I, the Reality Janitor!

"Just give it to him; I don't need a menu."

Adjusting the hem of her bright red high-waisted dress, the red-haired woman sat gracefully by the window of the restaurant. Her hair shone brighter than the lingering twilight in the sky, and she waved her hand dismissively at the waiter who offered a menu. With practiced ease, she directly ordered:

"Start with a dozen Basque light beers to whet our appetites. In the meantime, let's open a bottle of dry red from Château Margaux to clear out the maltiness of the beer. Then, I'll take a bottle each of the budget classics: Balvenie, Talisker, and Glenfiddich.

Finally, when we're both feeling a bit tipsy, bring out a Sherry cask Macallan whisky to finish off, and don't forget to pack a bottle of Captain Morgan Black Rum to go.

Hmm… that should be all for now. Oh, and make sure the bill is addressed to Lyon Ryan, then send it to the Clean-up Bureau under the police department. I'll pay it when payday comes around."

"…"

Watching the red-haired woman wrap up the drink order in less than five seconds—essentially a drink list rather than a menu—and even arrange for the bill to be settled later, Lyon felt a sudden jolt in his heart. He forced a smile and reminded her:

"Chief, all of these are alcoholic beverages. Shouldn't we order some food as well?"

"Oh, that's fine. You just eat your meal; I only need something to drink."

"…"

Not eating anything, just drinking? Are you planning to drink yourself to death here?

Flipping through the drinks section of the menu, Lyon found the array of spirits she had ordered. With five or six glaring dark liquor labels in front of him, he felt his scalp begin to tingle.

Per the Royal Commerce Ministry's liquor classification standards, any beverage exceeding 30% ABV must be labeled as "spirits." Yet these selections bore not just standard spirit labels, but the ominous dark-striped variants - guaranteed 40% ABV minimum.

Why in hell's name did I offer to buy her drinks? Lyon's gut twisted as he scanned the menu. The prices weren't outrageous, but neither were they kind to a civil servant's wallet. After agonizing deliberation, he settled on a layered lamb-and-potato shepherd's pie for himself, plus a post-meal vegetable braised veal to-go for his siblings.

He turned apprehensively to witness his superior's performance.

...

"Mmm~ Nostalgic~"

Olivia's crimson hair cascaded over one shoulder as she inhaled above the decanter, cheeks blooming like peonies. Half a dozen emptied beer glasses stood sentinel around her.

"Raspberries... toasted brioche... aged coffee beans... and a whisper of black truffle~" Her wine-stained lips curved. "Haven't tasted refinement like this since the Purge of '89."

"..."

That good?

Lyon discreetly sniffed his water goblet. Only faint citrus notes met his nose. Bread? Coffee? Is she hallucinating?

"Doubting my palate?" The crimson-haired director filled a crystal tumbler with blood-dark wine and slid it across the linen. "Educate yourself."

"Care to try?"

"Hmm..."

The sharp tang of alcohol assaulted Lyon's nostrils. As a non-drinker, he instinctively recoiled, his face scrunching in refusal. Yet the memory of this wine's hefty price tag compelled his traitorous hand to seize the glass.

Following the red-haired woman's instructions, he gulped a mouthful. His cheeks ballooned as he swirled the liquid violently across his tongue before swallowing with an audible gulp.

"Well?"

Olivia rested her chin on interlaced fingers, studying Lyon's flushed face as he hissed through puckered lips. "Novices should start with sweeter varieties. This full-bodied dry wine's too ambitious for your virgin palate..." Her eyes twinkled. "Still thirsty, fledgling?"

"Sss... Another!" Lyon rasped, though the acidic bite still lingered on his teeth. "And I'll take one of everything else too!"

This sudden enthusiasm stemmed neither from newfound appreciation nor her teasing demeanor, but rather...

[New Achievement Unlocked: "Neophyte of Nectar" (Iron Tier)]

Description: "Don't preach abstinence - this poison sweetens my endless, joyless existence."

