After the exam was over, Yuhuan handed the recruit placement sheet back to Mitchell.
⠀
"Who's that woman in first place?"
⠀
Mitchell didn't look up from sorting the rest of the entries. "Her? Ninth District. You didn't catch her fight?"
⠀
"I don't recall seeing anyone from the Ninth at all. How did she place anywhere above one hundredth?"
⠀
"She's got an ARCHtype."
⠀
"An ARCHtype. From the Ninth?" Yuhuan's brow furrowed. "How does someone from that far down manage to earn an ARCH's favor?"
⠀
"Why don't you go ask her?"
⠀
Mitchell tipped his chin toward the far corner of the camp, where a girl sat with her back to the crowd, knees drawn in, shoulders curled inward like she was trying to take up as little space as the Ring would allow her. Her clothes were more patchwork than fabric at this point, faded and frayed at every seam. Her hair, a wild yellow tangle down her back, looked like it hadn't seen a comb in longer than Yuhuan wanted to guess.
⠀
"...She was first?"
⠀
"Free advice, since I'm technically your senior now." Mitchell's mouth twisted, somewhere between amused and serious. "Don't underestimate anybody you haven't actually met yet."
⠀
"Duly noted."
⠀
"She put down seventeen men. Every single one of them was found with slice marks head to toe." He grinned, sudden and sharp. "I'll give you thirty Nanum if you go talk to her."
⠀
"For a First Division Fixer, your sense of humor is remarkably childish. I'll pass on the wager, though." Yuhuan's eyes lingered on the girl a moment longer. "She looks like she needs that Nanum a great deal more than I do."
⠀
He crossed the camp at his own pace, only to find Mori had already gotten there first.
⠀
"Excuse me? My name's Mori! I saw you took first place!"
⠀
Silence.
⠀
"Uh... Excuse me?"
⠀
"...Whaddya say?"
⠀
"Sorry, what?"
⠀
She was on her feet before Mori finished the question, spinning to face him with a grin that had absolutely no business being that wide. Two sock puppets rode her hands, one purple, one green, googly eyes bobbing as she shoved them both toward him at once.
⠀
"WHADDYA SAY, STUFFY? SHOULD WE CUT 'EM UP??~"
⠀
She raised the purple one, and her whole voice dropped with it, flat and monotone, hand cupped over her mouth like a bad ventriloquist act. "Sure... go ahead... I don't care either way... why care about anything, really...?"
⠀
Then, snapping straight back: "HOW 'BOUT YOU, ARNY??"
⠀
The green one rose. Her voice climbed into something shrill and delighted. "Uwahhh!~ Arny thinks it's a lovely idea!~☆ (づ ◕‿◕)づ ...Hm... NAH! I'm Saoirse, what's your name?"
⠀
"...I'm Mori. I said that already."
⠀
"Nice to meetcha! This is Stuffy... ...and THIS is Arnold!~☆ ٩(＾◡＾)۶"
⠀
⠀
ARCHtype: Sock Puppet::Stuffy & Arnold
Threat Level: NA (나)
Ability: Stuffy (purple) and Arnold (green) are hand-mounted sock puppets, each carrying a distinct personality as perceived by their wearer: Stuffy withdrawn and apathetic, Arnold impulsive and volatile. The two argue and contradict one another to sway the wearer's judgment, frequently hijacking decision-making outright. While enhancing proficiency with tools or weapons, the puppets steadily push their user toward destructive or obsessive behavior that ultimately benefits the ARCH. Influence requires direct physical contact and peaks when the puppets are actively "animated." Removing the socks, voluntarily or otherwise, permanently severs their enhancement. Rare individuals have been observed resisting the manipulation while retaining the benefit, turning the compulsion into a stable strength instead.
⠀
"You don't seem all that bad, S...eer...sh—"
⠀
Saoirse caught the stumble before he finished it, switching to Stuffy without missing a beat. "What a fool... Her name is Saoirse. Pronounced Seer-shuh. Understand?"
⠀
"Uh... Yeah. Thanks, Stuffy."
⠀
Saoirse went completely still.
⠀
"D-Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry!"
⠀
She lowered both puppets, her expression gone blank in a way that looked almost fragile. "No one's ever actually talked to them before."
⠀
"What do you mean?"
⠀
"Stuffy and Arnold are my best friends, you know that?!"
⠀
"Y-Yeah! I get it!"
⠀
"But nobody ever talks to them. Just calls 'em puppets. Socks." Something flickered across her face, gone before it could settle into anything Mori could name. "People are mean like that. All the time."
⠀
Yuhuan had been content to let the two of them finish this on their own and had already half turned away when Saoirse's voice caught him first.
