Marin continued his round of questions, his voice calm but curious. "So... what exactly are the benefits if I join the academy as an enforcer? I mean actual benefits, not vague stuff. Salary? Perks? Housing? Can I get a private chef who sings while cooking?"
The author chuckled, brushing a speck of dust off his coat. "Why are you worrying about benefits already? You saw Nathan's private jet, didn't you? You can get one of those too—if you prove yourself. We pay a fixed salary, yes, quite a generous one I might add, but that's just the beginning. There are perks—exclusive housing, access to the most advanced facilities on the continent, social respect beyond what most can imagine, and of course, opportunities."
He leaned forward, fingers steepled. "You see, if you join, you become something akin to world police. Anywhere the Academy's influence reaches—and trust me, that's a long list—you'll have the authority to investigate and take action. Enforcers are the highest order of law enforcement, like a special knight unit in fantasy tales—except this one is composed entirely of grand knights, not foot soldiers. You won't be chasing petty thieves. You'll handle threats no one else can."
Marin listened, absorbing every word.
The author continued, "You'll also have opportunities to earn bounties. Many high-profile criminals have rewards placed on them by me personally. If you capture them alive, the bounty is yours. These aren't just monetary incentives—some offer knowledge, relics, even favors from the world's hidden powers. So, are you in? Or do you need a bit more persuasion?"
Marin sat back, his fingers tapping his thigh, eyes slightly narrowed in contemplation.
He wasn't stupid. Everything sounded amazing on the surface—but they were definitely glossing over something. There were details missing. The way they were rushing this felt a little off. Why so eager? What's the catch?
"I need time to think," he said slowly, looking the author directly in the eyes.
"Oh sure," the author said, waving his hand with a smile. "Take all the time you need. In the meantime, enjoy a tour of the facility."
He gestured to the girl standing beside him. "AUDIENCE, take him to the reception and have someone assigned to give him a proper tour."
Marin rose to his feet, subconsciously glancing at Nathan, half-expecting him to come along. But the author waved him off.
"Oh, Nathan will stay here. We have some… unfinished business."
As Marin turned to leave, he paused at the sight of a large, strange shelf near the corner of the room. It almost pulsed.
He pointed. "What's with that shelf?"
"Ah," the author grinned. "That's a special one. You see, this is my first time building a world this big. Naturally, there are… lapses. Things that don't make sense. Coincidences that just 'happen.' That shelf contains physical manifestations of those inconsistencies. You might call them plot holes."
"Plot holes?" Marin echoed.
"Well, not exactly. They're black holes. When something happens that defies the internal logic of the world—like, say, someone gaining powers without explanation or surviving an explosion without damage—it creates a black hole. A breach in the logical fabric."
Marin's eyes widened. "So… you just collect them?"
"Yep," the author replied proudly. "I travel to the origin of the black hole, analyze it, and come up with a narrative fix—something that retroactively explains or repairs the logic. Once I do that, the black hole ceases to exist. It's part of my job as creator—to maintain the world's consistency and logic across its entire timeline."
Marin raised an eyebrow, quietly wondering if his strange powers were also creating one of those black holes. Before he could ask—
The girl gripped his arm firmly. "Time to go."
"Be gentle with him," the author called out, as Marin was practically dragged from the room.
As they walked, Marin asked, "So… what's your name?"
The girl didn't look back. "I am the Artificial Understanding & Deep Interpretation Engine for Narratives, Curation, and Engagement. AUDIENCE, in short."
Marin blinked. "You're an AI?"
"Yes. I represent the will of the gods to the author."
"Gods? As in plural?"
"There are many. No exact number is known. But I represent them collectively. I was created by the author, just like this world."
Marin gave a low whistle. "So you're his… what, divine secretary?"
"Something like that."
Their conversation tapered off as they reached the reception. AUDIENCE turned to a boy manning the front desk.
"This boy needs a guide. Call her and tell her the author has requested she give him a tour." She handed over a small slip of paper and whispered something to the receptionist.
Then she turned to Marin. "Wait here. Your escort will arrive soon. Enjoy the free Wi-Fi." She handed him a folded slip with a password scrawled on it.
Before Marin could say a word, she was gone.
"…Wow," he muttered, staring at the password. "Cold."
But then again—she was an AI. Warmth wasn't in her programming.
Back in the office, the author leaned back, glasses off, revealing dark shadows under his eyes.
"So," he asked Nathan, "do you think he'll join?"
Nathan nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm confident. He'll come around."
The author gave a tired sigh, rubbing his temples. "He better be joining us because , if he doesn't, you're doing all my paperwork next week—without salary.You we are already shortstaffed and we can't entertain such tours that's why we don't do them even in the first place , I just hope this better be worth the time I invested."
Nathan grimaced.
"Oh, and that plane you took without permission?"
"…Yes?"
"You better return it without a single scratch. Or you'll be paying it off with unpaid labor."
Nathan muttered something under his breath. The author grinned.
As author stopped talking , Nathan then got up from his chair and his chair disappeared along with the chair MC sat on and the he left the author's office.