Chapter 8 — Rumor mill goes round and round

What a day… Between the two fights I put myself in, and the immediate chance of a slow death by oven roasted inside a tank finally caught it with me. I feel tired — too tired.

Even the three weeks of nothing but diluted down oral-psycho I drank along the long drive across the desert to reach Bloomfield to fight the robot guards there teamed up to kick my ass across this table.

I was beat and should have gone with some long rest hours earlier, but I just let my head fall on the table. It's cold, but after days of dodging bullets or asphyxiation from space. At least this table wasn't out to slit across my throat, while I take in a few moments to rest.

But of course, its death wasn't knocking or my life. Lady luck was instead knocking the lights out of my frustration.

The sudden loud thump resonated through my office, sending vibrations across the surface of my desk.

That single moment when I was just enjoying the silence.

"Oh, what is all this?" I managed to say, watching as Rin arrive in front of my desk with all the subtlety of a summer storm. She had practically slammed what appeared to be the contents of those filing cabinets I seen all around and spilled it all onto my desk.

To be clear, I meant the stack of papers - though 'stack' seemed too modest a word for the towering mountain of documents now threatening to topple over my workspace.

I looked towards Rin, my eyes traveling up from the intimidating pile to meet her gaze. Her expression remained unnervingly neutral, almost clinical in its detachment.

Who gave me my answer with a single word: "Work." What a terrifying word it was indeed.

You're kidding… She's kidding me. This? This is my work? I couldn't decide if I was in disbelief or increasingly terrified as the mountain on my desk filled my view.

A part of me thought it was some convoluted hazing ritual of the new-hire here has to go through.

Oh, haha. Let's make the new guy at work do our jobs. Since he's new, here we can just tell him it's for his growth in the company.

No, forget that.

It was as if she sensed the shit my head was processing, and she even explained one thing to me. "Well, you can think of this as a starter to your actual task. I said I would guide you through your first few weeks did I?"

I just smiled at Rin — waited for the punchline of the joke.

But she just gave me a small smile. Nothing else.

I nodded my head to give her the go ahead to finish the joke.

She slid the other chair near to the seat next to me.

That part broke me.

Holy virgin Mary, mother of Jesus… She is not pulling my leg.

Oh yeah, sure, that was as if it gave me some comfort in my mind. I could practically feel the sarcasm while I watched her, trying to figure out if she was being serious or not.

I truly wish it was the latter — despite the papers being already a slap in my face already.

I just didn't want to admit reality myself after it being so cruel to me, of course.

Rin, in her case, her steady gaze offered no such consolation.

I might as well reciprocate on her generous of an offer to guide me, at least. "H-how… thoughtful of you." She already gave me her answer already after all.

Rin took a small batch of papers from the pile and set it down in front of me. "Shall we get started?"

There wasn't like another choice was open for me. I nodded, the gesture a reluctant surrender to the inevitable.

Down the hatch I go. I thought, my hand rubbing my eyes. A small buzz to wake them up. The metaphorical plunge into bureaucratic complexity felt like entering a murky swamp. The only silver lining redeeming me of this hell was Rin's guidance.

But Mary, the virgin mother of Jesus, her words seemed to stretch forever.

"Sign here and here…" she instructed, her voice a steady metronome of instruction.

Her words dragged on — for me, at least — and I struggled to keep focus. The documents before me blurred into a sea of black texts imposed against the white paper, each line threatening to add more weight down on my eyelids.

Then the papers… It never changed. Just the names or the logos. The same demands and request from the government. I don't know what half of them demanded and if I know… I have no clue if the GSC can at all give the requests.

I found it frustrating that Rin had to provide me with explanations that I couldn't fully comprehend. Nothing about her words stuck to me — just slipped down or gone over my head.

"Now make sure to first read the title at least to find out what you're putting your signature here." Her explanation continued. Each syllable that went after the previous sounded longer.

More explanation… My internal monologue matched the growing sense of mental fatigue. Make it stop. No end to them.

"If it is vague then make sure you read it at full if it uses words you're not clear on." The instructions kept coming.

I heard her explain, each word seeming to elongate with every vowel that emerged from her mouth. The cadence of her speech became a hypnotic drone going on and on.

Meanwhile, I could barely keep a straight face. My eyelids felt like heavy curtains, threatening to fall at any moment. To finally put an end to this theatrics of keeping myself awake. I swear they were growing heavier with each passing explanation, the effort of maintaining alertness becoming an increasingly losing battle against the overwhelming tide of administrative tedium.

