Number 282 very rarely heard his own name anymore, at least during work. Sitting on a lonely, cold cubicle in a huge building in the middle of Ujong Tanah, thousands of kilometers away from our story… Number 282 could not feel more detached from everything in the world. His working space was reduced, barely customized with a few pictures of his family, for the old and bulky computer he worked with used most of his space.

He was what people usually know as a “Mechanical Turk”, an “anonymous working man”, an “automaton made out of flesh”. He had one task, and one task only, and he was paid miserably to do so: stare at the screen, and report any strange behavior happening in the private quarters of some woman in Obuda.

He knew nothing more of her, her life, or anything. And he was not paid to care in the slightest. It’s not like he was cruel and mean about it, either. It’s not like he didn’t sometimes think of the mysterious woman he spied on and worried about her fate… but again, he was not paid to do that. And with the soulcrushing amount of staring and reporting he had to do? Soon the concerns dissipated from his mind.

Number 282 was a sleeper, like the many ‘snitches’ contracted by the Brotherhood. A mere Sleeper, kept in the dark about what he was looking at. The higher ups never answered his questions: For example, the woman disappeared often, how did she do that? Why did she do it and where did she go when she did that? Not on his paygrade. Stop asking things.

He reported the woman’s disappearance every time that it happened, and that was the end of it.

But that night? That night the woman not only reappeared… she brought company. Some random guy had appeared in the room and was now walking around like nobody’s business. The woman appeared too soon after.

“What the Hells…?”

Now, he had been told weird things were going to happen here, and he was used to teleporting ladies now, but this new guy? Who the hell was he and what did he want here?

He immediately picked up his phone and dialed the number for emergencies.They picked up instantly.

“Number 282. What is your emergency?” A gentle, feminine voice attended. The young man smiled a little bit, the executive always got him a good mood.

“Ah yes. Hello. Uh, there’s a new person here now?”

“...Excuse me, could you repeat that?”

“There’s a new person in the camera. Some random guy.”

There were strange sounds on the other side of the phone. Coughing, gasping, gesticulating. All until the executive spoke again.

“I will inform the superiors about this, please wait in line.”

Calm and smooth music started playing on the phone, as the young man simply looked up to the ceiling and waited on his chair, making it spin slowly. It took a long while of waiting until the executive actually got back to him.

“We’ll access your computer for a moment, okay? Please don’t touch the keyboard or the mouse while we do this.”

“Sure.”

The whole ‘remote access’ deal was honestly a bit unnerving to the young worker. Just, watching the mouse suddenly gain a conscience of its own and move around? Terrible stuff, really. But, he couldn’t really do much more than just watch.

“I see… this person is new, he’s not in any of our files…” The executive was talking without thinking.

“What was that?” The young man asked.

“Nothing, nothing. Thank you for informing us of this, we will add a bonus to your monthly pay for your services.”

“Oh yes! Thank you!”

Click.

The young worker celebrated, this would certainly bring a smile to the face of his beloved! But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just gotten the woman on the screen into some big trouble.

Oh well. In this world, one had to look after their own interests, or they couldn’t get anywhere.

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The alchemist was already a little tired from all the interactions she had to endure today. Tav had fallen completely silent soon after they had both left the apartment, but the silence between them wasn’t comfortable. Mustafá cursed her empathy, as she could clearly feel the intense turmoil going on in her apprentice’s mind. She frowned and closed her eyes for an instant, breathing in and out, trying to think. Where did this all come from?

The old mage was not one to take care of the emotions of others, for she considered such efforts to be completely useless in the end. People got hurt, it was up to them to get back up. and continue on living.

… Why did this feel so oddly familiar, though?

The ringing of her phone interrupted her thoughts. A perfectly generic tune, for customizing efforts would be pointless. Mustafá sighed and picked up the phone, giving Tav one look as they both went into the building’s old and rusty elevator. They stood close to each other as the rusty metal box began sliding down.

“What.”

“Hello, miss Mustafá. How are you feeling?” The feminine voice of a Brotherhood Executive spoke through the phone with all the energy in the world.

