The Magister laid back in his chair, seemingly exhausted from the effort it took to construct, test drive and finally fly a plane of truth right into my face.

"Thank you again for coming, Neera. You may be dismissed."

Neera bowed again.

"What should I do with Mr. Swift's recorder, Magister?"

"Leave it."

Neera looked like she was about to say something, but thought better of it. She bowed again and left the room.

The door closed, and the Magister turned to face me.
"As for you, Mr. Swift. I believe that I was wrong about you."

I allowed myself a small grin. "How's that?"

The Magister blinked twice. "You are an insolent, belligerent and disrespectful ass."

That wiped the grin right off my face.

"But...given the facts that have come to light, I have come to the conclusion that you are certainly no criminal. And I suspect that though you have all the makings of an unreasonable person, you're a good man underneath. Granted, a good man with questionable common sense, but you have integrity. Surprisingly few people have this quality, even when they pretend or even believe themselves to possess it."

The Magister leaned in closer.

"I am officially dropping all the charges against you. But hear me very well: I have my eye on you. While you may be a good man, you appear to have made some questionable acquaintances, and it would be very irresponsible of me to leave you to your devices unchecked. Do you understand me?"

I briefly debated refuting the Magister's statement about my 'acquaintances', but on second thought, he was technically right…

"Yeah, I understand. Am I free to go?"

"Indeed." All traces of previous hostility were absent from the Magister's tone. Instead, he was speaking with respect.

I scratched my head, feeling vaguely stupid. "Uh, can I ask you a couple of questions, Magister?"

"Certainly."

"Okay, first off. I might be free to go, but are you going to do anything if I were to publish an article about what I just heard here, and a bit more?"

The Magister regarded me for a few seconds before answering. "Politically speaking, I would be obligated to do something. Certainly, what I have just told you is sensitive information, and I do not benefit from having classified information published in an article, in any way. But realistically? I have no intention to stop you. The truth of things, as it were, would cause quite the outrage if I were to tell it personally. A third party source, on the other hand..."

I ran this through my head and came up with a whole bunch of nothing. Either the Magister just didn't care, or there was something else going on that he wasn't telling me. Or maybe he just legitimately wanted the truth to get out somehow. I wasn't a politician, so I would probably would never know, but I still wasn't seeing why it might be better for the Avalice Times to publish my article than for him to say it straight out.

Not wanting to push my luck, though, I did my best impression of a sage nod.

"Secondly, can I get my other tape back?"

"Yes, of course."

"And thirdly, what are you going to do about Mayor Zao? Cause, you know, he lied to you and all."

The Magister's face was still darkened behind the helmet. So I felt the wolfish grin spread on the Magister's face, despite not actually seeing anything besides his narrowed eyes.

"Yes. Yes, certainly. All shall be revealed in time, Mr. Swift."

I was led out of the Magister's palace an hour later, with my wallet, my keys and my recorder tapes. It was seven in the morning, a blasphemous time for the average working man. The sun was shining brightly, but the sunlight was cool on my skin rather than warm. Fortunately, it wasn't as cold and windy as it had been last night.

I hailed down a taxi five minutes later.

"Morning. Could you take me to 210 Middle Shang Tu, between Shenzhen and Shen Yi?"

The bird taxi driver, a man in his late 20s, turned to me and said "Sure."

And then he did a double take.

"...I know I probably shouldn't ask, but why in the hell are you wearing a woman's kimono at this hour? You lose a bet or something?"

I had almost forgotten that I was still wearing that ridiculous outfit. I blushed and scratched my head sheepishly.

"A lot of stuff happened last night, man. I hardly remember all of it, and I'm still working off this hangover."

The bird raised an eyebrow, looked at the palace, then at me, and his eyes widened in understanding.

"Ahh...so the Magister does know how to throw a party after all...didn't know he was THAT down to earth."

I probably shouldn't have cared as much as I did, but I didn't like where this was heading.

"What the-argh forget it. Can we go?"

He gave me a big grin and started driving. I silently fumed at whatever conclusions this dude had somehow come to.

Forty minutes later, the taxi pulled up to my apartment building. I paid the man 200 crystals, and he grinned yet again at me. Then he drove off. I shook my head and walked to the gate, attempting to push it open. It didn't open instantly, so I could only assume that the landlord had stayed true to his word and got the lock fixed. Yay for all of us.

