Chapter 56
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“You resemble an acquaintance of mine.”
She managed a sheepish grin upon recognizing that the fellow ahead bore no true likeness to Everette.
He cocked his head, puzzled at first, then returned the gesture with a warm grin of his own.
Moments earlier, his expression had carried an odd gravity, yet the smile transformed him entirely, erasing any echo of Everette. Smiling suited him far more.
She pondered how he must radiate cheer in daily life, that expression aligning perfectly with his softer demeanor. Though echoes of Everette lingered in his bone structure, this man’s gentler vibe stood apart.
As she cataloged those parallels and contrasts, her unease began to fade with each distinction.
Enough moments elapsed to avoid any strain—roughly four or five seconds—flowing without hitch.
Catching the pause, he softened his gaze in quiet apology.
“Sorry about that, but duty calls at the moment.”
“Ah, got it. Sorry for holding up your shift.”
She shifted out of his path, and he offered a quick nod before striding off. With a casual lift of her shoulders, she dismissed the last traces of disquiet, grounding herself in the present.
She realized time was slipping away.
Arriving ahead of schedule had given her buffer, but the doppelganger encounter had burned through it, leaving her rushed. Quickening her pace, she aimed for the inspection unit’s structure.
Its facade screamed utility—stark grays, no frills whatsoever.
Proximity to the Imperial Palace seized her attention instead.
Practically neighbors, the spot screamed importance for a palace branch, though the grandeur intimidated her.
She imagined crossing paths with the Emperor himself.
Her eyes flicked between the pair of buildings before she banished the dark notion with a head shake.
Even a brush-by would mean only a fleeting glimpse from afar.
Clinging to that reassurance quelled the dread.
Fourth floor, Lucy had said.
Drawing on the directions, she made for Inspection Unit 5’s quarters, the Blue Falcon’s official front.
Outside the entrance, she halted to draw steadying air.
As resolve built and her hand rose, the barrier swung inward on its own, poised for her arrival.
“Step right in. Glad to have you aboard the Blue Falcon, Rina.”
Lucy, flashing her signature left-eye wink, drew her inside.
“Team’s either out on tasks or running late. We’ll ease you into meetings one by one amid the chaos.”
Lucy caught her scanning the sparse space and filled the quiet.
She noted how desks outnumbered occupants barely.
Curiosity prompted her query.
“Headcount around here?”
The words struck Lucy oddly, her direct nature stalling despite their brief acquaintance.
“No pressure if it’s under wraps.”
Sensing a potential breach, she backpedaled, sparking Lucy’s full-throated chuckle.
“Tough one to pin down, not for secrecy—just fuzzy edges.”
Glancing at her timepiece, Lucy pressed on.
“Full rundown means starting at the roots of Blue Falcon.”
She sensed the shift to onboarding lore.
And sure enough, Lucy dove into origins.
“His Majesty couldn’t stomach the old emperor’s abuses…”
The tale mirrored imperial chronicles word for word—dry as dust.
She wished for brevity.
Spotting her feigned focus crumbling into drift, Lucy dissolved into mirth.
“Rina, your face broadcasts everything.”
Easing into levity post-giggle, she recapped crisply, ditching the drone.
“Bottom line: Blue Falcon Guild birthed the intel squad. Throne rise pulled most into service, dubbing this spot Blue Falcon too. Holdouts stayed guild-bound over fit or rank; latecomers like you join the mix. Counts shift by metric.”
Mercy—a digest where epic loomed.
“Sounds like name reuse won over invention.”
Lucy’s snort acknowledged the jab before pivoting.
“Fancy a workspace walkthrough?”
Her nod met Lucy’s sheepish admission of newbie protocol rust, kicking off with assignment.
“Here’s your station, Rina.”
Fresh setup screamed recent: timber scent clung to surface and seat.
“Heard of Herman Miller? Every workstation here’s his craft.”
The pitch landed hard on her, wearied by rigid state gear.
“Top-shelf setup for an office?”
“Perks of lean staffing.”
Casual delivery belied the elite aura washing over her from the fixture.
Lucy clocked the awe, piling on proudly.
“Yours boasts cutting-edge specs—triple enchantments against strain injuries. Makes me envy rookies.”
She marveled inwardly at the Emperor’s inner circle perks, his key enforcer in action.
Lucy kept selling.
“Fresh glow-orbs too, warding off eye fatigue for recruits.”
Professional awe escaped her lips.
“Impressive. Requests for gear sail through?”
The spin clearly aimed to bind fresh blood tight.
The circuit dragged on.
Limited sweets stocked the respite nook pleasantly, yet…
Noble-grade linens in the nap zone stunned her.
A full bed here?
Escape tempted, but commitment sealed her fate.
Lucy read the chill in her stare, rerouting swiftly.
Loop complete, the main area now hosted arrivals—unknown faces save one.
Daze gripped her as she approached the familiar.
Seeing him beyond cafe confines felt alien, no spectral trick.
Kyle blended poorly into this scene.
“Kyle-rus. Ages.”
Lucy’s greeting mirrored her stun.
“Indeed, Lucy. Good to reconnect.”
He fielded it smoothly, then elaborated.
“Palace-based runs for now. Pace ramps up.”
Faces around—newcomers and Lucy alike—twisted in feigned gripe.
He quipped on the chill.
Eyes widened in his amusement, underscoring the flat hierarchy.
She recalled his guild focus in tales.
Script had him splitting guild-palace duties, cafe as side gig.
Her eyes painted cafe central, others squeezed in.
Flawless multitasking bar cafe explained the Emperor’s trust.
Remote leader’s drop-in spelled workload surge—no joy there.
Morning air turned sodden, spirits sagging.
Kyle’s grin softened it.
“Solo stint—direct orders from His Majesty.”
Relief swept clean.
Sympathy patter followed: “Rough load.”
“Your glee’s too plain—tempts payback, like ‘stuck late while you bail?’”
Tittering ensued, black jest diffused lightly.
Spotting her doorway post, Kyle beckoned her near.
