The shop was quiet, the hum of the interdimensional stabilizers the only constant in the late-night stillness. Orion and Latias sat at the small communal table, a thick stack of physical resumes spread between them like a field of white paper.
"You were pretty vague in the posting," Latias said, her voice carrying a playful edge.
Orion sighed and rubbed his eyes.
"I didn't want to scare off the people who actually matter," he replied.
"You mostly just confused the people who actually matter," Latias teased.
Orion looked at the stack and felt a twinge of doubt. He knew she was right, even if he hated admitting it.
Latias reached for the first page.
"Here is the first one. This candidate wants to focus on streamlining Pokémon output and optimizing bond metrics for maximum efficiency."
Orion snatched the paper from her hand and tossed it toward the edge of the table.
"Next."
Latias watched the paper flutter to the floor.
"That was fast," she observed.
The second application was a woman with a bright, smiling photo. Her letter expressed a deep, almost overwhelming love for all Pokémon and mentioned that she had never once told a Pokémon no in her entire life.
Orion stared at the page, his expression hardening. He pictured a trainer failing to enforce a boundary during a territorial dispute or a sudden outburst of aggression. He saw a Pokémon getting hurt because a human was too afraid of a little conflict to step in.
Latias noticed the tension in his shoulders. She didn't say anything, but she watched him with wide, observant eyes.
The rest of the pile went quickly. Most people wanted the prestige of the title without the actual labor. One applicant listed "Pokémon" as a skill on a resume meant for an accounting job. A few others simply never replied to the follow-up emails Orion sent to confirm their availability.
By the time the stack was depleted, Orion slumped back in his chair.
"Maybe the right person for this just doesn't exist," Orion said.
Latias shook her head.
"You are looking for someone who does not exist in your own head yet," she said. "You are looking for a concept, not a person."
Orion sat with that thought. It landed with a heavy, quiet weight. He realized he had been trying to hire a perfect archetype instead of a real human being.
"Fine," Orion said. "Let's just interview whoever is left."
The interview room was small and functional, smelling faintly of lemon cleaner and old paper. The woman who walked in was in her early thirties, wearing a plain, dark blazer that looked practical rather than fashionable. She carried herself with squared shoulders and a direct gaze that didn't flicker even when she met Orion's eyes.
An Absol walked at her side, its sleek, white fur contrasting with the dark fabric of her trousers. The Pokémon had a small, distinct notch in the upper edge of its left ear, and it kept its eyes fixed on the room, scanning for threats with a calm, predatory focus.
Orion looked up from his tablet.
"Please, have a seat," Orion said.
The woman sat down without any unnecessary flourishes.
"I am Dana Kessler," she said.
She didn't offer a smile or a nervous laugh to soften the air. She just sat there, solid and unyielding.
"Thank you for coming, Ms. Kessler," Orion said.
"I'm here about the manager position for the second sanctuary," she stated.
"I can see that," Orion replied.
Latias watched from the corner of the room. She noticed immediately that this woman lacked the performative eagerness of the others. There was no attempt to impress, no practiced warmth, and no hesitation in her tone.
"Your resume is quite direct," Orion said.
"I don't see the point in padding my experience," Dana said.
She spoke about her previous role, describing years spent managing a massive logistics floor. She detailed the pressure of meeting impossible output quotas and the frustration of working under a boss who treated people like replaceable parts. She mentioned that her only real priority had been maintaining the integrity of the system, even when the people running it were actively breaking it.
"My partner and I have had to deal with a lot of systemic failure," she said, glancing briefly at the Absol.
She didn't go into detail about how they met, but the way the Absol leaned slightly toward her suggested a bond built on more than just proximity.
"I was let go because I refused to let a failure go unrecorded," Dana said.
She paused, and the room went still.
"My boss took credit for the successes and blamed me for the risks I had already flagged," she continued. "So I stood up in front of the entire floor and told him exactly how incompetent he was. I told him he wouldn't know a good decision if it filed its own expense report."
She finished the sentence and looked Orion directly in the eye. She wasn't boasting, and she wasn't angry. She was simply stating a fact, as if she were describing the weather. She waited for the inevitable rejection, for him to decide she was too volatile or too difficult to manage.
Orion sat in silence. He realized that what looked like a red flag on a printed resume was actually exactly what the sanctuary required. Most people were too busy being agreeable to be useful. He needed someone who would reach a limit and refuse to back down when the truth was at stake.
"You're the frontrunner," Orion said.
Dana blinked, her expression remaining flat.
"That is not a final yes," Orion added. "But I want you to come to the sanctuary and see the grounds before we make anything official."
Latias watched the exchange, a quiet sense of satisfaction settling in her chest. She didn't need to say anything; Orion had already seen what she had felt.
"I'll be there," Dana said.
She stood up, and the Absol followed her toward the door without a single wasted movement.
The vacancy at the sanctuary finally had a real answer.
***
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Advance chapters in P@T0n Najicablitz.