Chapter 82 - Office Romance

  I woke up with a heavy sigh, disappointment settling deep in my chest. I know I’m an asshole, but Myrrh giving me X-chocolates yesterday was… unexpected. She’s never been the type to do something so openly considerate, and now it’s gnawing at me. I can’t just let it slide—I have to do something in return, even if it’s just to ease the weight of this unfamiliar guilt.

  Today marked the last day of classes at Orbital Tech before the long-awaited holiday break. The morning unfolded like any other—routine lectures, the usual hum of students pretending to take notes, and the professors clearly as eager as we were to end the semester. Fei was absent, which was a stroke of luck considering there were no practical exams or dreaded calculus quizzes. Just a simple day that blurred past in a haze of spoken theories and half-filled notebooks. By some miracle, we were dismissed before lunch, the early freedom feeling like an unearned gift.

  As soon as class let out, I made my way into the bustling streets outside the university. The air was still crisp from the lingering echoes of X-mas celebrations, neon lights from lingering holiday decor flickering against the glass storefronts. My goal was clear—I needed something small but meaningful. Something that wouldn’t scream “I’m trying too hard” but would still carry weight. After browsing through stalls, I found what I was looking for—a tiny bouquet of cyberflowers, their bioluminescent petals pulsing faintly with artificial life. The bouquet wasn’t extravagant, just the length of my hand, wrapped in a soft cotton cloth that gave it a more personal touch.

  Luck was on my side—I managed to snag it at half price, a post-celebration discount that made the decision easier. I carefully placed the bouquet inside an old shoebox, adjusting it until it fit snugly in my backpack, ensuring it wouldn’t get crushed before I could hand it over.

  With my purchase secured, I turned back toward the Orbital Tech grounds, my next destination set—the KAWAII headquarters, where my part-time job awaited.

  I haven’t talked much about my internship there, mostly because there’s not much to say. The mission with the Void Box had been an anomaly—an adrenaline spike in an otherwise monotonous routine. Most days, we were stuck doing office work, menial tasks that felt far removed from the high-stakes operations I’d imagined. Meanwhile, Agent Feena was always out in the field, handling the real missions, navigating the dangerous underbelly of Xyraxis while we stayed behind, pushing papers and pretending we were part of something bigger.

  When I stepped into the KAWAII headquarters, the familiar hum of machinery and the faint scent of synthetic coffee filled the air. At the front desk, poised like she belonged on the cover of an in-flight magazine, was Myrrh.

  Her lime-blonde hair was tied neatly in a ponytail, black ribbons securing it in place. The dark blue blazer she wore hugged her form just right, and the short skirt added a professional sharpness to her look. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have mistaken her for a high-class flight attendant—elegant, poised, and undeniably striking.

  “Good afternoon, Zaft.” Myrrh greeted me with a small smile, her voice carrying that usual refined tone. “I went ahead and punched you in since you disappeared the moment class ended. Where did you run off to?”

  “Just an errand,” I replied with a shrug. “Since the holidays start tomorrow, I figured I’d head back to Earth for a bit.”

  “I see.” She gave a slight nod before smoothly shifting topics. “Oh, this might be a little late, but Fei told me she already went back to Earth. Something urgent came up with her family, so that’s why she was absent today.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Family business?” I leaned forward with a smirk. “Family business, or heartbrokenness?”

  Myrrh’s smile flattened, and she crossed her arms. “You are an insensitive goon, you know that?” she scolded, her sharp eyes narrowing. “Fei has a gentle heart—soft, kind. She does not deserve what Neil said to her yesterday. Maybe stop joking about her pain for once?”

  “Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” I raised my hands in surrender, though my grin lingered. “Oh, by the way…”

  “Hm?” Myrrh tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her emerald eyes, making her look almost… puppy-like.

  I reached into my bag, feeling the delicate weight of the bouquet against my fingers. Carefully, I pulled it out and extended it toward her. The white cyberflowers shimmered faintly under the artificial lighting, their petals pulsating with an almost ethereal glow. The soft pink cotton wrapping fluttered slightly as I held it out.

  “For you.”

  Myrrh’s emerald eyes widened, shimmering like polished glass, and in an instant, her face turned the shade of a ripe strawberry. Her mouth hung open slightly, caught between shock and something dangerously close to a smile.

  “W-what is this?” she stammered, staring at the bouquet as if it might suddenly start speaking. “Cyberflowers? Wait—what are you playing at?”

  Her expression hardened in an instant, her wary glare locking onto me like a trained sniper. “Is there a bomb inside? One that explodes, showers me with confetti, and then plays a hologram that says ‘You lose!’?”

  “That was awfully specific! Of course not!” I huffed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “This is just a token of appreciation—for all the things you’ve helped me with.”

  Silence. For a second, I thought she was going to reject it outright.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Then, just as quickly, Myrrh’s lips curled into a teasing grin. “Just kidding~” she scoffed, before snatching the bouquet from my hands.

  Her entire demeanor changed in an instant. Her face lit up like a star, her smile so radiant it could probably power a city block. She pressed the bouquet close to her face, inhaling as if she could catch the nonexistent scent of artificial petals. Then, with a delighted hum, she hugged the flowers to her chest, swaying slightly like a girl who’d just received a love confession.

  “Thank you! I didn’t know you were such a sweet guy, Zaft!”

  “Yeah, I get called that a lot,” I said casually.

  “What, a sweet guy?” Myrrh teased.

  “No. Zaft,” I replied, smirking.

  "You're definitely weird today," Myrrh pouted.

  I turned on my heel and walked away from the front desk, keeping my pace steady, my posture cool.