“Cut the crap, Dawn.” Mustafá knew Dawn for a while now, one of the two executives in charge of her case. “What do you want.”

“...So much for a pleasant conversation.” All the excitement and warmth abandoned Dawn’s voice almost instantly. “May I ask what you are doing right now?”

“None of your business.” The less Mustafá could relay to the Brotherhood, the better.

“You know it kind of is my business.” Dawn tried to impose a bit of authority.

“And that is not my problem. At all.” Mustafá felt no compassion whatsoever for members of the Brotherhood, not even ones she knew personally.

“Urgh, come on Mustafá, please? I am literally begging you here.” Dawn had learned, the bad way, that sometimes humiliating herself was the only way to advance with this woman.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“I am going to buy bread.” She said, simply.

There was a pause.

“...Alright? And who’s with you?” The executive decided to focus.

“None of your business.” Mustafá cut those ambitions down very quickly.

“He doesn’t have a license and is not on any of our files, but you brought him to Obuda via instant transportation. That is a crime.” Dawn tried to pressure.

“It is not. She’s a mage.” Mustafá crossed her arms

“S-She?” The executive hesitated.

“She.” Mustafá reaffirmed without even missing a beat.

“Fine. She. She is an unlicensed mage.” Dawn insisted. “You can really get in trouble for this on–”

“Rulebook 1, Item 18, addendum 2.”

There was silence while Dawn quickly scrambled to read what Mustafá was citing.

“Let’s see, yadda yadda yadda, ‘Any Bastard has a period of one week since their first encounter with a Brotherhood Officer to ask for their License before they can be held in contempt.’... Urgggh.”

“She’s not in the files, is she?” Mustafá shrugged, as the elevator loudly descended. “That means she has not been contacted by the Brotherhood yet. She still has time.”

“... Look, Mustafá, please. Work with me here. You know your situation is not exactly normal! Pretty please!?” Dawn was not above begging, clearly.

“Fine. She’s to be my apprentice from now on. After we get this bread, we are going to get her license.” There were loud coughs on the other side of the call. Mustafá sighed. “Tell Jasper to calm down. I take apprentices from time to time, get over it.”

“Ok… please include this in your monthly report?” Dawn tried to regain some of her bubbly personality. “I really don’t need more trouble today!”

“Sure.”

“Good talk. Thank you~.”

Click.

Sigh.

The old alchemist put her phone back in her pocket, and as the elevator continued to descend, she finally gave up and looked at the mumbling Tav.

“... Breathe in.”

“W-Whuh?” The apprentice looked up. Her eyes were a little red, a little swollen.

“Breathe in. Do it now. Hold it in for two seconds, then let it out slowly.”

Tav looked a little doubtful, but she did as told. There was probably no energy in her to complain anymore. Eventually, she let it all out

“...Sorry…” She mumbled, hands fidgeting with each other.

“Don’t be. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“It’s just…” The bastard mage tried to speak up, but then they quieted down. They were probably wrestling with the idea of opening up. Mustafá frowned, examining at her apprentice from top to bottom. What a mess, Tav had been biting her nails, her hands were trembling and fidgeting nervously, and despite the short breathing exercise, she was clearly still in distress.

Mustafá knew what had to be done… but she did not like it in the slightest. Still, as the elevator came to a stop, she decided to take the metaphorical plunge.

“... We will have a talk when we return to your home.”

Now this took Tav completely by surprise. Her posture straightened a little bit.

“H-Huh?”

“There’s something on your mind.” Mustafá continued. “You will let it out when we get home. That will give you time to actually think about it and order the ideas.”

There was another motion in Tav’s body, she was.. relaxing, at least a little bit. Predictably enough, the apprentice only needed to be reassured.

“...Thank you.” She said, trying to put up a smile. The alchemist turned away, not really enjoying the sight of a forced grin like that.

Mustafá knew this was not a good idea. This would only get her more involved with this unstable individual! But by now she was remembering what made this whole situation so familiar.

This felt just like when she had to teach Telonius, back in the days of the First Sacrifice.

