Please Do Not Use Special Abilities in the Corridors

Lin Bei, 26 years old, a former programmer at a large Internet company, received a recruitment text message on the day he was laid off: "Harmony Home Property is looking for an administrator. The monthly salary is 4,500, five insurances and one housing fund, including food and accommodation. Requirements: strong ability to withstand stress and not afraid of death." He thought he was a liar. Until he walked into the community and saw that the aunt on the third floor had used gravity to collapse the ceiling on the fourth floor because "it was too noisy to practice martial arts in the middle of the night upstairs"; the uncle on the fifth floor turned into a puddle of water and flowed out from the crack of the door for a walk; and the community on the seventh floor had been afraid that the neighbors had used invisibility to avoid paying property fees for three years. The person interviewing him was an orange cat sitting behind his desk, wearing reading glasses and flipping through his resume with his paws. "You've been hired," Orange Cat said. "You'll start work at seven o'clock tomorrow morning. There will be a fifty deduction for being late." Lin Bei: "... Is there overtime pay?" Orange Cat: "The last person who asked this question is now working as fertilizer in the flower bed." This is the story of an ordinary person without superpowers who works as a property manager among a group of people with superpowers. Fix water pipes, open sewers, mediate neighborhood disputes, collect property bills - and, occasionally, save the world. After all, property fees cannot be ignored. The world cannot but be saved. But property fees take priority.