The Heroic Helpline Network was a place of quiet miracles—or noisy disasters, depending on the time of day. From their dimensional headquarters floating in the Astral Nexus, this team of unsung professionals helped adventurers across Telestria with crises that ranged from laughable to life-threatening.
On any given day, the hotline team might prevent a dungeon from collapsing, stop an adventurer from accidentally cursing themselves into oblivion, or talk someone down from fighting a dragon with a rubber chicken. To the rest of the world, their efforts were invisible. But here, amidst the swirling scrolls and crackling mana monitors, they were lifesaving.
And today, the office was about to welcome a new recruit.
“Wow,” Hikari Tsubasa whispered to herself, stepping through the shimmering portal.
The office looked nothing like she’d imagined—and she’d spent a long time imagining. Floating desks bobbed gently in midair, glowing scrolls zoomed from one end of the room to the other, and the soft hum of mana-powered machinery filled the space like background music. It was... magical, but also slightly chaotic.
Her wings fluttered as she stepped further inside, trying to take it all in. A small cabinet labeled “Mildly Cursed—Proceed with Caution” scuttled past her on stubby mechanical legs. A mana monitor near the entrance let out a faint pop and began smoking, but no one seemed concerned.
She couldn’t help but smile. It was nothing like the serene, orderly Fairy Glades where she’d grown up—and that was exactly what she wanted.
“Move aside before something explodes on you,” a sharp voice cut through her thoughts.
Startled, Hikari turned to see a tall woman approaching her. She wore a flowing black cape that billowed dramatically, even though there was no wind. Her dark hair framed a face that managed to look simultaneously unimpressed and slightly annoyed.
“Are you Hikari Tsubasa?” the woman asked.
“Yes!” Hikari said brightly, her wings fluttering a little faster. “I’m so excited to be here! It’s an honor to—”
“Rule one,” the woman interrupted, raising a hand. “Don’t touch anything that glows, hums, or looks cursed. Rule two: Don’t ask too many questions. Rule three: Don’t get yourself killed on your first day.”
Hikari blinked. “Is that... common?”
The woman didn’t answer. “I’m Kurohane Megumi, your supervisor,” she said briskly. “Follow me. Orientation starts now.”
Megumi didn’t wait to see if Hikari was following—she simply strode forward, her cape trailing behind her like a shadow.
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“Welcome to the Heroic Helpline,” Megumi began, her tone flat and professional. “We are the first and last line of defense for adventurers too incompetent to survive on their own. Which, if you haven’t noticed, is most of them.”
As they passed a desk, a goblin with oversized glasses and a nametag that read Gobuto Haruo was chasing a scroll that had caught fire. “Stop running!” the goblin wailed, waving his hands at the flames. “I didn’t enchant you to be sentient!”
Megumi barely spared him a glance. “That’s Gobuto, our intern,” she said. “Try not to trip over him. He’s underfoot more often than not.”
“Oh, um... hi!” Hikari called, waving at Gobuto.
Gobuto waved back distractedly, only to trip over his own feet and fall flat on his face. “I’m okay!” he called weakly from the floor.
A little further on, a glowing orb shaped like a chicken squawked loudly, “Cluck online, cluck on time! Priority call incoming!”
“Is that...?” Hikari began.
“Niwatori Tama,” Megumi said, gesturing at the orb. “The hotline interface crystal. It routes calls, prioritizes emergencies, and critiques everything you do. Don’t call it a chicken unless you want to spend the rest of the day arguing with it.”
“I’m not a chicken,” the orb squawked indignantly. “I am an advanced communication artifact. It’s not my fault my design is whimsical!”
They finally reached a quiet corner where a pale elf sat surrounded by glowing mana monitors. He didn’t look up as they approached, his eyes fixed on a series of shifting runes on the largest screen.
“Mana Shizuka,” Megumi said, jerking her thumb toward him. “Our systems analyst. He keeps the hotline’s magic running. Pray you don’t have to bother him—he hates being interrupted.”
Mana glanced at Hikari briefly, his expression unreadable. “New recruit?” he asked.
“Unfortunately,” Megumi replied, turning away before Hikari could introduce herself.
“This is your station,” Megumi said, stopping at a desk piled high with scrolls and a glowing orb similar to Niwatori Tama, though slightly smaller. “Sit down, take the next call, and try not to embarrass me. Or yourself.”
Hikari settled into the chair, brushing a few stray pieces of parchment out of the way. The orb on her desk began to glow softly, signaling an incoming call. She hesitated, glancing at Megumi.
“Well?” Megumi prompted. “Answer it.”
Hikari reached out and tapped the orb gently. A voice burst through, loud and panicked.
“HELLO?! Is this the Heroic Helpline? I’m trapped in a dungeon, and the walls are closing in! The floor is lava! And there’s a giant spider!”
“Oh no!” Hikari said, clutching the orb. “That sounds awful! Don’t worry—I’m here to help! Let’s start with the spider. Can you describe it for me?”
“It’s a SPIDER! WITH LEGS! MANY LEGS!”
“Right, of course,” Hikari said, her tone calm. “Have you tried... talking to it?”
“Talking to it?! IT’S A SPIDER!”
“Well, monsters are sometimes misunderstood,” Hikari offered. “Maybe if you compliment—”
Megumi snatched the orb out of her hands. “Pick up something heavy,” she barked into the orb. “Hit the spider until it stops moving. Then jump to the nearest non-lava surface before you die. Any questions?”
“Uh...”
“Good,” Megumi said, ending the call before the adventurer could say another word.
Hikari stared at her. “Was that... good customer service?”
“It was effective customer service,” Megumi replied, handing the orb back.
By the time Hikari’s shift ended, she’d handled three more calls with varying degrees of success. Her wings drooped as she leaned back in her chair, exhaustion creeping in.
“That’s enough for today,” Megumi said, stopping by her desk. “You didn’t quit. That’s better than most recruits. Try not to let it go to your head.”
“Thank you, Supervisor Megumi!” Hikari said, her voice soft but sincere. “I’ll do even better tomorrow!”
Megumi sighed, already walking away. “Optimists,” she muttered under her breath.
As Hikari gathered her things, she looked around the bustling office, a faint smile tugging at her lips. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t peaceful—but it felt right.