Soon, we arrived.
Isaac led us through a sliding glass panel into a room buzzing with activity. People hurried between desks, barking into phones, tapping frantically at keyboards, feeding data into humming servers. The air thrummed with urgency—it was the heart of the Bureau's operations, a high-tech control center that never slept.
In one corner, amidst the chaos, a familiar figure stood out like a beacon.
Isaac strode toward her and called, "Rona."
She turned with a twirl, her face lighting up the moment she saw us. "Lil! Ronnie!"
"Oh! Oh! Oh! It's Rona!" I squealed, breaking into a ridiculous little happy dance. She joined right in without missing a beat—two idiots spinning in sync while alarms and keyboards clicked around us.
Isaac dragged a hand down his face. "This is so embarrassing…"
Without another word, he turned and led us into his office—a sleek, soundproof room tucked away from the chaos.
"No one will hear us in here," he muttered, shutting the door behind us with a firm click.
That's when a wicked idea crept into my mind.
I leaned toward Ronald with a mischievous grin and whispered, "Still have Hannah with you?"
Ronald blinked. "She's in my inventory."
"Lend her to me for a second."
Without question, Ronald summoned the sleek, coiled form of Hannah from his inventory and handed her over.
I turned toward Isaac with a grin that spelled trouble.
"Surprise!" I said—and lobbed Hannah directly at him.
Isaac, engrossed in a data tablet, turned just in time to catch a full face of snake. His brain lagged for a second as he processed the cool, scaly weight in his hands.
"What the—"
Then he saw what he was holding.
"AHHHH! IT'S A KING COBRA!" he shrieked, flinging the poor creature into the air like a cursed object.
Before chaos could truly erupt, Ronald lunged forward with the reflexes of a seasoned handler and caught Hannah mid-flight.
"Don't scream like that," Ronald muttered, cradling the unbothered snake. "You'll frighten her."
Isaac was already clutching the desk, breathing hard. "Why… why would you carry that thing around like a pocket trinket?!"
"Because she's cute," Ronald answered innocently.
Isaac looked like he aged ten years on the spot.
I collapsed onto the floor, clutching my stomach in laughter. "If only I had the system recording right now! This would've been gold—Wakakaka!"
Isaac stomped his foot, his face an alarming shade of red. "Llyne!"
With murder in his eyes, he lunged at me like an unhinged beast—but Ronald and Rona leapt into action, grabbing his arms just in time.
"Let me go! I'm going to break her spine!" Isaac roared, thrashing wildly as if possessed.
Steam may as well have been hissing from his ears. His hair looked one spark away from combusting.
I pointed at him with tears in my eyes, laughing even harder. "HAHAHA! Look! It's Isaac, the human kettle!"
"Llyne, please—!" Ronald squeaked, struggling to hold on. "Stop provoking him!"
"Isaac really mad..." Rona gasped, clinging to Isaac like she was wrangling a feral animal.
But I couldn't help it—the sight was too glorious. Isaac, normally cool-headed and clinical, now flailing like a boiling teapot on legs.
Ronald yelped again. "Llyne! For the love of everything—don't say another word!"
After some time—and several deep, murderous breaths—Isaac finally cooled down. Mostly. His arms were crossed, his jaw clenched, and he was still shooting me the kind of glare that could disintegrate concrete.
Then he jabbed a finger toward Hannah, who was now comfortably coiled around Ronald's shoulders like a living scarf. "By the way, why do you two have a King cobra?"
I answered casually, "Someone from the olden times gave it to us."
Isaac blinked. "Olden times?"
Rona tilted her head. "What do you mean by that?"
"Eh... yeah." I scratched the back of my head. "We kinda time-traveled."
Silence.
Isaac's eyes narrowed to razor slits. "Why is there nothing normal when it comes to you?"
I shrugged, completely unapologetic.
Ronald chimed in helpfully, "Her name is Hannah."
Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Hannah? That's a female name."
"She might be female," Ronald offered.
Isaac shook his head. "No. That's a male."
Ronald blinked. "How do you know?"
Isaac launched into a lecture like it was second nature. "Males are generally larger, have longer and thicker tails, and a more prominent hood. Their heads are also broader and more elongated, whereas females tend to have slightly narrower ones."
Ronald nodded, impressed. "Whoa… You're like a snake encyclopedia."
