All I Did Was Spit Once

Across the crosswalk, red numerals burned on a massive electronic billboard. Nine days shorter than yesterday. Word was that a medium-scale monster wave had broken at dawn in the Tower's 34th Floor Southern District, the sector under the South American Coalition. More than a hundred hunters dead, and two raid outposts wiped out with them.

"Ah, fuck…."

The man in the tie beside me spat the curse. I glanced at the billboard without thinking, but his eyes were glued to the screen of the phone in his hand.

"Dropping again. Piece of shit."

Stocks. The world could end in six years and it still wouldn't matter. For a modern person, the card payment about to leave their account tomorrow was scarier.

The signal changed, and people spilled onto the crosswalk in a rush. I slipped into a gap among them and picked up my pace. It was 8:54 a.m., and the office was still about half a mile off.

"Sorry! Coming through for a second!"

The world was supposed to end in six years. I was about to end in six minutes, by being late. I shoved through the morning crowd and ran like a madman.

"Ghk—what the—?!"

"Sorry, sorry."

At times like this, even being a sorry excuse for an Awakened came in handy.

E-Rank. And not even a combat class—production. Still, I could handle mana, so my stamina beat an ordinary person's. Only a little better, of course. That was all.

Anyway, my work was trimming magic stones, patching snapped low-grade mana circuits, and repairing gear that had lost its teeth.

A Polisher isn't supposed to be that kind of job….

The company I worked for was no major corporation. At a shitty little firm, you don't get to hope the title on your contract matches the work in your hands.

I skidded into the building lobby and checked my phone.

"…Fuck."

The elevator was on the twelfth floor. Our company was on the seventh. One minute left. I kicked through the emergency door and took the stairs at a run.

"You're here—?"

I shoved the office door open, gasping, and Park Jungho, head of the Equipment Support Team, looked from his wristwatch to my face and back again. I checked the wall clock. Exactly 9:00:53.

"I'm not late."

"You're fifty-three seconds late."

"It hasn't even been a full minute."

"Well, well. Assistant Manager Han, all you've grown is a talent for splitting hairs?"

"…Grind under you long enough, Team Lead, and this is what you get."

Park snorted and jerked his chin toward my workbench.

"Then see what you can do about that, too."

I turned to look. Three longswords with their teeth knocked out, one crumpled shield. A breastplate split with cracks, and a necklace whose magic stone had been blown clean out of it. The bench had turned into a scrapyard.

"…There was only one piece when I left yesterday."

"Raid Team 1 got back at dawn."

"I also have to run Raid Team 2's regular equipment inspection this morning."

"Then you'd better be quick about it."

Oh, so this was something speed could actually fix?

"Team Lead."

"What?"

"…We need to hire one more person. Even an F-Rank would do."

I wasn't joking. Without that, I was going to die. I'd lost track of whether this had been going on for days or for months.

"Tell the president yourself. I don't have that kind of pull."

"…Haa."

I let out a long sigh and changed into my work clothes without a fight. Three months ago, when the youngest had fled, I'd asked the president to hire someone. The answer that came back was, We're all having a hard time—just hang in there a little longer, yeah? Two months after that, the president moved into a brand-new apartment. I was still hanging in there a little longer.

Daon Hunter Management. Thirty-two employees, fourteen hunters on the roster. The highest among them a B-Rank. Beneath that, four C-Ranks. Everyone else D-Rank and E-Rank leftovers. A hunter specialty firm that, in practice, was no different from any other dime-a-dozen ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shit company. And the dime-a-dozen repairman of that company was me.

"……."

I sat down and picked up the longsword lying on top. A hairline crack ran down the center of the blade. I fed a thin thread of mana into it, and an unpleasant vibration crawled, tingling, up through my fingertips.

This isn't just metal fatigue.

I popped the cover beneath the grip at once.

"They unlocked the output limiter again. Crazy bastards…."

The mana circuit was charred black.

"What? That bad?"