Just… stay… awake… As mental exhaustion clouded my mind, I desperately clung to my thoughts.

"Sensei." Then she stopped with a single word.

I stopped scribbling my signature on the darkened line.

Yes? But I didn't say a word.

"…"

"You're not listening are you?" Rin flatly noted.

She had me dead to rights. Her eyes bore into me with a piercing intensity that left no room for denial. It wasn't a question at all - more of a statement of absolute certainty.

She was proving to be right by asking me just to prove her correct, and we both knew it.

I gave a long, deep sigh. This… This is far different from being out on the field. Physical labor. I was always afraid of pushing pencils behind a desk once a upon a time. Now? I still am afraid, but it's now me in a chair and pushing pens finally assured me of my fears.

I wasn't made for this mental gymnastic that paid well.

The reward didn't justify the monotony of this.

Worst of all, Rin expects me to do this thing from nine to Eight a day. Six days a week.

Lord have mercy.

But I'd be lying to myself no matter how much I resent this pencil pushing gig. There was no choice, really. Money makes the world go 'round. As I hate to do this. I might need some of this money these folks use.

"Sorry, kid." The words escaped my lips in a hushed tone, barely louder than a whisper. "This is all just… overwhelming for me." My hand trembled slightly as I set the pen down, the faint scrape of it against the table sounding louder in the quiet. Gathering my thoughts, I turned toward her, forcing myself to meet her gaze.

Her eyes — a piercing, unrelenting blue — locked onto mine. They held me there, unwavering and patient, though the patience didn't feel like kindness. Maybe it is but a more cold form of it — out of pity, perhaps. The silence stretched between us, heavy and thick, as if it carried the weight of everything I wasn't saying.

Hah… The black rider of Heart Point could protect a caravan from several raider ambushes from the Daughters of Hecate, but couldn't handle writing on paper? What a failure I am. The seconds dragged, each one feeling longer than the last. Her expression didn't change; it didn't flicker, not even slightly. It was just her, watching, waiting.

And then, finally, she spoke.

"I see…"

Two words, simple yet heavy. Her voice was calm, but the sigh that followed told me everything she wasn't saying. It carried an almost tangible disappointment, sharp and cutting. She didn't try to soften it, didn't bother masking the judgment her voice radiated.

Yet she spoke… "Do not worry yourself. I expected this to happen. This position is not a simple transition after all. I myself was in your own shoes when I started, even with preparations unlike yours, I was still also overwhelmed."

She continued. "Let me list some names and companies you need to keep your focus on instead." Her voice remained clinical, professional. "Not all are out to swindle the government after all. Some… They would wish in a dream, but not in reality."

She scooted closer, our chairs now side by side. Her finger traced carefully across papers adorned with corporate logos and typed names as she pointed out one particular document, her finger hovering meaningfully over a specific section.

Huh… look at that… Her ears are really a bit long on the end. Kinda pointed now that I can look at it closer.

Wait, what was she saying again?

…

"Excuse me, package for Sensei." A GSC member opened a small crack in the door.

Package? I wasn't expecting anything… The thought materialized like a sudden spark of curiosity, breaking through the constructed veneer of my previous composure. I finally snapped out of the self-imposed poker face I had maintained beside Rin, my attention pivoting toward the new visitor.

"Erm… You can leave it on my desk." I said.

The GSC member was what I call timid. I mean, the girl looked nervous like she did me wrong and she's stepping into the deathclaw matriarch's den like I had forced her.

She dropped the package and, unlike the stumbling mess when she entered, her way out was a quick dash through the open door. Obviously afraid — of me? Probably, haven't even done anything to her in particular.

Until I remembered. The rumors… The Kivotos grapevine Rin told me — Oh, I just hope they're talking about something good about me.

Even after watching, a GSC member looked like she was being forced to enter some predator's cage. I like to think it's out of impressive awe rather than threatening, after yesterday's shenanigans as heroic rather than menacing.

But what I know is that… "This is too early for something stupid right now…" I muttered.

The small, ornate red box sat before me - an artifact of deliberate old fashion aestheticism that of a vintage style present. Not something Kivotos looks to have with this whole modern look they all carry. A strange brown logo of a… Cog with it inside a… some animal against a maroon redd wrapping with some reflective smaller piece of yellow paper. Someone had invested considerable care in its presentation. For me? The thought carried the skeptic in me — and an unexpected intrigue. Really?

"I wasn't expecting anything." I said to Rin, the words hanging in the air between us. I had a feeling she might be curious - and why wouldn't she be? She is technically my boss, after all.

