"Good morning, Kieran," Melody greets me after I answer the call. "How are you this morning?"

Over the last week, I've learned that if she doesn't have a large load, she'll try to make some small talk. Well, I've only talked with her three times since Saturday, but three times in a week is pretty decent for me with the 'record' I have and how new I am to her agency.

Since today is a skill training day, I was hoping to have today off so I could go shopping for a jacket to wear over the hoodie. Sivalshi increased his speed up to fifteen miles a day as of yesterday morning.

I'm a bit surprised that we aren't feeling the speed, but I guess there's probably some sort of higher power involved. Or it could just be that it's still slow enough that we wouldn't notice the speed.

It's enough that they're predicting we'll be hitting the ice zone within a week, now. I really want a coat before then, and since I got paid yesterday afternoon, I didn't have time to go looking for a good coat.

I had time to go looking, just not at a store that would sell a good coat. My budget is still low, of course, but most of the coats around here are only about thirty to forty dollars, and they don't do too much. Enough to stave off the cold, especially when layered over a hoodie, but they're still a bit on the thin side.

For my first proper coat, I want it to have a fuzzy lining. From what I've heard, those are good at helping keep the wearer warm, better than the ones without.

Sadly, it seems that I'll have to put it off another day or two, depending on if I get offered a job tomorrow or not. I definitely like Melody and this agency better than my agent and the previous one, though. Other than last Saturday's job, I haven't been offered a single one outside of my range, and Melody has always been friendly.

So three encounters aren't much so far, but it's still enough to get a good judgment for the agent, I think.

"Cold," I answer her question.

"Same here," she says. "We barely have any heat at all. Enough to keep our fingers from stiffening up as we deal with the paperwork, but that's about it. Heating a building tends to be a little bit expensive."

"My apartment building doesn't even have a heating system," I tell her. "And with Sivalshi heading north, brr!"

"Well," she says. "I have a job request for a building that does have decent heat if you want."

If it has decent heat, then that means it's a decent company. At least, in terms of their finances. They'll probably want to pay a lower wage as compensation for having the heat up, and I consider that a fair price.

Melody's tone makes it sound like there's some sort of extra circumstance beyond me probably being paid minimum.

"However…?" I ask.

"However," she says. "It's until five tonight, which is an hour past your allowed time."

"Yeah," I say. "Sorry, but I'm going to have to decline. I have training at six every night, and I need time to get home to pick up my stuff for it and get there on-time. It's about a forty-minute walk."

"Yes," she says. "I understand that, Mr. Wolfe. You mentioned during our meeting the other day that you were undergoing additional training to allow you to take on security jobs as well. You had also come in to change over to our company with Lucas Lusvaris, whose family owns the Lusvaris Training Center. My assumption was that you were training there. If so, that's a fifteen-minute walk from this job, and I spoke with them and informed them that you may require the need of a place to store a bag as if a normal employee and Mr. Korriska confirmed they could arrange that."

Mr. Korriska? Is this job at the Korriska Building again?

"It is okay if you still wish to decline," she tells me. "You did state that was a hard rule, and I know you may wish to eat between work and training, Mr. Wolfe. I normally wouldn't consider offering a job outside of the hard limitations, but Mr. Korriska specifically asked for you, and I thought that you might be lenient if it was that close to where you train and allow you to store your gear, as your only stated reason was to allow you enough time to return home, grab your things, and head to your training.

"If you decline," she tells me. "I have a job for you from eight until two this afternoon, which pays twelve an hour. No break, as it's only a six-hour shift. It's to work at a waiter as a diner. There's another job, from nine until three, that pays the same wage of twelve dollars an hour, helping a company perform its deliveries."

Once again, she has alternatives lined up for me in case I wish to refuse the one that goes beyond my stated availability. This time, there are two alternatives. I'm hesitant to accept because I really want to enforce the availability, but the main reason for it is so that I can have the time to get home and then to the training center. If I can store my bag somewhere safely at the Korriska Building, then there's not much of a reason to decline.

"What's the job for Mr. Korriska?" I ask.

"He said it's the same as last week," she tells me. "And asked for you again as the preferred option due to the effort you put in being greater than most temp workers."

Oh, dear. Either I'm cleaning two conference halls, or it's the same room as last time, but just as bad. Maybe even worse.

"…and the pay?"

"It's two hundred per hall cleaned," she tells me. "Less if the room isn't cleaned to standards or finished."

