The first sensation upon returning to reality is strikingly similar to being stuffed inside a mini-fridge, which is incredibly suffocating.

  My chest feels heavy, limbs numb. Clearly, after surfacing from the deep subconscious layer, Kaito's soul hasn't had time to reboot. Two souls crowding into one small mortal body is tighter and more stifling than being packed into a Tokyo subway car during rush hour.

  "Giving the house back to you, kid."

  Whoosh.

  Kaito jolts on the sofa, chest heaving as he gasps for air like a drowning man just breaking the surface. The boy's eyes snap open, pupils dilated to the max, scanning wildly from the oak ceiling of the Clairvoyance Agency to Reo's grimacing face. Good. At least he isn't screaming in panic or checking if he's still alive. That hellish training course finally paid off.

  "Look who's awake," I nod, tail swishing lightly in the air. "At least you didn't get PTSD. That's a win."

  Kaito tries to push himself up, but as soon as he lifts his butt off the chair, his whole body sways, tilting like the Leaning Tower of Pisa about to topple. Reo sitting next to him isn't doing any better; the teacher clutches his head, groaning, face scrunched up from the splitting headache tormenting his skull.

  "Sit still, you two."

  I glide over, slapping both of them hard on the shoulder.

  "Don't be stupid and stand up right now. The soul is back but the body isn't calibrated yet, you'll faceplant on the floor."

  It takes a full five minutes for those two mortal bodies to sync back up with reality. Kaito grips the edge of the table tight, slowly standing up, his bones cracking like a rusty machine finally kicking into gear.

  "That was intense..." The boy shakes his head, face dazed but eyes shining with excitement. "It feels... like lagging. My limbs are moving a second behind my brain."

  "Crawling all the way down to Layer 3, this is normal," I smirk, straightening the lapels of my suit. "You just lived ten times faster than reality. Now sit tight and wait for the side effects to wear off."

  I brush a few specks of dust off my shoulder, turning to look at Reo who is massaging his temples.

  "Consider today's training a resounding success. I have to zip back to the Nexus. Tomorrow the real work starts, no more drills. Better brace yourselves."

  "You plan to sneak off and dump the kid on me to manage? I haven't even had enough sleep..."

  "Relax, I'm not exploiting your labor to that extent," I wave my hand to cut him off. "Someone's here to take over. I have to get back up there ASAP. It's been ages since Department 1031 had to participate in such a complex operation; a pile of administrative paperwork is stacking up waiting to be processed."

  Just as I finish speaking, the sliding door of the training room slams open with a bang.

  Nanao drags himself in, looking so lethargic and bored that just looking at him makes me feel tired. His calico cat ears are flattened against his head. His tail droops, dragging on the floor like a mop.

  "Why is it always me to clean up the trash?" Nanao whines, his voice slurred with resentment. "You made those mess, then just fuck off and leaves me to clean up the aftermath."

  He glares at me hard enough to singe my eyebrows, then turns to scrutinize Kaito from head to toe like a security scanner.

  "Hey kid, got dragged into his head and tortured by the old geezer for hours, is your mind still intact? Did you short-circuit already?"

  "Stop badmouthing me behind my back," I feign deep hurt. "I am the most exemplary leader in this solar system. Look, out of all the Clairvoyants I've managed, has anyone complained a single word?"

  "We aren't allowed to open our mouths to complain," Reo mutters, side-eyeing me with deep resentment. "Dictator."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Hearing this, Nanao turns to look at Reo with the deep sympathy of fellow sufferers, then pulls out his phone to check messages.

  "Sigh... Don't know if the wallet will get any thicker after this job," he sighs heavily. "Workload has skyrocketed lately, working until my legs want to break, fur shedding everywhere, yet still no sign of money."

  "Just do a good job first," I pat Nanao's shoulder, flashing my trademark smile. "I will note your significant contribution, then report to Director Ariel for consideration later. Who knows, maybe there will be a surprise at the end of the year."

  "Hehe," Nanao gives a bland laugh. "If it were such a sweet deal, you would have secretly applied for a raise for yourself already, would it ever reach me? No one's gotten a raise lately."

  "The Finance Department up there is tightening the belt on every penny. Your big brother here is even being threatened with a pay cut by HR. So what do you want now? Want me to dip into my own pocket, starve myself to feed you?"

  The finishing move "dip into my own pocket" is always the ultimate weapon to end all salary negotiations. Nanao grimaces, whiskers twitching in frustration but has to shut his mouth, swallowing his anger. He turns to pat Kaito's shoulder:

  "Come on, kid. Let's go home. Stay here any longer and I might have a stroke."

  Having dealt with the demanding employees, I wave goodbye and pull out my Spirit Phone.

  The five-colored cloud gate swirls open, tearing through the training room space. Without hesitation, I hop inside, leaving behind the resentful gazes of my two subordinates.

  I drag my weary body into the office looking no different from a zombie just risen from the grave after a night shift. The vast space is now completely deserted, so quiet one can hear the clicking of keyboards. Only the corner of the Strategist Team is still lit, where Sister Alethea's staff are still glued to their screens, typing furiously as if the world would collapse if they stopped.

  "Absolute machines..."

