“What about Morgana?” Minerva asked, chanting on her mind: It’s for the money. The money, the money…

Michael didn’t look up. His cheek was pressed against the cold surface of the table, his face pale and strained, and his sunglasses were down next to him. In any other situation, Minerva might have teased him about it –called him a dramatic shit or something–but now wasn’t the time for this.

“Last mission didn’t go well,” he muttered, his words sluggish, like each one cost him a couple of bills. Keeping his eyes closed, he let out a long, weary sigh.

What a guy. If not were for the long two years working together–

“You expected something different?”

Forget it. She still wanted to punch him. Her scowl deepened. “You’re joking. She’s –she was the best of the batch. We got her–what, three weeks ago?” Her eyes flicked to the calendar on the wall, the dates circled in red screaming back at her. “What could…?” Her expression darkened as the shards clicked into place. “Wait. Don’t tell me… the dino psycho job?”

Michael hummed, his eyes drifting shut as if he could let himself sleep off the conversation.

Minerva took that as a 'yes, go and cry a little'. She dragged a hand down her face, her fingers trembling slightly. For a brief, blissful moment, she imagined what it would be like not to give a damn about any of this. To walk away and leave the mess behind.

The cafeteria had a killer strawberry latte and chocolate cake combo she could treat herself to. Maybe she could even check out the new arrivals at the store. Today was Tuesday. Sora should’ve stocked something fresh, right? A cute dress, a lovely cashmere sweater, perhaps even new boots without those damn heels Lacerta managed to convince her to buy last time.

She let out a long sight.

Sadly, it was only whimsical thoughts. 

She was paid to take care of this, and although it didn’t include ‘caring’ Minerva was still too much human.

What a damn shame.

“The best of the batch…” she muttered under her breath, the words bitter on her tongue.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“What happened?” she finally asked, half–expecting Michael to have fallen asleep.

“Same old story,” Michael said, his voice flat. “She pulled the short straw. Last tour guide.” He yawned, barely bothering to cover it. “Poor lass.”

Her jaw tightened. “Let me guess. The bus got stuck in front of one of the kings?”

Michael gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. “Yeah. Lorenzo said she couldn’t get the shield in time.” His voice dropped to a near whisper, as if speaking too loudly might summon the memory of what happened. “At least it was quick.”

Minerva stared at him.

“Don’t think too much about it…” Michael said, his mouth half–covered by his hand. “Accidents happen, Min.”

Yes. They did happen, didn’t they? She loosened her knuckles, then asked, “Who else?”

"The last rookie from Delta–N. Got eaten at midnight, I think. But Lorenzo’s last minion got the pictures so–“ he shrugged.

"Did you notice? We’ve lost most of the new recruits in the last three months. The others aren’t better but,” she pressed her lips, and shook her head. “Forget it. I’ll write to Santa about getting more recruits.” Minerva closed her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. Soft cushions, but not an ounce of comfort.

“Delta–N gets priority this time,” Michel pointed out. When she let out a not–so polite words, he added, “could be worse."

Minerva snorted. “Back to overtime.”

“At least the pay’s decent,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth even when his eyes barely stayed open.

“At least we get paid,” she shot back, her own smirk mirroring his.

Even when she left and went back to the rest of the paperwork, the thorn on her heart persisted.

Perhaps there could be a way to get some good recruits this time. She hadn’t wanted to cash that favor so soon but -it was for Delta-M’s good.

P – P – P – P

The soft whir of machinery filled the space as the elevator began its ascent.

Luca caught his reflection in the mirrored wall–a small frown, a slightly out of place tie on his blue suit. Loosening his expression, his fingers fixed tie as he counted the seconds. Each one brought him closer to the thirty third floor. It was there, at that moment, staring at his cold face, that the hesitation he’d been suppressing since days ago began to stir up.

Still time to get out.

The thought flashed through his mind with crystal clarity. He could press the button, go back down, slip away.

Go home.