It took me almost five hours to clean one room last time, but even if I only manage to finish one room again, that's still more than last time. I could really use the money and the circumstances are good for me and my schedule.

"I'll accept it," I tell her. "But only because it's close to the center and I can store my bag there."

Storing my bag is important because it means I won't need a trip home, and the distance means I can still make it in time even if I walked straight there, and I'd have time to warm up as well.

"Okay," she says. "I'll let them know to expect you. In regards to the circumstances, would that be acceptable, as long as the pay is high enough to compensate for going past your stated limits?"

"No," I answer. "With the Korriska Building, I'm making an exception because I've already worked there once and the circumstances work out for me. From dealing with the staff I interacted with before, I can trust that my stuff will be safe while I'm there."

"Okay," she says, then there's a pause again. "I've noted that into your file. If they put in a request again and it goes until five, would that be acceptable if the pay is decent enough?"

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Yes," I answer.

"I'm adding that in as well," Melody informs me, then there's another pause, probably as she adds it in. "They'll be expecting you at eight-thirty, Mr. Wolfe. Good luck, and have a good day."

"Thanks, and you as well."

Melody ends the call, then I check the time. It's seven-twenty, so I should probably head out. I finish up my breakfast of yogurt, nuts, and fruit, rinse out the bowl, then change into a clean outfit before grabbing my bag and setting off.

When I enter the building, I approach the reception desk, where a woman sits. As soon as I enter, I realize that it's pretty warm in here. Did they turn the heat up as well to help combat the cold seeping in due to Sivalshi's journey? Or to help keep the receptionist warm without needing her to wear something warmer than a polo? I'm certain it must get cold in here whenever the front doors open, and having the heat up high – at least in here – will help keep her warm.

It's only as I approach that I remember that last Saturday had a hot guy sitting here. At least he's not here today. I'm pretty sure that if I have to interact with him more, I'll develop a crush on him, just like with Lucas. That, or I've already started to develop one and it'll only get stronger.

"Good morning," I greet her. "My name's Kieran Wolfe. The agency sent me to clean a conference hall, they said?"

"Yes," she answers. "The first one is up on the fourth floor, Mr. Korriska said he'll meet you there."

The guy who the building is named after? Why am I meeting the big shot himself? In the four years I've been contracting out for jobs, I've never once met the big shot of a place I was at.

"Thank you," I tell her, then head to the elevator.

The ride to the fourth floor is silent, but when I reach it, the floor is noisy. There's a lot of chatter coming from the conference hall, which has both sets of double doors open. Standing in front of a series of large wheeled bins, along with a cart with buckets of water and some rags and rolls of trash bags, is the hot guy from last Saturday. He's dressed in a brown polo and tan slacks, and greets me with a gesture to cover my ears.

I do just as I realize there's an air horn sitting on the corner of the bin closest to him. Just as I notice the can, the hot guy picks it up and presses the bulb to release air.

Even with my hands over my ears, it's deafening. I can see kids and a few adults through the double doors, and the ones I do see jump at the sound. The hot guy continues pressing down on it for a solid minute, and I'm amazed he's able to do it with a smile on his face and without flinching despite not wearing ear protection of any sort.

Once a minute has passed, he releases the bulb and approaches the nearby set of double doors. There is absolute silence coming from the conference hall.

"The agreement was that you could stay until eight," he says without breaking his cheerful smile. "And I hit the button at precisely eight-thirty. Please remember to abide by the contract agreed upon, which states that you are to be packed and evacuated from the premises no later than eight in the morning. You now have ten minutes to remove yourselves or we will cancel the contract we have with your group."

"I'm sorry," a woman tells him. "It's just that the kids are so rowdy, and it's so cold outside with Sivalshi moving north so quickly, that-"

"I'm sorry," the hot guy says, still smiling. "But we need to clean and prepare this room for the group that comes in from Saturday night until Monday morning. By the time their stated end time occurs, they have already been gone ten minutes nearly every time. We will be more lenient with them than with a group that consistently violates the contract."

"You're going to send the kids out in this cold?" She asks. "Instead of letting us wait until it warms up-"

"By a few degrees?" He asks. "Ma'am, waiting an hour or two won't increase the temperature outside by much, if at all. I don't know what world you live in, Mrs. Hobe, but everybody lives in the cold in this city, and always have. We've already given your group an extra thirty minutes, ma'am. There's only so much warmer it can get in the cold zone. We've already granted you mercy by letting you rent this room out for thirty-six hours. If you wish to not have to deal without this, please abide by our contract so that we can properly serve all of our customers. Your group isn't the only one we deal with."

