Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Monday Starts with Fury (2)
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* * *
Edinal blinked. Perhaps from a moment of surprise.
But soon she slammed the desk and laughed. Her long black straight hair flowed down behind her shoulders.
Her sharp vampire fangs and throat were fully visible.
Seonal's stoic expression as he stood there made it even funnier, so Edinal barely held back her laughter.
"Good. I like this side of you, Mr. Seonal. Of course, the share that needs to be claimed has to be secured. If you hadn't claimed it, I would've done it for you."
Edinal shook the invoice along with the report Seonal had written.
Unlike her pale face, her black eyes tinged with red brimmed with vitality.
"Yes. I submitted the request confidently, knowing you'd say that. I have to claim my own rights."
"I'll take responsibility for handling this, so good work from the morning."
"Since I worked hard, how about letting me clock out?"
When Seonal nudged slyly, Edinal grinned.
"Does our Mr. Seonal want to write a letter of apology starting Monday?"
"If a letter of apology gets me off work on Monday, I'll write up to three. What do you say? I can push for four if I have to..."
"No."
"...Ha."
Seonal bowed his head with an exhaled breath and turned away.
Maybe because he'd gone out to the field briefly that morning, but the thought of returning to his desk brought on a sigh first.
*Already want to go home.*
"Ah, Mr. Seonal."
Edinal called suddenly, so Seonal turned and stared blankly.
"Not that thing you're hoping for."
Edinal shot down what Seonal wanted in one go.
She beamed as disappointment crept across his face.
"I thought the protective glasses you made for that Medusa were really pretty too."
Seonal's listless eyes flickered briefly.
*The team leader's impossible to read.*
Seonal found Edinal strangely unfamiliar. He'd just submitted his report, yet she always seemed to know the outcome of incidents in advance.
How did she even know about the glasses he'd given that Medusa?
Better not to know, he thought.
"Thank you for the compliment."
Unlike his words, Seonal headed out with a languid gaze.
*Damn...*
The moment he stepped out, Seonal froze and rubbed his face.
*Monday from the jump—what now?*
Whatever it was, he spotted his colleague Irang trying to calm a centaur who'd come in as a complainant.
No wonder he'd dreaded going out.
*...Ha.*
Seonal sighed inwardly and approached them.
A soundproofing spell was in effect to keep conversations from leaking out or in, so he couldn't hear what they were saying.
The big voices hit him the moment he reached a spot beyond the spell's reach.
"...No, he's saying he's filing the complaint right now—why hold him back!"
The centaur's front hooves kept rearing up as his mane bristled tight.
A sign of anger.
Seonal recalled the signature traits of centaurs.
‣Sensitivity.
Who had gotten on this one's nerves, just like with the Medusa case?
"Please wait calmly if you're filing a complaint."
His colleague from the goblin tribe, Irang, dodged the centaur's kicks with ease while trying to calm him.
Seonal rolled his eyes back slightly.
*Just me and Irang?*
Everyone in the so-called Special Division for Inter-Species Complaint Resolution handled complaints while doubling as field agents, so their desks were lined up straight like post office counters.
With his own desk at the center, Irang the goblin was to the left, fairy Tersha to the right, and one spot left empty for the new hire.
"What's going on?"
Irang looked relieved as Seonal approached slowly and asked.
"Excuse me for a moment."
Before the centaur could get more worked up, Seonal sprayed a calming mist packed with soothing agents—the one he'd grabbed from his desk.
Pshht!
"What are you...?"
Startled by the sudden spray, the centaur slowly breathed out. His mane settled as his stamping legs finally stilled.
"No harmful ingredients whatsoever. No need to worry."
Seonal returned to his desk, grabbed the notice, and pointed.
•We may administer a calming spray as needed—please don't be startled. It's harmless, with no allergens.
"Got it?"
The centaur nodded at Seonal's question.
"Thank you for understanding."
Seonal gave the centaur a slight bow.
"Thanks, Seonal. That was close to a disaster."
Irang expressed his gratitude. The string fluttering in Irang's hand dissolved into petals and faded away.
Sorcery, different from magic.
Disturbances inside complaints or the office could be quelled by force per regulations, so sorcery or magic were both allowed.
Irang's lip curled slightly, regret in his eyes.
"More importantly, what's the problem?"
Seonal lowered his voice and asked again.
"Seems the complainant had an issue with a magic tool."
Irang fiddled with his mussed topknot and goblin mask as he got to the point.
"Aren't magic tools handled by the Mages' Association, not us?"
"Right. But according to the complainant..."
Irang started to speak, but the complainant fixed him with a stare.
Pressure to explain well. Anger still plain on his face.
"The magic tool malfunctioned, and the Mages' Association said..."
"I'll explain myself."
The centaur cut in, unable to hold back even briefly.
The spray must've helped—his tone was milder than before.
"I took my broken magic tool to a branch office of the Mages' Association for repair instead of headquarters. You know HQ's far away, right?"
All magic tools were sold and serviced by the Mages' Association.
Seonal had heard it all too often—same story every time—so he could guess without details.
*Monopolizing everything magic-related for massive perks, then some bullshit excuse about no repair. Because they can't fix it.*
Seonal felt a rare spark of motivation. A chance to stick it to the Mages' Association, no less.
"I admit my mistake. I accidentally dropped the magic tool. But when I showed it to them, no repair—instead, they discriminated against me for being a different species, claiming I'd deliberately broken it."
*Can't fix it.*
Seonal tamped down a smirk.
"I asked around, and they said this place handles stuff like this."
