After the interrogation, the atmosphere of the office began to calm.
"James, you'll be working in the supplies department," said Principal Gaeul Valencia-Solaire from behind her polished desk. "With classes starting in two months, we've begun ordering bulk shipments of paper, chalk, pens, and everything else. Every day, deliveries arrive. It's your job to carry them in, sort them, and properly arrange them in inventory."
She folded her hands with the posture of someone used to running a school. Her presence felt both familiar and new to James.
"Summer probably mentioned this already," she added, "but just so it's clear: you'll be working a full day today. Starting tomorrow, it's half days. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am!" James stood up straight, his voice sharp with enthusiasm.
"Good." She smiled, her eyes softening. It wasn't just a professional smile,it was the kind a teacher gives a student when they see growth. "Now follow the girl outside. She's my secretary. She'll escort you to your new station."
With that, they exchanged brief farewells, and James stepped out of the principal's office.
Waiting just outside was the secretary.
She stood tall and motionless, her presence cold and unreadable, as if she were carved from ice. Without a word, she turned and began walking down the hallway, expecting James to follow.
He didn't dare attempt small talk.
Hands tucked in his pockets, James trailed behind her with quiet footsteps. He kept his eyes low, occasionally glancing up to maintain distance but avoid drifting too far.
It felt like she didn't care whether he kept up or not she was just fulfilling protocol or doing the bare minimum.
As he reached for his phone to check the time—8:20 a.m.—the secretary suddenly spoke.
"We're here. Inside, you'll find your supervisor. He's already been informed about you."
And with that, she left without another glance. Like a blinding light, dissappeared as soon as it appeared.
"She's scary…" James whispered under his breath.
He turned to the large silver double doors in front of him. A clean sign above read:
INVENTORY.
James gave two solid knocks.
"Come in," came a raspy voice from within.
Pushing the doors open with both hands, James entered and was greeted by a room larger than three classrooms put together—yet smaller than a warehouse. Towering shelves stretched across the space, stacked high with boxes and labeled bins.
Near the center stood a man with graying hair, holding a maroon clipboard. He looked up.
"Welcome, new recruit. I'm—"
Before he could even finish his sentence, James dropped his bag and lunged forward, wrapping both arms around him in a tight hug.
"Mr. Worker!"
The man barely budged despite the sudden now 88kg weight slamming into him.
James grinned wide, emotions swelling up.
This man...this unremarkable, aging man had once been his light in the darkest school years of his life. Back when no one wanted to sit next to James, when rumors followed him for things he'd said or done out of ignorance and loneliness, he was the one who approached. While James sat alone on benches, ignored by other kids playing tag and basketball, this man would sit beside him and talk.
He didn't coddle James. He scolded him, lectured him daily on boundaries, decency, and respect, like a strict father figure. He taught James how to filter his thoughts in public, why certain things shouldn't be said aloud, and how to carry himself with modesty.
Even in high school, James couldn't shake the rumors from his elementary days. Many still saw the awkward, lonely kid from elementary who talked about things no child should've known. No matter how much he changed, that shadow stuck to him.
But this man? He never turned away. Not even once.
The hug lingered...tight, childlike, and full of everything words could never express.
The older man's clipboard dropped with a clatter, but he didn't push James away.
"Huh what are you—HAHAHAH oh its you brat!"
The man shouted hugging James back
"You've gotten heavier," the man muttered, patting James on the back with a sigh.
James laughed through a short sniffle. "Yeah, I've been bulking."
"Bulking my foot, I told you before right that locking yourself up in that room of yours to eat was a bad habit...This child...Haah."
They separated, and for a second, the warehouse didn't feel so cold.
The man gave a short laugh—rough like sandpaper, but genuine. "Good to see you after all these years James how've you been? And don't call me 'Mr. Worker,' kid. You know my name."
James's grin widened. "Mr. Remo."
Remo Cruz. The quiet maintenance man of the past, now the supervisor of the entire Inventory Department.
"You still remember." Remo leaned down to grab his clipboard. "I thought you forgot me."
James shook his head. "You were the only one who stayed."
Remo paused, eyes narrowing just slightly before returning to his usual tired expression. "Come. Let's get you suited up before the deliveries start. You brought towels, right?"
James nodded and patted his bag. "Two."
"Smart kid. Good. Then listen close."
Remo led him toward the back of the room where a side cabinet opened to reveal a set of utility vests and gloves.
"You'll sweat buckets here. No AC just fans and sweat." Remo said as he handed over a uniform. "Each box is logged, checked, then shelved. You don't just move things, you track 'em. Every pen, every ream of paper."
James took the vest and began changing into it.
"Summer said you needed this job bad," Remo continued. "But if you think we're gonna go easy on you just because we're friends—"
"I don't," James cut in, tightening the last button. "I wanna work. I want to prove I can."
Remo stopped for a second, studying the boy.
"…Good. Then we start with the shipment that just arrived."
He pointed to the double doors across the room. The wheels of a dolly were already squeaking, the sound of crates being pushed in.
"Welcome to the Inventory, James."
Mr. Remo said while giving James a clipboard
—
[11:10 a.m.]
Four boxes of pens, two crates of notebooks, and three cartons of printer paper later—James sat on a small crate in the back corner, towel around his neck, gulping water from his aluminium bottle.
Sweat soaked through his yellow shirt under the vest which was the uniform Remo gave. He smelled like 'effort.'
Remo stood by the clipboard, watching him. "You're doing good for your first day."
James looked up with flushed cheeks and gave a thumbs up. "Haven't dropped a box yet."
"You drop one, you run a lap."
James paled. "What?"
"Kidding. Sort of." Remo smirked. "Break's over in five."
As Remo walked off, James tapped his glabella and infront of him was the pink screen that exuded royalty.
---
[DAILY MISSIONS PAGE]
[DAILY MISSIONS]
[ ] Eat 2000 calories
[ ] Jog 6 kilometers
[ ] Do 50 push-ups
[ ] Do 50 squats
[✔] Help your mother
[ ] Help your father clean the house
[ ] Help your siblings with their homework
[ ] Do not watch pornography
[ ] Do not touch yourself indecently
[ ] Pick up your siblings from school
[ ] Help Summer Heartfelia
[ ] Help Valentina Bosconovitch
[✔ ] Make a good impression on Gaeul Solaire
Calorie count: 867 kcal
---
Still 11 a.m. James ate early because he still had to take his siblings who were still in class home soon.
"Still on track," he muttered, reaching for his lunch.
Inside his bento box were:
A half-cup of plain rice
Steamed broccoli
Two thin slices of grilled chicken
One small peeled orange
He ate slowly, chewing longer than usual. Every bite was calculated. Every grain of rice counted.
"Discipline… like Mr. Remo said," James whispered to himself, watching the sweat on his arm bead and drip.
The moment was quiet, but powerful.
He wasn't a child anymore.
Ready to face the consequences of his past actions and change.