I unlocked the gate and walked to my apartment, unlocking it. I was mildly surprised when I found that it looked exactly the same as it had yesterday, when Barry and I cleaned up the place. I probably shouldn't have, but let's say that with everything that happened these past few days, it wasn't exactly out of the realm of possibility that someone might try to screw with me once again. I locked the door behind me and took the kimono off, dressing in more sensible clothes as always.

I briefly considered tossing the kimono in the trash. But as always, practicality won out over pride. While it wasn't meant to be a gift in the slightest, free clothes are free clothes. Worst case scenario, I could just give this to someone as a gift. Granted, there weren't a lot of people I knew who would appreciate a gift like that, but it's the thought that counts, right? Also, I felt like being a rebel, with some lame philosophical reason about blunting the humiliation the kimono had on me if I just took the symbolism out of the garment, and a slightly more understandable reason about sticking it to the man. Sue me.

So instead, I folded up the kimono as neatly as I could and put it in my closet. I'm not sure how well I managed, as I didn't normally wear such garments and had no idea how to handle them, but it was better than nothing. Then I walked to the living room, picked up the house phone and scrolled through my voicemail.

There were five messages in total.

Three of them were from Barry. The first one at 10 AM, October 1, was jubilant, telling me about how he just published his duo article and we should celebrate later on with drinks at the Roaring Dragon.

The second one at 1 PM was less jubilant, wondering out loud where the hell I was and to call him back as soon as I got this.

The third one at 7 PM (hint: that's when I got my ass kidnapped) was outright worried. Barry said he'd be stopping by tomorrow if I didn't get back to him, because 'dude, you don't normally turn down an excuse to get drunk off your ass.'

The next message was the landlord, at 7:15 PM. He was a panda in his mid-40s, and he was a nice guy, if a little high-strung when it came to rent. He had called to tell me that all of the tenants on the first and second floors of my apartment section had called him to complain about noise issues, and to turn down the volume on whatever fool party or music was going on in my apartment. He also added that my rent was due in two weeks, and to pay him by then.

The final message was an unfamiliar person, at 12 PM on October 2. The person didn't say anything at all, so it was just a minute and a half of dead silence before I finally heard the click of a phone resting in its receiver.

I shook my head. I suppose I should've been more worried considering the circumstances, but it was too early to give a damn right now. I called up Barry's house.

The phone rang thrice, and then Barry picked up.

"Yo, Barry. It's me."

"argh grr what the hell this is way too early for...wait wait WAIT. Is that you, Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Holy shit. What happened? Did you get let off the hook?"

"Manner of speaking, yeah. You and Judy were right about the Magister after all."

"Wait. 'After all?'"

Oops.

"Er, nothing. Anyway, we came to an understanding, and I was cleared of the charges. I just got home now."

"Man, that's good news. I knew you were too good for all that crap the officer said. But you know how worried Judy was about you? She couldn't sit still for more than a minute, and I had no idea what to say to her."

I winced. In retrospect, it must have looked super bad to get arrested for what were decidedly serious charges.

"Anyway, yeah, Sam. I'll call her up, tell her you got off. You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Alright, talk to you later."

"Later."

The receiver clicked. I put down the phone as well and walked to my room, collapsing on my bed. It was hard to believe that so much could happen in three days, and that I had already gotten some measure of political and unscrupulous attention in these three days.

And then I sat up with a jolt. I was a journalist, dammit, and I would do journalist things right this minute.

So I jumped off the bed and sat at my desk, gathering together what I knew about Coral Tea and the related circumstances that led to her death.

And then I picked up the pen, gathered a stack of lined paper and starting writing. For hours, the scribbling of pen on paper consumed me as I attempted to write an objective and interesting article for once in my life.

At 5 PM, I had an article that spanned several pages and went into painstaking detail about our dear beloved Annie Oakley to the best of my knowledge; how she became infamous, how she died, how she ultimately saved the world, and the circumstances that surrounded her death, with all the sensitive information the ex-Scarves, Spade, Neera and the Magister had willingly divulged to me.