Effect: Temporarily dampens fear, timidity, and panic post-alcohol consumption

Progression: Upgrade to "Connoisseur of Spirits" (Bronze) after sampling 10+ craft brews (1/10)

Hidden Trait: Alcohol tolerance permanently enhanced

...

Who knew you'd be a natural?

Watching Lyon's eyes spark with uncharacteristic fervor, the crimson-haired director—who had initially intended merely to tease him—found her own spirits lifting. She poured him a generous measure of amber whisky, her fingernail ting-ing against the crystal tumbler as she lectured:

"A single malt aged over a decade. Notes of cinnamon and vanilla cloak its fire, though the finish flows like liquid silk."

"Sip it thus..." She demonstrated with a wrist flick. "If your tongue's sensitive enough, you'll catch dried fruit and oaked... Ah."

Her lecture died as Lyon knocked back the entire glass. Violent coughs wracked his frame, tears glistening at his lashes.

"Impatient cub." Olivia tsked, though amusement danced in her eyes. "That's 48% ABV—quadruple your last drink. Still thirsty?"

"Again!"

Blinking away residual tears, Lyon glanced at his floating interface:

[Neophyte of Nectar]

Hidden Trait: Alcohol tolerance permanently enhanced

"My tolerance isn't bad," he declared with newfound bravado. "Might not match yours, but I'll take one of each!"

Oh?

The red-haired beauty's eyebrow arched like a drawn blade. What began as light mischief now shimmered with dangerous allure.

"Let's make this a proper revel then." Her ring-adorned hand summoned a waiter. "My treat from here onward—wouldn't want to bankrupt our junior."

When six panting waiters delivered the next wave of libations, Lyon's final memory of the evening crystallized: the crimson-haired siren rising like a pagan priestess, her laughter ringing as she poured golden liquid into crystal...

...

"Why's the sun... back?"

Clutching his splitting skull, Lyon blinked at the sunset blazing above his bedroom window. His stomach growled as vertigo rocked him.

We started drinking at dusk! Did I hibernate for 24 hours?

With trembling fingers, he summoned his achievement panel. The glowing [Martyr of Bacchus] emblem in his inventory slot froze his blood.

Iron → Bronze → Silver →... Gold?

"Three-tier leap? How many gallons did I down?!" His whisper cracked like shattered glass.

[Martyr of Bacchus]

"Not mere liquor—liquid frostfire. Urban oasis. Antidote to anguish. A river of warmth cutting through frozen nights, boiling the loneliness in your marrow."

Equip Effect:

Negative emotions (fear/panic/hesitation) weaken proportionally to blood alcohol concentration

At 20mg/100ml: Full immunity to listed debuffs + [Drunken Epiphany] activates

[Drunken Epiphany]

▸ Reaction time +50%

▸ Motor control -50%

▸ Environmental awareness -50%

▸ Courage +300%

Ascension Path:

Taste:

☐ 1,000+ craft brews (117/1000)

☐ 100+ vintner's reserves (7/100)

☐ 10+ celestial nectars (1/10)

☐ 1 ambrosia-grade spirit (0/1)

→ Unlocks [Celestial Tippler] (Prismatic Tier)

Hidden Trait:

After surviving Purgatory Revelry, your liver now processes ethanol 3.2x faster than baseline humans.

Golden-tier medals aren't earned—they're forged in liquid fire.

Lyon massaged his throbbing temples, staring at the [Martyr of Bacchus] glowing in his interface. The tradeoff—24 hours lost to Dionysian revelry—seemed almost... reasonable.

Gold-tier effects never disappoint.

Though no coward, memories of the flesh-consuming hospital still haunted him. Even through his sniper scope, the triage area's horrors had chilled his blood.

Had I entered with Emma instead of overwatch... He shuddered. My bullets might've trembled mid-air.

But now, a flask of high-proof spirits could armor his psyche. This golden emblem didn't just calm nerves—it weaponized clarity. Precisely what Cleanup Bureau agents needed when dancing with reapers.

