The Stain on the Wall

When Mr. K walked into the office on Monday morning, everything was as usual. Files were piled high, phones rang incessantly, colleagues numbly tapped on keyboards, and the air was thick with the stale smell of coffee and stifled silence.

But Mr. K's gaze was drawn to something on the wall.

It was a stain, located on the wall directly opposite his desk. A dark blemish abruptly appeared on the beige surface, like an eye, or a black hole, staring at him.

Mr. K couldn't remember when this stain had appeared. Perhaps after he left work last Friday? Perhaps the cleaning staff accidentally made it over the weekend? He tried to recall, but his memory was shrouded in a dense fog, blurry and indistinct.

He approached the wall and examined the stain closely. It was an irregular circle, with blurred edges and uneven color, like the trace left by some spilled liquid. Mr. K reached out and touched it; the texture was rough, without any particular smell.

"What is this?" Mr. K muttered to himself.

He tried to erase it with an eraser, but the stain didn't budge. He then brought a damp cloth and rubbed vigorously, but the stain only grew larger and darker. Mr. K felt a surge of inexplicable anxiety.

Over the next few days, Mr. K couldn't take his attention away from the stain. While he worked, the stain seemed to mock him; while he rested, the stain seemed to watch him. He began to suffer from insomnia, loss of appetite, and mental fogginess.

He mentioned the stain to his colleagues, but they either said they hadn't noticed it or that it was just an ordinary stain, telling him not to make a fuss. Mr. K became increasingly isolated; he felt trapped by this stain, unable to escape.

One day, Mr. K's supervisor, Mr. L, walked into the office. He was a short, stout middle-aged man with a gloomy complexion, always wearing an ill-fitting suit with a crooked tie.

"K," Mr. L's voice was low and hoarse, "I hear you've been studying the stain on the wall lately?"

Mr. K felt a wave of panic. He didn't know how Mr. L found out. He stammered, "Yes, Mr. L, I... I was just curious..."

"Curious?" Mr. L sneered. "Are you questioning the company's cleaning work? Or are you questioning the company's management system?"

"No, that's not what I meant..." Mr. K tried to explain, but Mr. L interrupted him.

"K, you need to understand that everything in the company is in order, everything is reasonable. The stain on the wall also has its reason for existing. You shouldn't question it, let alone study it."

"But, Mr. L, I just..."

"Enough!" Mr. L's voice rose an octave. "Your task is to work, not to study the stain on the wall! If you continue like this, I will have to consider your work attitude."

Mr. L left the office, leaving Mr. K alone to face the stain. He felt a sense of helplessness and despair. He didn't know what he had done wrong, nor did he know what to do.

In the following days, Mr. K became even more taciturn. He no longer communicated with his colleagues, nor did he look up at the stain on the wall. He just mechanically completed his work, like a soulless robot.

However, the stain did not disappear. It remained there, silently staring at Mr. K. And, Mr. K discovered, the stain seemed to be slowly growing larger, and the color was becoming darker.

Finally, one day, Mr. K could no longer bear it. He rushed to the wall and shouted at the stain: "What are you? What do you want?!"

The stain didn't respond, it just silently existed.

Mr. K felt a dizzy spell, collapsed to the ground, and lost consciousness.

When he woke up, he found himself lying on a white bed, surrounded by white walls, white sheets, and white curtains.

A doctor in a white uniform stood before him, looking at him expressionlessly.

"You're awake," the doctor said, "How do you feel?"

Mr. K felt a wave of confusion. He didn't know where he was or what had happened.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"This is the hospital," the doctor answered, "You were brought here because of a mental breakdown."

"Mental breakdown?" Mr. K repeated, still unable to comprehend.

"Yes," the doctor said, "You were obsessed with a non-existent stain, which caused your mental problems."

"Non-existent stain?" Mr. K felt a shock. "But, I clearly saw it..."

"That was just your hallucination," the doctor interrupted him. "You need to rest now, and we will give you treatment."

Mr. K was injected with a sedative and quickly fell asleep.

When he woke up again, he found himself back in the office.

He sat at his desk, files piled high, phones ringing incessantly, colleagues numbly tapping on keyboards, and the air was thick with the stale smell of coffee and stifled silence.

Mr. K looked up at the opposite wall; it was empty, nothing there.

He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that he had finally escaped that terrible stain.

However, when he looked down, preparing to start working, he discovered that on his desk, there was a small, dark stain...