In a mansion located in the most exclusive district of the central continent, a pillow was slowly being soaked by the drool of someone sleeping peacefully.
Pri pri pri.
The alarm rang. The sleeper, unfazed, lazily turned it off and sank back into slumber. The device insisted, interrupting him again and again, until finally he grew tired of it and got up.
He slowly stood, took a shower, and got dressed in clothes from the 20th century. After centuries of being forgotten, that fashion had made a comeback and was now the height of elegance and formality.
His outfit was simple: a white shirt with a black vest over it, black pants, and shoes of the same tone. Before leaving, he grabbed a hat from the coat rack with a mechanical gesture.
As he stepped out the door, his chauffeur was already waiting beside the car.
"Good morning. Please get in, sir," the chauffeur said as he opened the door for him.
"Good morning. I've told you before, you can speak to me more casually," replied the man as he settled into the back seat.
The chauffeur said nothing more. He started the engine, and as every morning, they headed to the Public Security Agency.
Upon arriving—after enduring the seemingly endless traffic—the chief was greeted by an overwhelming mix of expensive perfumes... and the faint trace of poorly masked sweat.
He turned his head and noticed his team had returned from their mission. Unfortunately, not all had made it back. Of the five members, only three had returned: Dinorat, Hanna, and Mia.
"Good morning, Chief," greeted Hanna, her expression unreadable. Was she upset? Sad? Or simply not in the mood to talk? The chief couldn't tell. Meanwhile, two figures walked past her.
One of them was tall, with emerald-green hair and eyes of the same color. A sturdy T-Rex tail swayed behind him, and his claws—if they could be called that—looked more like sharp, thick talons.
Beside him walked Mia, a girl with snow-white hair, matching feline ears and tail. Her height was noticeably below average, even by the standards of her own kind. There was something about her that always seemed out of scale, as if she didn't quite belong to this world.
And finally, Hanna. Her deep blue hair contrasted with her navy-blue eyes. An aquatic tail, unmistakably that of a leviathan, trailed behind her. She was tall—nearly as tall as the chief himself—though Dinorat remained towering, even among dinosaur-types.
The chief followed them down the main hall until his path diverged. He turned right into a narrower corridor and walked until he reached room number 10. All that was left to do was wait. The appointment had been scheduled for eleven sharp. It was already eleven-thirty when the interviewee finally arrived.
He was tall, draped in exaggeratedly layered clothes that rippled with every step. His hair was an unruly black mane, covering most of his face, though a pair of brown eyes could just be seen peeking through the wild strands.
The young man sat across from the chief and looked him directly in the eyes. The chief cleared his throat with a couple of dry coughs and began the interview.
"Tell me, why do you want this job?"
His tone was serious, even slightly commanding. He watched the young man with a hint of suspicion. His attire was inappropriate, but that was nothing unusual. Nowadays, most people preferred to try their luck at the Adventurer's Guild rather than attend a formal interview. In fact, barely anyone showed up at all.
The young man stood slightly and bowed in a formal gesture.
"My name is Heo. I'm twenty-three years old and can serve as a tactical brain for a team. However, my affinity with the core is very low, so I wouldn't be able to fight."
"That could be a problem," admitted the chief, without lifting his eyes from the file. "But we might be able to work something out. What really concerns me is this: your record says you were fired from your last job after not showing up for six months. Care to explain?"
Heo seemed surprised for a moment, but quickly regained his composure.
"I had a serious issue that left me unable to work during that time."
The chief watched him silently. His record wasn't great, but options were scarce. If he was lucky, he might find another candidate in three months... and his team needed reinforcements immediately.
After a few seconds of deliberation, he nodded.
"You have two weeks to move in. You'll be living with your new teammates at house number 145 on Vultran Street."
"Thank you," Heo said, standing and offering his hand.
The chief shook it formally. Then, without another word, they each went their separate ways.