The collision happened at precisely 14:37.
It was not dramatic.
No sparks. No spells. No alarms.
Just a stack of papers, a startled gasp, and the unmistakable sound of a soul briefly leaving a body.
"Oh—oh no—I am *so* sorry—"
The papers scattered across the corridor like wounded birds.
Lord Malachai the Dread stopped walking.
That alone froze half the hallway.
The henchwoman—Lina, logistics division, mid-level clearance—stared up at him in absolute horror, already halfway through apologizing for crimes she hadn't committed yet.
"I didn't see you, sir, I wasn't watching where I was going, I can— I can file an incident report—"
Malachai bent down.
Picked up a page.
Paused.
---
He read it.
Slowly.
His gaze moved down the page with dangerous focus.
Lina's soul fully exited her body.
That page was *not* mission-related.
That page was her taxes.
---
"…Is this Form 1047-V?" Malachai asked calmly.
She made a noise that was not words.
"Yes," she whispered. "I— I'm behind— and the deadline is soon— and I don't understand deductions— and I shouldn't have been carrying it in the hallway— I'm sorry—"
Malachai straightened.
Then, without raising his voice or summoning terror, he said:
"Walk with me."
She followed automatically, legs numb.
---
They entered a small conference room.
The door closed.
Lina braced herself for judgment.
Instead, Malachai pulled out a chair.
"Sit," he said.
She sat.
He placed the papers neatly on the table, aligning the edges.
"You appear to have categorized hazard pay as standard income," he said.
"…Yes?"
"That is incorrect."
Her head snapped up. "It is?"
"No," Malachai said. "Hazard compensation is deductible under Section Kappa-Seven of the Ashlands Revenue Codex."
She stared.
"…There's a codex?"
"Yes."
She swallowed. "I thought the finance department handled that."
"They do," Malachai said. "When asked."
She winced. "I didn't want to bother anyone."
Malachai's eyes lifted.
That was the most dangerous moment in the room.
"Why," he asked evenly, "would ensuring your financial stability be considered a bother?"
Her throat tightened.
"I just… I didn't want to mess it up."
Silence followed.
Then Malachai sat.
---
For the next forty minutes, the Dark Lord of the Ashlands explained tax law.
Not loudly.
Not condescendingly.
With terrifying clarity.
"This expense qualifies."
"This one does not."
"No, you cannot deduct cursed coffee as 'office morale.'"
"Yes, dental co-pays are fully reimbursable—why have you not submitted those?"
Lina's pen shook.
"You… know all this?"
Malachai nodded. "Financial stress degrades performance."
"…Of course it does."
"You are also eligible for a dependents' credit," he added.
Her eyes widened. "Even though my sister lives with me?"
"Yes," he said. "And you failed to apply the transit stipend."
She stared at him like he'd just resurrected someone.
---
At one point she laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.
"I'm sorry— I didn't mean—"
Malachai waved it off. "Laughter is acceptable."
"…Thank you."
They finished the forms.
Properly.
Legally.
Optimized.
---
When they stood, Malachai handed her the stack.
"Submit these," he said. "And schedule a review next quarter."
She nodded fervently. "Yes— absolutely— I will—"
He paused at the door.
"And Lina?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You are not late," he said. "You are merely uninformed. That is correctable."
Her eyes burned.
"…Thank you."
He inclined his head once and left.
---
Lina stood there for a full minute after the door closed.
Then she slowly sank back into the chair.
Later that day, an internal message appeared on the network.
> **Anonymous Post — FINANCE THREAD**
>
> PSA: If you are confused about your taxes, ASK.
> Also apparently the Dark Lord knows tax law better than the Revenue Office.
> Do not ask me how I know this.
Replies flooded in.
**He helped me with filing extensions once.**
**He fixed my retirement contributions.**
**He explained amortization with a whiteboard.**
Someone added:
**Fear the scythe. Trust the spreadsheet.**
---
That evening, Kyle glanced up as Malachai passed.
"Good day, sir?"
"Yes," Malachai replied.
Kyle hesitated. "Did you… just help someone with taxes?"
Malachai paused.
"Financial literacy," he said calmly, "is a form of protection."
Kyle nodded slowly.
"…Of course it is."
---
And somewhere in the fortress, Lina submitted her forms on time, got a refund larger than expected, and slept that night without the familiar weight of dread in her chest.
Not because the world was kind.
But because the most dangerous man alive believed that no one under his command should be crushed by paperwork.
And heaven help anyone who tried to audit that.