"You can leave your worries outside. It's safe." Rin pointed out, her gaze fixed on me.

I took the box near my ears. With a small shake of it, the subtle movement rustled what was inside. I was trying to detect some hint of mechanical life - a beep, a tick, some whispered warning of an internal mechanism. Nada. Complete and absolute silence.

Well, if she says so.

I pulled on the ribbon and opened it up.

Thick as hell.

As I glanced over, I was greeted by a striking sight. Before me a face of a man with stared back at me, his face chiseled, especially his jawline. His white mustache stood out. The piercing gaze in his eyes conveyed a stoic determination.

"What the hell…" The words escaped involuntarily, a reflexive utterance of pure bewilderment. I wasn't exactly sure what I was seeing. What the hell do I even do with this?

Also, why is this guy's hair like a pig-tail that the little girls would do? I was certainly an orphanage in the Den do something like this as an activity for the kids to tie their hair or something. Furthur more… The cap he had on. That looked like an officer's formal cap — at least what I think.

But ahh… the picture of someone with a white mustache. First, who the hell is he? What I know is that this is a wrapper for something rectangular and almost flat inside.

The more I look at this picture, the small details I found stranger.

Wait… The writing… Choco… late?

"Hm, I wasn't expecting them to be first."

She knew?

"Alright, drop the cryptic act. What are these, Rin."

Before Rin could even say a word — not actually. The papers seemed to have captured her attention to the point where she didn't bother answering me.

Just as another GSC student appeared, another one called out from the door.

More and more of these boxes piled on my table.

What the fuck… One contained these fancy looking cups and kettle with sealed bags of… dried roots? For tea, maybe? Oh yeah. I pulled out a card for an invitation for a… Tea party.

Sure… but I rather have a Nuka-Cola. A maybe on this one.

One was this card for a maid cleaning service. Eh, sounds too rich for my blood. Actually, reading the fine print, it says it's all free for me to use. Still a pass. Last time I tried a maid service in France reminded me why I despise those wine-bingers and their cigarette smoke that-…

What the fuck was I saying?

I froze for a moment, holding that card.

Strange… strange indeed.

The next box has this inside… A pistol with a golden frame? My optic cyberware further corrected me by pointing out the model before me looked most similar to its stored database lined it closest to a Walther P38? Even a chiseled with a strange logo on the grip. A fucking vintage pistol for me? What the hell did I do to deserve this?

However, would I use this openly, no matter the form or way? Not a chance. This thing looked more trouble than it's worth. Like asking to get robbed in a city with firearms everywhere. Pass.

This one is a special case — or should I say box cases — Both of them had the same items in mind when it arrived on my desk.

Both were these brochures along with tickets to two places called…

Shy-an… Shy-an-jing and… Hyuk-kiyak-o. That's right, I think I said it right. Go me.

I paused, my eyes tracing the lines of the brochures. Each word, each carefully designed graphic designed to catch my eye. The paper beneath my fingers felt charged to me.

I sense something coming out of it.

The sensation was not gradual. It erupted from some deep, primordial core - a sudden, volcanic uprising that was underwater that burst out. Hot molten, but still submerged regardless.

It made me feel these strange things.

These were not ordinary emotions. They were not the mild irritations or passing frustrations of everyday experience. This was something more questionable of why I am experiencing these feelings.

The reaction that seemed to originate from somewhere beyond the immediate context - something triggered by the brochures. Like a psychological response or a muscle memory that I have nothing to remember for at all. What's the deal with these feelings?

What's with my reaction to these photos? It's just loathing.

In the end, the brochures are still in my hand, silent and taunting me, but that might just be my imagination. Each line of text, each carefully constructed image promoting their part of the city and culture, brought me no such excitement or awe.

I just returned them to their respective boxes.

Being angered is making me tired already.

"Are you going to open that?" Rin finally pulled me out of my head as she pointed at the muscled jawline of a man with mustached. That what she meant, right?

"… No. You go ahead." I said, shrugged her off. I carefully placed the boxes on the ground beside my table, the subtle sound of cardboard meeting the floor punctuating the office's ambient silence.

Rin's movements were precise, almost surgical, as she opened a small portion of the wrapper. The rustling paper seemed to create its own subtle tension in the space between us.

"Here."

I leaned back in my chair, pivoting to fully face her. The movement was deliberate, each muscle responding with a practiced economy of motion.

"It's chocolate so you could calm down." The additional explanation arrived sounded detachment that somehow managed to feel almost compassionate.

