"See, Officer, I find clerks... hellish? Do you have a notion of hell? Mh. Where do the bad people go? I don't know... Rotten-ville? Anyway, all their little gestures, the incomprehensible lingo they adopt to confuse you—I mean, no one knows what module 57B is, so don't be smug about it! And that’s why hell/Rottenville is just a huge post office with infinite floors where the clerks keep sending you from one place to another, and you can never file your application to heaven, forever damned to this eternal torment of bureaucracy."

"Heaven?"

"Right... the opposite of rot. Blooming-ville? Yeah, Bloomingville it is," Lucinda doesn't seem to understand this explanation either, but is it my fault? I mean, yes. But is it really? Maybe. But should it be? Absolutely not.

"Anyway, every culture has its concept of hell, Officer. So how come Elves don't?"

"You mean a place where evil people go when they die? Like, the ones with red classes?"

"First, I have no idea what red classes are. Second, yes."

"We have suffered slavery, slaughter, and worse. Yet, I don't think Elves need 'hell.' We have lived our version of it already. The closest thing to that is thinking about whether your body will become part of the fertile soil again or pollute it. Old Elven tales say that the villages that committed atrocious acts simply died out because the very soil they lived off became a wasteland.”

"That is... dark," I say, surprised. It is hard to top biblical plagues. I mean, not even the angel of death sounds as ominous as bad dead people becoming poison for future generations. But it is extremely fitting, isn't it?

"Mr. Luciani, can we please get back to the interview? Or do you want to keep me here all day?"

"Definitely the second, Officer," I smile while the truth-stone confirms my wishes. "And call me Joey, please."

She reclines back and shakes her head, but I can see a smirk barely hidden on her face.

"Let's get down to the business, Mr. Luciani. Do you intend to hurt anyone in the city?"

"Only your suitors' hearts, Officer."

Green.

Officer Lucinda sighs, but there's a twinkle in her eyes that clearly looks like she's enjoying herself. It's not everyday that you meet a cute bag of tricks like this, Officer.

I'll admit too that Elves are not that bad. I mean, at least not the women.

"Do you carry any items that could potentially be dangerous?"

Uh-oh.

I have already told her about the book, but I haven't really said that it zapped a bird to dust.

She sees me hesitate, and for the first time, she raises an eyebrow in a rather inquisitive manner.

Oh, my, that really makes my heart flutter.

“Well…” I start, trying to think of a good comeback. But she’s looking at me with those deep purple eyes, and this time, I have nothing prepared!

What? You thought I was coming up with everything on the spot? Tsk, this takes preparation. I’m used to rehearsing conversations aloud while baking or with my mom. You don’t get smooth responses like mine just on the spur of the moment.

“So, Joey, what are you hiding?”

This time, she smiles openly. She’s clearly happy to have caught me with something. And let me tell you, I’m dying from how cute she looks with that impish grin. I wish I could make her a pie and bring it to her when she’s overworked; then I could look at that sweet and grateful expression as I drop off the snack, give her a warm smile, and a little peck on the lips, and go back to the bakery.

“I’ll repeat myself,” she says with her beautifully evil smile, “what are you hiding? ”

“Well, not my interest in you, Officer, that’s clear.”

Green.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

That was good improv, I must give it to me.

“So, what is it?” she rests a hand on her wand.

"Well, this chonker here," I say patting the volume, "might be choke-full of dangerous protection spells that don't get triggered when I touch it, but that have also eliminated a bird that landed on it, literally disintegrating it."

"Disintegrating it?"

"Blasting it into oblivion, kablammed it, basically."

"We’ve already covered the [Enchanter] part, but now I think it would be better if you had a written declaration stating the book comes with dangerous self-protecting—"

"Oh, no," I say as I see her pull out a form out of the huge book in front of her. "I'm not filling in any forms."

"This is not a form. Just write down how dangerous you think the book might be, and it will be used as insurance in case the [Enchanter] gets hurt while examining it. Otherwise, he could claim you didn't warn him. Considering how poorly Humans are considered, Joey, you better do it."

“No, no, no. I’m not doing any forms. Cuff me right now.”

I volunteer my wrists to Lucinda.

“It’s not a form, it’s literally one page of—”

“Cuffs, please! No forms! PLEASE!”