Senior Agent Emma's warning echoed: "Soul-renders like Black Goat are rare, but our jurisdiction spans nightmares."

[Martyr of Bacchus]'s specialization became its strength. Any fear-based attack would shatter against its golden sheen—a silver bullet against specific terrors.

Seven medals glimmered in his inventory: three Iron, two Bronze, one Gold, one Prismatic. Four slots remained. The system's depth unfolded like fractal origami.

Among seven activated medals, [Unemployed Youth] proved maddeningly cryptic—its upgrade required resigning from the Cleanup Bureau. Effort alone couldn't crack this enigma. [Probationary Grunt]'s two-month timegate offered no shortcuts either.

[Dependable Elder Brother] lacked evolution paths. [Materialist Soul] had peaked. [Martyr of Bacchus]'s ascension demanded expensive liquors and connoisseur knowledge Lyon couldn't afford—literally.

That left [Demon's Favorite] and [Shooting Novice].

The first simply required smuggling "Goth" brand snacks to Black Goat—easy, if he avoided Bureau surveillance. The second needed live-fire practice. Military ranges were ideal, but...

Wait—the Police Department has a shooting gallery!

Lyon recalled pistol-bearing officers during his cafeteria raids. Though the Cleanup Bureau operated semi-independently, their nominal subordination to Police HQ might grant range access. Half-colleagues should share facilities, right?

His growing checklist mocked him:

Gun training (medal grind)

Investigate Hydraulic Corp & Roads Bureau

Visit Nurse Hannah

Two days employed, already juggling spec-ops and detective work.

Clutching his throbbing head, the pale agent rummaged through his nightstand. Crumbling charcoal met parchment in clumsy symphony. He meticulously recorded each task, folded the manifest with bomb-defuser care, and tucked it beside his threadbare wallet.

"Brother! You're awake!"

Perhaps hearing the sound of things being moved, a little boy with features strikingly similar to Leon's peeked through the crack of the door, his expression somewhat simple-minded.

Upon seeing that Leon was up, he rushed in with a face full of surprise, wrapping his arms tightly around Leon's leg. His eyes quickly began to redden as he spoke, "Sister coughed so loudly the day before yesterday that she stained her handkerchief red. She still hasn't come back. After you returned, no matter how I called, you wouldn't wake up. I... I thought…"

"William! What are you doing?"

It seemed the commotion had drawn another child, a girl with lightly golden hair, who ran over and tugged at the little boy's sleeve, her voice filled with anger. "Didn't that sister with hair like a tomato say so? Big brother is just drunk! Do you understand what 'drunk' means? It's like a small cold; a good sleep and he'll be fine. He won't die! If you keep talking nonsense, I'll hit you!"

After chiding the boy, who was even taller than her, the girl hesitated for a moment, then rushed over and hugged Leon's other leg, lowering her head with tears in her eyes. "Big brother, how... how is sister?"

"Anna is fine; she's already okay."

Looking down at the two children who were clinging tightly to his legs, Leon couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Two nights ago, Anna had suddenly coughed up blood. In his haste to leave the two siblings with a neighbor, he hadn't even had time to say a word of reassurance before he carried Anna to the hospital. It had been a whole day of chaos, and that night he had been involved with the Cleanup Bureau and faced an extraordinary incident, which kept him on the go all night long.

The aftermath bled into dawn. After neutralizing the corrupted entities and reviving hospital staff with Senior Agent Emma, Lyon collapsed on Anna's freshly-changed hospital sheets. His body demanded tribute in sleep.

By noon, he was sprinting back to Cleanup Bureau HQ. Post-debriefing, he'd secured leave to check on Anna—only to be ambushed by intel from a baby-faced gas company clerk about potential paranormal activity. Back to HQ he went.

Two nights. Three hours' sleep. Zero messages home.