I looked at her one last time - a searching glance that attempted to understand the nuanced subtext of her gesture. My hand reached out, fingers moving with a cautious hesitation. I accepted the small piece, holding it briefly before taking an even smaller bite.

Sweet. Like brahmin milk, but sweeter.

"Wait… these are all gifts…" Jesus, what took me so long? The courteous gifts with these logos. Someone is sucking up to me.

"How perceptive of you, Sensei."

"Yeah, yeah. Real funny, I was making sure it wasn't a bomb."

"These are all… welcome gifts from the other academies. They wish you a welcome to Kivotos. As well as future endeavors working at Schale."

"That's… thoughtful of them." Not considering I feel something up with these gifts.

"Why does it feel like they're sucking up to me…?"

Rin just give me a side glance before she spoke. "Perhaps you might be under the misconception for your position here. So I will make more clearer for you to understand, they are sending these gifts the first to reach a favor from you. A first impression is the most important. And you just gave the city a surprising impression on the news." The news?

"Now it's their turn to impress you."

"Impress me? I'm just a teacher here? What, they want me to give them a higher grade or somethin'?" The words tumbled out, a mixture of confusion and mild skepticism riding on the edge of sardonic humor.

"Being the third most important person here, I doubt they would want more than just a measly number change on their report card." Rin's response carried a matter-of-fact tone that seemed to slice through the preceding humor.

Third what?

The words landed like an unexpected detonation. My internal processing ground to a halt, neurons firing in a sudden, chaotic burst of cognitive recalibration. Time seemed to suspend itself, stretching into an elastic moment of absolute bewilderment not obvious by my poker-face.

I sat like a stone. Literally petrified. Not by literal sense, but by the sheer weight of the unexpected revelation gave me almost the same effect of being under one.

Third most important person!?

I thought I was just going to be amounted to some small-time politician here?!

This day just keeps getting better and better.

"Is it too troubling for you?" Rin asked.

Too much, really. "Not much. Just a whiplash, really." I said. "I have to say, I might have underestimated this position more."

"Oh?"

"Since when does a teacher makes themselves an important politician?"

Well, a lot of things I need answers for. Too many.

"Hey, OOOO-chan!"

A student with a uniform prominently resembling the standard outfit for a low ranked Tea-Party militant member turned around, almost shaking the box she has on her hands.

"Guh!" But in a miracle, it didn't meet the floor, and she fumbled to hold it better this time around. Soon she finally look her gaze up at her classmate. "Please, don't go raising your voice like that."

"What? Like this!?" The more cheeky Tea-Party Militant grinned as she raised her voice to the tune before.

"Yes!"

"Come on, OOOO-chan, you need to relax, there's nobody here at most times." The Cheeky Militant gave several reassuring pats on the back for her more anxious friend, who wasn't relaxed by her.

"That's it. I don't expect any loud noises here at this time of day. I'm carrying out an important task from miss Nagisa." The Anxious Militant argued.

A glimmer in the cheeky militant's eyes came visible. "Oooh. What is it?" She zipped even closer to the anxious militant.

Meanwhile, the other just tried to stretch the box far up so her cheeky classmate couldn't reach. Having a vertically challenged friend sure has its advantages, she thought.

"Hey, no fair! Lemme see.!" Cheeky Militant-chan whined as she was already on tip-toed and arms stretched high yet failed to reach the box due to her friend being taller that her. Which was not fair. This was discrimination for short-people!

"Stop, already!"

"No!"

"Will I at least share to you my task then, you will stop?"

Cheeky Militant-chan stopped for a moment, pondering before.

"Alright. I'll stop." Slowly, she backed down. Literally down.

"Good heavens…" Anxious Militant-chan finally sighed with relief now that her arms were straining.

"So, what are your secret task supposed to be?"

Anxious Militant-chan could only look at her smaller classmate, feeling her shoulders tighten in as she let out a heavy sigh. "Will you at least accompany me since you're here now?"

"Of course! That's what friends are for. I got your back, partner." Cheeky Militant-chan held her rifle excitedly as she glowed — almost radiating happiness. Finally, something to do around here, Cheeky Militant-chan thought. After wasting her time guarding and patrols, something different for once.

Soon the two militant-chans traversed the hallway, the shorter Cheeky Militant-chan following behind her friend, their footsteps echoing the empty hall.

"I am tasked to bring this present to Sensei as a gift on behalf of Trinity."

"Woah!… Seriously?"

"Why didn't you think I did not let you open it. Miss Nagisa and Miss Seia have worked the entire not perfecting this along with Miss Mika with the wrapping. We can't waste another moment to present our academy to Sensei first."

