The transition was not a dramatic lurch through dimensions, but a quiet, almost seamless fade. One moment they were in their Citadel, the next they stood in a cramped but clean apartment in Seoul, the morning sun streaming through the blinds. The air smelled of instant coffee and the faint hum of a nearby computer.
On a simple bed, the protagonist of this tale, Kim Min-Joon, was sleeping, a thin line of drool on his pillow. He looked exactly as the synopsis described: perfectly, beautifully average.
Cid and Jin-woo were, for the first time, not themselves.
Cid looked down at his new form. He was 'Claire,' a young woman of breathtaking, almost otherworldly beauty, with long, silky black hair and eyes that held a mysterious glint. He was wearing a simple but impeccably tailored business suit.
Jin-woo, meanwhile, was 'Jonas.' He looked... exactly like himself, but in a slightly ill-fitting, generic grey suit. His revision was one of personality, not appearance. He was the quiet, hyper-competent new guy who keeps to himself.
Their goal for this 'Tale' was simple: blend in, observe the peaceful world they had fought for, and under no circumstances use their reality-shattering powers on something as trivial as a jammed photocopier.
This last part was going to be difficult.
Scene: Daeyoung Marketing, 9th Floor. 9:05 AM.
Kim Min-Joon, having successfully navigated his morning commute, sat at his cubicle, nursing a cup of cheap instant coffee. He was already stressed. His boss, Manager Park, a perpetually angry man with a comb-over, was breathing down his neck about the quarterly reports.
"The new hires are starting today," his deskmate, a bubbly gossip named Jina, whispered to him. "I hear one of them is an intern from some super-rich, unlisted family! And the other is supposedly a genius from overseas!"
The revisions were already taking effect.
Manager Park clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, listen up! We have two new faces joining our miserable little family. This is Jonas, our new data analyst."
Jin-woo ('Jonas') gave a single, polite, silent bow. He radiated an aura of quiet competence and an overwhelming desire to be left alone.
"And this," Manager Park continued, his voice softening slightly as he looked at Claire, "is our new intern, Claire."
Cid ('Claire') gave a perfect, enchanting smile. "It's a pleasure to be here. I'm looking forward to learning from all of you." Her voice was a melody, and every male employee in a twenty-foot radius immediately sat up straighter.
The day began. Jin-woo was given a mountain of raw data and asked to compile a market analysis report by the end of the day—a task that would normally take a team of three people two days. He sat down, looked at the numbers, and his Monarch's brain, capable of commanding a million soldiers in a multi-dimensional war, processed the data in approximately 0.2 seconds. He saw the optimal market strategies, the logistical flaws in the supply chain, the demographic trends.
The challenge was not to do the work. The challenge was to do it slowly. He spent the next three hours deliberately typing at a normal pace, occasionally pretending to check a calculator, and fighting the urge to simply dominate the global market for his company before lunch.
Cid's task was even more difficult: he had to do intern work. Making coffee, running the photocopier, and sorting mail.
He approached the ancient, behemoth of a photocopier with the same caution a bomb disposal expert would. He had read about these machines in his past life's manga. They were notoriously temperamental.
He placed the document on the glass, closed the lid, and pressed the big, green button.
The machine whirred, groaned, and then let out a horrifying, grinding screech. A red light flashed: PAPER JAM.
Cid stared at the machine. The machine stared back.
He could dismantle it into its component atoms with a thought. He could have his slime suit phase through it and clear the jam from the inside.
But that was not the way of the mob.
He opened the side panel, as shown in the little diagram. He found the crumpled piece of paper and gently tried to pull it out. It tore, leaving a small, inaccessible piece deep within the gears.
A crowd was gathering. The sound of a broken photocopier was the office equivalent of a siren.
"Is it jammed again?" Jina asked sympathetically. "That thing is always breaking."
Manager Park stormed over. "What's the hold-up, intern? We don't pay you to stand around!"
Cid was in the spotlight. A bead of sweat formed on his brow. This was a crisis on par with facing a Grand Weaver. He needed a solution that was both effective and believable.
He remembered a scene from a slice-of-life anime. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and with the gentle yet firm reverence of a seasoned technician, he gave the side of the photocopier a single, sharp, percussive slap.
The machine, shocked into submission by this ancient, forgotten technique, whirred back to life. It spat out the torn piece of paper and then began copying the document perfectly.
The assembled office workers stared in stunned silence. He had... fixed it.
"Hmph. Sometimes," Cid ('Claire') said, with a serene, knowing smile, "you just need to know where to tap."
He walked away, leaving the office workers in awe of the beautiful, mysterious intern who could apparently communicate with and soothe angry office machinery. His legend was beginning.
Scene: The Break Room. 12:30 PM.
Lunchtime. Jin-woo, having successfully turned in a "decent first draft" of his impossible report, was trying to eat a simple kimbap roll in peace.
Cid, in his 'Claire' persona, sat with Jina and the other office ladies, flawlessly engaging in gossip, a skill he had apparently perfected.
"Oh, you must mean Director Han from the 7th floor!" Claire said, her voice filled with expertly feigned shock. "I had no idea he was having an affair with the temp from accounting! How scandalous!"
Suddenly, Manager Park stormed into the break room, his face a furious red. He slammed a folder down on the table, directly in front of Kim Min-Joon, who had been quietly eating his instant noodles.
"KIM MIN-JOON!" he roared. "The deal with Vertex Inc.! Our biggest client! They've pulled out! They said our proposal was 'uninspired' and 'insulting'! This was your project! YOU aare responsible for losing us millions!"
Min-Joon shrank in his seat, the entire break room staring at him. He was about to be the company scapegoat. This was the 'inciting incident' of his quiet story.
From his corner, Jin-woo used his Narrator's Eye on the folder. The proposal wasn't just uninspired; it was actively bad. But it wasn't Min-Joon's fault. His original, decent ideas had been 'revised' into oblivion by Manager Park's own terrible suggestions.
This was the moment a normal hero would step in. Expose the corruption. Save the protagonist.
But they were not here to be heroes. They were here to be mob characters.
Cid saw the narrative beat, his 'Fourth Wall Break' flashing with opportunity. A hero saves the day. A mob character... creates a convenient distraction.
He stood up, his face a mask of 'concern'. He 'accidentally' stumbled as he stood, bumping into a nearby vending machine.
The vending machine, which had just been restocked, was notoriously unstable. The gentle bump was all it took.
With a thunderous crash, the entire vending machine tipped over, face-first, onto the floor, spilling a hundred cans of soda and snack cakes across the break room.
The entire office, including Manager Park, stared at the massive, catastrophic mess.
"Oh my!" Cid ('Claire') said, his hand over his mouth in a perfect picture of innocent shock. "I'm so, so clumsy!"
The crisis of the lost Vertex Inc. deal was completely and utterly forgotten, replaced by the far more immediate, interesting, and loud crisis of the fallen vending machine. Kim Min-Joon was saved, not by a hero, but by a conveniently timed act of spectacular clumsiness.
Manager Park, his fury now redirected, screamed at the janitorial staff.
Cid discreetly returned to his seat.
Jin-woo, from his corner, sent a single thought to Cid.
The ordinary life of Kim Min-Joon was turning out to be anything but. His office had been joined by a quiet genius who could do a week's work in an hour, and a beautiful, clumsy goddess who could tame angry machines and defeat corporate tyrants with vending machine-based disasters.
His boring, slice-of-life story was rapidly, and without his knowledge, becoming a workplace comedy with two cosmic-level beings as the main cast.