“Tama, what’s going on with the calls?” Megumi’s voice cut sharply across the office, her cape billowing as she strode toward Niwatori Tama’s perch.

The orb glowed indignantly. “Excuse me? My routing is flawless.”

“It just sent a dungeon crisis call to the Forgotten Artifacts Complaint Line!” Megumi jabbed a finger at a nearby mana monitor displaying a rapidly escalating string of errors. “How is that flawless?”

In the background, Hikari Tsubasa hovered nervously, clutching her orb. “Um, the adventurer is asking why their cursed mirror keeps ranting about ‘modern princess values.’”

Gobuto Haruo, meanwhile, was frantically scribbling on a piece of parchment. “I told them I’d escalate their issue! Is that what you’re supposed to say?!”

Tama’s glow dimmed slightly. “Listen, I’m under a lot of pressure here. The mana network is temperamental, adventurers are dramatic, and—frankly—none of you appreciate my brilliance.”

Megumi pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re an enchanted orb. Your entire job is routing calls.”

“And I’m doing it beautifully,” Tama sniffed.

A loud bang echoed from the monitor. Hikari flinched. “Um, I think the adventurer just smashed the mirror… It said something about ‘not needing a prince to save the dungeon.’”

“I’m filing this under ‘Not My Problem,’” Tama announced, its glow returning to full brightness.

Later, as the team scrambled to clean up the call backlog, Hikari passed by Tama’s perch with a bright smile. “Thanks for your hard work today, Tama! You’re such a helpful little chicken orb.”

The room went silent.

Tama’s glow flickered. “Chicken… orb?”

Gobuto perked up immediately. “Wait, it is kind of shaped like a chicken, isn’t it? If you squint a little.”

“I. Am. Not. A. Chicken.” Tama’s voice was tight, each word practically vibrating with indignation.

“Oh, come on,” Gobuto said, grabbing a quill from his desk. “Just let me draw a tiny beak—”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Tama squawked, glowing so brightly that the nearest mana monitor shorted out.

Mana sighed, calmly adjusting the energy flow from his desk. “Another tantrum? Is this about the chicken thing again?”

“I am an advanced magical artifact,” Tama snapped. “My design is whimsical, yes, but I am not a barnyard decoration!”

Gobuto opened his mouth to retort, but Tama’s glow dimmed ominously. “If you insist on insulting me, I’ll simply stop routing calls. Let’s see how you fare without my brilliance.”

“Tama, wait—” Hikari began, but the orb had already silenced itself, retreating into its perch like a sulking cat.

It didn’t take long for things to spiral out of control.

“Where’s this call supposed to go?” Gobuto shouted, clutching a glowing orb that sputtered with static. From the other side, a frantic voice crackled, “…just activated the rune, and now it’s laughing at me! Why is it laughing?!”

“Try the Trap Navigation line!” Hikari called back, juggling two orbs of her own. Her wings fluttered rapidly as one orb buzzed angrily, while the other emitted a faint drip drip drip sound.

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“But I already sent someone there!” Gobuto wailed. “And now they’re yelling about lava sharks!”

“What even are lava sharks?!”

“Not my department!” Gobuto stammered. “I—I think that might’ve been a dungeon prank rune!”

One of Hikari’s orbs suddenly erupted with a sharp voice. “HELLO?! IS ANYONE THERE? I NEED TO KNOW—WHY WON’T THIS DOOR STOP SCREAMING AT ME?!”

Hikari winced. “Oh no, I think I accidentally routed this to the Doomed Dungeons Registry!”

The orb in Gobuto’s hands glowed brighter as the adventurer’s voice rose in panic. “It’s still laughing! Should I laugh back? Is this a riddle?! I’m terrible at riddles!”

“Okay, okay!” Gobuto stammered. “Let me think! Uh, riddle traps love wordplay, right? Maybe laugh louder—outsmart it!”

A long pause. Then, faintly: “AH-HA-HA-HA-HA!”

“Why did you tell them to laugh?!” Hikari whispered urgently, balancing her own chaotic orbs while glaring at Gobuto.

“I panicked!” Gobuto yelped, spinning the orb in his hands. “It’s just laughing louder now!”

“HELLO?!” screamed one of Hikari’s orbs. “DOORS AREN’T SUPPOSED TO SCREAM. WHAT IS HAPPENING?!”

