Seo-ah was peeved.

In consideration of her first date with Pearl’s latest find, she hadn’t had a cigarette all day. She knew some people didn’t like the smell of smoke. Her abstinence was a gesture — a sign that although she hated going on these blind dates, she was still willing to try. She’d put in the effort, because her sister asked her to. She owed Pearl that much, at least.

But whomever she was meeting obviously did not feel the same way. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have made her sit at the table by herself, constantly deflecting waiters and assuring them that yes, there was a second person coming.

At least it was a pleasant day to sit in the sun. Pearl had picked the place for them — a renovated shack next to the Pelafro Lake in Four City. It had been a pub for a while, but then several patrons had gotten too drunk and decided to go for a skinny dip in the lake. After they were rescued from their near-drowning, the pub owners thought it might be better to set up shop away from large bodies of water.

Now that it had changed hands and undergone some rebranding, it was a cute place to grab a coffee or sit down for lunch. Their pulled-pork sandwiches were the talk of the town, though Seo-ah thought she might never have the opportunity to try one. If her date didn’t show up soon, she’d have to leave. Lunch breaks don’t last forever, even when there’s nothing to do at the office.

“Sorry I’m late!”

She looked up. There was a guy standing opposite her, struggling to unhook his chair from the wide legs of the table. He had short-ish black hair that looked like it might have been washed at least somewhat recently, and a reasonably attractive — if somewhat gaunt — face. His plain clothing didn’t reveal much to her detective’s eye — compared to the rest of Pearl’s rich-ass Hunter friends, he didn’t show off his wealth. As far as Seo-ah was concerned, he received a tick in this regard.

But his tardiness was unforgivable.

“I already ordered my food and finished it,” she said. It was a blatant lie, but she liked to make them squirm. One time, her prospective date had answered with ‘I was wondering why you looked kind of bloated, so that makes sense’. That date had lasted approximately as long as it took to dump a bottle of water over his head.

“Crap, sorry. I was already late, then the train got delayed — some idiot on the tracks, apparently. I can grab the cheque as an apology, then we can walk around the lake?”

Externally, Seo-ah remained passive. On the inside, she gave the guy a second tick. He was far from passable, but it wasn’t the worst answer ever.

“I was kidding. Let’s order. It’s Chase, right?”

“Sure is. And you’re Kim?”

She nodded. “Sure am. Technically it’s Seo-ah, but don’t bother. At this point, I’m starting to think that I’m the one pronouncing it wrong.”

Her ‘date’ laughed. At least he had a sense of humour. It reminded her of a time that—

No. Stop making comparisons.

She’d sat through a fair few of Pearl’s blind dates, and in that process built up a decent repertoire of awkward encounters and anecdotes. She had a bad habit of comparing them to one other, categorising each as if it were evidence in a case. She put pins through photos of suspects, connecting the dots with red string until something clicked.

So far, she was yet to solve this case. The world of dating and relationships was one big mystery novel where every witness committed perjury, the judge was on shrooms, and the lawyers forgot whether they were defending or prosecuting.

Anyway.

“So how do you know Pearl? Through Majesty, I’m guessing?”

“That’s right. Working in the same Dungeons for two years, but neither of us knew each other’s name until recently.”

Seo-ah frowned. That didn’t make sense at all. From what Pearl had told her, the Hunters hung out together all the time. Majesty was renowned for their Hunter’s healthy work environment. There was that incident with the three Haulers who were killed, but it sounded like a freak accident. She knew all too well that Talentless people and Dungeons didn’t go hand-in-hand.

“How did you fight monsters together for all that time, but never speak? Surely you had to work together?”

Chase tilted his head as though it was a dumb question. She felt her cheeks flush, feeling as though she’d missed some obvious detail.

“I’m not a Hunter,” he said. “I’m Talentless. A Hauler, kind of.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I just assumed…sorry, I’m an idiot. I’m Talentless, too, if that makes it any better.”

The waiter came and they ordered their food. She went for the pulled-pork, as planned, and Chase asked for something called a shakshuka.

“Where were we? Oh, right, the woes of being Talentless. How do you manage?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Seo-ah laughed. She was confused when Chase remained impassive. “I mean, I don’t know if I have any woes to speak of, at least when it comes to magic. Do you not feel the same, uh, fulfillment in your job?”

Her date seemed lost in thought. He was either choking on a sip of water, or surprised at her outlook.

“I…well, I wanted to be a Hunter ever since—” he paused, drifting off a little— “a long time. I thought everyone wanted to do Raids and shoot fireballs from their eyes and stuff.”

“That sounds painful, so not really my style. I get what you’re saying, but it’s not like everyone can dress up in enchanted robes and throw themselves at hordes of monsters all day. There’s a lot more going on in the world than just that.”

“Such as?” Chase challenged.

Seo-ah was interested in the intensity behind his question. It was unfortunate that someone so devoted to the world of Gates, Dungeons and monsters could be so cruelly shut off from that opportunity — forced to sit on the sidelines and watch others casually achieve his dream.

“Well, I loved my job at the CIU. I dealt with real issues, took some risks, did things that got my blood pumping. And now at the GRA, I see some interesting stuff.” She allowed herself the tiny white lie about her current job. It was a first date, after all. Emotional baggage waits until at least the third.

