Philip Hartwell blinked under the white glow of the floating magical scroll, feeling a familiar irritation rise in his throat. It wasn't the kind of comforting light you see in fantasy books; it was the kind that reminded him of the noisy fluorescent lights at his old call center—the ones he hated.
"Great. Reincarnated in a magical kingdom, and nobody gave me a proper position. Just a floating cubicle and endless tickets," he muttered, adjusting an imaginary tie that didn't exist, but his mind insisted on imagining.
The first call appeared in a flash of violet light: an elf with horns, blue hair, and a desperate expression."My invisibility spell won't turn off! Now nobody can see me! Help!"
Philip took a deep breath, already imagining himself typing the classic, "Have you tried turning it off and on again?" even before opening his mouth. Instead, he muttered,"Of course… because an invisible elf screaming in panic is totally a normal workday."
When he tried to explain the procedure, he realized the elf couldn't hear properly. He hadn't thought about that—after all, invisibility isn't the same as deafness. Philip had to write each step in the air, while sparkling lines of light formed a floating scroll—which, luckily for the elf, was more of a technological device than a magical one.
Every gesture the elf made was exaggerated. He couldn't be seen by anyone else, but Philip had the displeasure of seeing it all. Each puff of panic seemed to make the scroll glow brighter. Deep down, Philip felt his patience dissolving, reminded of the thousands of calls from clients asking to reset passwords they didn't even know.
The next call didn't bring relief: a giant, smoke-breathing dragon standing at the castle gate."My 'village under attack' notification didn't work! Can someone fix this damn thing?"
Philip raised an eyebrow. It was impossible not to notice the absurdity: a dragon demanding tech support as if it were a user of an app. Still, with the calm that only years in a call center could provide, he replied,"Did you try restarting the gate before setting the whole village on fire?"
Between miscast spells and ticket reports that printed out bouncing goblins, Philip began to notice patterns—not in magic, but in behavior. Every creature, every mage, seemed trapped in their own mixture of incompetence and expectation. And he, Philip Hartwell, was the link between chaos and the kingdom's survival, despite secretly wishing he could just hand in his resignation.
He smiled wryly."Welcome to your new job, Hartwell. Here, no one will ever praise your performance, but everyone will depend on it."