

Haunted by Office Things
After I join a new company, I keep running into problems—not from people, but from the company's equipment.
The fingerprint scanner fails to recognize me every single time, and I have to submit a manual attendance appeal almost daily.
When I ask the admin to change the device, they respond with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Everyone else clocks in just fine. Why are you the only one with so many issues?"
The air vent above my desk blasts cold air directly at me. My hands and feet are freezing every day.
I ask to switch seats. My manager looks at me like I am making things up. "Everyone else sits there without a problem. How come the AC only blows cold air when you sit there?"
One strange incident after another makes it impossible for me to function at work.
When I get home, I complain to my boyfriend and say I want to quit. He shuts down the thought immediately.
"You're making almost 60 thousand dollars a year before benefits, with weekends off and paid leave. Where are you going to find a job like that?"
I think about it and realize he isn't wrong.
Just as I decide to stick it out, the company elevator malfunctions. I fall from the 33rd floor and die.
In my final moments, I can't understand it—why does every piece of equipment in the company seem to target me alone?
All the devices are newly installed. All my coworkers are people I have just met. I have no grudges with anyone. There's no reason for someone to sabotage me from behind the scenes.
When I open my eyes again, I am back at the company.
It's my very first day on the job.
"Welcome to the company, Emma Lane. Your fingerprint has been registered. Remember to clock in when you arrive and leave," Zoe Porter from the administration department said as she handed me my employee badge.
I froze for a brief moment.
Memories from my previous life came rushing back—memories of being tormented, again and again, by the company itself.
The same day, in my last life, marked the beginning of my nightmare.
On my very first day, everything in the office seemed to target me, and only me.
The fingerprint scanner would flash an error every time it tried to read my print. Every day, I had to bother my coworkers to manually correct my attendance record.
When I finally went to the admin to request a different scanner, the clerk snapped impatiently, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Everyone else can clock in just fine. Why are you the only one with problems?"
At my desk, the air vent blasted freezing air nonstop. In the dead of winter, my hands and feet were numb from the cold.
I could no longer take it and asked my manager, Sam Tucker, to change my seat. He looked annoyed and scoffed. "Other people sit here with no issues. How come the AC only blows cold air when you sit here?"
One bizarre incident after another made it impossible for me to function at work. My supervisors thought I was exaggerating, while my coworkers thought I was dramatic and unstable.
In the end, I could only go home and vent to my boyfriend, Adam Hawkins, telling him I wanted to quit.
He brushed it off without hesitation. "There's no way all that weird stuff is real. You're probably just stressed and overthinking things. Besides, you're making almost 60 thousand dollars a year before benefits, with weekends off and paid leave. Where are you going to find a job like that?"
After thinking it over, I decided to endure it and stay.
I never made it to the next week.
The very next morning, as I was leaving work, the elevator suddenly dropped. I fell to my death from the 33rd floor.
I died with my eyes open.
No matter how I thought about it, I couldn't understand why any of this had happened.
But I was given another chance, for I had come back to life.
This time, I was determined to uncover the truth behind every one of those so-called accidents.
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