⠀
"Hey, Yuhuan! Come meet my new friend!"
⠀
He sighed quietly and turned back around. "Hello. Yuhuan. I take it you're the competitor who placed first."
⠀
"Yep-yep-yep! That's me! Whaddya want?"
⠀
He wasn't entirely sure himself. There was no real reason to keep talking to her; they'd likely be split across different Offices by the end of the day regardless.
⠀
"Actually," he said instead, surprising himself as much as anyone, "what would you say to asking Antollio if you could join the Argus Directorates as well?"
⠀
"Wh—?! ...You want me to come with you?!"
⠀
"You too, Saoirse." Yuhuan looked between them both. "The three of us placed highest today. I imagine he'd be willing to make room."
⠀
For a moment, Saoirse and both puppets simply stared, wordless. Then Stuffy and Arnold both burst into tears at once.
⠀
"This young man... is so kind... to Saoirse..."
⠀
"Something's wrong with Arnold," Arnold sobbed, delighted. "Arnold is crying, but Arnold feels happy, not sad!~"
⠀
Saoirse straightened, wiping her face with the back of one puppet-covered hand. "I WILL GLADLY ACCEPT THINE MOST GENEROUS OFFER!"
⠀
They found Antollio not long after.
⠀
"Ok!~ Sounds fine to me."
⠀
Mori hit his knees before the sentence finished landing. "I understand if this is asking too much, sir!"
⠀
Yuhuan dropped beside him without hesitation. "I'd understand if you didn't want someone as rough around the edges as myself fighting at your side."
⠀
Saoirse joined them a beat later. "This... is defeat... isn't it..."
⠀
It took a full three seconds for what Antollio had actually said to catch up with any of them. Mori shot back to his feet first.
⠀
"Wait— What?!"
⠀
"I said it sounds fine to me." Antollio's smile didn't waver. "Honestly, it works out rather nicely for me too, having people who already get along with each other. Fewer headaches all around."
⠀
Yuhuan and Saoirse remained on the ground a moment longer, apparently unwilling to trust the good news until it had been repeated at least once more.
⠀
"Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."
⠀
"MHMM!!"
⠀
"I'll get you all registered with Mitchell. In the meantime, I'll have Haddler take you back to the Post in the Seventh."
⠀
A man in a dark suit stepped out from behind Antollio, long black hair catching the wind, a briefcase handcuffed firmly to one wrist.
⠀
"Hey there! Haddler. Your senior, apparently. Third Division."
⠀
Yuhuan, braver than the other two, spoke first. "Forgive the bluntness. What's the briefcase for?"
⠀
"Oh, this? Just an ARCHtype. Nothing to worry about." Haddler turned to Mori, studying him with sudden interest. "You're the one who faced down Gun, aren't you? I've heard the stories. Pleasure to finally meet you."
⠀
"I am. Hoping that's not the only thing people remember me for, though."
⠀
"Ha! Give it time, they'll find plenty else to hold against you." Haddler's grin widened. "I've actually got a soft spot for ARCHs myself. Had a close friend who worked research for DaeSyndicate, once upon a time."
⠀
All three of them froze.
⠀
"Wouldst thou be so kind as to direct me toward this friend of thine?!"
⠀
Yuhuan gave Saoirse a sideways look. She was staring at Haddler with something close to reverence. Haddler, for his part, had already turned back toward Antollio.
⠀
"We'll head out now, boss. Everyone, follow me."
⠀
"See you all later."
⠀
⠀
The four of them crammed into the industrial elevator that led down to the underground railway, and this time Mori found he could actually keep his footing, even with Saoirse cackling the entire descent at his expense. Haddler leaned back against the wall, rolling his shoulders loose.
⠀
"So. Anything interesting about either of you two? Wouldn't want Mori hogging the spotlight all day." A pause. "Guess I'll go first, then. Haddler Zimmermann, Third Division, like I said. Something interesting about me... Hm. Hm..."
⠀
"...Hm."
⠀
"I'm right-handed."
⠀
"HOW DOST THOU LIVE WITH SUCH A DULL FACT TO OFFER?"
⠀
"Heheh. Guess I was just born that way." Haddler shrugged, entirely unbothered. "(〃´∀`〃)ゞ"
⠀
Yuhuan adjusted the yanyuedao at his side, apparently only just remembering he was still carrying it. "Yuhuan Lau. Eldest son of the Lau family, Fourth District."
⠀
"I'm Saoirse!"
⠀
"Great. So you're a nepo baby, and you're a psychopath."
⠀
"Well—"
⠀
"SAOIRSE IS NOT A PSYCHOPATH!"
