The air in the office was thick with a lazy, content silence. It was the kind of quiet that could only follow a storm of chaos and near-death experiences. On his desk—a battered wooden slab that had been a dining table just a week ago—Kamina was meticulously stacking a card castle. He hummed a tuneless melody to himself, his tongue sticking out in concentration, each card placed with the precision of a master craftsman.
Across from him, Shmuel was a whirlwind of frantic, focused activity. He was buried in a mountain of paperwork, his fingers a blur over the salvaged computer terminal's keyboard. The soft, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of his keystrokes was a steady metronome against the soft whisper of Kamina's card castle. They had just completed an Urban Nightmare-class case, and the administrative fallout was, as always, Shmuel's domain. He had been at it for ten hours straight.
"J Corp seemed to have lost interest in that girl," Kamina said, not looking up from his creation. "Since the golden coin was… incinerated, and all." He placed a final card on top with a gentle plink. The castle held.
Shmuel, without even looking at Kamina, rattled off the explanation like a pre-programmed machine. "That's because we took two contracts at the same time. One is with the Seven Association, South Section 6, and the other is with Alexy. Both of them pay very well." His fingers continued to fly over the keyboard, a steady drumbeat of progress.
Kamina, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, completely ignored the financial details. "So, what should we get for lunch today?"
Shmuel's fingers paused for a moment. He tilted his head. "We can order burgers from Hamhampangpang. I haven't tried their menu yet. Also, we have to lie in the report, saying it was José who intentionally destroyed the golden coin, not you. If we don't, we'd never get the reward money from the Seven Association, who took the job from J Corp."
Kamina, already back to his usual self, didn't miss a beat. "Isn't there an announcement from J Corp that José is now being supervised by someone else?"
"Yes, We can assume that it's Alexy who took her in. I wonder what they will do with her."
Kamina looked at the card castle, then at his reflection in the computer screen. A wide, content smile spread across his face, the kind that came from a job well done, not a victory won.
"At least she's not the target of a Corp anymore," he said, the sentiment simple, honest, and as true as the sunrise.
Shmuel, for the first time in hours, stopped typing completely. He looked at Kamina's reflection in the screen, then at the flimsy card castle on the desk. He nodded, a slow, gentle gesture that held the weight of a thousand unspoken feelings. "Yeah, You're right."
"Kamina, we shouldn't be taking Urban Plague-class or Urban Nightmare-class cases anymore, It's way above our pay grade."
Kamina, leaning back in his chair, laughed. "Don't be so scared."
"We almost died like four times during that whole raid. And that raid had the Merchant's Ledger Office, Silas Chainers Office, Gold-Bug Solutions Office, and La Parure Group Office get office-wiped. We almost ended up with the same fate."
"Keyword: Almost."
"It's not funny, Kamina!" Shmuel's voice cracked with frustration.
Kamina just shrugged, his card castle still standing tall on the desk. "I don't know, kid. High risk equals high reward."
The door to the office swung open, revealing a man who looked like he had just been through a gauntlet. "Is this The Great Kamina's Office?" he asked, his voice a mix of hope and desperation.
In the hallway, a young girl with white hair and red tips stood with a servant in full armor.
"My lady, it is not wise to hire a Grade 9 office like this one," the servant, Pisanio, pleaded, his voice a low rumble. "Ought you not to hire them, and we might find another suitable for your protection."
"Try my intuition, Pisanio," the girl said, her tone a mix of childish imperiousness and a wisdom that belied her years.
"My lady, you should consider your safety thoroughly," he insisted.
"I am," she retorted. "It's not like I fell in love with someone in District 24 and am now running away from my family to live with my love."
"My lady, you are 14."
"You know why I ran away, though."
"Yes, that's why I'm helping you, my lady."
As they spoke, the man who had been at the office door was kicked out by Kamina.
"I'M NOT TAKING A GODDAMN JOB!" Kamina roared, his voice a thunderclap that echoed down the hallway. "DO NOT OFFER ME A JOB THAT WOULD MAKE ME CAUSE A RUCKUS IN A LOCAL FOOD STORE SO THAT YOUR FOOD STORE COULD THRIVE! NOW GET AWAY FROM HERE WITH YOUR DIRTY JOB!"
The man, terrified, scrambled away, passing the servant and the small lady. As he did, an old woman from a neighboring apartment, carrying a fruit basket, approached Kamina.
"Oh, my," she said with a fond smile. "You boys are quite a spectacle." She handed the basket to Kamina. "Thank you for protecting our little corner of the world from those local syndicates. They've been a terror."
Kamina's face softened, his bravado replaced by a genuine warmth. "Thanks for the fruits, miss," he said, accepting the gift with both hands. "Shmuel and I were craving something to eat."
The old woman then bid them a farewell and went on her way. The small lady and her servant stepped in front of Kamina.
"Hey, you!" the girl said, pointing a finger at him.
"What?"
"You're the Great Kamina's Office, right?" she asked, her voice a little too sweet.
"Don't you see the sign I put up?" Kamina shot back, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. "Or are you so short you can't see it?"
"Not as short-tempered as you, though."
"Hahhh?" Kamina said, his voice a low growl of disbelief. "What did you just say to me, you little brat?"
The servant stepped in front of the small lady. "We are here to hire them, my lady. It's not wise to argue at the moment."
Kamina, meanwhile, laughed. "This thing is 'my lady'? Don't make me laugh, old man."
"My lady," the servant said, his hand on the hilt of his sword, "can I have the order to unsheathe my sword?"
