Cute, But I Can't Forgive 168 Hours of Continuous Overtime......??

As if she had read the doubt straight out of my mind, the explanation continued from the other end of the line.

"Ordinarily we don't take external petitions at night, but given the nature of Appraisal Team work, some cases run for several days including overnight hours. We judged this matter urgent and assigned it accordingly. Would this evening be difficult for you?"

As if it could be! I shook my head on pure reflex.

"No! Totally fine! I'll come right now!!"

And so the appointment was set for eight o'clock.

I ate a single grilled egg for a quick bite, grabbed a potion, a pain-relief patch, and a dose of period medicine, and headed out the door.

"Master, where are you going?"

"Oh… I was going to the Association for an appraisal."

"We'll come with you. Taxi!"

The bodyguards from the guild exchanged a glance, and two of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them climbed into the cab with me.

Aww—

I was gonna take the subway…

But the whole sequence—from flagging down a taxi to sliding into the back seat with one of them on either side—had been so seamless that I couldn't get a word of protest out.

Besides, this neighborhood barely even saw cars. So why had a taxi shown up the second we needed one? Who even came through here—

…No way.

I clamped my muttering mouth shut.

That would be way too self-absorbed…

I pressed a hand to my burning cheeks and firmly refused to entertain any theory about why the taxis had multiplied.

Without the three subway transfers I'd been bracing for, the taxi rode the central road and had us in A-District in no time.

The Association building stood at the heart of A-District.

A couple of weeks ago I'd wandered the market street behind it, but it was evening now, and not a market day besides—so the area was quiet.

Thud, thud—

The hunter bodyguards strode into the Association building with the ease of people who knew the place well.

A sunglassed hunter who looked to be on building security stepped into our path for a moment.

"What is the purpose of your visit?"

"We're here for an appraisal with the Appraisal Team on the seventh floor!"

"…! Right this way, please."

Once he heard the purpose, he kindly escorted us all the way to the elevator.

And so we arrived at the appraisal office on the seventh floor.

"A pleasure to meet you, Master. I'm Song Ji-su of the Appraisal Team—we spoke on the phone."

Team Leader Song Ji-su, whose voice I already knew from the call, seated me in the chair across from her and walked me through the day's appraisal procedure.

"As you're aware, rank appraisals begin with a first-pass calculation based on the total number of reviews, star ratings, and review content posted on the artisan/workshop board of the Association app."

Scratch, scratch.

"Yup!"

"When that first-pass provisional rank comes out at B-Rank or higher, and when the artisan's prior record sits below that rank, three Association-certified appraisers evaluate the sale-potion samples you've brought, for the sake of reliability."

Scratch, scratch.

"Yup!"

"…And finally, to certify that the artisan personally crafted those samples, you manufacture the same item inside the Association's appraisal room under a supervisor's observation, using the standard materials provided, and three different appraisers evaluate the result."

Scratch, scratch.

"Yup!"

"Master Han Sia, you also requested verification of the additional effects attached to your Premium Potion. Is that correct?"

"Yup!"

"The verification procedure for additional effects overlaps with the rank-assignment process and can run concurrently without issue, so we'll handle both at once. That covers everything—any questions?"

Scratch, scratch.

"Yup!"

Then I looked over the explanation I'd been scribbling into my notepad the whole time.

And between the first and second stages, the item I'd starred:

That was the thing I'd been wondering about this whole time.

W-well, from context I already more or less knew the answer, but still…

"Um… so, then, does that mean I'm… B-Rank or higher?"

While I waited for the answer, my heart hammered with pure anticipation.

And Team Leader Song Ji-su nodded.

"Yes. I can't give you an exact figure, but it is B-Rank or above."

"Waaah!"

I couldn't hold it in—my mouth stretched into a huge grin and a cry of pure joy burst out.

B-Rank. The one right after S and A.

Not C, D, E, or F—B-Rank!

And that was the minimum!!

Waaaah!!!

"…Shall we go, then?"

"Hup… Yes!!!"

The team leader started walking ahead to guide me. I fell in behind her.

Bounce, bounce. I was so happy my feet kept wanting to leave the floor as I followed.

I glanced left, glanced right.

The hallway ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was completely empty, and the team leader was up ahead.

……

Nobody can see me anyway, so it's fine, right??

Tap, tap.

The light footsteps trailing behind her kept a rhythm so buoyant it seemed ready to lift off into the sky, and the faint shadow stretched long by the lights they'd passed fluttered as if it were dancing.

"Hoo…"

Song Ji-su, walking ahead to lead the way to the appraisal room, drew a deep breath and barely managed to smother a laugh.

Then she thought back to a few minutes earlier, when she'd been explaining the procedure.

The little artisan scribbling notes with an eraser-tipped pencil into a palm-sized notepad.

A nod.

In ten years on the job, I've never seen anyone take notes.