Guilt curdled in his gut. The siblings had endured:

☐ One sister coughing blood

☐ Two days without guardians

☐ One hungover brother smelling like distillery runoff

Parental failure: Level up.

Lyon's calloused hands hovered over two trembling heads. "The doctors confirmed yesterday," he murmured, guiding them to the bed's edge. "Anna's stabilized. The worst is over."

William sniffled into his overalls while the golden-haired firecracker—Anna's miniature echo—jolted upright. "So Red-hair Lady wasn't lying? Anna comes home soon?"

"Two more nights' observation." Lyon's smile felt brittle. "Three months of meds. Then..." He mimicked an explosion with his fingers. "Poof. No more cough."

After hearing the good news, the two little ones burst into pure joy, their small faces radiating genuine happiness from the depths of their hearts.

Having lost their mechanic parents in the Patriotic War years ago when they were too young to form lasting memories, the four siblings' recollection of their parents remained hazy at best. It was Anna who had practically raised them single-handedly. Though Anna herself was barely sixteen, the phrase "elder sister like a mother" held no exaggeration for her younger siblings—it was simple, unvarnished truth. Knowing Anna was now safe filled them with more relief and happiness than anyone else in the world could fathom.

After carefully studying his younger siblings' complexions to ensure they hadn't gone hungry or cold these past days, Leon finally relaxed. Gently tousling the little girl's golden curls, he asked with a warm smile,

"What about the red-haired lady? Melanie, tell me—when did she leave? What did she say to you?"

"Let me think..."

Though the youngest in the family, Melanie proved far more quick-witted than her somewhat guileless twin brother. Tilting her head in contemplation for a moment, she began counting off points on her fingers with earnest precision:

"The red-haired lady carried you back, gave Auntie who looks after us a silver wheel coin, and made her promise to take care of us until you woke up. Then she said... she'd give you one more day off, that the nurse business could wait till tomorrow. Oh! And she bought William and me super-sweet milk candies! She even wanted to get us new clothes—"

"But we didn't take them!"

The previously silent boy suddenly interjected, unable to contain himself:

"Big brother and sister always said! Anyone offering candies or clothes must be bad people—child snatchers! We must never go with them!"

As soon as I heard she was going to buy us clothes, I immediately glared at her with all my might! I even shouted that someone was trying to kidnap us, which scared her off right away!"

"..."

(⊙_⊙)?

In the midst of Lyon's three parts speechless and seven parts bewildered expression, the silly little William suddenly stood up, puffing out his small chest with pride and exclaimed:

"Brother! I scared off the bad guy and protected Melani! Was I good or what?"

"Pah! How can you even say that!"

Before Lyon could respond, the furious blonde girl lunged at her twin brother, using her small hands to smack his forehead while angrily shouting:

"Dummy! Idiot! Big fool! Stubborn! Blockhead! Are you stupid? Can't you think for a second? We're the ones she brought back, so how could she be a bad person? You have to pay me for my new clothes! And if you were really scared she was a bad person, then you shouldn't even take the candy! Why are you still trying to snatch it from me? You're so annoying!"

"I… didn't you eat several pieces first?"

The silly little boy raised his skinny arms to shield his head, desperately trying to fend off his sister's attacks while arguing back:

"I thought, since you ate the candy and were fine, that proves it must be safe! If the candy isn't poisonous, why shouldn't I eat it?"

"..."

Wow… that logic is quite strong, but should you be considered a fool or a genius?

Watching his younger siblings chase each other around and make a mess of the room, Lyon, who had just felt a pang of guilt, instantly switched to a parent mode of increasing annoyance. Covering his still dizzy head from last night's drinking, he waved his hand weakly and said:

"Stop fooling around. Ugh… you two really… we're going to have money soon. When the paycheck comes in, I'll buy you both candy and new clothes, no matter what!"

After promising a huge benefit worth two copper wheels and finally calming down the arguing siblings, Leon glanced at the darkening sky outside and managed to sit up, preparing to get something to eat.