She is speechless. How a person can be so scared of bureaucracy is probably beyond her. But I value my time and my life. I’d rather do a month in prison and have a new set of stories to tell on my next date than write down things in a stupid form. Things that I know I would get wrong.

And if you think I’m paranoid, please, do consider that you are talking to a man who just got catapulted into a new dimension with a cursed spellbook, and who basically got arrested in the first hour of his adventure.

Just saying.

"This is for your own good; trust me," she says.

Even though I see the truth-stone turn green, I feel my hand shaking at the thought of writing that thing and I get dizzy. "Listen, Officer, could you write it for me, and I sign it?" That's the only way I can make this work. Barely.

Lucinda raises an eyebrow, but also scribbles something on the piece of paper, and then, hands it over together with a weird pen. I barely notice how the tool works—I just place a super-fast signature on it, without even looking.

"Are you always in the habit of not looking at legally-binding paperwork when you sign it?"

I let out a deep sigh as soon as I release the pen, already feeling better.

"If I can help it, sure. My mother used to take care of that for me," I say with a crooked smile. "That was one of the many things she used to do for me. My signature basically didn’t even exist—she just forged it from the very start. Well... it's going to be a problem now, isn't it?"

Lucinda's gaze softens and she carefully places the form back into the huge book/binder. "Elves have extremely precise paperwork for most things, Mr. Luciani. Our country values laws above everything else. Humans used laws to twist our arms and enslave us. That's why we are so particular about them. You will need to start taking care of contracts and documents. Or, if you can't, hire someone to do it for you. Without coin, though, I don't think it'll be easy."

"Well, I'm a good baker on his way to becoming an excellent [Baker]."

"Truth be told, if that spellbook is any good,” Officer Lucinda says while rubbing her forehead, “you might think about becoming an adventurer. With some basic spells, you could make much more money than if you simply became a—”

“Nope. Not interested. The only thing I’ll risk my life for is diabetes from eating sweets for the next fifty years of my life, thank-you-very-much.”

See, people might be after riches, fame, and power. Myself? Well, I'm after p—positively influencing many people. Yeah. Will I ever learn some magic? Sure. I mean, if it can be used for baking, why not? Or to teleport a cup of coffee from the kitchen to my bed. Or to become invisible and sneak into women's bat— well, you get the idea. You don't really need to go after power if you want to learn some magic.

“You might have a good spellbook on your hands, Mr. Luciani," and now, we are back to last names, "and you are not interested in adventuring? What were you doing in a dungeon, then? And aren’t you interested in testing your magical talent? I could do it right now.”

Now that she’s talking magic, her eyes are quite literally blazing. I can see what I assume to be Mana gather there as her hands shimmer with power. She also changed a lot after asking me about magic. She really wants to push me toward being a [Mage], huh? Well, I guess if you really like something you kind of suggest to everyone to do the same.

“Do you need to hold my hand to test my talent?” I ask, curious.

“Not really, you can simply stay there, and I can fetch a stone that—”

“Not interested then,” I say with a smile.

"What if that book contains some extremely powerful spells? If you really took it from a Dragon, it's not far-fetched to assume so. And good spells are usually well-guarded. It could jumpstart your career. You could even trade knowledge to an [Archmage] in exchange for tutelage. That's how some of the poorest [Mages] got to the highest echelons. They found some secrets about magic and traded them to an [Archmage] that then taught them all the basics."

"Nah. I don't get involved with people who could blast me to death. Also, how come all these secrets? I mean, I suppose there's no centralized, public magic education, then."

"Public? Why would a [Mage] reveal their secrets? They are how a [Mage] can reach the [Archmage] position and triumph over others."

Gee, she's starting to sound like a med student.

"Because everyone would get much better if all people shared what they knew?" I ask.

"I see, you are one of those people," Lucinda says with a head-shake.

Once again, I am one of those people. Goddammit. Twice in a day? Really?

"Our interview is over, anyway," I hear some disappointment in her voice as she accompanies me to the door. "I'll come with you to the [Enchanter] to ensure everything is good. I'll book the first spot available. Should I come to Happy Bakery and look for you there?"

"That works perfectly, Officer Lucinda," I smile at her. "And I hope that seeing my cooking skills at work will make you seriously reconsider the lidulae lasagna."

I part with her with my custom wink and return to the main hall of the Watch building.

It's time to look for a job.