She was in her mid-thirties—not the most senior veteran by age—but the appraisal field was structured so that people put in their time at the Association and then left for outside guilds or auction houses to make real money. Inside the Association, that made her the highest-tenured person around.

So she'd seen plenty of artisans, and she knew exactly how they listened to explanations.

First they sat down and either crossed their legs or sprawled them wide—one or the other.

Then, even without being told their provisional rank, the moment you started explaining stages two and beyond, they'd fold their arms with a look that said, Hmph. Of course. Do you know who I am?

Anyone below C-Rank tended to blow up, insisting some malicious customer had tanked their ratings and demanding the provisional rank be locked in without review.

And yet here was someone sitting properly, no arms crossed, actually taking notes—and then lighting up with that much pure joy at learning her provisional rank for the second-stage review was B-Rank or higher.

I wonder how she'd react if she knew her actual provisional rank.

So many artisans contested results that came in under their provisional rank after stages two and three that protocol forbade disclosing it—and for a second she'd almost told her anyway.

But it had been irresistible.

She's just too cute.

What did the artisans she dealt with every day look like, after all?

Bearded dwarf uncles with whiskers sprouting everywhere. Human grandpas who weren't dwarves but still grew beards like they were. Aging hipster types with beards, long hair, perms—or all three at once.

"……"

Song Ji-su pushed her glasses up with her middle finger.

Then she tuned her ears toward the rear.

Tap, tap.

"Heeheehee, heehee…"

Mm. Purification complete.

Of course, even as Awakened, artisans who put their own name on a workshop tended to be older, and anyone established enough to open a workshop came with a certain default attitude—she knew that.

Still, from a working professional's perspective, you couldn't help being moved by even a little thing like this.

Especially since her expectations going in had been precisely zero.

Nineteen years old.

Looks: nine.

Granted, she'd graduated university well—two departments, even—but still…

Upper management had suddenly issued a directive that morning, complete with a public notice, to treat her as an S-class artisan.

Then, thirty minutes before external petitions closed at six, a call had come in requesting the earliest possible appraisal slot.

Judging by that baffling little mutter of Aren't civil servants not supposed to work overtime?, she probably hadn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠intended an overnight review—but still.

Either way, the person who ended up in this seat was a team leader: herself.

A nineteen-year-old fresh out of university opening a workshop with zero career experience was absurd enough on its own.

Extending to that nineteen-year-old the kind of accommodations ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠normally reserved for true artisans with decades under their belts was something she could barely wrap her head around.

Of course, she knew the artisan of that suspiciously named workshop had become the talk of the capital lately, and she'd privately wanted to appraise those ridiculous performance claims for herself.

Even so, she'd figured that would mean a second-stage sample appraisal at most—not signing up for a nonstop day-and-night overtime stretch that would take a full week just to manufacture Blue Potions for stage three.

Full-time supervision with no shift changes. That rule, too, was precedent-based—meant to shoulder the responsibility that came with the Association putting its name on a high rank, and to prevent any misconduct that might arise from rotating supervisors. But from the person actually standing watch, it was hard not to hate it.

If it weren't for the overtime pay—and if maxing out her tenure weren't the path to a law-firm partnership or a guild director's seat—wouldn't she have retired long ago?

Tap, tap.

Anyway, she'd gotten lost in thought and walked right past it.

Song Ji-su turned around.

The little artisan froze mid-motion like a kid playing freeze tag—arms still fluttering, face going scarlet.

As if nothing had happened, Song Ji-su guided the girl back to the basket they'd already walked past.

"I forgot and went right by it—sample submission comes first. Please place the samples you brought here."

"Yeeees…"

The way she rummaged the samples out of the yellow cloth bag slung over her shoulder.

"Kh—"

"?"

Song Ji-su had to turn her head away the instant she spotted the chick pattern printed on the bag's lining. She couldn't hold it in.

Hoo. Hoo.

Song Ji-su composed herself again.

Maybe because she'd already been caught once, the girl stopped bouncing so much behind her, and everything after that went smoothly.

Why do I feel disappointed.

…Anyway.

"Entering the appraisal room at 20:35."

"Yeees."

The projected 168 hours of overtime stretching ahead until the shift change after the second medicine was manufactured remained unforgivable.

"While the third-stage appraisal is underway, please use the food and drinks the Association has prepared in advance."

"Yup."

"For the restroom, please use the one attached inside."

"Yup."

Even so, this was incomparably better than middle-aged men bristling with mustaches, chin beards, and leg hair—so Song Ji-su received the girl with a smile that held a genuine trace of warmth.

"Well then, which medicine would you like to make first?"

"Umm…"

And the answer that came back crumpled Song Ji-su's professional smile into pure bewilderment.

"Can I make them all at once?"

"??"

That this was only the beginning was something Song Ji-su did not yet know.