"Are you both starving? Brother will go cook for you."

"No need! We've already eaten!"

After giving her utterly foolish twin brother a fierce glare, Melani cheerfully replied, "Even though that idiot William scared me away, the red-haired sister quietly came back and brought a lot of food to our house—enough for our family to eat well for several days! We only came to see you after we finished eating."

"Yeah, yeah!"

Seemingly recalling the delicious meal, the dim-witted William licked his lips and nodded repeatedly, "Especially the fried fish and smoked sausage; they were super fragrant! We ate so much!"

"Hmph! Didn't you say she was a bad person? How could you eat her food? Aren't you afraid of being taken away?"

"Not at all! I waited until you finished eating and saw you were fine before I ate. I didn't touch the mashed potatoes you didn't eat; I'm smart!"

"I... you're driving me crazy!"

"Alright, alright!"

Watching as they began to bicker again, about to start a new round of fighting, Leon hurriedly grabbed one of each of them and, feeling a headache coming on, shifted the topic, "So, what now? You both ate so much good food; did you remember to thank her properly?"

"Of course!"

After shooting a glance at her silly twin brother, Melani tossed her braids and proudly said, "Sister Anna told us that we may be poor, but we aren't wild kids without parents, so we must be polite! So, I not only said thank you to the big sister, but I also made William say it too! However... um... the big sister didn't seem very happy. When I wanted to hug her, she just ran away..."

At this point, as if recalling something puzzling, Melanie blinked her sparkling large eyes and pinched her little skirt in confusion:

"She said... she doesn't like children. That once kids get familiar with someone, they start seeing them as a mother... and then just forget her on their own...

Big brother, I didn't really understand. Why would we forget her after getting close?"

"Sss... getting chilly..."

At the break of dawn, the hardworking Leon dragged himself up and stumbled to work through the crisp autumn air.

When the biting wind slapped his face awake, he instinctively pulled Anna's thick knitted scarf tighter around his neck. His mind drifted back to last night's conversation...

He'd never truly answered Melanie's question, brushing it off with vague phrases about "understanding when you're older." Even if he explained, a child her age likely wouldn't grasp concepts like the Cleanup Bureau or anomalous objects. For ordinary people, ignorance of this "other world" was safer anyway.

Yet Melanie's question wasn't entirely meaningless. At the very least, it helped Leon solve a small mystery—exactly what the Director had sacrificed.

...

According to the [Materialist Soul]'s records, the bearer of [Love Without Memory] must forfeit one of three loves: parental love, filial love, or romantic love.

Now it seemed clear—she'd lost the love of children. Yet ironically, her behavior yesterday revealed a deep fondness for them.

…

While Veteran's Alley, where Leon's family lived, wasn't exactly a slum, it was far from desirable. Surrounded by noisy factories and a prison housing violent offenders, the sparse population of the neighborhood meant few children—and consequently, no candy shops.

The colorful foil-wrapped milk candies she'd bought for Melanie and the others could only be found at a department store four or five streets away. That she'd trekked such distance to get treats for children she'd just met spoke volumes—she couldn't possibly hate kids.

Hmm... For someone who adored children, not being able to have her own was hard enough. But to bear a child only to be forgotten by them time and again? That might be truly cruel.

Shaking his head in quiet sympathy, Leon quickened his pace toward the Cleanup Bureau, intending to retrieve the Black Goat and visit the nurse suspected of carrying an "anomaly." But his plans halted abruptly as a rich, caramelized sweetness curled through the air.

A handcart laden with stools and counters. A massive tin boiler with copper taps. A charcoal brazier glowing crimson. Makeshift tables cobbled from sawhorses...

Through the aromatic haze of coffee, his eyes fell upon a snug haven—wrapped in weather-beaten canvas, impervious to the late autumn chill, radiating warmth from its very core.

A coffee stall...

