Dawn at the Employment Office

The sun had just risen as I stepped out onto the smog-choked street.

"Sis! Take me with—"

Sofia's instant fondness for calling me "sis" brought a smile to my face.

The term felt a bit awkward... but I'd get used to it soon enough.

Walter desperately tried to hold her back.

"No! You can't just tag along when someone's heading out to work. Oh, right—are you sure you don't want breakfast?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

I needed to grab a commission before the crowds hit.

Showing up during peak hours risked running into trackers.

Guard Eddie was already on duty at his post.

Our eyes met, and he nodded in recognition.

Figures—he wouldn't forget a girl in gacha-game witch garb anytime soon.

Once out of the village, my destination was the H Block Employment Office. This was B Block, so it was a bit of a hike.

...Man, I could go for a teleport right about now.

Maybe someday I'd master teleportation magic.

How long had it been? I finally reached H Block.

It was the restaurant district, and plenty of spots were already open for business.

"You fucking bastard... urk..."

Mingled with the tantalizing food aromas were the groans of all-nighters nursing hangovers.

Beyond that scene loomed a smog-shrouded building in the distance. It resembled a typical Korean district office from back home, but the crowd waiting outside had some wildly unique fashion senses—that was amusing.

Makes sense. For solvers, reputation is everything, so they dress like discount villains on purpose.

Not that I was exactly blending in myself...

As I approached, a blond guy shot me a sleazy once-over.

"Huh? Who's this chick? One of the bar girls?"

His gaze lingered like slime. Was this the average in a fusion-punk world?

I sighed and spoke up.

"I'm here for a commission at the Employment Office. Everyone's gathered here—any idea why?"

An eyepatch-wearing old solver answered.

"Office doesn't open for a bit yet. We're all just killing time."

"Everyone's really dedicated, showing up this early."

Whirr— The old man scratched his chin with his cybernetic arm.

"Missy, you lived in this city a day or two? Gotta bust your ass just to afford scraps."

"Fair point."

"Hey, you got any commissions lined up? If not, beat it—no skills, no dice."

The blond punk picked a fight again.

I ignored him with a pitying look, which pissed him off—he glared daggers.

Why was this guy so angry? The world was vast, and full of assholes, just like the saying goes.

Anyway, surrounded by this freakshow while waiting for opening time, the Employment Office doors finally swung open.

The inside was cleaner than expected. I'd half-imagined a medieval fantasy adventurers' guild, but this was a high-tech world, after all.

Suit-wearing staff handled everything manually, making it worlds apart from the grimy back alleys outside. I liked it.

As I hesitated at the entrance, a middle-aged guy approached.

"First time at the Employment Office? I'm the director here. Need anything, just say the word."

"Uh, where do I check commissions?"

He pointed somewhere. Following his finger, I spotted a row of hologram kiosks.

"We handle paperwork and admin too. Frequent visitors welcome."

"Thanks."

I bowed and hurried to a kiosk. Most were in use, but one was free—I snagged it quick.

"Hmm... how's this thing work?"

Luckily, my Earth gadget experience plus the intuitive interface made it easy.

"Commissions... here we go."

Beep.

The hologram flickered, displaying a flood of commissions.

From silly stuff like cleaning services or roach extermination to hardcore hits like assassinations...

But I had my eyes on just one.

"...Found it."

It matched the requirements perfectly. I hit accept without hesitation.

Rushing back to the director to confirm, the office vibe shifted uncomfortably.

His face went pale.

The director freaked out.

"...The sewer aberration? Alone, with no backup? Are you insane?"

"Nope."

He sighed, rubbing his face.

"...Well, if you pull it off, great. But honestly, you seem like a naive girl who doesn't know the streets. Taking that thing solo?"

He glanced at my face, then backpedaled.

"No offense meant. With casualties nearing triple digits, I just had to warn you."

His earnest concern made sense—refreshingly realistic, even reassuring.

But his loud outburst drew every eye in the office my way.

Most faces were baffled; whispers reached my ears.

...Stuff like that.

"You're crazy! You'll die! You only get one life, you know!"

Even the blond asshole from earlier was trying to talk me out of it.

But I wasn't an idiot. I'd prepared a way to shut down their doubts.

A fun trump card to end the worrying.

"...Check this out."

I pulled out my Grimoire first.

Whoosh! With a purple ripple, the summoned Grimoire fluttered open. Before anyone could react, I cast the spell I'd planned.

A basic elemental spell—elemental mages' bread and butter. Too weak for combat, usually just for lighting fires...

But I'd use it differently.

Snap!

Colorful flames swirled into a portrait.

"Wh-what...? Some kinda trick...?"

A smiling woman, demurely seated.

"How is this even...!"

The Mona Lisa.

Gasp escaped the crowd. I chuckled and snapped again.

Snap!

Sparks dotted together into a hyper-realistic image.

Michelangelo's Creation of Adam.

"Holy..."

"Mana... broken into particles...?"

The impromptu art gallery left everyone slack-jawed.

Silence hung briefly.

Hiss—

I dismissed the spell and turned to the director.

"...A mage who can only do this much—is the sewer gig still too much?"

He was convinced—anyone with magic knowledge would get how insane this was.

Precisely controlling mana is way harder than it looks. Mages aren't smart and focused for nothing.

Turning a plain Fire into aerial art? Like mentally plotting functions on the fly to draw on a graph.

A feat blending my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Grimoire fusion talent and its vast knowledge.

Everyone stared, dumbfounded.

The director broke the quiet.

"Y-yeah. My apologies, milady—I misjudged you. Swing by anytime for help. Commission approved."

Sweet—greenlit!

"Cool, heading out now. Better handle pests ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quick, right?"

Staff and director bowed frantically. I smirked and strolled out lightly.

Next: hit up a PC bang equivalent for sewer intel, then dive in and slice the beast.

I had my "planned method" ready. As long as it wasn't Godzilla-level, I'd smoke it.

10 million credits and disguise magic dangled temptingly.

...Or so I thought, after a few steps on the concrete.

Someone called out.

"Hey, mage."

"...Me?"

Turning, I saw a man leaning against the office wall, arms crossed.

Robed in flickering flame ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠patterns, hood pulled low. Green hair peeked from underneath.

"That artifact, your magic, the outfit... You wouldn't be..."

The guy—who'd appeared out of nowhere—dropped a bombshell.