For some reason, she felt like this parallel wasn’t an accident at all…

“Damn you, Humiko.”

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Seeing magic in action was a little shocking. Honestly, I wasn’t really processing the fact that I am on the literal other side of Jericho until I actually went out of the building and saw the picturesque streets of Obuda. Turns out this woman has a rather well placed apartment, right besides a Museum and not too far from the beautiful Central Market, a huge building constructed with orange brick and metallic details.

The air feels so different in a touristic city, people are taking their time watching every detail of the place and taking picture after picture of every beautiful corner. They feel happier than the folks at Saüle, much more energetic too. The weird thing though, is that I could understand everything. The collar is probably translating for me, even if the words were in languages I can’t even identify, I can get the gist of what they said.

I can hear entire phrases being said in what I assume is a slavic language, and seconds later I am hit by the realization that they are a couple of tourists from Georgia, trying to decide what to have for lunch. In the same way, I can hear people mumbling and comparing their own homes to this beautiful city, looking for pieces of memorabilia and souvenirs, clumsily trying to communicate and peddle services to one another. It is kind of a mess… so much noisier than in Saüle.

“I… guess this doesn’t work for written words, right?” I manage to say, still trying to recover from that fit of anxiety.

“It does. But only for languages spoken by humans.” Mustafá answers with a hint of sadness on her words. If only things were ever simple.

I guess magic doesn’t count for that, huh? Strange limitation, but I guess it makes sense that you can’t use magic on itself. That would be … uh… metamagic?

“You’re just making up words now.”

I guess so.

“This is my favorite Bakery.” Mustafá suddenly says.

I have to stop to look at her, and then at the little shop in the middle of the Central Market. The scent of freshly baked goods is alluring, but it is sadly mixed with the smell of people pushing each other to try and get some traditionally made bread for tea time.

“Is it… good…?” I wonder out loud.

“Yes.” Mustafá nods. “Fairly priced, good crunch, golden crust. It doesn’t get better than this.”

The woman clearly has some strong opinions on bread. I just nod and let her enter. While Mustafá is in the bakery, I simply stop and look down on my feet, waiting for her return. I don’t feel like getting into places full of people right now… I also don’t feel like being perceived at all right now, but I guess there are some things we simply can’t help.

“You should use this time to think about what you’ll tell her at home.”

Well, yeah, maybe.

“What is she now, your therapist? Want this to end up just like those times? Keep quiet.”

“She offered. That means she cares.”

“Why would she care, though? She just met you. This is probably a chance for her to tell you to shut up and fuck off.”

My hands get sweaty and restless again. Can’t we just not do this? Not now, or ever really? Let’s just… continue as if I had never shown any freaky attitudes. Yeah. Let’s just ignore what I say and do, and focus on magic!

“Exactly. Magic is all that ties you to this woman.”

Mustafá arrives soon enough with a bag full of warm, freshly baked bread.

“I, uh. I’ll pay you back for this.”

“You will. But not with money.” The mage keeps on walking. “Come now. We’re wasting time.”

I doubt for a moment before actually following, trying to speak up.

“Uhm, about that talk you wanted to have…”

“You’re chickening out.” She doesn't even turn around.

“W-What!? No, it’s not like that. I just, uhm…” I don't have enough time to conjure a lie in these conditions!

“I may have a solution to the problem that attacks you. But we need to have that talk first.” Mustafá still refuses to look me in the eye.

“The problem that attacks me…?” I blink a few times.

She refuses to elaborate, simply walking on. Why.. does this feel so promising? Watching this tiny woman stride with all the confidence in the world, it makes things feel much easier to deal with. I've been listening to the way she speaks to people, she doesn’t take shit from anyone! My anxiety soon turns to sudden anticipation. What could be on her mind? If she says that she can fix this, she certainly can! I believe in that for sure!

Not even the voices seem to be capable of doubting her!

I… honestly don’t know what that means, but maybe magic could finally make me feel less miserable. Like, magic antidepressants or something.

I begin following with renewed interest. This is promising.