*Smart one.*
Seonal felt his lips curving slowly.
The so-called Special Division for Inter-Species Complaint Resolution existed to settle conflicts and discrimination between species, with the core goal of reintegrating non-humans into society.
"I apologize for getting heated and causing a scene."
The centaur bowed his head.
"Would you come over here and tell us about the discrimination you faced?"
Seonal guided him to the desk naturally.
As the complainant moved, Irang sidled closer and whispered.
"You know only you're the mage here right now."
Irang scratched at the mask perched diagonally on the right side of his head, marking him as goblin.
"I'll treat you to a kuank frappe later."
"Sounds good."
Seonal's response came a beat late.
*Why the sudden generosity?*
Felt off.
It'd only been about a month since his transfer, and he wasn't fully settled yet. Plus, there'd been that awkward incident a few days back, so Irang's attitude rubbed him strange.
*Focus. Not now.*
Seonal resolved to concentrate on this Mages' Association case for once.
"Please explain step by step. Feel free to sit."
Seonal sat down belatedly and curved his lips to seem approachable.
"No, I'll stand. It's more comfortable."
Anger gradually surfaced on the complainant's face.
She pulled cosmetics from her bag. Foundation for her round face, maybe.
*That's the magic tool.*
Magic seeped into everything in so many ways—Seonal felt anew how obsessed the Mages' Association was with money.
"It's a magic tool, still under free warranty, but they refused repair because of supposed stepping damage."
She clenched her fist as she glared at her cosmetic.
"I didn't step on it. I told them that. But they said since my legs do the talking, I must've stepped on it without noticing while walking or passing by. Said it was odd without that level of impact—anyway, the magic formula's broken, no repair, buy a new one. Handed it back like that... Ugh."
Even mid-sentence, frustration boiled over; she swept back her hair and sighed deeply.
"I just dropped it lightly. Like a pen hitting the floor. What is this, a glass cup?"
*Shitty mages.*
The complainant muttered under her breath.
"May I take a look?"
Seonal suggested gently. She covered her mouth.
"...Oh? Are you a mage, by any chance?"
"Yes."
"Ehhh..."
Her eyes shook wildly.
"I didn't mean for you to hear that. Really. I was just mad at the time. A vampire right behind me brought in the exact same item, said she dropped it—they believed her on the spot. Said it was an internal defect, gave her a new one, full refund, even discount coupons for a bunch of stuff. That pissed me off even more."
She handed the cosmetic to Seonal.
"I—we don't just step on things carelessly. We sense it clearly. See it well."
"I understand. Completely. That's definitely our jurisdiction."
Seonal soothed her. It was a touch ambiguous, perhaps, but...
"I'll use magic now, so please don't panic or get startled."
"Yes."
At her response, Seonal cast the spell.
[Scan.]
He traced letters in the air with mana-charged fingers; one of his eyes blazed red. The complainant recoiled immediately.
Seonal ignored her wary gaze—like she was seeing some alien entity—and continued.
He was used to reactions like that now.
The magic woven into the tool became visible to his eyes.
Flashy patterns, like with the Medusa's glasses.
He knew ornate designs were prized in this era, unavoidable for recognition, but they always made his chest tighten.
The base circles forming the magic—how many were there?
*No way. How dead serious are they about makeup?*
Decoding those patterns would spit out over ten lines, but the core function was finding spots where makeup wouldn't adhere well.
*Packed it with patterns like they tried hard, but sloppy as hell. Tons of disconnected sections.*
Seonal let out a dry chuckle.
*The pattern bonds linking mana so weak a light drop shakes the whole circle.*
Some pattern elements had to pair together; others repelled like N-pole magnets meeting N-pole.
*They sell this? Consumer Affairs got any mages?*
Just as he'd figured: the circle was already collapsed, unfixable—hence the absurd excuse.
Seonal dismissed the magic and faced the complainant.
Magic was a conduit to commune with mana, the voice of its wielders.
Mana could become anything; they yearned to shape it into anything.
No need to dazzle with mana-favored patterns or cling basely with cheap tricks—instead, speak to mana directly, word by word, sentence by sentence, with what you desired.
The 'Scan' he'd just used was that direct.
*Mana's got its own language—why fumble through clunky patterns? No wonder it fails.*
Holding the cosmetic, Seonal told her,
"No traces of stepping damage on this magic tool."
"Right? I didn't step on it."
She smiled brightly for the first time, then slowly balled her fist.
"So many misunderstandings just because I have four legs. Didn't expect it this time too."
*Heard about that.*
Seonal held his capitalist smile and stayed silent.
Centaurs' four legs often led to assumptions they'd kicked someone.
Fights and complaints galore over it.
Some actually had kicked people, so he got it—but couldn't blanket-deny.
Thud!
The complainant stomped the floor.
"People still ask to ride my back like it's..."
Her eyes widened mid-sentence.
"...Sorry."
‣Easily excited.
Seonal recalled the centaur trait in his head and shook his own.
"Please fill out the complaint details here. And lend me the magic tool for a bit."
"Gladly."
"Want me to fix it and send it back? Courier."
"No. Use it. Toss when you're done."
Her furrowed expression eased halfway.
"Um... could I come back for issues like this?"
"Of course. This department exists for folks like you."
Seonal lied without batting an eye.
Monday.
Monday morning, feeling like outbound fieldwork.
*Mages' Association bastards.*
Seonal couldn't suppress his creeping smirk.
Perfect timing.
He always had business with the Mages' Association.
The place that had shattered his old dream.