"Ehh… Is… Is… it really important."

"You don't seem to fathom what Sensei being at Schale means… Why yes-"

"I mean… all of this racing to be the first to send it to his door."

"…" Anxious Militant-chan quieted down.

"Feels like it's out of obligation more than anything." Cheeky Militant-chan pondered. Which was weird of her to be critical at all. This is new.

"What do we know?"

"Huh?" Cheeky Militant-chan looked up to her friend as Anxious Militant-chan looked down confused..

"I mean we aren't that important to know what the trio does or think is best for Trinity," she said, her tone filled with resignation. She could only shrug her shoulders, not like she could just walk up to their superior and ask why. Her rank did not permit questioning of orders, and her responsibilities were firmly on the lowest task, like guarding a perimeter or deliver roll cakes.

This was different — but her rank is still the same as before.

"Besides, if Sensei doesn't like it, then we have no complaints," she continued, her voice trailing off. "We could just send our own gifts to him. Right?"

Cheeky Militant-chan, who had been looking at the floor during their walk, suddenly looked back at her companion. A playful smile flickered across her features, transforming her previously serious demeanor. "Oh yeah! Right!"

A moment of contemplative silence settled between them before Anxious Militant-chan spoke again, her voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "Let's hope Sensei will like this present… Whatever they are."

Curiosity seemed to bubble up unexpectedly as Cheeky Militant-chan posed a seemingly innocent question. "By the way, do we know anything about Sensei?"

The response was immediate and slightly exasperated. "Seriously? Haven't you been catching up with the news? Kronos got the scoop first as always. And I heard even those Sisters from the cathedral were less inclined to accept what they saw."

Cheeky Militant-chan's response was deliberately vague, her tone suggesting a deliberate evasiveness. "Ehhh, that's not really surprising that Kronos got the news first. But I'm not sure what to say about with the Sisterhood and all. They all like their secrecy than share with the rest of us."

"True…" A pointed question hung in the air. "Where were you yesterday?" Anxious Militant-chan's query was direct, searching for details her companion seemed reluctant to provide.

True to form, Cheeky Militant-chan offered nothing substantial. "Not reading up on the news that's for sure…" she deflected, her words a transparent attempt to deflect. She wasn't stuck at detention all afternoon while outside the academy's grounds, off of jurisdiction, burned.

No way. Not at all.

"So, who is this new Sensei anyway?"

"No name really… Well, at least if both Sisterhood and Kronos is concerned in keeping for themselves are… But I did hear that erm… He can turn his arms into sword…? I think that's what I heard…"

The whispers of Kivotos drifted through its streets like a persistent wind, carrying rumors that to dance between reality and legend between who hears its words. A grease on a cog that turns inside of a machine that all works together to spread itself to other cogs.

Just like two students far from somewhere else stood near a wall, their rifles carefully propped beside them, engaged in a hushed conversation that dragged to yesterday's events.

One student, her hand deftly pushing a lock of hair behind her horn, leaned slightly towards her companion. Her phone being tapped relentlessly as she typed away while she spoke. "From what I've heard, he took out an entire group of the sukebans with nothing but his fists and a bottle."

Her companion raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across her features. "Through?"

"That's right, head-on," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "Jumped into the sukeban's defensive line with a small team he left behind from their covers and just started pounding anyone he sees with his fist before he retreated to carry wounded with him. Before that I heard from from the Intelligence Committee that they're gathering unconfirmed reports of Sensei blasting lasers from his fingers. You know, the same one that took down that helicopter?"

A moment of doubt crossed one of the pandemonium member with a slit pupil's almost confused face. "Seems kinda fake… If they're gonna try to make disinformation to bury the truth then at least make it somewhat believable… I mean, lasers through their fingertips? Try a laser gun instead." Really? That's the best they can do?

The horned student's response was immediate, a blend of challenge and matter-of-fact reasoning. "Hey, believe in what you want. If several people say they saw him do it, then there's at least some truth in it."

"Heh, then he must be one heck of a guy, then. Say is any of those rumors you heard have anything to say with how he looks? I wouldn't mind meeting with him alone." Hmm… Would be interesting to see what's under that hat of his… Mr. Cowboy. Bet I could let you get a ride on me…

"Oh, quiet you." Her friend swats her shoulder lightly to snap her out of her thoughts.

Just beside the one with slit-pupils, and the student with horns who sat on a bench, her gaze fixed on the clear sky beyond the window. The tranquility was interrupted when another student emerged from a large wooden door, a distinctive black tail cascading up from the bottom of her skirt as she closes the door behind her.