"Swing this a few more times and the circuit would've blown."

"…Get unlucky, and a whole hand comes off with it?"

"Yes. We need to take this to the raid team. Please tell them properly, Team Lead."

"I've said it. More than once. We can talk until our tongues fall out—you think they hear a word of it? Around here they're the royal blood. We're the help."

"So somebody has to lose an arm before they come to their senses."

Grumbling, I lifted the tweezers and carefully peeled away the blackened circuit. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cut a fresh length of silver wire, twisted it in with the tweezers, and wiped the scorched magic-stone contact with alcohol. Simple work like this, honestly, I could do with my eyes closed. Not because I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was gifted. Because I'd been doing nothing but this for more than five years.

Swap a broken magic stone for a cheap one. Bridge a severed circuit around the break. Force a ruined balance point back into line. The kind of part you miss the moment it's gone, and that nobody looks at twice while it's there. That was me, exactly.

"Assistant Manager Han?"

I was still working when the door cracked open. Lee Sumin, assistant manager on the Supply Team.

"Yes."

"The potion count going out with Team 1 today… I don't suppose you've already checked it?"

"Isn't that Supply's job?"

"Well… Choi Minseok is on annual leave today. And I'm tied up with the settlement processing…."

"And?"

"The team lead told me to quietly ask you."

I was busy. Obscenely, fuck-off busy. But looking at Assistant Manager Lee Sumin's thoroughly cowed face….

"Haa. What time are they heading out?"

"Eleven!"

"All right. I'll check it now."

"Thank you!"

The door closed. A little later, someone from Management Support stopped by the workshop. They needed the magic-stone settlement sheet for the Tower's 23rd Floor. I had that, too. Support had been shorthanded, so I'd tagged along as a stopgap. I handled it on the spot and sent them off.

I worked in a blur, and when I finally dropped into my chair, the team lead snickered.

"Our Assistant Manager Han. Awful popular around the company, aren't you?"

"……."

Something about that look got under my skin, so I kept my mouth shut. This was not the kind of popularity I wanted.

I'd just barely brought one burnt longsword back to life, sometime late in the morning, when the workshop door opened again. This time I knew who it was from the footsteps alone.

"Assistant Manager Haaaan."

I looked up at the one who'd called my name. Seo Jia. Raid Team 1, Daon Hunter Management. A C-Rank Magic Swordsman. An ace who accounted for a sizable share of the company's revenue, and a hunter whose face was known beyond these walls. Jet-black hair down to her waist, eyes tilted up like a cat's, and the sleek, fatless physique hunters kept so carefully managed. After they hung her photo on the front of the company site, inquiries about signing with us had jumped. Or so I'd heard.

"Is my sword finished?"

She and I did not get along.

"It's over there."

Seo Jia picked up the longsword at the end of the job I'd just saved. She drew it halfway from the scabbard, then gave the air a light swing or two.

"Hmm…. Something's lacking…."

I pretended not to hear and fiddled with a crack in another shield. Experience had already taught me that nothing good was coming.

"Assistant Manager. I think this grip is a little too thin."

There it was. I took my hand off the shield.

"Last raid, you said the grip was too thick and asked me to shave it down."

"I did?"

"Yes. Said your wrist transitions were slow."

Seo Jia looked down at the grip and tilted her head. The face of someone who genuinely didn't remember.

"Mm…. But now that I've actually used it, I don't like it."

"……."

"Could you balance it again? A little thicker."

"It's possible."

"Thank goodness. I have training this afternoon. By four."

I looked at the workbench. Six more pieces of gear still waiting to be dealt with today.

"By today?"

"Yes."

Seo Jia smiled, bright and easy.

"You always get this sort of thing done so quickly, Assistant Manager Han."

I looked at her face for a moment. A professional was supposed to weigh all of this and lock in the optimal setup. That was my job. The problem was that this was already the sixth time.

"…I'll look at it again."

"Yes, thank you."