Mrs. Hobe stares at him, a tic working in her jaw, but then calls for everyone to line up and leave.

I walk over to the hot guy and wait as streams of kids under twelve escorted by only about ten chaperons total leave through both sets of double doors. There are at least a hundred of the kids.

Once the last of them has left through the elevator and the stairs, the hot guy lets out a massive sigh, his smile fading.

"I hate this group," he mutters.

"They're always a problem?" I'm starting to sweat wearing my hoodie, they have the heat on decently high up here, too.

"Yeah," he answers. "I was given the okay to cancel their contract, should they continue to push their luck. Most of our money comes from this sort of thing. Most families, even in the middle districts, can't afford to turn on the heater for much. It can take over a day just to get an apartment to a comfortable warmth, and then the cost of the electricity just continues to hurt their budgets due to the limited supply.

"My grandma decided to do this as a mercy," he tells me. "Invite in large groups for two nights, let them pay per person, and the overall cost for the heat will end up being split by the multiple groups being here as long as we charge a minimum of a thousand per session.

"That group," he leans onto one of the bins. "Is actually a bunch of kids from wealthier families that can actually afford to at least have some heat. It's being used as a way to get rid of the kids for a couple of nights so that the parents can do their own thing and not deal with the kids. It happens every week, and they rotate out which twelve adults watch the kids. This group is the absolute worst because they don't control the kids other than to keep them on this floor, and the kids were spoiled by their parents."

"Are you sure they're from the middle districts?" I ask. "That many spoiled kids sounds like an upper districts thing."

"They're from a freaking weird community," he shakes his head. "They're closer to the upper districts than the lower districts, but still in the middle districts. And trust me when I say that this room is awful. The adults with them don't care at all, and it's even worse this time."

"You know without seeing it?"

"I can see enough," he indicates the doors near us, which does show a lot more trash than before. "They never handle their trash. They went in with a lot, and no one left with any."

I shoot a worried glance at the restrooms. Will I need to clean those, too, as part of this job? If no one takes care of things, then the state of the restrooms will probably be worse than any of the restrooms I've had to clean before.

"We hire out a company that handles that," he snorts. "They'll be here in about half an hour to clean it up."

"You hire a company for that, but not the conference halls?" I ask.

"Erm," he says. "We used to hire a company for the halls. We canceled their contract last week because they told us they were increasing their rates. By the amount we were already paying them. Normally, they'd go in with ten guys and clean the room in three hours. Trash, spills, vacuuming, all of it. Left the halls in pretty good condition, and we paid them five hundred a hall. Not exactly the best of rates, but it fit within our budget. We would have been willing to up it to six hundred, maybe seven hundred. They wanted a thousand a room. That's a bit too much, and they weren't willing to budge, citing they had to transport all of their stuff in the colder weather. Dad decided to peep in on them while they were cleaning, and discovered that while it took them three hours to clean the halls, most of it was spent talking or screwing around. They were wanting to charge us even extra for them slacking off."

"So you're hiring out temp workers until you can find a new company?"

"For now," he nods. "Dad says it's probably cheaper to just hire the temp workers for now, then find someone or a few someones to just do the job for us. It cost us three grand to hire the company per cleanup day, since all six halls have to be cleaned the same days. They used two groups, completing all of the jobs in about ten hours when including breaks.

"Since it took ten people slacking off three hours," he tells me. "Dad figured it would take one person maybe two hours, so we put in a call for three people. With this particular room, that was a mistake, so thanks for staying extra last Saturday."

"How did the others go?" I ask.

"They managed to clean each of the rooms in about two hours," he answers. "Two to two and a half, anyway. It's a faster rate with just one person than it was with ten. In the end, we're paying less, but the people cleaning are earning more and everything happens faster."

"So it did work out," I say.

"Yeah," he answers. "So… are you ready to get to work?"

"Yeah," I look into the room. "I take it I'll probably be doing this all day?"

"Not if I can help it," he tells me. "I'm going to help you because this is just awful."

"Aren't you the son of the owner?" I remember who was meeting up here and what he said. "Or grandson?"

"Doesn't mean I can't do the work, too," he says. "And it's my dad. My grandma passed away one particularly cold night a few years ago. Come on, let's get to work. If we're lucky, the two of us together can finish by half-past eleven."