"So, what is it about?" the seated student asked, her eyes still tracing the expansive sky.

The newly arrived student shifted uncomfortably, her posture betraying a hint of nervousness. "Er… President Makoto asked us to deliver an important package to Schale. It's of the utmost importance, she said."

A collective response emerged from her companions. "Ehh… Sounds suspicious."

Another voice chimed in, laced with concern. "Yeah, also, what if the Prefect team catches us? Do they know about this package at all?"

The messenger's response was deliberately vague, echoing the cryptic instructions she had received. "No… Well, president Makoto just said not to get caught then."

A collective, somewhat deflated. "Boo…" punctuated the conversation, capturing the mix of apprehension and reluctant compliance that seemed to permeate the moment.

"Oh, complain all you want. Just say if you don't want to do it then leave. I'd rather have to handle less people on this job the easier. Like a daycare with you or something."

The tailed Pandemonium member adjusted her grip on the box, her movements betraying a subtle struggle. Feeling the container's unexpected heft, her fingers did have some trouble to grasp at the box. "Though, it is a bit… heavy…"

A chuckle erupted from the slit-eyed Pandemonium member, who had been lounging around for a while. "Alright, alright. Give it here." She rose from her seat with a fluid motion, extending her hands to take the burden from her companion.

The moment her fingers closed around the box, her demeanor shifted. Her eyes widened, a mix of surprise and respect crossing her features. "Woah, this is actually heavy! What's inside of this, gold?"

Her companion's response was crisp and purposeful. "You'd be surprised. Come on, let's take this to Sensei, the earlier the better."

"You got it." The slit-eyed member's reply came with a hearty grin that spoke of camaraderie and readiness. Her horned friend, meanwhile, collected both their rifles before she followed behind.

While somewhere else…

At the ground floor at SCHALE's club building….

A student in a white and red uniform approached the SCHALE reception desk, her eyes blazing with a predatory intensity that made the room's atmosphere instantly electric. Her gaze—sharp as a blade's edge—locked onto the trembling SCHALE member. With a gravelly voice. "Package delivery for Sensei." She slammed the small red package onto the desk.

The SCHALE member visibly flinched, her body reflexively jerking backward, nearly tumbling out of her chair from the sheer force of the delivery and the student's intimidating presence.

Moments later, the circular glasses student stumbles into the scene. In stark contrast to her predecessor's explosive entrance, she moved quietly. With a movement that was a more gentle placement than a slam, she deposited her package beside the first, her actions deliberate and controlled.

The SCHALE member's initial terror gradually turned concern. Despite the students originating from different academies, they shared a remarkably similar on something else: disheveled, covered in grim and soot from gunpowder.

The red and white uniformed student stretched her arms triumphantly, a premature victory dance brewing. "Hah!" she exclaimed, her finger pointed accusatory at her rival. "I got here first!"

With each syllable of her boastful declaration, however, her body seemed to betray her. Gradually, dramatically, she descended—kissing the floor, consciousness rapidly abandoning her. Knocked-out cold.

The circular glasses student, in a moment of quiet solidarity — or perhaps competitive exhaustion — quietly and methodically collapsed beside this boastful student she previously fought against, their bodies creating a symmetrical tableau of defeated determination.

The GSC member snatched the packages and ran while the one left behind quietly cried as she could only watch as Gehenna and Trinity students were more focused in a staring match. None of which from both parties were enjoying.

The corridor buzzed with an undercurrent of institutional tension as another wave of students entered the already crowded space. "Aw, no fair. Millennium and Red Winter got here first…"

A GSC member leaned in to her colleague in charge of the reception desk, her whisper barely concealing her annoyance. "Uh oh. A Gehenna and a Trinity student walked through the door. This is going to be the start of a bad joke." Her words were directed at the desk attendant, whose face had already turned several shades paler.

"Oh Kivotos…" The desk attendant's murmured response was equal parts prayer. Her fingers were already interlocked, and all she needs to kneel down to Justina and hope there won't be a fight about to blow.

"Are they here to file a request?" one voice probed, seeking to break the mounting tension.

"No… A package for Sensei," came the reply.

Curiosity flickered momentarily. "Huh… Sensei. Wonder what they want with him?"

Another voice, weighted with a hint of knowing resignation, answered. "Don't know, whatever it is, he surely got the major academies' attention alright."

The situation crystallized into a moment of bureaucratic absurdity. "Welp, since someone needs to carry these up to Sensei. How about you deal with them? Good? Alright, good luck."