Go home –and let his younger brother die. Last piece of his family –no exactly, pointed out an inner voice he knew very well, and Luca scowled. His grip tightened on the edge of his tie, his knuckles whitening before he forced himself to a long, deep breath.

Turning back was a no–no. The debts had been already accumulated. Even if –if Shawn woke up or not, he still had to pay the creditors. Victor had already showed a great restrain in those last months, and if he didn't hurry up, he would end in some convenient pit. But such amount of money could only be earned through illegal gigs, a lottery prize or… a high risk job.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Luca straightened his tie and squared his shoulders, his reflection staring back at him with a cold countenance.

Of the three possible paths, the last one was the winner, especially since he had got the email two weeks ago –and recalled those old, buried memories. It could be said that among the others he was the only one putting his foot inside the mouth of the beast knowing the risks.

Pendulum… was even more dangerous than working in the mafia. But, at the same time, the rewards had no glass ceiling. Their conditions were unmatched, especially the salary. It had to be said that for someone with a resume filled with part–time jobs across various sectors, it was more than a top–notch opportunity.

More than enough to pay off the debts. More than enough to keep his brother in the hospital–and heard this– even if Luca didn’t make it out alive.

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.

Thirty–four seconds gone.

The elevator chimed softly, and a cheerful voice announced:

“Thirty–third floor. Thank you for accompanying us.”

“Thank you,” Luca muttered under his breath as he stepped out. Pendulum’s AI was more advanced than anything he’d encountered elsewhere. Calling it a “machine” felt like calling his new job “a bit risky”–a gross understatement.

A long corridor stretched before him, its paneled wooden walls a warm hue of red. At the far end stood a door, its polished wood gleaming under the delicate white lights. The gold–carved letters on its surface read: Office 010.

Luca’s mind flashed back to a post he’d seen online–At Pendulum, if it looks like gold, it is. The company spared no expense, and the door was a testament to that. But then, being the number one across almost all the sectors, they did have a couple of zeros on their bank accounts.

As he approached, he couldn’t help but calculate some costs. The door alone probably cost more than a year’s worth of his brother’s hospital bills. Hell, if he died at the island, his coffin would likely be worth enough to keep his brother alive for another year.

Good. It was the best of the worst cases, right?

He knocked once, gently, and then pushed the door open without waiting for a response. It swung open soundlessly, revealing a stunning skyline that stretched endlessly beyond the floor–to–ceiling windows. A massive table dominated the room its surface a deep, polished red wood with faint, golden embellishments. Why wasn’t this in the mansion of some old–money family instead of a corporate office?

Again, Pendulum’s decoration team had a certain particular liking.

The office wasn’t empty. Around the table sat eight other people–five women and five men–all sharply dressed and radiating a quiet steel. Or pretending, at least. Their eyes flicked toward him as he entered, a trace of curiosity quickly replaced by indifference, or, some cases, a subtle sense of hostility.

So, they are my ‘competence’.

Luca closed the door with the same care he’d opened it and chose a seat in the corner, away from the others. The table was large enough to accommodate sixteen.

Of course, no one sat at the head.

His eyes wandered, taking in the room. The office was sparsely decorated, but the table was a work of art–solid, thick, and undoubtedly expensive. He kept his hands on his lap, resisting the urge to touch it. Beyond that, there was not even a screen for displaying any kind of presentation, or even a painting decorating the blinding white walls.

He took a subtle glance at the people, and to his surprise, a familiar face caught his attention.

Him?

It was impossible not to recognize one of the most celebrated boxers of the past decade–even for someone like Luca, who barely followed the sport. The gym near his house had a poster of the man, and the scandal that had ended his career last year had made headlines for weeks.

Most importantly, his name had been part of the memories he got two weeks ago.

Something to take care, thought Luca, without changing his expression. Becoming a meat shield wasn’t on his list of wishes for that year.

The others applicants were less recognizable –except the curly–haired woman, which Luca noticed was barely containing her nervousness. She was quite fit like the rest of them, but seemed to be more built for a race than holding her won in a fight. Everyone there was one of the two cases.  It wasn’t surprising–the job listing had emphasized “good physical fitness” as a requirement.