The inviting warmth of the stall stood in stark contrast to the bleak, frost-tinted morning. Against his better judgment, Leon succumbed to the siren call of sugary scents. Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he slipped beneath the awning and claimed a table in the sheltered corner.

"Boss, one coffee and two slices of thin bread."

"Comin' right up!"

The vendor produced a handle-less mug, deftly shook in coffee grounds, then wrapped a rag around his hand to twist open the copper tap billowing steam. After swirling the mix with three fingers gripping a stirrer, a cup of piping black liquid slid before Leon.

"Customer, want butter on yer 'two-thins'? Got ham slices too if ya like—fried fresh this mornin', still warm."

"Uh... how much extra for ham? Is it pricey?"

"Nah, dirt cheap!"

Wiping his hands on a grimy apron, the fifty-something vendor gave a guileless smile and raised a soot-stained finger.

"One copper wheel plain, two with ham!"

Two copper wheels... Charging a whole extra wheel for a single ham slice? Might as well rob me! A whole ham at the department store costs less than a silver wheel!

Shooting a wry glance at the deceptively innocent-looking hustler, Leon grimaced, "Skip the ham. Just butter the bread... And make it thick!"

"Righto!"

Undeterred by the upsell failure, the beaming vendor pulled out a loaf. Two paper-thin slices fell under his knife—cut so fine they'd make a razor blush. Using a brush better suited for shoe polish, he dabbed miserly streaks of butter before tossing them onto the griddle.

Damn... This guy's tighter than a rusted bolt.

Staring at bread slices so thin they'd dissolve in Lan's Beef Noodle Soup, Leon cursed inwardly, realizing he'd met his match in daylight robbery.

But since he was already here and couldn't bear to leave the cozy warmth of the blazing stove, Leon ultimately kept his complaints to himself. He cradled the steaming coffee and took a careful sip.

Hmm... This hits the spot... Feels like being reborn...

As warmth from the cup seeped into his chilled hands and the coffee began thawing his empty stomach, Leon's eyes closed in contentment—right as the scamming vendor delivered the infamous "Lan's Bread Slices."

"Your order's complete, customer. That'll be one copper wheel."

Staring at the nearly translucent bread slices on the plate, Leon reluctantly paid up but couldn't resist a sarcastic jab:

"Boss, with bread-cutting skills that sharp, you must be raking in plenty, eh?"

"Eh, just scraping by," the vendor chuckled, entirely unbothered. He gestured cheerfully to the roaring stove behind him:

"See this furnace? Only premium charcoal here—and we keep feeding it nonstop! Guarantees the hottest coffee anytime, but this fuel costs a fortune!"

True enough... But with your brass neck charging a wheel per ham slice and bread-cutting skills rivaling Lan's master chefs, those extra charcoal costs must pay back tenfold. You're rolling in it.

"To be honest with ya, early birds headin' to City Hall like yerself don't really chase cheap deals—they crave proper warmth."

Eager to cultivate a regular customer, the vendor pointed across the street when Leon showed indifference, explaining patiently:

"My brew might lack sweetness or strength, but the heat's top-notch. This furnace roars hotter than any around here—warmth leaks right through the tent flaps. Even these thick ceramic mugs," he rapped his knuckle against one, "they're for keepin' yer hands cozy, not like them thin tin cups that scorch yer palms in two seconds. Guarantee you'll walk out thawed to the core, no matter how frostbit ya came in. Why else d'ya think my stall's busiest? Sellin' more'n coffee here—I'm peddlin' mornin' warmth in a cup!"

"Oh! Don't go blabbin' this wisdom now!"

Suddenly feigning panic at his own "trade secret" slip, the deceptively simple-looking vendor waved bashfully:

"Meant to pass this coffee cart to me daughter someday. Gotta keep tricks up our sleeves! If rivals learn 'em, the poor lass'll be up the creek!"

"..."

Yeah right! With that shark's grin, you'd spill real secrets?

For starters—your coffee's bitter as tar, but I followed caramelized sweetness here. There's another trick in that boiler. Try copying your hustle? I'd be bankrupt by noon!

