Miyuri led us through a series of identical-looking corridors, each one as sterile and silent as the last. The only landmarks were the neatly labeled plaques on the doors we passed: 'Department of Resource Allocation,' 'Office of Inter-Factional Affairs,' 'Division of Urban Zoning.' It was a dizzying maze of bureaucracy, and I felt a newfound appreciation for the simple, straightforward layout of the Builder's workshop.
"Try to keep up," Miyuri said over her shoulder, her heels clicking rhythmically on the polished marble. "The Chief doesn't appreciate tardiness."
"Does he appreciate theatrical marriage proposals?" Erina whispered to me, a playful glint in her eyes.
"I get the feeling his appreciation for anything fun was surgically removed at birth," I whispered back.
Finally, we stopped in front of a pair of heavy, imposing doors made of dark mahogany. The plaque on this one was larger than the others, engraved in elegant, severe script: 'CHIEF OF MUNICIPAL REGISTRATION - GIDEON.'
Miyuri gave the door two sharp, precise knocks. A deep, resonant voice from within barked, "Enter."
She pushed the door open and gestured for us to step inside, giving Erina a quick, encouraging nod before quietly closing the door behind us, leaving us alone with the Chief.
The office was exactly what I'd expected, and yet somehow more intimidating. It was impeccably neat, without a single stray parchment or misplaced quill. Bookshelves lined one wall, their contents organized with mathematical precision. The air smelled of old paper, leather, and lemon-scented polish. Behind a desk the size of a small continent sat the man himself.
He was every bit as tough and muscular as I had imagined, with broad shoulders that strained the fabric of his perfectly tailored uniform. But the most striking feature, the one that immediately drew my eye, was his head. It was completely bald and so immaculately polished that the light from the enchanted crystals on the ceiling reflected off it with a near-blinding sheen. It was less a scalp and more a chrome dome of pure, unadulterated authority.
He didn't look up, his attention focused on the document he was stamping with a heavy, rhythmic thud… thud… thud. "Miyuri informed me you were coming. State your purpose."
Erina, for the first time since I'd met her, seemed to lose a bit of her usual swagger. She stood up straighter, her playful demeanor replaced by a formal professionalism. "Chief Gideon. I am Erina of the Adventurer Faction. I am here as an escort for Kael of the Builder Faction, who has a delivery for you from the Master Builder himself."
Only then did he stop his stamping. He placed the stamper down with a final, definitive click and raised his head. His eyes were a pale, piercing grey, and they scanned me from head to toe in a single, swift appraisal that made me feel like I was being cataloged and filed away.
"The Builder Faction," he said, his voice a low baritone that seemed to vibrate in my chest. "Unusual. He rarely communicates through official channels." He gestured toward the desk with a thick-fingered hand. "The document."
My heart hammered against my ribs. I felt like a nervous student presenting a report to a terrifyingly strict principal. I walked forward, the silence of the room amplifying the sound of my own footsteps, and carefully placed the wooden case on the vast, empty space on his desk.
He didn't say a word. With practiced, efficient movements, he slid a thin letter opener under the glowing blue seal. The rune flickered once and dissolved into harmless light. He opened the case and took out a single, folded piece of thick parchment.
As he read, I watched his face for any reaction. For the most part, his expression was an unreadable mask of stone. But I saw the subtle tells. A fractional widening of his eyes. A slight, almost imperceptible tightening of the muscles along his jaw. He reread one section, his brow furrowed in deep concentration.
I had no idea what the letter contained—a request for materials, a report on the city's structural integrity, a declaration of war against rogue Slime Molds—but I knew one thing with absolute certainty: it was important. And it was so far above my pay grade that it might as well have been written in a different language. I was just the messenger, a walking, talking delivery drone.
After what felt like an eternity, he finished reading. He folded the parchment with meticulous care and placed it back in the case. He closed the lid, his movements deliberate, final. He then looked at me, his grey eyes seeming to pin me in place.
"This is a matter of considerable significance," he stated, his voice flat. "The details of which, I am certain you understand, are not for general discussion."
"Yes, sir," I said immediately. "I was just told to deliver it."
"Good." He then reached back into the case and pulled out a second, smaller, and much simpler-looking note that had been tucked inside. He unfolded it and read it in a single glance. His expression didn't change, but his focus shifted entirely onto me, his gaze becoming more personal, more direct.
"It seems there is a secondary matter," he said, tapping the note. "A letter of addendum concerning you specifically, Kael."
I stiffened. "Me?" What could the Builder possibly have to say about me?
"Indeed," Gideon continued, his tone unchanging. "It appears that in the… haste of your recruitment, the Master Builder overlooked a crucial piece of municipal protocol." He leaned back in his chair, the polished surface of his head catching the light like a beacon. "You do not possess a City Identification Card."
I blinked. "A what?"
"An ID card," he repeated, as if speaking to a particularly slow child. "A standard-issue, mandatory registration document for every official resident of Out of Boundary City. It serves as your proof of identity, your factional allegiance, and, most importantly, your primary means of conducting transactions." He steepled his thick fingers. "It is, in essence, your wallet and your passport. You cannot purchase goods from the Merchant Faction, accept official quests, or even access certain public facilities without one."
The floor seemed to drop out from under me. All this time. I had been living in this city, walking its streets, working on its walls, and I was… an undocumented resident. An illegal immigrant in a city of deleted data. A ghost in the machine without even the most basic credentials. No wonder no one had ever asked me for anything. I'd been living entirely within the self-sufficient bubble of the Builder's headquarters.
A dozen memories clicked into place. The way merchants in the plaza had looked past me. The way the Adventurers in the hall had treated me like I wasn't really there. I wasn't just a newcomer; I was a non-entity. A person without a file. In a city run by administrators, that was practically the same as not existing at all.
My head snapped toward Erina, my eyes wide with a silent, frantic question. You knew about this?
She flinched.
It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but in the silent, supercharged atmosphere of the Chief's office, it was as loud as a scream. She wouldn't meet my gaze. Her eyes suddenly found a fascinating spot on the carpeted floor, and a guilty red blush crept up her neck, a stark contrast to her pale skin.
Oh. Oh, she knew. She had known from the very beginning. From the day she'd found me in the wasteland and dragged me into this city, she had completely, utterly forgotten to mention the single most important document required to actually live here.
"I see," Gideon said, his keen eyes missing nothing. He had clearly seen our silent exchange. A faint, almost imperceptible hint of amusement touched the corner of his mouth before vanishing. "It seems your escort was… remiss in her duties as a guide."
Erina winced, looking like she wanted the marble floor to swallow her whole.
"This is an administrative oversight that must be rectified immediately," Gideon declared, his voice booming with renewed purpose. He stood up, his sheer size seeming to shrink the already large office. "Your lack of registration poses a potential threat to municipal stability and data integrity. We will begin the process of issuing your official identification card. Now."