I blew on it and sat back, pride overwhelming me. It was perfect. Just the sort of thing I had hoped to write, and the sort of thing that would lead to my promotion. And then after that would come the Pulitzer, the continuing stream of hard hitting articles, a new apartment, and-

My stomach growled angrily at me.

I stared at it for a few seconds before realizing that in the course of doing my journalistic due, I had neglected food and drink. I was suddenly feeling ravenous and thirsty.

I called up Barry.

"Yo, Barry."

"Sup, Sam. What's up now?"

"You wanna meet me at the Roaring Dragon at 6:30? I feel like getting a bite to eat, but I gotta drop something off first."

"Something?"

"You'll know tomorrow."

Barry sighed. "Yeah, sure, dude. Tab's on you, though."

I rolled my eyes. Of course.

"Jerk." I pretended to sound petulant.

Barry chuckled. "Bitch."

We hung up on each other. It was settled, then.

I took a shower and headed out with my article, determination following my footsteps.

As predicted, my article made quite the ripple in Shang Tu when it was published in the newspaper tomorrow. However, while I knew I had something good, I didn't expect people to still be talking about it after Golden Week was over. In retrospect, I suppose I should have expected this, but you have to understand. When you do work in the tabloids for a year, you get used to mediocrity and people not taking your articles seriously. This was the first time I had written an article that genuinely resonated to my readers. It felt odd, to say the least.

It felt even more odd when I walked into the Avalice Times at ten in the morning and literally everyone in the tabloids section and a few people from the 'big news' section were clapping as soon as I came in. Among these faces were Judith and Barry. I felt honored and highly embarrassed, but recognition felt good.

It felt even better when Ms. Sibyl welcomed me and asked to see me in her office personally.

My palms were sweating and several internal monologues were running through my head simultaneously. Knowing what I had written, this could've been the start of my career. Maybe the promotion would come with a billion benefits; a personal office as opposed to an open desk, a massively inflated salary. Maybe I'd even get an award for 'Best Amateur Article' or something like that.

Damn. It really does feel good to be on top of things.

I stepped out of Sibyl's office, feeling highly chagrined.

I walked over to my desk. It was waiting for me in all its nostalgic glory. I felt a sense of foreboding as I got to work.

Judy and Barry came around shortly, smiles on their faces.

These smiles were wiped off very quickly.

Barry walked over. "Dude, what the hell are you doing?"

I grinned. "I got promoted, man."

Barry looked at my desk. It was in the process of getting cleared out, with a big box sitting just under it. Papers, folders, my employee card and several other implements were sitting inside the box.

Barry raised an eyebrow. "Ya know, from where I'm standing, it looks less like you got promoted and more like you're packing up and getting ready to leave."

I shrugged. "It is what it is."

Judy looked at me quizzically. "What happened inside that office, Sam? You're acting weird all of a sudden."

"Well, for all intents and purposes, I technically got promoted to a higher position. I'm just not working at the Avalice Times anymore."

Barry and Judy shared a look.

"...so you got transferred to a different news publication?" Judy sounded confused.

"Not exactly. As it turns out, freelance journalism better fits my talents than a higher position in the Avalice Times."

"Jeez, Sam," Barry was saying. "I was expecting a lot of things when I saw you walk into that office, like maybe you'd get to hang with the big dogs like Judy and I. But this? That's a curveball if I ever saw one. You gonna be alright?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

Barry chuckled as well. "Well, it was nice hanging with you in the Avalice Times. Whatever happens, if you need me, give me a call anytime. I'll be there."

"Gotcha."

Barry walked closer and we slapped hands together, then did a bro hug. We waited several beats and then broke the intimacy with two claps on the shoulder. He grinned at me.

"Yo, I'll be getting back to work. Take care of yourself, okay?"

I said nothing, I just waved.

Judith was still standing there.

I suddenly felt self-conscious. I broke out in a fit of stammering, trying to figure out what to say.

Judith laughed lightly.

"You know, I always found it funny how you tried to pretend you were cool and suave, but that dorky side of yours always comes out sooner or later."

I smiled awkwardly. "Thanks?"

"And I always found it odd that we've been working in the same publication for months and we've only just got to really know each other yesterday. I want to fix that."

