On the Surface, it was an ordinary office building in downtown Tokyo like any other. Even on the Reverse, it was much the same, a monolithic skyscraper of sleek shiny glass windows blending in with the rest against the shimmering sky.

  But within its plain walls, the Binding Association Headquarters were the gears of society themselves.

  Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

  Colossal cogs the size of houses turned. Belts fit to sand cars spun. Axles moved and pistons pumped, any one of which could crush an oni. As its members, as its perception, so too was the form of the building that housed the organization that safeguarded mundane reality against all manner of fantastical threat.

  "There's so… many… stairs!"

  So it was unfortunate that form didn't always come with function. Laptops tucked under arms and documents bursting with files in hand, a group of employees made their way back down the sprawling ceramic paths that twisted and turned down through the clockwork mechanisms.

  "Who decided to make us work on the Reverse every day, huh? Was it the High Magus? I want a word with that stuffy suit!"

  "Fat chance, practically nobody's seen him since he took over from Lady Aileen…"

  "What's he good for, anyway? Never seen him, never heard him, might as well not exist while our top shots do all the heavy lifti—"

  A gust of wind and one swift rumble like a thousand footsteps taken at once, and before they knew it—

  "Good morning, everyone." Julian manifested from thin air in their midst, the last wisps of pale green mist fading away.

  "What the—!"

  Startled, one of the men dropped his documents. Papers spilled, surely lost to the sprawling vastness of the clock tower—

  A blur of green, and Julian neatly lined up the papers in hand before firmly pressing them back into their proper owner's chest. "Nerves like that won't do you any good," he said.

  "Please don't scare me like that, Julian, sir!"

  "Is there something you needed?" piped up one of the others. Getting startled by a green blur rocketing by wasn't too uncommon, but Julian didn't often stop by someone unless there was a reason.

  "Yes. Kurodate-san, mission control is looking for you. The analytics from Kyoto Lynchpin 5 are coming in abnormal, they need your expertise. You three—Nagoya sent a request for an amnestic campaign, can you be there before the end of the day?"

  "Yes, sir!" they chorused.

  "Much appreciated."

  In no time at all, everyone he pointed to was on their way. Except…

  "Um," spoke up the lone remainder of the group—a baby-faced rookie who hadn't been around for longer than a few weeks. "Julian, sir?"

  "What is it?"

  "Do you have any orders for me?"

  "No. Carry on, Sato-san." Julian gave him a brisk nod and that was the end of things. He was gone in another blur and a clap of footsteps.

  Sato exhaled, suddenly alone in the middle of the clockwork tower that dominated the middle section of headquarters. He peered over the edge of the walkway. No matter how many times he passed through here, it always made him queasy. One flimsy rail was all there was between him and a very, very long fall to the bottom of the tower. Down there was the Gearbox—a mass of machinery so tight, there were more than a few places where the only way through was to get on your hands and knees and crawl. Falling on it would be like getting dropped into an industrial grinder, never mind the height…

  A rush of steps—

  "One more thing," said Julian.

  "Wah!" Sato jumped, arms flailing wildly. "J-Julian, sir?"

  "Calm yourself. This is the most important task of the day."

  He blinked. "Huh? Oh, um…" Julian's ever-flat tone had taken on a distinct edge. Sato shook his head to clear it and focused. "I'm listening, sir."

  "This is a task I cannot do myself," said Julian. "Nor can I entrust it to Darius or Asayuki. For this, I require your assistance."

  The gears of society creaked around them. Sato's heart crept into his throat. Why was a nobody like him suddenly at the center of attention? He barely had any mana aptitude himself, and his magic studies were subpar. He was mostly only here because his parents had both worked for the Association before him. What could the Second Equalizer possibly want with him that the First and Third couldn't do?

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Anything you need, sir," said Sato. The words came out a little too weak and squeaky even for him.

  Julian looked around, as if ensuring there were no onlookers or eavesdroppers. He leaned in furtively, and Sato found himself mirroring the movement.

  "What I need from you," murmured Julian, "is this."

  And he pulled out his phone.

  "…Eh?" said Sato.

  Julian's phone had a gacha game open.

  "If you would be so kind," said Julian.

  "S-Sir?"

  Julian motioned his head, urging him to click the big bright "1 PULL" button.

  "I… huh?" Sato looked around. Turning gears, spinning axles, dissipated light streaming through tall arched frosted glass windows. But he didn't see any pranksters. Nobody jumped out with a loud horn or a laughter track. "What's going on?"