In an act of pure self-preservation, the GSC member snatched the packages and executed a tactical retreat, leaving her colleague to face the impending storm. The abandoned GSC member could only watch in quiet horror as the Gehenna and Trinity students locked into an intense staring contest.

Their eyes locked in a contest neither seemed eager to win, yet neither could afford to lose. As if the package never existed for these groups and they only stumble upon each other now.

The sole GSC member at the reception desk gulp. This was going to be a long day.

Curse Sensei's reputation for leaving me here!

So that's it.

I traded a bottle of the most expensive liquor for reasons I couldn't explain laid in deep inside my head — A vintage Kentucky — and in exchange; I was handed a pretty small headache.

I sat back in my office, now that Rin was satisfied — somewhat — by her walk-through of my job. A first for many, I say.

Another thing about a first for many.

I opened my hand while hovering over my desk. Soon, more bottles of liquor materialized, popping out of thin air. A bottled gold.

Heh, at least there is something good I can get out of this.

So, I embraced this new power with the enthusiasm of a man discovering his first true addiction. I drank and drank, as if the ocean itself might dry up as more bottle filled my desk and my head growing a splitting headache.

Of course, what comes in must inevitably find its way back out.

Vomiting my guts out, what I meant. I rushed to the nearest toilet in this damn place and went on my knees. Perhaps my kidney had finally realized that its existence was nothing more than a prolonged torture and had shut down to end it all.

The Sensei from Schale! Dead on his first day on the job! Reason? Kidney damage. Or maybe alcohol poisoning.

What a way to die. Face first on a bathroom floor, or head in the toilet, surrounded by the empty bottles or the insides spilled into puddles on the floor, waiting to make me slip and hit my head if I still managed to stand on my two feet straight.

Any consolation I could point out: at least I thoroughly enjoyed the liquor during my brief, spectacular descent.

Slipping my head to the cold floor as I laid on my side, I finally see darkness takeover. The world condensed into a vanishing point of perception, edges blurring and dissolving. The last sight of consciousness registered to me, of course, are the bottles and puddles gradually disappearing, melting into the.

Wait. There's someone.

By the door, a small girl with blue hair slowly opened the entrance, her movement deliberate and cautious. She peaked in - a fragile silhouette framed against the liminal space between darkness and light. Her presence felt both unexpected and somehow inevitable, a spectral interruption to my liquor-induced descent into oblivion.

The blue hair caught what little remained of the ambient light, creating a soft, almost luminescent halo around her diminutive form. Her gaze — like a worried child.

"Who…" I grunted.

Too bad the darkness finally taken over me. Not able to finish what I was supposed to say.

…

…

Who are you?

…

…

"Hello, Mr. Bellgrave. I'm a huge fan. I've been tuning in ever since that interview you did about the river alien cave story from last month — the one with the clone old lady. Your broadcasts have been a lifesaver, keeping my nights on guard duty less boring."

"Well, hehe, thank you, dear listener. Just make sure you don't get too distracted, you hear?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Bellgrave. Haha..."

"So, what do you have to share with us tonight?"

"Well, I think ghosts are real."

"Ghosts? Well, you're certainly not the first to make such a claim on this program. But surely, unlike the others, you can provide us with some compelling details."

"It happened long ago. I remember talking to some old-timers in the Den about a crying lady who haunted an old vacant house near a tourist trap. The place was run by this no-good con artist with his fake gold coffin. Last I visited, it had become a massive entertainment spot. He was doing well, regardless of how bogus his operation started. You know what I think about that wretched, conniving snake? I believe he's using the lady's cries to attract customers."

"Focus, listener. Tell us more about the ghost specifically. Give us more details."

"Well, when I asked around, I learned it was located south of the orphanage, beside that tourist trap and near the NCR outpost. I was told it used to be a Brotherhood outpost until those soldier-boys kicked them out."

"Interesting. So if we could visit the premises, we might see these astral beings for ourselves? What an opportunity!"

"That's just the thing, Mr. Bellgrave. When I asked the owner of Ma's Diner on the east side of town, she said the wailing stopped once the Chosen One passed through and did something to the ghost."

"Interesting... I believe in pre-war times, there was a spiritual practice called... an exorcism."

"Used by old priests. An exercise? Like making the ghost lift boxes?"

"No, dear listener. An exorcism is an extensive procedure—like a surgical intervention—for expelling a ghost. This is done either by helping it move on from this world, where it's stuck due to unfinished business, or, in the most extreme cases, by force."

"By force... Now that sounds ominous."