Her tone was perfectly polite. It always was. She wasn't swearing at me, and she wasn't dropping into casual speech to look down on me outright. She just had a gift for making a person profoundly tired and uncomfortable. Setting the sword down, Seo Jia added one more thing.

"Then I'll buy the Equipment Support Team a round of coffee."

"Whoa—!"

"Coffee?"

At her words, the dying office zombies stirred and lifted their heads.

"Yes! Order whatever you want."

"Wooo—! Hunter Seo Jia is the best!"

"Then I'll take a vanilla latte!"

"Assistant Manager Han, cold brew for me!"

Everyone started shouting orders, delighted. The more they did, the more absurd it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠felt. Not one of them looked ready to get out of their chair. The mood was sliding, all on its own, toward me being the one to run the coffee.

Smiling, Seo Jia drew a glittering card from her wallet and set it down on top of my work.

"Assistant Manager, mine is, um… an iced Americano. Just one pump of syrup."

It was always like this. Not an order. Not coercion. A polite request, handed over with a smile. But in this cramped little company, an E-Rank Polisher with no power and no backing had no grounds whatsoever to refuse the small favors of a C-Rank ace and the rest of the team. Dig my heels in and refuse to go, and I'd be the only petty, stingy little shit in the room.

"…Understood."

I picked up the card on the desk. Seo Jia smiled brightly.

"Thank you."

She took the credit. I ran the errand. A curse spun in my mouth all on its own.

"Want me to come with you, Assistant Manager Han?"

"I'm fine. I'll be back."

And so I returned to the company pantry with a carrier of twelve coffees weighing down both hands. I set it on the empty sink, picked up the iced Americano I'd bought for myself, and took a long pull.

"…Disgustingly refreshing."

Seo Jia was unbearable, but free coffee tasted good. My eyes went to the cup stuck in the middle of the carrier. Seo Jia's. Iced Americano, one pump of syrup. A coffee run, on top of this fucked-up situation.

Suddenly everything I'd been through flickered past like a panorama. Gear piled up like a mountain. Supply inventory that wasn't my job, settlement sheets I'd written in someone else's place. Seo Jia's sword grip, reset without end to match whatever she felt like that day. And twelve coffees, carried back in both hands.

"……."

I opened the lid of Seo Jia's coffee.

"Twenty-nine years old, and this is what I'm doing. Seriously…."

Spectacularly childish. Doing this wouldn't put a cent in my account, and it wouldn't spare me tomorrow's hellish commute. Seo Jia would drink this coffee knowing nothing, and tomorrow I'd still be the sucker who couldn't crawl out of this miserable grind.

And yet—

Hck. Ptoo.

I wanted to do it because it was fucked.

I looked straight at the pantry door. Nobody there.

"……."

It wasn't satisfying. It didn't feel like a decade of stuck rage finally going down, either.

"I'm not a kid. Haa. Whatever."

I sneered at myself and closed the lid again. Then, as if nothing had happened, I picked up the cups and walked out of the pantry.

"Hunter Seo Jia."

At my voice, Seo Jia—legs crossed at her desk—looked up.

"Yes?"

"Your coffee."

"Ah—!"

Color bloomed across her face. She took the cup in both hands, quite demure. Honestly, at times like this she was just a perfectly pretty woman.

"I'll enjoy it, Assistant Manager."

Seo Jia pushed the straw through the lid. I watched for a moment, then turned my eyes elsewhere.

Slurp.

Her red lips closed around the straw, and she drank. And in the instant her throat moved—once, softly—

Ting—.

"……What?"

…Huh?

The holographic letters hanging in front of my eyes crackled and thrashed.

I held my breath and stared, blank, at the unreal scene unfolding in front of my eyes.

…Biological information? Does that mean bodily fluids?

My gaze drifted, slowly, to the straw caught between Seo Jia's lips. For some reason my mouth felt bone-dry. But the messages weren't finished. The lines that had risen vanished, one by one. And above Seo Jia's head, a status window I had never seen before opened.