Then more identical people followed.
They seemed to be cleaners, picking up mops and cloths, wiping the walls of the "Cultivation Room," busying themselves, no one paid attention to Lebius.
Lebius didn't look at their faces, trying to calm the turmoil within, holding the burning memo, quickening his pace as much as possible.
The strange scenes continued one after another, he could hear the whispers echoing by his ears, seemingly from those "cleaners," they had noticed him, casting bizarre glances.
The walls around slowly writhed, solid walls shifting and reassembling, like a living maze.
Time shifted in an instant, the white bricks tinged with the yellowing of age, and a thick layer of dust settled on the once clean floor.
Walking along the distant memory, Lebius arrived at the elevator in the central hall, pressed it, and the rust-covered elevator doors slowly opened, as if waiting specifically for Lebius, inside was empty.