Of course, none knew why it was so important nor that this wasn’t the main requirement.

The door opened again, and every head turned.

A woman entered, her presence immediately capturing their attention. She wore purple butterfly–framed glasses with gold trim, her eyes obscured but her smile poised and well–practiced. Luca knew her –or at least, knew her information.

Roxana Santos. But that was her ‘corporative identity’ –in Pendulum’s real HQ she would be known as ‘Mariposa’.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said, voice smooth over the sharp click of her heels. “Thank you for accepting our company’s invitation. You may call me Miss Santos. I will be conducting your Interview today.”

A murmur of polite greetings followed. Luca joined in, though his stomach tensed up, twitching with nervous anticipation.

Miss Santos was the carbon copy of her image on the forum. Most importantly, she was the one who would push them to their first encounter with what Pendulum had been dealing with –the Mysteries. And, beyond that, she was one of Them. That thought this made his pulse jump a bit.

She placed a thick red folder on the table and retrieved a stack of thinner ones. “Before we proceed, there is a formal requirement. Due to the nature of this position, you will need to sign a confidentiality agreement.” She began distributing the documents. “This is a standard procedure, as the role involves access to sensitive company information.”

A ripple of unease spread through the room –but Luca didn’t change his expression too much, already having expected this but no willing to stand out for the wrong matters.

“A confidentiality agreement? Already?” someone muttered.

“But we’re not even employees yet,” another man pointed out.

Miss Santos remained unfazed. “That's correct. However, participation in this interview process requires compliance with company protocols. Signing is entirely voluntary, but those who choose not to will be unable to proceed further. As I’m sure you understand, Pendulum cannot risk exposing proprietary information.”

Silence settled over the room, but only for a splint second. While some hesitated, others opened their folders without a second thought. Among them were the boxer, a young man who looked like he’d just graduated high school, and the curly–haired woman who began reading with intense focus.

The ruffling of pages spread on the air. 

Alright. First things first. After taking a quick glance at the pages, no finding nothing stranger, he signed on the last one. There you go.

Now, there were only two ways out of this.

“Thank you all for your cooperation and interest,” Miss Santos said, her tone warm but businesslike. She pressed something on the table, and with a faint mechanical sound, wooden panels slid open in front of each applicant. A pair of goggles emerged, their metallic blue frames gleaming under the light.

Murmurs of astonishment spread through the room.

The goggles were sleek and glassy, emblazoned with the Pendulum logo in a golden hue. They looked so expensive that anyone would felt a pang of anxiety. What if someone broke them? Not even selling their organs on the black market could cover the cost.

Ha. The irony alone would kill Luca.

“Go ahead, don’t be shy. Try them on,” Miss Santos encouraged. “These are the latest version of our last VR equipment, the same model used by the gaming companies we collaborate with.”

Luca picked up the pair in front of him. Despite their size, they were surprisingly light–likely made with Pendulum’s proprietary metal.

As he put them on, his vision was instantly engulfed in white. A simple message appeared:

Welcome to Pendulum, Mr. Olsen.

Judging by the murmurs around him, he wasn’t the only one with a personalized greeting.

“Excuse me–this job… could it be about…?” a woman’s voice asked, her excitement palpable.

Luca felt a pang of pity for her.

She doesn’t know.

“I’ll explain your responsibilities later,” Miss Santos said, her tone firm but not unkind. “However, you should know this job isn’t for the faint of heart. You’ll be walking a razor–thin line, balancing above a shark’s open mouth at midnight.”

Her words weren’t empty. If anything, Luca thought they didn’t go far enough.

“But you’ll learn for yourselves in the Technical Test.”

A creeping sense of foreboding settled over him, stimulated because of what he knew, but there was no time to dwell on it.  

Miss Santos’ voice cut through the tension.

“It begins now. Good luck to you all.”

A bell–like sound echoed through the room, and everything went black.