"Hah! Your servant is more short-tempered than I am!" Kamina crowed, a triumphant grin on his face.
The girl's expression was a study in withering contempt. "That's not something to be proud of," she said flatly.
Shmuel appeared in the doorway, a look of utter exasperation on his face. He gestured to the two of them with a calm, inviting hand. "Kamina, do not chase away our potential client. And you two, please, come in. I'll prepare some tea."
The little lady then sat down on the sofa. The servant stood behind her, a silent, imposing guardian in his armor. Kamina sat on the opposite sofa, his body language a mirror of her own childish swagger.
Shmuel, meanwhile, was in the kitchen, the soft clinking of teacups and the hiss of a boiling kettle a rhythmic background to the tension in the room. He returned a moment later with two cups on a tray–one a steaming cup of tea for the servant, the other a glass of hot milk for Imogen.
"So, what's your business?" Kamina asked, his voice a low grumble.
The servant answered, his voice a polished baritone that cut through the silence. "My lady seeks protection from the Brithelm. She's being chased by the Knights of Brithelm because she does not want to be in an arranged marriage with the son of her mother-in-law."
Imogen, looking pleased that someone else was doing the talking, introduced herself. "I'm Imogen, the daughter of Cymbeline, who is the leader of Brithelm."
Shmuel, now sitting in his chair, sipped his own tea. "Brithelm... they are a sizable syndicate with active operations in the west quarter of the City."
"My lady and I have gone through a lot of trouble to get out of District 5," the servant continued, "and now in District 12 we seek protection to move to District 24, where my lady can stay in the nest of District 24."
"The paperwork and permission to get into X Corp's nest isn't easy to get, though," Shmuel said, his brow furrowed with concern.
"You don't need to worry about that," Imogen said, her voice a little too confident. "My lady and I have it covered."
In Shmuel's mind, a flashing red warning light went off. Dealing with such a sizable syndicate was on par with an Urban Plague-class case, or even Urban Nightmare-class. It was far beyond their current standing.
"How much are you willing to pay?" Kamina asked, his eyes gleaming with a manic avarice that had nothing to do with greed and everything to do with challenge.
Imogen pulled out her phone and showed them her bank account. The number was astronomical, with more zeros than Shmuel had ever seen in his life.
"That's a lot of Ahn," Kamina said, his voice a low whistle.
"I can spend as much as you want for my protection," Imogen said, a small, triumphant smile on her face.
Shmuel sighed, his mental calculator already working at a frantic pace. He pulled out a contract and began to write. He let Imogen fill in the numbers. When she was done, he looked at it and saw a number that made his stomach drop with 50 million Ahn, 12 times the monthly wage of a middle-class worker.
After Imogen filled out the contract, Kamina, without a second thought, signed it.
"Kamina, we've just taken on an incredibly dangerous job," Shmuel said, his voice a low, worried murmur.
"It's exciting, isn't it?" Kamina said, his grin as wide as ever.
"We would get office-wiped quite soon if this continues," Shmuel shot back, the words a weary prediction of their fate.
"What? You don't trust me?" Kamina asked, his tone a mix of genuine confusion and playful offense.
"Yes and no."
Kamina looked at Imogen and Pisanio. "What will you two do until tomorrow morning when the contract goes into effect and we're in charge of protecting this little brat?"
"We've rented an apartment right under yours for 12 months, to raise no suspicion," Pisanio answered.
"We only stay here until tomorrow morning, and you guys have it covered for 12 months?" Kamina said, his eyes widening in disbelief. "You guys have too much money to spare."
Kamina, a man of action, had no patience for contract details or the politics of the City. With a final, decisive clap of his hands, he picked up the office phone and began to dial.
"Right," he said into the receiver. "Hamhampangpang? I need a big order. Make it twelve big burgers, no pickle, and four sodas."
"Order me some fries too, Kamina," Shmuel said, without looking up from his paperwork.
"And some fries, too," Kamina added, his voice a booming, good-natured roar. He held the phone away from his mouth and looked at Imogen and Pisanio. "Do you two need something?"
Imogen's eyes lit up, her earlier sullenness vanishing in the face of food. "I'll take twenty egg sandwiches!"
Pisanio, a perfect statue of weary disapproval, stepped forward. "My lady, you can't have that many. Just order around two. And I will take two cheese toasts."
"Alright," Kamina said, turning back to the phone. "Twelve burgers, no pickles, some fries, two egg sandwiches, and two cheese toasts." He hung up and turned to Shmuel. "I guess we're back in business."
The door received a series of insistent knocks. Kamina opened it to find the old lady who had given him the fruit basket standing there, her expression a mix of concern and exasperation.
"Oh, dear," she said, her voice a low murmur. "There are some loud thugs in front of the apartment complex. They seem to be new here and are causing a ruckus, demanding protection money."
"Right, I'll go down there and kick their ass," Kamina said, grabbing his katana, his cloak, and his iconic sunglasses.
As Kamina headed down the stairs, Imogen turned to Shmuel. "You guys do protection for free?"
Shmuel, who hadn't even looked up from his paperwork, simply continued typing. "Due to his good nature, he always does it. And I also take part in it, now that I have my augmentation. Loud and weird as he might be, he's just a guy who does what he wants."
"Quite ambitious, your Office Rep is," Pisanio said, a hint of grudging respect in his voice.
Shmuel's fingers paused for a moment on the keyboard. He let out a soft, weary sigh. "He might as well be the most annoying Office Rep to deal with, though."