The little bell that hang over the door of “Chez Manon” rang, indicating that a new customer had arrived.

“Good morning madame.” I greeted the customer.

“Yes, good morning. I will be getting a-” The woman paused, and looked up the menu written on the wall above the coffee machine.

I patiently waited for her to decide. This café only got two types of visitors: locals and wannabe social media stars. This woman definitely fell into the latter category. Even by Paris standards, her outfit was too much of a fashion statement. I peeked over the counter to check if she had a bag with a tiny dog in it. She seemed like the type who would, but unfortunately she didn’t.

“I will be having a vanilla late with oat milk, extra whipped cream. Large, hot, to stay in.” She finally said.

“Will that be all? Today’s special pasties are raspberry meringue cakes.” I said, as I gestured towards our cake vitrine.

“No, just the latte, thank you.” The lady shook her head. “Oh, and before I forget, display status window.”

I held myself back from sighing out loud. I already knew what she was getting at even before the semi-transparent screen popped up before my eyes.

Marie-Charlotte De Firland

she/her, they/them

28

B+

Brawler

Finesse Martial Arts

Foresight [Ac]

Illusion [Ac]

Environmental Awareness [Ac]

Stealth [Pa]

Fitness [Pa]

luck

36/100

MP

73/100

Strength

13

Dexterity

17= 8 + 9(class benefit)

Constitution

10

Intelligence

11

Wisdom

12

Charisma

15= 13 + 2(fashion statement)

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I couldn’t help by be impressed at the high charisma score. I wondered if Etienne, my co-worker, would notice me more if I dressed like this woman. I briefly wondered if I should ask her for advice, but she quickly snapped me back to reality with the following comment:

“As you can see, I am a high ranker. So, what kind of discount does this establishment offer?”

“I am very sorry, but we do not offer any discounts based on rank. However, if you want, I can offer you a loyalty card? Buy six drinks, and the seventh is on us.”

I wanted to add that a B+ wasn’t even that high of a rank, but I deemed it too rude. Plus, that remark would have held no substance without me revealing my own rank, which I was firmly against.

“No, I’ll have just the latte.” She said with a sour tone.

“Then please take a seat, I will bring it to your table.” I answered.

My workplace saw customers like this almost every day. This was an unfortunate side effect of living in a world governed by magic, skills, and classes. Someone born and raised in this version of Paris might see no issue with it.

Ranks went from F to S, with most adults of able body and mind ranking somewhere between C and A. Those with higher ranks were heavily encouraged by the government to make a career in the military. They received special perks like free housing, free healthcare and education, and of course discounts at most stores, restaurants and hotels. On paper anyone could join the military to enjoy these perks (in addition to a very thick monthly slip), however they were expected to serve at least two years in the Wild Lands, and permanently be on call when in civilian areas in case of a monster attack.

These attacks were getting less and less frequent each year, making it easier for high rankers to work jobs they actually enjoyed.

As I made the coffee for my latest customer, I thought about how lucky I’ve been not to have experienced any of these monster attacks since I’ve arrived to this world. The whole System had been enough of a cultural shock to last me a lifetime. But I think I must have had some sort of passive skill that somehow calmed or contained my emotions because the thought of not seeing my friends or family ever again didn’t hurt as much as it should have.

“Here is your coffee, and your change. Have a nice day.” I said before going back to my thoughts.

It sounded so unfeasible, so senseless, the how and why of me ending up here. Up until three months ago I had been an engineering student at Polytech, the best university in all of France. I was on my way to see my grandma who lived in Nord-Pas-de-Calais, not far from Lille, when a passenger on my train pulled out a machete and started yelling some religious slang while slashing at the passengers. I had been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and next thing I knew, I woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom.

Well, that last statement wasn’t exactly true. I recognised the bedroom right away from one of the complementary illustrations included in the sequel to my favourite book series “The guide to modern immoral immortality”. Unlike its name might suggest, this book was not rated 18+, although it did cover a lot of heavy and controversial topics like suicide and abortion.

This book followed an average joe who lived in a world of skills, levels and cultivation. Although the word “cultivation” was rarely used in the book itself, it was clear that the author had taken some heavy inspiration from Chinese literature. The protagonist of the book had a unique class called “Enlightened”. This meant that he was the only living person in the world able to decipher the meaning of skills and sub-classes. But instead of using this class feature to enlighten society, since skill and sub-class descriptions were unavailable to most people, he had his mind set on becoming immortal. He journeyed across Asia, and then across the rest of the world, building a team which would help him achieve his goal.

The original book saga, comprised of eight volumes, ended as the protagonist defeated the lord of monsters, and stole its soul to become immortal. Then came the sequels, and the spin-offs, one of which took place in France –

“Laura!”

A hand touched my shoulder, and I jumped away, startled.

But it was just Alexandra, the girl who worked on the floor with me on Thursdays.

“By the five lords, you startled me.” I said, before quickly looking around to see if there were any customers in need of attending.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She answered, and fiddled with the edges of the white gloves she wore. “I was wondering if you could cover the rest of my shift for me? It’s basically dead now, and Bart just messaged me asking if I could leave early…” She trailed of.

There were two kinds of people who worked at “Chez Manon”. Those who didn’t want to reveal their class, and those who didn’t want to reveal their rank. Alex fell in the latter category. She was a telepath, an Oracle sub-class, and had issues controlling when or if her powers activated. I was certain there was more to the story that she wasn’t telling me, but all I knew was that she did her best to avoid accidentally reading anyone’s mind by wearing gloves, avoiding physical contact, and practicing mindfulness and meditation during her breaks.

“Yeah, of course.” I agreed. “And, umm, maybe you could have Bart come have a look at the coffee machine one of these days? I’ve noticed that it has been taking longer and longer to turn on.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

Bart, her boyfriend, was an Artisan. Although it would have been better to have an Artificer look at the coffee machine, our manager was always conveniently short on money, so we had to do with what we have.

“Then I’ll see you on Tuesday.” Alex said as she took her apron off and hand it on the hook by the back door.

“Yes, have a nice-”

A loud screeching sound came form the street. It was soon followed by a pair of tiny, ugly, green monsters bashing though a window.

“Goblins!” One of the customers yelled as they dashed outside.

[https://i.imgur.com/4kYktbo.png]