the comm. “Emma, requesting weapon clearance.”

No response. Either she didn’t hear me, or she was weighing her options.

Daniel heard me too. His panic shot up.

“Will you chill?!” he snapped. “You’re making a scene.”

I didn’t move, repeating, “Requesting weapon clearance.”

I was locked on the darkness, switching on my wrist light.

Shhhhkkk.

The noise was getting closer.

My light caught something. Daniel froze.

Now he saw it too.

A man, dressed in a suit, red tie, briefcase in hand. His white shirt was dirty, his pants splattered with mud. At first glance, he looked like some poor office worker.

I moved my light up to his face.

Except he didn’t have one. No, instead of a human head, there was a huge, fish head—cold and slimy, covered in scales.

A guy in a suit... with a fish head.

Its massive, dead fish eyes stared straight at me.

And then, in the weirdest, bubble-like voice, it spoke: “Excuse me... Is this where I catch the last train for Metro Line One?”

“Contaminant!” Daniel yelled, slamming his helmet back on.

He hit his emergency button. “We’ve got a live one! Requesting—shit!”

Before he could finish, the fish-headed guy suddenly start charging at us at full speed, arms flailing in all directions.