Tch... Still, gotta admit—cheapskate or not, the craftiness deserves every copper earned.

Thoroughly impressed by the coffee vendor's value-added business philosophy, Leon gave an earnest thumbs-up before wolfing down his meager breakfast. He then hurried off toward the Cleanup Bureau, disappearing into the frosty dawn.

Not long after his departure, a doll-faced woman in office attire traced the caramelized aroma through the streets. Spotting the innocently grinning vendor, her doe eyes lit up as she rushed over in clacking heels, tugging his apron in exasperation: "Dad! You just recovered! Why are you sneaking out to man the stall again? Mom's furious!"

"Hmph! What's she got to fuss about with me workin'?"

The previously amiable vendor's nose scrunched into stubborn defiance, transforming into an unreasonable old coot:

"What? You lookin' down on my cart too? Let me tell ya—without this coffee stall, we'd have starved to death years back! You think we'd have this life otherwise?"

"Ugh! No one's looking down on your stall! But does it have to be today?"

The young woman massaged her temples as her father dug in his heels:

"Our gas company's pipeline just burst—we paid massive compensation! Now the water utility's in trouble too. This is the worst time for you to skip crisis management and play street vendor!"

"What's there to manage? Profits come, losses go! No schemin' needed! And since when does the company need me micromanaged? Can't it run without me babysittin' two hours a day?"

The vendor's temper flared, his whiskers quivering with indignation:

"Besides! I always said we shouldn't touch those damn municipal projects!

Although doing this brings quick and stable profits, with a substantial amount coming in every year, the problem is that the decision-making power is not in our hands. In the end, we can only make suggestions but not decisions. Is that feasible?

From the very beginning, I knew that with the way those idiots operate, it was only a matter of time before something went wrong! It would be better to stick to running our family's department store. Sure, the risks are high and the profits are slim, but at least we can keep an eye on things, and if something goes wrong, it's easier to resolve.

But your stubborn mother insists! She keeps saying that relying on our family's reputation means others will act with a bit more restraint, and she's determined to push forward. I can't even pull her back!

And what happened? Those idiots, just to save a little on filtering costs, ended up dumping sewage directly into the public water supply! It caused a massive outbreak of diarrhea, and all the diarrhea medicine in the kingdom sold out! They're supposed to be more restrained? They've completely lost their sense of shame!

After grumbling for a while, noticing that the temperature was rising as the sun came out and the customers were mostly gone, the coffee stall owner knocked on the stove, extinguished the charcoal fire, packed up the tent, and angrily pushed his cart away with his daughter, all the while continuing to ask:

"What about the gas pipeline leak? Did you properly apologize and offer compensation?"

"Yes, yes! But it seems there's one family that doesn't really want it. They said they didn't suffer any serious injuries and just needed the bandaging costs covered."

"If they don't want it, that's their issue. But if our company has a problem, we have to ensure the compensation is adequate... By the way, what was the name of that family?"

"I can't quite remember the last name… Ah! Ryan! Yes! Lyon Ryan! He's a good person, not very wealthy, but always smiling warmly and particularly gentle with his sister!"

…

"You're asking about our new recruit? Leon. Leon Ryan."

Beyond the coffee stall father-daughter pair, two others were also discussing Leon's circumstances.

"Ryan?"

The petite woman in the golden mirror blinked at the familiar surname, then took a fierce bite of her sponge cake before asking curiously:

"From the Lionheart Dukes? But you loathe nobles. Why let him into your Virgin Bureau?"

"Same spelling, different root words."

After curtly explaining Leon's surname, the red-haired Director frowned at the woman now nibbling a custard tart in the gilded frame:

"Why the interest? Poaching?"

"Might be considering it."

Unabashedly admitting her intentions, the gothic Lolita-dressed woman licked almond powder off a nutty pastry ring before grinning:

"Read your report—that [Compulsory Intelligence Extraction] ability outranks even Greater Demons. Properly utilized, it's formidable. What Bureau Chief wouldn't covet that?"