  "I need you to click this button for me," said Julian. "This is a matter of utmost importance."

  "Isn't that just that one gacha game? What is it called, Blu—"

  "It is of utmost importance." If this was a prank, Julian had the best poker face ever.

  "You don't need me to do it, do you?" said Sato.

  "Have you played these games before?"

  "I mean… no? I haven't."

  "And would I be accurate in surmising that you've never pulled on any banner in your life?"

  "You would…?" Sato had no idea where this was going.

  "Perfect," said Julian. "My assessment was exactly correct. Fortune favors the beginners, even more so those who have never yet initiated. Please, Sato-san. I would like you to click the button for me."

  "…You're serious." Somehow, it finally sank in. "You're actually serious about this!"

  "I am always serious," said Julian flatly. "Asayuki is unwilling to so much as touch the screen whenever I show her. Darius advised me that novices have superior results in luck-based matters. He always loses every round of cards to even the most amateur of players, after all."

  "With all respect, sir, I think that's just his problem…" Sato massaged his temples and took a step back to try and make sense of it all. "Julian, sir, I want to be clear. You believe in this?"

  "In intangible forces that alter the course of destiny?"

  Are we still talking about that gacha game? thought Sato.

  "Sato-san," said Julian. "You work for an international organization whose main base of operations is in a parallel dimension. We exorcise demons and wipe memories on a daily basis. And from my life experience, even if the gods have withdrawn their direct hand from human affairs, it would be stranger if a higher force did not care about who presses this button."

  Sato mulled that one over for a second. Then he conceded, "Yeah, that makes sense, actually."

  He borrowed Julian's phone—larger and heavier than he thought, with a very bulky case—and tapped the pull button.

  "Your assistance is much appreciated," said Julian, already taking it back. "Thank you very much."

  "Huh?" said Sato. "That's it?" Julian had already tapped through the animation and put away his phone. "No watching the roll?"

  "Did you want to? I apologize. Darius said that letting it play out increases emotional investment, which in turn amplifies the intensity of the result. That result is heavily biased towards a psychologically negative outcome, so watching is a net negative."

  "That's an… interesting… perspective."

  "That's all I needed you for, Sato-san. Thank you for your time."

  "Julian, sir, before you go."

  The Third Equalizer paused, back already turned. Wisps of pale mist flickered away as he returned his attention to his employee. "What is it?"

  "I just want to know," said Sato. "I didn't take you for the kind who would play video games. What got you into it?"

  "…You may not know much about me beyond my position as your manager," said Julian. "Have you heard about who I worked for before joining the Binding Association in the last decade?"

  "I have, sir. That's another reason I find it surprising, honestly…"

  "On the contrary, it is precisely because of that background that I engage in it. These banal trivialities and small-time concerns of the average everyday person—these are the things I have not experienced in all my long life. I find them fascinating." Julian turned his gaze outwards, to the cogs of the world turning all around them. "We are the guardians of humanity, Sato-san. But what does 'humanity' mean? To claim one's servitude to what one cannot grasp must surely be the height of arrogance. The mundane ups and downs of life, the concerns of the common man, the results of last week's sporting event and the fretting over the weather tomorrow—these things are easily taken for granted and lost in the bustle and worries of living, but these, too, are precious aspects of life."

  "Wow," breathed Sato.

  For a time, neither spoke up. Here, within the mechanical heart of the Binding Association, Sato found his mind wandering and taking in the true scale of his work. Why was he here? And what did it mean to him, really?

  Eventually, one more thought occurred to him, and he turned back to Julian.

  "So you want to experience a common life," said Sato, "and the emotions that come with it?"

  "Indeed," said Julian.

  "But you skip gacha animations, though. What about those emotions?"

  A beat.

  That beat stretched out.

  Sato blinked.

  "…Sir?"

  Julian tugged on the lapels of his tailored suit and adjusted his tie. He also refused to look at Sato.

  He mumbled something under his breath, not all of it loud enough to make out. "…might have spent a few hundred thousand…"

  "You what?!"

  A blur of green, a thousand footsteps, and it was as if Julian was never there. This conversation was very thoroughly over, and he wasn't sticking around a single word longer.

  Sato lowered the arm raised on instinct from the gales of wind. He blew out a long breath. It was a nice diversion, but he had to get back to work.

  And somehow, even though it never came up, he had the creeping feeling that everything he learned today was a top-level government classified secret that would see him disappeared and un-personed if he ever breathed a word of it to anyone else.