Click. Clang.
The heavy door shut behind. The air inside the office was dense—soaked in the silent tension of consequences just set in motion.
The Guild Master stepped in, a handkerchief dabbing at his drop of sweat.
"I… I've done as you instructed, Sir Angel," he said, voice firm, if slightly gravelled. "He's been dismissed."
There was a pause.Then—
"You've done well, Guild Master," came a smooth, strange voice. "Now, the calamity shall not descend upon this town."
The words didn't come from a man, nor beast—not in the usual sense. Perched on the polished mahogany desk, tail curled neatly over his snowy white paws, sat a creature small and feline. Fur like fresh snow, eyes far too intelligent for a mere animal. A talking cat. Of all things.
It smiled—or something like it.
---
Later that evening — in a seedy tavern, somewhere near the market.
"Muhhhhhh haaaaaa!"
Stan slammed his mug down.
"You know why they fired you?" asked Sunfield,legs crossed high in a pose that could only be described as 'gyaru-core chaos'. She twirled a strand of blonde hair idly, watching Stan with a spark of interest—or amusement.
"They (hiccup) said…" Stan paused, struggling to balance thoughts and drink. "You are fired… and I'm fired… no reason... at all…"
"That's... definitely something," Nito chimed in from behind his drink. His expression was blank, but attentive.
Stan's eyes widened suddenly with a realization. "Wait—hic—does that mean they're gonna fire me either way ? Like… already fired… before it even happens… evening, or somethin'. One day… after before…"
And then he faceplanted into the table with the dullest thud.
"I'm heading out. Gonna poke around, ask a few questions," Sunfield said, hopping off her seat in a single, casual bounce. "You keep him."
Nito gave a small nod.
As she walked out, boots tapping against the wooden floor, Stan stirred, groaning.
"So we're alone now," Nito muttered, mostly to himself. "In this half-empty bar. Talking to a guy who's out cold."
But Stan wasn't out for long. He stirred, then slowly lifted his head.
"My life's been… so normal," he muttered, blinking. "Just—this morning, then that gigongomos thingy attackin' before breakfast… (hiccup)... then that demon in the afternoon, like what the hell… and next day boom—fired. But the demon wasn't in the normal timeline. Nah, man. Not normal... Not at all... It's so damn confusing…"
He slumped forward again, groaning into his folded arms.
And just like that, the night passed. Neither of them would remember it clearly.
---
The next morning
"Mmmffff... what a day," Stan groaned as sunlight stabbed through the worn curtains.
He sat up slowly, head pounding.
Knock knock.
"Who...?" he called out, still half-asleep.
"We're leaving soon. Be ready," came Sunfield's voice, sharp and clipped from behind the door.
---
Stan stood outside minutes later, bag slung over his shoulder. His only bag. In just one day, he'd lost his job, his official rank, and with it, the house that came with his station. Now, he was about to leave town—with nothing but the clothes on his back and a headache splitting his skull.
He stepped out of the lounge and found Sunfield waiting. Nito stood beside her, a large hiking pack strapped to his back.
"That's all you're bringing?" Sunfield asked, nodding to Stan's tiny bag.
Stan looked at her, then glanced at Nito's behemoth-sized pack. "…Yeah. That's everything."
"Any leads from your investigation?" he asked, adjusting the strap on his shoulder.
Sunfield exhaled sharply. "Nothing. No one knows anything."
Stan frowned. "So what now? Where are we going? Do we have a carriage waiting?"
"No need," she said casually, stretching her arms behind her head. "It's not that far. We'll walk."
There was something in her tone—too nonchalant. Too careful.
Stan narrowed his eyes.
Something about this journey wasn't going to be simple. Not at all.
"On foot?!" Stan blinked. "You mean… on legs?"
"Yup," Sunfield replied without missing a beat.
A sudden thought struck him. His steps slowed. His voice, hesitant. "…Wait. Wait-wait-wait. We're not going there, are we? Like, that haunted place? The creepy little ghost town with the fog and the eternal 'spooky o'clock' vibes?"
Sunfield didn't look back. "Yeah. We're headed there. Need to pick up two of our squad members."
Stan stopped walking.
"Two members?" he echoed like the concept had personally betrayed him.
Sunfield finally turned to him. "Uh-huh. Sooo, like, when we originally came to your town? Those two thought it'd great to first go to the side town"
She waved dismissively. "Don't worry, one of them team might have already cleared the town"
Stan raised a brow so hard it nearly lifted his hairline. "Oh, really? That's so comforting. So casual. Wow. Love the use of the word probably there. Very reassuring."
"Yeah... maybe," she added, less confidently this time.
"YEAH, MAYBE," Stan echoed, his sarcasm now operating at full power.
"Look, just move your legs," she said, her tone suddenly brisk. "We gotta get there before dusk. You definitely don't wanna be wandering into that place after the sun goes down."
That last line hung in the air like an unpaid bar tab.
And with that, Sunfield and Nito were already power-walking ahead like it was leg day at the gym.
Stan just stood there for a moment, arms hanging, face contorted in that special kind of expression reserved for people who definitely did not sign up for this. "Really?" he muttered to himself.
He jogged a bit to catch up, muttering, "Y'know, people say 'first impressions last forever.' And my first impression of you all... is that you are a walking, talking liability."
"Are you coming or what?!" Sunfield shouted back without turning.
"COMING!" Stan called, practically tripping over his own boots.
Because what could possibly be more ideal than starting your first day of unemployment by going to a cursed ghost town to pick up two people who thought it was a great place for a retreat?
---
To be continued... probably with ghosts.