She snatched a piece of paper from the box and quickly scribbled down something, then showed it to me. It was her number.

"Call me anytime."

I was incredulous, as you might have figured out.

"Well, uh. It's just that, well, I'm a bit new to this relationship thing."

Judy laughed again. "Start simple, Sam. I'm not a complicated woman. Coffee works, or a movie.."

"Right. Sure."

She patted me on the shoulder. "I have to get back to work as well. Good luck with the freelance journalism thing. I'm sure you'll do well."

I watched her go. And then I looked at her number yet again.

God damn.

As I finally cleared out my desk and went home around 4 PM, I replayed the conversation that Sibyl and I had.

First, the obligatory polite gestures before she invited me to sit.

Then the rest of it came out.

"I read your article last week, Sam."

I nodded impatiently. I was waiting for the inevitable point in the conversation where she would say that I was promoted and tell me when I would start.

"It was extremely good. Much, much better than anything I've seen from you previously. How long did it take you to write it?"

"Uh, it took about three days in all."

Sibyl's eyes widened in surprise as she stared at me over her glasses. "Indeed? That is very impressive, considering the information contained in this article. Most of the people I have employed in investigative journalism would gladly go to untold lengths to get even a fraction of what you've written here."

I smiled and said nothing.

"But..."

The smile was wearing thin on my face. A 'but' has never signified anything good in my experience.

"But well, in light of what I have seen from you, I feel that you are highly overqualified, and quite frankly a potential political risk on top of that. Now, I am not saying that I do not appreciate your significant improvement; you've exceeded my expectations in that regard. But in the long term, I suspect that your apparent penchant for getting into trouble will also cause potential blowback to the Avalice Times. And even if that wasn't true, your article alone will attract attention from other news publications, and it simply is not within my rights to keep you here, even if you wish to stay and do work for the Avalice Times."

...okay, that was not what I had expected at all.

"Having said all of that, I feel that your talents would be better applied to freelance journalism. You can still continue as you are, but you have the ability to set and work your own hours at whichever publications you choose, including the Avalice Times, and are free to write about whatever comes to mind. Unofficially, you can consider this a promotion. But officially, you are no longer an employee of the Avalice Times."

I struggled to find something to say to that. But the words weren't coming.

"Okay," was all I could manage.

Sibyl smiled sadly.

"Don't look so defeated, Samuel Swift."

She opened a drawer, rummaging around for something. In seconds, I was looking at a check, and I gaped at the amount.

Two million crystals, well over six times what I made in a year.

"That happens to be your severance pay, Mr. Swift. Do with it as you will."

"Thank you, Ms. Sibyl."

Sibyl scoffed lightly. "I told you before. It's just Sibyl."

"Oh, right. Well, if that's all, I suppose I should clear out my desk and everything."

I stood up to shake her hand. It was less noticeably scaly, but just as warm as it had been before.

I turned to leave.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I told you that you would get there someday. I wish you the best of luck with your position."

I laughed lightly.

"Yeah. Of course. Thanks for everything, Sibyl."

I smiled at the memory as I stared at the check once again. All things considered, it was a pretty amicable parting. Granted, all of this was way out of left field, but it didn't feel as bitter as it could have. I folded my check once again as I left my car and went up to my apartment.

Tomorrow, I would cash in my check and do things with the money. But for now, I had only one thing on my mind.

I called up Judy's number.

"Hi, Judy. This is Sam."

"Oh! Hi, Sam. How are you?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"I'm doing great."

"Say, about that thing you said before. I was mulling it over, and I'm thinking. How about we go out to eat at the Roaring Dragon? Tab's on me."

"Of course. But I think I'd rather split the tab on that. What time is good for you?"

I suppressed a laugh of glee at not having to pay the entire tab.

"Six sounds good for me."

"Alright. I'll be there."

"Sweet. See you later."

"Bye, Sam."

She hung up. I smiled as I put the phone back into its receiver.

I sat back, feeling content with myself. Tonight was going to be a good night.

Assuming, of course, that I didn't get rudely interrupted by anyone tonight. Knowing my luck, I'd get ganked by Spade, Mayor Zao, some random flunky, or even Carol.

But hey.

It's a brave new world, Sammy boy.