"Mr. Lindholm, pleased to meet you."
"Ah… hello."
Gin sits on the chair, staring at the man across the desk.
He wears prison clothes, looking extremely young, his dead fish eyes meeting hers without much energy. His black hair is messy, clearly neglected for some time, yet the strands look healthy… Miss.Gin, who spent a fortune on hair care every week, sighs.
She glances at the file in her hand… it contains photos of him before imprisonment. In the pictures, the man has a commanding presence, sharp eyes, and a proud stance—he could probably make girls in a bar drunk with just a glass of water. Who knows what happens to him during that year in prison, but now he looks like this.
It seems Eryndor Empire's prisons are even scarier than schools.
She momentarily forgets his name, and glances at the file again.
Alvin Lindholm… an odd name.
"Nephalem sent me here. I heard this place assigns jobs—is that true?"
Lindholm stares at her with those dead fish eyes. His voice sounds like he hadn't slept for long, ready to yawn at any moment, fuzzy and unclear.
"Even the boss talks like that? There's no such thing as assigned jobs… we just provide opportunities."
Gin groans inwardly. Some rumor must have spread that the POA hands out jobs to released prisoners…
—Seriously! Use your brain! Such good fortune doesn't fall into the laps of people like you! The only stable jobs in the empire we can offer are sending you prisoners to the North to dig mines!
The empire's large-scale intermediary organization: Public Order Agency, or POA.
It had been newly established in recent years as a special social welfare organization for prisoners.
After the third Alchemy Revolution, imperial technology had skyrocketed, changing rapidly almost every year. Prisoners, cut off from the outside world, fell behind in information. Once released, they could hardly reintegrate into society, and their criminal record made it even harder to find work. Many resorted to crime again, eventually returning to prison.
The empire's human rights laws were partly to blame. Non-violent criminals had improved living conditions in prison, surrounded by people like themselves, without being looked down upon. Many prisoners… ended up loving prison life.
Outside, there's no work, no family, no friends. Inside, everyone's the same as you, and life is guaranteed.
This made it almost impossible for released prisoners to adjust. Many committed minor crimes after release, then surrendered, returning to prison. The empire couldn't allow this, so the POA was created.
Initially, it was a social welfare institution to help prisoners reintegrate. In most cases, the missing link was a job. So most of the POA's work was finding employment for ex-prisoners, helping them adapt.
But fate is an elusive bitch. You plant an unknown seed, and you never know what flower will bloom.
Under Nephalem, the POA went through several reforms, ultimately becoming the empire's sole official employment agency.
—Yes, a recruitment agency now.
However… Lindholm is special. Before the meeting, her boss Nephalem specifically instructed Gin: whatever demands he had, promise them first, no matter how outrageous.
"Do you have any requirements for the job?"
Lindholm touchs his nose, showing a simple smile. "I have quite a few demands…"
Gin assumes he was being polite. After all, how could an ex-con dare make demands of the POA? She gently says, "No problem. Please, go ahead."
"Then I'll start." Lindholm looks at her, friendly. "You might want to take notes."
Gin frowns. Things are not that simple.
"First, about the work itself," Lindholm puts his hands behind his head, gazing at the ceiling light lazily. "If possible, I'd like to do nothing."
Gin's hand trembles slightly over her pen.
"Next, working hours. I can't get up early, so I'd like to start at ten or later. I also take naps, preferably starting around noon and lasting until at least 1:30 pm."
Her hand shakes more, and she drops the pen. She stiffly picks it up.
"End of work? Before five. Why? Because as an adult, I need a rich nightlife and my own time."
"…?"
"Also, two days off a week is exhausting. There are seven days in a week—why only two off? I want four-on-three-off, three-on-four-off… more rest days are fine too."
"…?!"
"About salary, I'm not greedy. Enough to support my rich nightlife… maybe around four hundred pounds per month."
Gin is internally screaming. My monthly salary is only eighty pounds! Ten hours a day, six days a week… how dare this bastard ask for four hundred?! Rich nightlife… what the hell is that? He may have been handsome before prison, but now—no way!
She wants to slam the desk, pull out a gun, and remind him he's still a prisoner, but she remembers her boss's instructions. Her anger, however, could flood a canyon if liquefied, so she decides to be sarcastic instead.
"Mr. Lindholm, the POA roughly understands your requests… but… if I may, you've only listed demands without telling me what you can do. What are you good at? Any skills? Prior studies? Alchemy, magic, law, accounting, medicine, cooking…"
Lindholm blinks, slightly embarrassed. "I never went to school."
Never went to school…
Gin nearly splits in half. You never went to school, and you fucking want four hundred pounds a month?!
"Then… any special skills?" She presses, feeling he hadn't understood her sarcasm.
"I'm really good at playing Hero Spirit!"
"Really? What deck do you use—what are you talking about?! Who cares about your card game skills? Any other skills?!"
"That's not acceptable either…"
Lindholm sighs, propping his chin on one hand, looking lazily out the window.
"Then… if I have any other skill… I'd say… I'm quite good at fighting."