⠀
Their argument was still going strong when the elevator ground to a stop with a hiss, opening onto the underground rail platform, where the Sub-Train sat waiting: an express line that ran across the endless void beneath the Ring itself, its ten cars strung together over nothing at all. The whole thing wasn't just powered by an ARCH.
⠀
It was one.
⠀
⠀
ARCH: Subterranean "Void Express" Train
⠀
Threat Level: GA (가)
⠀
Ability: Manifests as a ten-car train. Once boarded, transports passengers across the void to any previously visited destination they can collectively hold in mind. Should passengers imagine conflicting destinations, the train halts entirely. Upon full disembarkation, proceeds automatically to the next scheduled pickup point.
⠀
Weight: 4318.991 kg
⠀
Height: 304.8 cm
⠀
⠀
⠀
"Either of you ridden this before?" Haddler asked, settling into a seat across from them.
⠀
"Only for family functions," Yuhuan said. "Difficult to hold a destination steady at first. It gets easier with practice."
⠀
Mori leaned toward him. "Wait, didn't you say you grew up in a garden? Is your dad, like... a cabbage?"
⠀
"No. My estate is a pavilion. Not a vegetable patch."
⠀
Saoirse, mid-swing across the overhead grab rails, paused just long enough to repeat the word back at him, baffled. "Pa... vill...?"
⠀
"It's a large property. Fountains, hedges, that sort of thing." Yuhuan's voice flattened slightly. "I'd rather not dwell on it. Let's leave it there."
⠀
Mori nodded, easy about it. "Okay."
⠀
The train pressed on toward the Seventh District, some eighteen minutes out by feel, three thousand kilometers out by any actual measure, accelerating and decelerating however it needed to in order to make both numbers true at once.
⠀
"Here's the fun part," Haddler said, grinning, right as everyone's stomach dropped out from under them on the climb.
⠀
"The Post's platform sits higher than the one we boarded from. Perfectly safe. Just a fun little bump."
⠀
"Saoirse's stomach feels like a party thrown by cats and dogs...~ (´ཀ`」∠)"
⠀
Yuhuan gripped the edge of his seat through the deceleration that followed, jaw tight. Mori grabbed the pole beside him and still nearly lost his footing anyway, blinking through the sudden confusion of it.
⠀
"It's—! ...Slowing down??"
⠀
"Same mechanism either direction," Haddler said. "We're about halfway. Smooth sailing after this." He produced a hairbrush from somewhere and began working it through his hair with a care that looked almost ceremonial.
⠀
Saoirse had gone quiet in the middle of the cabin, which was itself strange enough that Yuhuan noticed and gestured for her to sit.
⠀
"You're welcome to join us, if you'd like."
⠀
Nothing.
⠀
"Saoirse?"
⠀
She was sick on the floor before Mori finished her name.
⠀
Nobody said anything for a long moment.
⠀
She sat down once she was fairly sure it was over, and the rest of the ride passed in a silence nobody felt like breaking. Mori watched the platform come into view outside his window instead, lit gold under neon, a spade-shaped emblem stamped with a black Roman numeral on the wall above it.
⠀
"Hey, I can see the station!"
⠀
"Long-hair. What's 'Iv' mean?"
⠀
"That's a four. Roman numerals."
⠀
All three of them turned to stare at him with the particular hunger of people who'd just discovered a topic none of them knew existed.
⠀
"If you wouldn't mind explaining," Yuhuan said, "what exactly are Roman numerals?"
⠀
"Wait, you don't know? I figured the Fourth would've covered that before us middle-class types even had books to read." Haddler warmed to the subject immediately. "Some guy in a place called Rome invented a whole different way to count. Instead of one, two, three, four, five, it's I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII... VIIII... VIIIII..."
⠀
Mori frowned. "There's gotta be an easier way to count past five."
⠀
"Are you calling me a liar?"
⠀
"N-No, sir!"
⠀
"When was it invented?" Yuhuan asked.
⠀
"Some negative year, I think."
⠀
Mori nearly slid off his seat. "A negative year?!"
⠀
"Yes. A negative year."
⠀
Haddler kept gesturing with the hairbrush as he talked, and Saoirse's eyes tracked it with the single-minded focus of a cat watching a laser dot.
⠀
"Hey, long-hair. Can I eat your brush?"
⠀
"Non."
⠀
The train hissed to a stop at the platform. Haddler turned to Saoirse as everyone filed off.
⠀
"Nothing to be embarrassed about. The train cleans itself up before the next batch of passengers boards. Though, " he considered it, "that would make excellent blackmail material."
⠀
Both puppets snapped up at once, faces contorted into something furious.
⠀
"DO NOT BLACKMAIL SAOIRSE!"
⠀
Yuhuan steered the conversation elsewhere before it could escalate further. "Will we have our own quarters, by chance?"
