The Bureau building looked smaller when it wasn't spitting fire.
Perry stood at the front desk with a sealed case report in hand. The tomb was silent now, the killer in custody, and the city's mystery temporarily one problem lighter.
The clerk—a sleepy woman with dark circles under both eyes and ink on her chin—raised an eyebrow as she flipped open the report's title.
"Corpse That Didn't Belong? You're the one who closed that?"
She didn't sound impressed. More confused. As if expecting someone taller. Or at least someone with visible magic.
Perry shrugged.
She skimmed the file. "Sealed tomb. No breach. Cold body. You even logged the mourning ritual."
"That's standard," he said.
"No it's not."
She stared at him for a moment longer, then dropped the report into the pneumatic tube.
Thunk.
The sound echoed like a tomb door shutting behind him.
System: Case officially closed. Reward issued: 5 silver. Reputation points gained: +3. Promotion threshold progress: 17%.
The silver clinked faintly in the rune-sealed pouch at his waist. Standard Bureau issue. Weighty enough to feel like progress, but not heavy enough to get cocky.
Above them, the slate board in the lobby shimmered as nameplates shifted. Perry's name appeared at the base of the C-Class Spotlight.
PERRY — Rankless
He stared at it.
Low enough to stay underestimated. High enough to get noticed. Exactly where accidents happen.
He turned away from the board. But only after taking note of who else was staring at it.
Then he adjusted the clasp on his coat, lowered his hat, and walked on. Quiet steps made fewer rumors.
---
To the side, two investigators leaned against a pillar, their conversation already underway.
"Next week's gonna be chaos," one muttered.
"You're telling me. Elmond's already barking at Scheduling."
"Figures. You hear who's visiting?"
The second detective hesitated. "...Alveth?"
"Mm."
The name alone caused a silence to ripple briefly around them. Even the clerk at the desk paused her pen for half a breath.
Perry didn't react. Not because he wasn't interested—he simply hadn't heard the name before.
"Why would someone like him visit a mid-tier Bureau branch?" the second detective whispered.
"Who knows. Maybe an audit. Maybe a message."
The first looked around, then leaned closer. "Just don't file anything sloppy this week. I heard last time, a D-rank lost their license for a misplaced comma."
The second exhaled slowly, as if remembering something.
Perry passed between them without breaking stride. If he noticed the ripple in tone, he didn't show it.
But his ears had caught one thing.
Alveth.
He filed it. Quietly.
---
Upstairs, behind tinted glass, Director Elmond watched the floor with fingers steepled.
The name PERRY had just shifted into the lower ranks of visibility.
Beside him, a junior officer adjusted his monocle. "Unsolvable Case. Filed and closed in forty-eight hours. And he's still just Rankless."
Elmond nodded slightly.
"No backup. No damage. No error margin."
"Should we promote him early?"
Elmond tapped the edge of his scroll. "Not yet."
"He did solve a case flagged for Consultant escalation."
"Exactly why I want a closer eye," Elmond muttered. He drew a small rune under Perry's name — a faint golden trace that shimmered and vanished.
"Background flag?"
"Quiet one. I want to see who notices him next."
Then, almost as an afterthought, the assistant said, "Still preparing for next week?"
Elmond didn't answer immediately. He turned, drew a sealed envelope from his drawer, and tapped it twice against the armrest.
"The itinerary's already locked. Alveth arrives on the 9th."
The officer's face twitched.
Elmond continued, voice low. "Make sure the complaint board is clean by then. I don't want him reading about a missing desk plant and sending it to Internal Tribunal."
The assistant muttered something about gods and paperwork, but Elmond was already back to watching the board.
PERRY's name still lingered faintly.
---
The city outside buzzed with the usual mid-morning chaos. Vendors shouting. Enchanters waving spellproof umbrellas. Courier birds dive-bombing tax officials.
Perry walked in silence, passing ward-bells, rune-torches, and people who didn't look twice at him.
Rumors do most of the talking here.
He wasn't planning to encourage any.
A cold gust slipped under his collar, despite the still air. He paused.
Wind. No direction.
He looked up. Nothing on the rooftops. No sky mage in sight. But still, his coat moved.
Then stopped.
Coincidence.
He kept walking.
---
His apartment was three stories up and behind a rusted gear-lock. He unlocked it, stepped inside, and checked the marks on the doorframe.
Still undisturbed.
Inside was spartan. Bed, chair, scroll-desk, clothesline. The only new thing was a scroll stamped with the Bureau's mark.
He unrolled it.
NEW ASSIGNMENT: "The Grieving Gravekeeper"
Threat Level: C+
Witnesses claim a recently buried corpse was seen crying beside its own grave. Body has since vanished. Grave seals intact. Suspected tampering.
Perry read it twice, then once backward.
The report smelled like misdirection.
He let the scroll roll back shut on its own.
At the bottom, a faint watermark shimmered — not Bureau standard. A family crest. New. Nobility. Quietly filed.
He tilted his head.
That explains the rush order.
Then a second thought crossed his mind.
Filing it now means if I spot a suspect, the truth-barrier activates. Better to see the graveyard first — before the walls come up.
He leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his neck, and stared at the ceiling.
Not even a full hour since the last corpse cooled.
The system didn't speak. It didn't need to. Perry wasn't filing this yet.
Not until he saw the grave.
Not until he knew the soil was real.
---
Far across the city, in a tower without windows and only one door, someone sat in silence.
Candles burned in perfectly even circles. The wax was carved — not melted. Nothing moved.
A leather case lay open. Inside, a sealed report marked Corpse That Didn't Belong.
The man, gloved and silent, ran a finger across the edges of the file.
Then placed it back into the case and snapped it shut.
He turned toward the wall. A grid of names hovered on a faint magical lattice. He tapped one.
It pulsed once.
No expression. No reaction. Only silence.
---
Back in Perry's apartment, he leaned forward and scratched a small rune onto his desk's underside. A tiny ward — not defensive, just informative. A trip line for paperwork tampering.
Then, finally, he poured himself a cup of rootleaf tea.
He stared out the window, the wind brushing his coat again.
Below, a Bureau courier walked past.
Same hat.
Same gait.
Same face.
Perry blinked.
Didn't he just go the other direction?
He stood.
Looked again.
Gone.
Or maybe I've seen too many case files today.