  I mutter, then let myself freefall onto my beloved fox-shaped beanbag chair. The soft feeling of foam beads embracing my body makes me want to melt right there. But professional conscience doesn't allow me to doze off right now.

  I activate a series of 3D hologram screens surrounding the chair, then wearily check the indicators dancing before my eyes—blue, red, purple, yellow, the works.

  "Hmm... Luckily the death toll is still within the safe range."

  The civilian casualty chart in Tokyo is flatlining; no signs of a sudden spike. It seems the current operations are succeeding beautifully. However, caution is still needed. Let's see if that bastard has any trump cards left unused.

  Sitting there reading the data report, suddenly a bizarre thought pops into my head, making my tail twitch restlessly.

  "What the hell is Takama-ga-hara doing?"

  I tap my claws rhythmically on the armrest. More than 24 hours have passed since I sent the urgent report, but the response from the partners is a big fat zero. Their movements are superficial and slow to the point of suspicion. It's as if they are deliberately ignoring it, or worse...

  "Don't tell me... the big shots in there are shaking hands with Gakai?"

  I shudder, but then quickly wave my hand to brush that thought away.

  "Screw them. Thinking too much gives me a headache; premature balding wastes money on hair growth medicine."

  Ding!

  The notification sound of a private message from GodChat rings out, cutting off the negative train of thought.

  Alethea: "Off work, wanna grab a drink? Gonna be busy as hell soon, take the chance to relax a bit."

  I squint at the screen. The Boss Lady knows how to get tired today too?

  ItsukiK: "Sure. But please pick a place with budget prices. My disciple just screwed me over big time, had to dig into my FP savings to clean up the mess."

  Alethea: "Gosh, you worry too much. I never spend recklessly like you."

  Prisma District at night is always shimmering beautifully, carrying a hint of melancholy. The Urban Management Board has set the weather in this area to always be a light drizzle at night, combined with pale purple neon lights to create the atmosphere they call "curated melancholy." This place is a sanctuary for those who like to chill and enjoy the urban vibe.

  Rain Coffee sits modestly on a quiet street corner, soft Jazz music drifting out from inside blending with the patter of falling rain.

  I take off my coat, pushing the door open. The aroma of roasted coffee hits my nose, waking up my tired sense of smell.

  Sister Alethea is already waiting at a secluded table in the corner, next to the rain-streaked glass window. She is wearing a cream-colored turtleneck sweater, holding a hot cup of coffee, looking strangely relaxed.

  "What a coincidence," I pull out a chair and sit opposite. "This is my go-to spot."

  "Mhm," Alethea nods slightly, gaze wandering out to the street. "I also often escape here on weekends to focus on work. The atmosphere here is very suitable for researching human behavioral psychology."

  "Research again," I order an Espresso, then turn to look at her. "So have your data nerds dug up anything fun lately?"

  Alethea puts the coffee cup down, the porcelain clinking gently against the saucer.

  "How to put it..." She rests her chin on her hand, brows knitting slightly. "That 'Local Noosphere' structure... is weird."

  "Weird?"

  "The measured indicators are completely normal, qualified candidates have nothing outstanding either. Everything matches standard data. But..." She hesitates. "...I still feel something's off."

  I laugh, leaning back in the chair.

  "What? Even someone who worships absolute logic like you has moments of using intuition to work? Usually, you throw anything illogical into the trash bin immediately, don't you?"

  "Because I can't throw it away, that's why it's a headache," Alethea sighs, fingers twirling the silver spoon. "Maybe I caught your disease of overthinking lately."

  "Hmm..." I look at her, then look at myself. Strange indeed, clearly I came here to relax, not to think.

  "But wait," I smack my lips. "We invited each other for coffee to de-stress, why did we circle back to work topics? Do we look any different from two miniature versions of some workaholic right now?"

  Alethea giggles.

  "Probably because... if we don't talk about things at the company..."

  "...Then we have absolutely nothing else to say to each other," I finish her sentence.

  A silence envelops the small table. The sound of rain outside the window seems louder.

  "True," Alethea mumbles. "After a period of being buried in work, spinning with tasks, when stopping, it feels like nothing makes sense."

  "I'm afraid..." I stir the black coffee gently, watching the small vortex in the cup. "...it's about to become a chronic disease for us wage slaves."

  "Why are you suddenly so pessimistic?" Alethea looks at me with curiosity. "Encountered something lately? Or did you really get a pay cut?"

  "Not exactly," I shrug. "It's just... sometimes sitting alone in the room, I tend to have wandering thoughts. About... financial freedom."

  Spurt!

  Alethea almost chokes on the coffee she just brought to her lips. She hurriedly grabs a tissue to dab her mouth, staring at me wide-eyed.

  "Going indie? You?"

  "If only," I smile, spreading my empty hands in front of her. "Where's the capital? Not to mention in this dog-eat-dog era, who dares."

  Alethea shakes her head, regaining her usual composure.

  "Kids who open their mouths to say 'financial freedom' usually end up the same. Mostly get beaten black and blue by big corporations, finally have to quietly return to being hired hands to pay debts."

  "That's how it is now," I sigh, watching raindrops slide down the glass. "Being a boss or a wage slave is equally miserable."

  The Nexus will be going on a two-week hiatus. See you guys on March 4th!