⠀
"Good question. Ask as many as you want, seriously. You'll all get shared rooms, split by sex. Since it's just the three of you, Mori and Yuhuan will bunk together." Haddler's smile flickered, just slightly, thinking through the current lineup of the women's quarters. "And you, Saoirse... I think you'll get along fine with your roommate."
⠀
He did not sound entirely convinced of that himself.
⠀
They reached the elevator, doors sliding open with a soft chime. Haddler pressed the amber-lit button marked T, and the car began its climb above the station. For a moment, none of them said anything at all, each caught in their own private version of the same thought: whatever waited above was going to be the start of something none of them could take back.
⠀
Fixer. The most dangerous title the Ring had to offer, worn only by people willing to trade a long life for a short, violent one. Mori didn't feel the old shake in his hands anymore, not the way he had during the exam. Whatever confidence had replaced it, he owed to the people now standing beside him.
⠀
But this wasn't a story with a soft landing built into it.
⠀
⠀
Elsewhere, in the Sixth District, far from any neon platform...
⠀
⠀
A short man in navy military dress stood staring into the dark seams of a suit of armor.
⠀
"Can you even see me in there?"
⠀
The voice that answered came rough and hollow, echoing out from somewhere behind the plating, no light escaping the cracks no matter how bright the room around it got. "Step back, cinder-face. Unless you're looking for a fight."
⠀
"Just checking!" The short man laughed to himself.
⠀
A third figure watched the exchange from against the far wall: tall, black hair half-tied back, a long blue guandao resting beside him, catching what moonlight made it through the window. He smiled, thin and sharp.
⠀
"You two might want to save the fighting for after the employer arrives."
⠀
"Don't act like you're better than us just 'cause you come from money," the short man snapped.
⠀
"Oh? You know my family, then." A slow, amused tilt of the head. "What else do you know about me? About the man in the armor, perhaps?"
⠀
"T-Too many questions! Everybody knows the Lau family on sight: blue robes, blue sword-thing, dead giveaway."
⠀
"Her, you mean." He lifted the blade into the light, turning it slowly. "This is lǎolao."
⠀
"Don't need the family history lesson. I'm just here for the paycheck."
⠀
The armored man spoke again before the short one could push further. "We should introduce ourselves properly. I hear this job's bringing in several Offices and Coalitions at once. I'll start. Given the nature of my work, I won't be giving my real name. Armor will do. Sixth Division."
⠀
"Ah. Well then, Lau Jianhuan, though you may simply call me Jianhuan if my full name proves too heavy a burden on your tongue. Ninth Division, newly appointed."
⠀
"Leopold. Eighth."
⠀
Jianhuan's mouth curled. "Why do you clip your words so short, Leopold? A tongue's meant to be used. What is it you're so afraid of?"
⠀
"Shut up."
⠀
"The employer's here."
⠀
The doors swung open, and a brown-haired woman crossed the room in heels loud enough to carry over the carpet, sharp makeup, sharper tailoring. She settled behind the desk without preamble.
⠀
"Howdy."
⠀
Jianhuan's expression soured. "How charming."
⠀
"I am your employer. Would you have preferred rudeness instead?" Her eyes caught the light, briefly, gold. "Let's skip the pleasantries. I've got work for the three of you, a temp assignment under the Bashnya banner. Locate and secure an ARCH for my collection. I expect results."
⠀
Leopold slammed a fist onto the desk. "Which ARCH, and where, lady? You gonna keep dancin' around it?"
⠀
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she leaned back and took a slow bite out of the empty air.
⠀
Something in Leopold's body gave, all at once, bones folding in directions bone had no business folding, blood welling up through a dozen new seams.
⠀
"Oh!~"
⠀
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
⠀
"Don't worry. He's still very much alive and aware." She took another bite. Leopold's bones snapped back into place in an instant, though his skin resettled wrong around them, his face dragged nearer his own knee than his skull had any right to allow. Armor stayed silent out of discipline. Jianhuan stayed silent out of something closer to delight.
⠀
Leopold tried to scream. What came out instead was swallowed by torn skin splitting along new lines.
⠀
"Oops. Let's try that again."
⠀
One more bite, and he was whole, gasping, hands flying over his own chest and arms and face like he needed to confirm all of it still belonged to him. She rose, crossed the room, and lowered his head gently into her lap, combing her fingers through his hair the way someone studies a specimen they haven't fully classified yet. Her eyes, when they lifted to the other two, had the particular emptiness of someone entirely elsewhere.
⠀
"The ARCH you're all looking for," she said, "is called Gun."
⠀
[...]
⠀
The silence that followed wasn't confusion this time, and it wasn't discipline either.
⠀
It was understanding.