We’ve barely finished lunch and you’re thinking about a third date? She nearly slapped herself on the wrist for having such an intrusive thought.

Chase seemed to consider it for a while, then shrugged. “I guess I never really thought about a career outside of Raid work. As soon as my System appeared and told me I was Talentless, I turned off my Relay. Applied for the Hauler role at Majesty the same day, and I was at work two days after that. Bills to pay, and whatnot.”

“Woah. No break, huh? I’ll admit finishing school kind of sucked when all anyone could talk about was their Rank and their Talent and which guild they were going to apprentice at.” Seo-ah paused. “Actually, hang on a sec. Did you say you turned off your Relay?”

“Sure did. I don’t need the System chatting in my ear all day.”

Seo-ah was astounded. She, like most others, treated her System like her own personal assistant. It kept her calendar, reminded her what she needed to get at the supermarket, hell, sometimes she just chatted with the thing, curious if it might reveal some of the mysteries of its origin.

Like the billions of people who’d tried over the years, she received no answers to that final query.

“That’s fully mental. So if you want to check when the trains are running, how do you do that?”

“I go to the station and check the destination boards. Maintenance is pretty rare, anyway. They mostly run on-time.”

“No way.” This guy conflicted with her so bad. She had to resist running through a list of circumstances to see what solutions he spat out. She allowed herself one more. “What about on bin collection night, when you can’t remember if it’s recycling or organics that week? What then?” She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. It was a fun game.

“I just put out both. Although, I’m living in Three City at the moment — the apartment complex does all the trash and recycling stuff.”

Seo-ah shook her head. “Amazing. I’ve never met someone under the age of eighty who doesn’t use their Relay. The more you know.”

They ordered a pot of chai tea and kept talking. Eventually, Seo-ah saw the time and nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Shit! I’ve gotta get back to work. This has been, uh, surprisingly nice actually. Pearl doesn’t always—” she threw back her chair and waved over the waiter. “Anyway, I hope your afternoon of Hauling is fun, and, uh, if you really can’t stand being Talentless, then I dunno. You could always just shoot the monsters or something.”

Chase’s head snapped around in an instant. Kim was caught up in a whirlwind, trying to fling on a cardigan without tossing her bag off her shoulder into the lake.

“What did you say?” he exclaimed. “Shoot monsters? Do you know people who do that?”

Seo-ah gave him a quick glance and waved him off. Revealing details of an ongoing investigation was a no-no, and she’d already said enough. “What? No, I was just messing around. I’ve really gotta go, but I’ll message you?”

Chase could see her planning her route through the maze of tables, waiters and patrons. He didn’t have much time. “Wait! Wait, would that be legal? If someone was caught doing that, would they, like, go to jail?”

She paused momentarily. “Erm, it’s just a hypothetical. Not really something that’s happened before — like if your breakfast became sentient and you still ate it, would that be murder?” Chase looked utterly confused by her example, so she elaborated. “There’re no laws for it because it just doesn’t happen. If it did, though, I think it would be a tough pill for the public to swallow. Imagine what people would think if there were Hunters walking around with pistols jammed in their waistbands and AK-47s in their basements? We have enough problems with criminals doing the same thing.”

Chase could see she was eager to leave, so he stood up and awkwardly shook her hand. He took the awkwardness as a good sign — like neither of them were sure if a hug was a good idea, or overstepping. He thought it had been a decent date, though he wasn’t sure if his interlocutor thought the same.

That evening, as he hoisted a fresh bottle of supplemental oxygen onto Gramps’ machine, he drafted a message to Kim in his head. He needed to know more about the lawless space he was operating in; the ‘sentient breakfast’, whatever that meant. She seemed to know more than she was letting on, or at least had a more developed understanding of the implications if his scheme was uncovered and he was unmasked.

Also, he was…interested? Intrigued? It was hard to differentiate between his desire for information and just wanting to hang out with Kim. He felt like a bad person, like he was some undercover cop siphoning information from the Mafia.

She’s not a frickin thug, Chase. Just a person. A person you like who also happens to have information you want.

It didn’t make the gnawing feeling in the corner of his soul go away, but it stopped moaning and groaning about its sad tale for the time being. He could deal with that.

He sent the message (after hesitating for an eternity) then slumped into bed. In the darkness, the hologram of his System bloomed like a neon store-sign only he could see. There was one last thing that Kim had reminded him of. Something he’d spent two years pretending was unavailable to him. Instead of exiting the interface and going to sleep, he wavered over an option in his settings.

[Relay] (Off)

He took a deep breath and activated it.

“Hey, uh, System. Long-time no see, I guess.”

The electric blanket wasn’t on, but he could feel his back and neck warming. He waited, throwing off his doona in case he boiled alive.

Nothing.

Then he remembered. When he told Kim that he turned his Relay off straight after learning he was Talentless, he’d lied. He’d done one thing between those two events.

He’d named his System.

He searched through the annals of his memory, found what he was looking for, and tried again.

“Enro? You there, bud?”

He waited.

{I am here.}