The afternoon sun floods the room with golden light, but it does nothing to soften my scowl. A mountain of papers looms in front of me, imposing, almost mocking.
Seriously, who still uses paper documents these days? Honestly, they're bulky, take up space, and are a total nightmare for lazy types like me.
I let out a sigh. "Why isn't all this digital?" I grumble, shooting a pleading look at Aunt Libel.
She's perched in the chair across from me, wearing that stern expression that screams, You're not getting out of this, kid.
"Stop whining and get to it," she says, rolling her eyes. "The sooner you pick your right-hand, the sooner you can go back to slacking off."
Her words echo in my tired brain. Finish faster, slack sooner. Now that's a compelling argument.
I lean toward the pile, grab the top sheet, and then… I freeze.
I squint at Libel suspiciously. "Is this a trap?" I ask.
She raises an eyebrow, all fake innocence. But I know my aunt too well. She's fully aware I'd be tempted to half-ass this and pick anyone just to be done. She's probably banking on it.
I narrow my eyes at the pile.
And then it hits me. "Oh, Auntie, I see your game. You've probably stacked your favorites at the top, knowing I'd never have the patience to read every profile."
A sly smile creeps across her lips, and she rests a hand on her forehead. "I forget you're capable of thinking sometimes."
I take it as a compliment, even if it doesn't quite sound like one.
Libel points at the profile I'm still holding half-heartedly. "Look at that one. Trust me, it's the perfect candidate."
I shrug, skeptical. But it's my aunt. Fine, I'll humor her.
I open the folder with a dubious frown. If this mountain of papers can disappear after this, I'm ready to believe anything she says.
I study the folder in my hands, my fingers nervously fiddling with the corner of the paper.
The photo at the top catches my eye. A woman. Pretty, too. Almost too pretty to be in a mage guild.
My eyes drop to the name printed below the photo: Lina Darnel.
I pause for a second, thoughtful. A beauty like that as my right-hand… could be interesting. Like having a personal work of art in my office.
Maybe it'd motivate me to work. Or, more likely, distract me even more.
I tilt my head, weighing the pros and cons. Not bad, Auntie Libel, not bad. Maybe you do know what I need…
But reality, cruel and relentless, snaps me back.
I force myself to shake off the daydream. This isn't a beauty pageant or a rom-com casting call. I need someone who can handle me daily. And, ideally, do all my work for me without ever complaining.
Reluctantly, I tear my eyes from the photo and scan the technical details. The first line grabs my attention: Rank A Mage. Magic type: Lightning.
Impressive. Powerful magic, useful in almost any situation. But is it enough?
My mind drifts back to my last mission. A shiver runs down my spine. I relive those endless hours trekking through plains, bug-infested forests, mountains… all for what? To reach a place a simple teleportation spell could've gotten me to in seconds.
Frustration bubbles up as the memory stings.
"No." The word slips out, almost harshly.
I set Lina's folder aside, like abandoning a dream too good to be true. Sorry, Lina. You're perfect, but no teleportation, no deal.
Without wasting another second, I dive back into the pile, determined to unearth the folder, the one with the ideal candidate.
Papers fly under my fingers, each telling a different story. Fire mages, ice mages, even a… mud mage? Seriously? Who puts that on an application?
Nothing. Still nothing. Not one profile mentions teleportation.
I'm starting to wonder if this is some elaborate prank by Aunt Libel to test my patience. And, frankly, if it is, she's about to win.
"Auntie, tell me you slipped a teleportation mage in here somewhere. Otherwise, I'm quitting right now."
She rolls her eyes, a mix of exasperation and amusement in her gaze. "Maybe if you actually read the profiles, you'd find one faster."
"Hilarious, Auntie, real funny." My tone's as sour as my mood.
I keep digging with a resigned sigh. My determination wanes with every page, but I refuse to give up.
No matter how many profiles I have to slog through, no matter how many useless mages I have to dismiss, I will find a teleportation mage. Because, let's be honest, it's my only hope of surviving my own laziness.
After endless struggles, there it is—a lone profile, my last hope in this mountain of bureaucratic despair.
Yet every fiber of me screams to give up. Why bother? None of the others met my expectations. Not one had even a hint of teleportation skills.
"Seriously, Auntie, what's your plan?" I snap at her.
I look away, trying to rein in my frustration. But exhaustion takes over, and a tear escapes, tracing a warm path down my cheek.
Yeah, I'm crying. So what? Being me is exhausting sometimes.
Then Aunt Libel's laughter erupts, filling the room. Not a quiet chuckle. No, a full-on, loud, clear laugh that echoes like a mocking taunt.
"Are you kidding me?" I ask, shooting her an indignant glare.
She wipes a tear of laughter, still shaking with amusement. "Zayn, you're so dramatic! But I'll admit, I'm impressed. You stuck with it."
I narrow my eyes, wary. "Impressed? I'm not! There's not a single person in this guild who can teleport. Not one!"
"Are you sure about that?" she asks with infuriating calm.
"Of course I'm sure!" I snap. "I read every profile!"
She points at the last folder, her smile widening. "All of them?"
My eyes follow her gesture. That final folder, untouched. My heart tightens, caught between curiosity and the urge to quit.
What if…?
I sigh, raising my hands in surrender. "Fine, Auntie, I'll open it. But if it's another mud mage or some guy without teleportation, I'm out."
She chuckles softly but says nothing, which annoys me even more.
I grab the folder, my fingers trembling slightly as I open it, my eyes scanning the first page. And then I freeze.
Name: Liam Kayen. Rank: A. Magic type: Teleportation.
I stare, the words dancing before my eyes like a desert mirage. Did I read that right? Is this… real?
"You're messing with me…" I mutter, caught between shock and euphoria.
Libel crosses her arms, looking at me with a smug grin. "Well?"
I stare at the folder, still in disbelief. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"
She doesn't answer right away, but her smile says it all. "Maybe."
I let out a long sigh. I should've never doubted her, but damn, she could've told me sooner!
I close the folder gently, a grin spreading across my face. "Alright, Auntie, I think I've found my right-hand."