"Indeed, 'ominous' is precisely the word. The things I read in that book, the testimonies from pre-war exorcism incidents—they shook me to my core. And we live alongside mutants, so that should give you an idea of how unsettling these accounts were. I can't even begin to explain the full context here, but the images that flashed through my mind when I read about failed exorcisms... What happened to everyone involved who tried to stop the spirit—it was horrifying."

"My lord..."

"I hope whatever the Chosen One did to the ghost, he helped that old soul find peace."

…

…

What a night… A real party. Just me by my lonesome — and a barrel-load of alcohol. Hangover fog clouded my head, along with a gnawing unease about whatever transpired last night beyond drowning myself in liquor.

Once I finally mustered myself to look around, shifting bloodshot eyes across the pristine restroom, one thing persistently nagged me. Why the fuck was I in the restrooms?

The tiles looked clean and spotless. No remnants of last night's cheap acidic vomit and liquor stench or puddle. After finding no immediate answers, I clamber up to my footing and stumbled to the nearest faucet to wash my face.

The cold splash of water was a harsh wake-up call, jolting the rest of my body into reluctant consciousness. My fingers pressed against my temples, trying to massage away the dull, rhythmic ache.

Except. I know what I saw.

When I was finishing up wiping my face, a fleeting movement caught my peripheral vision. Through the narrow cracks between my splayed fingers, my eye caught someone watching — just a spectral hint of short blue hair, positioned just behind my reflection.

"Hey. Hey." I called out, spinning around. No-one was there. Just vacant tiles and flickering fluorescent light.

Must just be from last night, yeah. I drank a lot. Maybe. Surely.

I quickly left the restrooms and went back to my office, the phantom blue-haired figure lingering like a half-remembered dream. I felt like I saw her before, but my brain refuses to help find out why.

Believe me, seeing that little girl back there just disappear on me put a bit of a surprise. But if I can't find out something, better not to waste my time with it.

So, I settled back into my comfortable chair, and as I glanced beneath my desk, I noticed the spot where I discreetly store my acquired possessions for safe-keeping and make sure they're close to me when I need them in a hurry. "… Hello?"

"Heeeh! Stranger-Danger!"

A/N: Hello, eveyone! Been a long time since I've updated. A really long time. I've been busy with internship and I wanted to release this little chapter for now. I have lots of ideas for the stories that are only typed down in notepad. Lol. Expect shorter chapters.

And yes, Cyberpunk is here too. It was always been the plan, a twist in the original story I was cooking up for Volume 3 now adapted here in a different form. How important to the story? Depends on how big is it. It's as big as why 13 is in Kivotos in the first place.

Now, to be clear, I'm not referencing the video game, Cyberpunk 2077. I am leaning more on Cyberpunk 2013, 2020, V3 and red. I chose this setting since it aligns more with the type of hopelessness and grime that fallout 1, 2, tactics, and even 3 presents itself. Also, because I have experience playing them. Always equipping that force field harness is the shit!

I'm surprised that only a few caught on earlier with chapter 1 using the slang "gonk" and "Abydos classic" alcohol brand from 2077.

Shout to Goat crew 2034! San Francisco's premier crew to hire for a gig when you're in a budget! The arson demons of Dojo buildings!

LefantaAegim: Bro is Min-maxxing and just using implants to plug the holes in his skills.

kerrowe: Here's a fun fact I was not planning on sharing - The original draft had this Cyberpunk element, not the game, the TRPG. But it wouldn't be OUR 13 who had this background. It would have been someone else that is far more unfortunate. In the question of Is this a background for 13 or a new character: The funniest answer I have for you without spoilers is: NO, but YES.

Fusion? More likely. Mostly the reason is that the old story had the [blue holotape] which I was supposed to expand upon, but in this version of the story I removed entirely in exchange for 13 going through the white void and meeting "himself" there and dying to "himself" as well. Don't worry, everything will answer themselves. For now, we follow 13 stumble his way to this new world.

Personally me, I am conflicted because the extra reason why 13 is in Kivotos is now to be far more depressing now when I wrote it. *Spoilers? Maybe lol. If it doesn't match my taste or when I feel is too depressing, I might change it entirely.*

Eisenhower Haloway: Don't worry, you're not reading the wrong story. Lol! This is all part of my convoluted plan. Even the original story was supposed to have this crossover. You're not wrong, that's definitely 13 from chapter 1. THe question is, which 13.

Mnass: Our Thirteen is full of mysteries. The funniest thing is that even he doesn't know - or if he does, he doesn't understand why or how. Maybe he won't even beleive it himself if he found out.