"..."

Watching her friend's eyes narrow dangerously in the mirror, the petite woman devoured her pastry. Picking up a fried tea pancake, she slathered strawberry jam while explaining:

"Relax, I'm not here to steal him. Just want a little trade... Has the hospital director's anomaly been extracted yet?"

Ah... So you're after that patient-absorbing artifact.

Observing the lion motif pawing at dung balls in the golden frame, understanding flashed through the red-haired Director's eyes.

"You're asking about our new recruit? Leon. Leon Ryan."

Beyond the coffee stall father-daughter pair, two others were also discussing Leon's circumstances.

"Ryan?"

The petite woman in the golden mirror blinked at the familiar surname, then took a fierce bite of her sponge cake before asking curiously:

"From the Lionheart Dukes? But you loathe nobles. Why let him into your Virgin Bureau?"

"Same spelling, different root words."

After curtly explaining Leon's surname, the red-haired Director frowned at the woman now nibbling a custard tart in the gilded frame:

"Why the interest? Poaching?"

"Might be considering it."

Unabashedly admitting her intentions, the gothic Lolita-dressed woman licked almond powder off a nutty pastry ring before grinning:

"Read your report—that [Compulsory Intelligence Extraction] ability outranks even Greater Demons. Properly utilized, it's formidable. What Bureau Chief wouldn't covet that?"

"..."

Watching her friend's eyes narrow dangerously in the mirror, the petite woman devoured her pastry. Picking up a fried tea pancake, she slathered strawberry jam while explaining:

"Relax, I'm not here to steal him. Just want a little trade... Has the hospital director's anomaly been extracted yet?"

Ah... So you're after that patient-absorbing artifact.

Observing the lion motif pawing at dung balls in the golden frame, understanding flashed through the red-haired Director's eyes.

Within Beverly's jurisdiction at the Lion Bureau lay a port overrun by a Rampant Corruptor. Nearly ten thousand residents from surrounding villages had been forcibly infected with an incurable plague - all bound to perish alongside the Corruptor should it die.

While the Lion Bureau acted swiftly to quarantine the port and prevent wider catastrophe, they remained powerless against this hostage crisis. Reluctant to deploy their trump card for a mid-level incident, they'd grudgingly maintained the status quo.

But now everything changed. The hospital director eliminated by Leon possessed a patient-absorption ability - the perfect counter to this Corruptor. By Cleanup Bureau regulations, the agent who completes a containment operation holds first claim to extracted anomalies.

Thus Beverly's sudden contact via [Celestosphere] wasn't for nostalgic girl-talk, but to negotiate preemptively - ensuring Leon wouldn't contest her claim...

Observing her mirror-bound friend devouring cheesecake pudding, the red-haired Director batted vulpine eyes with feigned reluctance:

"I understand its importance to you, but Leon witnessed the Corruptor's power firsthand. He's quite interested in this anomaly, so..."

"Tch! Spare me!"

Beverly's eye-roll practically crackled through the gilded mirror. The Lion Bureau chief tore into coconut bread, snapping:

"Cut the act. How much you borrowing this time?"

"Oh, this isn't about money at all~"

The red-haired Director waved her hand with a playful smile:

"Leon's a fresh recruit who sweated blood to complete his first mission and barely obtained his inaugural anomaly. Such a commemorative item—and you want to snatch it away with mere words? Could you really sleep at night without compensating him properly?"

"..."

Locking eyes with her cunning fox-like gaze through the golden mirror, Beverly stiffened, the orange cream pie in her mouth suddenly losing its sweetness.

Devouring the remaining pastry in three savage bites, the Lion Bureau Chief slammed her palm on the table with leonine ferocity, roaring:

"Out with it! What do you want?"

"I want you to trade him the Witch's Broom."

"Pah! In your damn dreams!"