Hikari clutched the orb tighter, trying to keep her composure. “Um, just… politely ask the door to stop?”

“Politely ask?! IT’S A DOOR!”

Gobuto’s orb suddenly went silent, and his ears perked up. “Wait, maybe the laughter stopped! I think it’s working!”

The adventurer’s voice crackled faintly: “…It stopped. Oh wait. No. Nope. It’s laughing again. And now it’s closer.”

Gobuto slumped forward onto his desk. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

In the background, Megumi’s sharp voice rang out, cutting through the chaos. “If you two are done making things worse, get those orbs routed properly before someone gets eaten—or cursed!”

The situation came to a head when Megumi marched over to Tama’s perch, her expression a storm cloud of suppressed irritation.

“Enough of this,” Megumi snapped. “Get back to work, Tama. Right now.”

Tama didn’t respond. Its glow flickered faintly, signaling its ongoing sulk.

“You can’t ignore me forever,” Megumi said, crossing her arms. “And if you think I won’t replace you, I will.”

“Oh, please,” Tama finally said, its tone dripping with sarcasm. “Replace me? With what? A newer orb? Those flashy models with customizable glows? They don’t even understand call-routing theory!”

“I’ll make do,” Megumi replied curtly.

Hikari fluttered over, looking distressed. “Oh, Tama, don’t say that! We need you!”

Tama hummed faintly but didn’t respond.

“We really do,” Hikari continued softly. “You’re such a big part of the team! Things fall apart without you—literally.” She gestured toward the pile of scrolls that had caught fire in the corner.

Gobuto poked his head out from under his desk, his face covered in soot. “Yeah, we’re terrible at this. Please come back before someone dies. Or, uh, before I get fired?”

Tama’s glow pulsed slightly brighter, but it still hesitated.

Hikari placed a hand on Tama’s pedestal. “I’m sorry about the chicken comment. You’re not a chicken orb. You’re a brilliant, one-of-a-kind artifact, and we’re lucky to have you.”

Tama’s glow brightened, and for a moment, it almost seemed… flustered. “Well. I suppose I am irreplaceable,” it said with an exaggerated sigh.

“Glad you’ve realized that,” Megumi deadpanned.

“I’ll resume routing,” Tama announced grandly, “but only because I can’t bear to watch you all flounder any longer.”

“Thank goodness,” Gobuto muttered, pulling another glowing orb from the floor. “I think this one is about to explode.”

The moment Tama resumed routing, the orb on Hikari’s desk lit up with an urgent flash.

“Priority call incoming!” Tama announced dramatically. “It’s… catastrophic!”

Hikari scrambled to answer. “Hello! This is the Heroic Helpline—what’s your emergency?”

The adventurer on the other end was frantic. “I’m trapped in a dungeon with three active traps and no way out! There’s poison gas, rotating blades, and—oh gods, is that lava?!”

Tama immediately took charge, its glow intensifying as it routed detailed diagrams of the dungeon to Megumi’s monitor. “I’ve identified the adventurer’s location. The traps are linked to a central mana core. Cut the flow, and the traps should deactivate.”

“Central mana core…” Hikari relayed, fumbling for her notes. “Can you see it?”

“Yes, but it’s surrounded by spikes!” the adventurer wailed.

“Then get something long and sturdy to—”

The line crackled with static, followed by a loud crash.

“What happened?!” Hikari exclaimed.

“Oh, uh… I tripped,” the adventurer said sheepishly. “But I think I knocked something loose, because… everything just stopped?”

Megumi frowned at her monitor. “The mana core didn’t deactivate. The traps are still armed—they’ve just… glitched out. It’ll reset in five minutes.”

Tama’s glow dimmed slightly. “Lucky fool.”

“Let’s not tell them that,” Megumi muttered.

“Thank you so much!” the adventurer gushed through the orb. “You saved my life!”

Hikari smiled. “All in a day’s work!”

As the office settled into an unusual calm, Tama’s perch glowed softly in the dim light.

Megumi passed by, glancing at the orb. “Good work today, Tama.”

“Of course it was,” Tama replied haughtily. “I’m flawless.”

Megumi smirked faintly but didn’t argue.

In the quiet, Tama muttered to itself, “They’d be lost without me. Probably. Maybe.”