  I refused to look back. If I did, she might’ve seen the stupid, burning redness creeping up my ears. The truth was, this was the first time I had ever given flowers to a girl, and of all people, it had to be Myrrh. A strange, fluttery feeling stirred in my stomach—an unfamiliar mix of nervous excitement and absolute dread.

  I needed to escape before I embarrassed myself any further.

  As I passed the main office area, a familiar figure caught my attention—Agent Feena, slumped lazily at her desk, her normally composed face tinted pink. A half-empty bottle of wine sat beside her, and she peered at me with a slow, knowing smirk, the kind that made my skin crawl.

  Her green eyes flickered with amusement.

  “…What?” I asked, shrugging as if I had nothing to hide.

  “Just get married already!” Agent Feena wailed, her voice echoing through the office like a street drunkard yelling at passing cars. “You two keep getting all lovey-dovey every time! You’re so sweet it’s giving me diabetes!”

  I shot her a cold glare. “Shut up and stop drinking at work, Agent.” Without hesitation, I grabbed the wine bottle straight from her desk, confiscating it like a disappointed parent.

  “Hey! That’s my expensive wine! It costs me a fortune just to buy one!” Feena whined, attempting to crawl after me, but her drunken limbs betrayed her. She barely made it a few inches before collapsing onto the floor, her arm draped dramatically over her eyes like some tragic heroine in an old theater play. Within seconds, she was out cold.

  I sighed, shaking my head. This woman was supposed to be a top agent?

  Without breaking stride, I made my way to the office fridge. With a smirk, I stuffed the bottle into the freezer. Nobody would ever think to check the freezer for stolen wine, and besides, by the time she found it, it’d be frozen solid. Consider this my noble service to the entire KAWAII department.

  With my good deed for the day done, I finally arrived at my proud little workstation—situated right beside the office photocopy machine.

  To most people, this setup might seem like a soul-sucking nightmare, but to me? This was paradise.

  I chose this job. I volunteered for it. A room where it’s just me and the soothing hum of the photocopy machine? No fieldwork, no stress, no life-or-death situations? Perfection.

  As the designated photocopy intern, my entire duty consisted of feeding paper into the machine, pushing a few buttons, and watching as documents duplicated themselves like magic. No mental effort required, no risk of danger—just mindless, peaceful work. And the best part? I got paid for it.

  With one hand pressing the ‘Start’ button and the other scrolling through my mobile game, I leaned back with a satisfied smirk.

  This was truly a win-win situation.

  “It’s time to be productive!” I announced to no one in particular, stretching my arms before powering up the printer and photocopy machine. The familiar mechanical hum filled the small room, a white noise that signaled the start of my workday.

  A towering stack of documents sat on my desk, waiting to be copied. Most of them contained classified intel—reports on Xyraxis corruption, underground cartel raids, and the ever-evolving landscape of cyberhacking scams.

  As I sifted through the pile, my eyes caught snippets of conspiracies tied to Treenity Innovations. Another file detailed the royal bloodlines of the Archonlight Heirs. And just the other day, I stumbled upon an absolutely insane multiversal theory about a conceptual god of undeath called Necross.

  Reading through these eerie and bizarre documents was, in a way, a perk of the job. Sure, my actual duty was to photocopy them, not skim through top-secret information, but who could resist taking a peek at the mysteries of the universe when they were right in front of you?

  But then, a particular document caught my attention.

  It was different. Unsettling.

  A photograph of a steel tablet, resting on the altar of the Void Box.

  My fingers instinctively tightened around the paper as my eyes scanned the transcribed binary code beneath the image. A translation was provided, but my gaze lingered on the original string of numbers as if they carried some deeper, unspoken weight:

  01010100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01000110 01101001 01110010 01110011 01110100 00100000 01000001 01110000 01101111 01110011 01110100 01101100 01100101 00100000 01110011 01101000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100011 01110101 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101111 01110111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01000011 01101111 01110011 01101101 01101001 01100011 00100000 01010100 01110010 01100101 01100101 00100000 01100010 01100101 01100110 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01000011 01101111 01110011 01101101 01101001 01100011 00100000 01000111 01101111 01100100 01100100 01100101 01110011 01110011 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110101 01110010 01110010 01100101 01100011 01110100 01100101 01100100

  Translation: “The First Apostle shall cut down the Cosmic Tree before the Cosmic Goddess is resurrected.”

  The moment my eyes processed the words, a wave of dizziness slammed into me. It was sudden—unnatural.

  A sharp, relentless pain drilled into my skull, as if invisible fingers were digging into my brain, squeezing it from both sides. My vision stuttered, glitching like a corrupted computer screen, flickering between reality and something else—something I wasn’t meant to see.

  "Aaaah—"

  I staggered back, gripping the edges of the photocopy machine for support, but even my fingers felt wrong. Too heavy. Too sluggish. A sickening weight settled in my gut, twisting like a parasite gnawing at my insides.

  I glanced down at my hands.

  My veins pulsed with crimson circuits, glowing faintly beneath my skin. Each time I blinked, the glowing lines branched out, spreading like a digital infection, rewriting me at the molecular level.

  And then—

  A voice. No, not a voice. A system notification. Echoing inside my skull.

  [Apostle's Objective: Cut down the Cosmic Tree]

  [Failure to do this Quest will erase this reality]

  The words slammed into my mind like a fatal error message. My breath hitched. My heart pounded against my ribs like an alarm.

  My reality—erased?

  The office around me warped, the walls stretching, distorting, like a melting simulation. My thoughts scrambled for reason, for logic—this can’t be real, this can’t be happening—but before I could process another thought, the pressure in my head snapped.

  My vision cracked like a shattered screen.

  And then—

  Everything went black.