Isaac didn't acknowledge the compliment. He simply turned his gaze to Hannah, studying the cobra with a mix of skepticism and scientific interest. "So, I don't think you should name it 'Hannah.'"
"We didn't," I said, waving a hand. "The previous owner named her."
"Maybe 'Hannah' was considered a unisex name during their time," I added, thinking aloud.
Isaac rolled his eyes. "Unisex names only became common in the 2000s."
"Maybe they were like me," I said with a proud grin. "Open-minded."
Isaac scoffed. "Pretty sure if the world were full of people like you, it'd be on fire."
"Exactly," I said. "But at least it wouldn't be boring."
"That wasn't a compliment!" Isaac snapped—and before anyone could blink, he launched into a flying kick like a martial arts movie hero possessed by rage.
His boot connected squarely with my torso.
I soared.
The world spun sideways for half a second before my body hit the wall with a dull, seismic thud. The plaster cracked. My limbs went stiff. And then—I stayed there. Implanted. Like a poorly thrown dart that somehow stuck.
The entire room froze.
"L-Llyne?!" Ronald's voice cracked as he rushed forward, followed closely by Rona.
Both of them scrambled to yank me out—Ronald grabbing my legs, Rona pulling at my arms. They rocked me back and forth like they were trying to dislodge a sword from a stone.
"Why… are you stuck so deep?!" Ronald cried, his voice nearly a wail.
Rona paused mid-pull, a giggle bubbling out of her. "Llyne reminds me of a cartoon character…"
"Don't stop pulling, Rona!" Ronald snapped, struggling to get a better grip on my ankles.
Meanwhile, I just groaned, muffled slightly by drywall and humiliation. "I think I swallowed paint…"
Across the room, Isaac crossed his arms and let out a huff, his expression unreadable. "Serves you right," he muttered under his breath, though the corner of his mouth twitched—just a little.
After a considerable struggle—and more dignity lost than I cared to admit—I finally slipped free from the wall with a squelch of crumbling plaster.
We all stared silently at the deep human-shaped dent I'd left behind.
Rona giggled, nudging me with her elbow. "It reminds me of that time we were chasing after Looney and Monica Junior. Remember that wall incident?"
Isaac sank into his chair with a weary sigh, crossing both his arms and legs. He leveled a sharp glare at me, eyes narrowed. "Alright. What happened in there? You two vanished for two months. Keep it short."
I clasped my hands behind my back and grinned innocently. "Okay, if you insist." I took a dramatic breath. "For most of the time, Ronald was acting like a damsel in distress. The end."
Isaac's fist slammed onto the desk. "That tells me nothing!"
I nonchalantly dug a finger in my ear. "You told me to keep it short."
"D-Damsel… in distress?" Ronald echoed in horror, visibly wounded.
I turned to him and nodded solemnly. "It's true. You were screaming and crying most of the time."
Ronald whimpered and turned away in shame.
Isaac groaned, pressing two fingers to his temple as if hoping he could massage away the headache I was causing. "It was a mistake to ask Llyne…"
I stuck out my tongue with a childish grin.
Isaac turned his cold gaze toward Ronald. "So what exactly happened? Start from the beginning. Every detail."
Ronald jolted like he'd been zapped. "Eek!"
Under the pressure of Isaac's unblinking glare, Ronald crumbled. Words spilled out of him like a toppled water jug—every detail, every mishap, every ridiculous moment, right down to the ones I'd sworn never to speak of again.
I stared at him, horrified. "Traitor…" I hissed.
Ronald clasped his hands together, eyes wide and watery. "W-Waah! I accidentally blurted out everything! No one can resist Isaac's glare—it's like looking into the sun if the sun wanted to murder you!"
Isaac massaged his temples, exhaling sharply. "How the hell… do you burn down an entire room just trying to cook a few birds?!"
I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. "A master chef never reveals her secrets."
"Who's the master chef?" Rona asked flatly.
I pointed at myself without hesitation. "Me."
"I didn't know master chefs were also arsonists," Rona said with a sweet smile.
I shot her a glare, only for Isaac to let out a dry, unimpressed scoff.
My glare snapped to him next. "Fine," I huffed, tossing my hair back. "I admit it—I'm bad at cooking. So what? Not all of us were born to stir pots and flip pans. Some of us," I said, placing a hand dramatically over my heart, "were born to devour the food made by those who can."
I placed a hand over my heart, standing tall with unshakable pride. "And I do it with flair."
Not a shred of remorse in my voice.