* * *
“This… this is weird…?”
A sudden wave of lethargy hit him.
His thoughts were slow, his mind growing hazy.
Just as he raised his hand to snatch the cigarette from her, he realized—his body no longer had any strength.
“Don’t panic now.”
His vision tilted.
His once-sturdy body gave out beneath him, collapsing onto the bench like a puppet with its strings cut.
Her face disappeared from his line of sight, the world turning foggy and gray.
But the red embers of the cigarette, falling to the ground, stood out vividly.
Plink. Plop.
The cigarette burned quickly to ash, almost at the same pace as he was losing consciousness.
His lips couldn’t form words—his facial muscles wouldn’t move—and his brain had already shut down its thought circuits, making speaking utterly pointless.
The only senses that remained until the end were sight and hearing.
The faint sounds around him and the presence of a woman nearby were all the young man could still perceive.
Minutes passed.
The cigarette ash fell to the platform floor, and the spent butt, burned down to the filter, was mercilessly crushed beneath the woman’s high heel.
Though brief, the passage of time had also felt strangely long, and the young man, unable to even blink, saw her heel stop in front of him.
Then, just like before, a light, breezy voice pierced through to his ears.
“Look forward to it. Something fun is about to happen. Ahaha.”
With the sting of sensation fading, the young man’s eyes finally closed.
∗ ∗ ∗
The First Department of the capital city’s Central Branch oversaw the entirety of Eternita Central.
It consisted of a director, a deputy director, and a handful of secretaries and agents.
Half of the secretaries and agents were assigned to assist the ever-busy director with both domestic and international affairs.
As for Enten Nebail, the deputy director, he was left with only a quarter of that manpower.
Which meant that whenever the director was away, it was up to Enton to keep everything running smoothly.
And that responsibility?
Felt like getting repeatedly pelted with stones in the street.
On top of that, given Eternita’s neutral geopolitical stance, things were already delicately balanced.
Now the main Central was getting tangled up with Integra?
For Enton, it was pure stress.
Sure, an Integra visit didn’t always mean they were bringing problems—but their movements tended to draw international attention, whether they meant to or not.
Of course, it wasn’t like the Haimar or Elgran incidents were publicly known.
Maybe other departments in Central had no clue, but Integra—a group of unabashedly free spirits—wasn’t exactly known for diplomatic formalities.
So, what was the issue then?
The problem was that every single member of Integra was, to put it nicely, a free soul—and to put it bluntly, a lunatic.
And it was driving Enten Nebail up the wall.
“So you’re here to meet with Lord Haimar, is that it?”
“That’s the main reason, sure. But you’re pestering me like this because you want to know more, aren’t you?”
Inside a sitting room within Central, Elgran replied listlessly, tossing back a cold cup of tea.
“You know it already, so why ask?”
“Then if I know, why ask indeed? Tch, the tea’s cold. It only tastes right when it’s hot.”
From head to toe, Elgran seemed cold—his whole vibe icy, like his powers—but here he was, whining about lukewarm tea.
With a resigned sigh, Enton grabbed the still-warm teapot and refilled Elgran’s cup, offering a sheepish smile.
“Well, I’m just doing what I’m told, y’know? Thought maybe you were here on a ‘Hunter’ mission or something.”
“Man, you’re great at beating around the bush, old guy. Why not just ask if I’m chasing after that woman?”
Elgran sipped his newly warmed tea, and Enton responded with an awkward laugh.
He’d figured the conversation would veer this way eventually, but facing Elgran’s deadpan expression didn’t exactly improve his mood.
Integra officially handled conflict mediation between nations, but they were also deployed for special assignments.
One of the most well-known?
The ‘Hunter’ jobs.
Not all espers were properly registered or managed by their countries.
Some committed crimes and fled.
Others, unaware of how dangerous their powers were, caused chaos.
Ideally, the national Central branches would handle it.
But when they couldn’t, Integra stepped in. Espers hunting espers—hence, ‘Hunters.’
It sounded harsh, but it wasn’t always so cutthroat.
Sure, if they resisted hard enough, death was on the table—but since espers were valuable assets, capture was generally preferred.
“So what if it is about her?” Elgran muttered.
“You’d just run off and tattle to your director anyway. Predictable.”
“Oh, so you are admitting it?”
“Admitting what? I’m not obligated to give you a friendly play-by-play of my itinerary, man. That’s not how this works. Got it?”
Just when Enton thought he had something, those pale violet eyes narrowed, and Elgran shut him down with a cool snap.
As Elgran said, while Integra might be nudged by the main Central, it sure as hell didn’t take orders from a national branch.
Whether he spoke his intentions or not—it was his call.
“Aw, c’mon. What’s the harm in just being chill and telling me?”
“Nope. Not telling. Blehhh.”
He stuck out his tongue with childlike defiance, and Enton felt his soul leave his body.
No way he could overpower him physically, and trying to outwit him required a basic level of logic—something Elgran gleefully bypassed.
Dealing with him felt less like dealing with an adult and more like babysitting.
“I already had a fight with Lus again, so stop poking me. I’m not in the mood.”
Which meant he had just fought with his guide—and was now here venting the emotional fallout.
Enton suddenly longed for his own wife, who was also his guide, waiting for him back home.
‘You think you’re the only one with a guide? I have one too! Honey, I’m working so hard over here…’
Knock knock.
Just as Enton’s silent frustration reached its peak, a sharp knock interrupted them.
“This is Ben Plaskun. May I come in?”
“Yes, yes, come in!”
As Enton answered, Ben entered cautiously.
He had mostly recovered from a bad cold, and the cuts on his face were healing nicely—he looked halfway decent now.
“Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all! You’re a welcome distraction. I was just about done with this draining nonsense.”
He’d only come in because he was called, but the atmosphere inside was so tense he immediately wanted to turn around and leave.
If he’d known it would be like this, he’d have found an excuse to avoid Moria Iren’s last-minute favor—no matter how desperate she’d looked.
But regret, as always, came too late.
Feeling like a shrimp about to be crushed in a fight between whales, Ben decided to get his errand over with.
“Miss Moria Iren asked me to deliver this.”
Ben placed the envelope he was holding on the table before Enton.
The deputy director didn’t ask much—he seemed to already know what it was.
In fact, he looked even more exhausted as he reluctantly picked it up.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Then I’ll excuse myself now—”
“Wait! You’ve got nothing else to say to me, right?”
Ben had almost escaped when Elgran raised a hand with practiced timing.
It sounded like a question, but the man was already standing up and brushing himself off, not even waiting for an answer.
That would’ve been fine—if he hadn’t suddenly grabbed Ben’s arm.
“Ben, was it? You’d better help cheer me up. Let’s go for a drive.”
“…What?”
And why the hell should I be in charge of your mood swings?!
What kind of random nonsense was this?
Just grabbing a passerby and demanding entertainment like a circus act?
Flustered by the sudden demand, Ben looked quickly to Enton for backup, but he was already stepping back, shaking his head like he wanted no part in it.
“I’m still on duty, though?”
From Enton’s face alone, Ben could read the silent message loud and clear: ‘I’m out. Good luck.’
Only then did the absurdity of his situation really hit him.
As he was being dragged away without any say in the matter, Ben tried to protest, albeit feebly — but neither man even acknowledged it.
Just like that, he was pulled out of Central.
“What’s the big deal? Central won’t fall apart just because one guy’s gone. That old man’ll handle it.”
“Well… I guess that’s true—”
But I don’t want to go! That’s the problem!
* * *
