Chapter 39 Official First Day at the House of Chāruzu
The next morning it was Lotus and Joy’s official first day at House Chāruzu.
The elevator lurched upward with a metallic groan, its mirrored interior casting warped reflections of two women who looked like they belonged in entirely different films.
Lotus stood poised in a sharp black blazer, her twist locs draped neatly over one shoulder—minimalist, composed, every angle intentional.
Joy, by contrast, was living color: a marigold jumpsuit, strawberry-shaped earrings, and curls that disobeyed both gravity and expectation.
Despite their differences, they moved in sync—clipboards in hand, pens poised like weapons.
This wasn’t just a first day. It was a debut.
As the elevator numbers climbed, the air between floors grew heavier. Somewhere above, a stiletto heel clicked in the distance—too sharp to be casual, too slow to be friendly.
Joy smirked. “Bet that’s HR.”
Lotus didn’t blink. “Or worse branding.”
The elevator chimed. The doors slid open.
Whatever House Chāruzu had planned for them, they were ready.
The third floor greeted them with silence. Not the focused silence of productivity but the suffocating kind that smelled like abandonment.
Flickering fluorescent lights cast long shadows over cracked tiles. Outdated cubicles slumped in crooked rows, patched together with duct tape and defiance. The air reeked faintly of burnt coffee and cheap toner.
“This feels like the basement of a broken school,” Joy muttered, flipping through a dusty binder labeled Operations Requests: Denied.
Lotus scanned the room like a forensic analyst. “This isn’t disorganization,” she said, her voice cool and measured. “It’s sabotage.”
Later that morning, they carried in bags of food—warm bagels, fruit trays, muffins, yogurt cups, and orange juice. The third-floor conference room slowly filled with hesitant employees blinking like moles seeing sunlight.
“Good morning, everyone,” Lotus began, calm but commanding.
Joy grinned. “We brought carbs and hope.”
A ripple of small laughs broke through. Shoulders dropped. People began to breathe.
They passed around sleek paper questionnaires.
“Tell us who you are,” Joy said.
“Tell us what you do—and what you want to do,” Lotus added.
The atmosphere shifted. Suspicion gave way to cautious curiosity.
“They’re waking up,” Joy whispered.
Lotus nodded—right as the printer-fax machine in the corner screamed to life.
BZZZZZT-CHK-CHK!
It spat out half-printed pages before jamming with a dramatic wheeze.
Joy groaned. “It’s possessed.”
Lotus exhaled. “Let’s end before it starts speaking Latin.”
She faced the staff again. “Please, take as much food as you’d like. We’ll follow up with the questionnaires this week.”
The crowd dispersed—hesitant, but lighter.
Back in their small office, Lotus dialed number after number from the company contact list Ashly had slipped her.
IT. Facilities. Operations. Maintenance.
Each call ended the same way: polite tones shifting to evasive excuses the moment she mentioned the third floor.
Lotus frowned, jotting notes. “No one wants to touch this floor. Not even with gloves.”
Joy tilted her head. “Then maybe we go up the ladder.”
“Higher than Operations?” Lotus asked.
“Fifth floor,” Joy said. “That’s where the decisions are made. If they won’t fix it, we’ll make them explain why.”
Lotus hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. But tread carefully. They built these floors on hierarchy for a reason.”
Joy hummed before she left the shared office. On to the elevator, she pressed the button for the 5th floor. “Here we go,” she mumbled to herself.