The Omega Association headquarters is everything I expected—and nothing like it.
It's sleek, sterile, and suffocating in its perfection. The walls gleam like polished glass, reflecting back distorted versions of everyone who walks through them. Agents move purposefully down wide corridors lined with glowing panels—each step deliberate, each face unreadable. Some wear badges identifying them as Pawns , others as Knights or Bishops . Higher ranks are nowhere to be seen; they wouldn't bother coming here unless absolutely necessary.
Instead, lower-rank agents bustle around, delivering messages, escorting visitors, or disappearing into rooms marked with cryptic symbols. It feels less like a workplace and more like a hive—a machine humming with efficiency, powered by secrets no one dares question.
"Mister Steven," Oriana says softly beside me, breaking my thoughts. "It seems it's our turn now."
We've been waiting in line for half an hour, surrounded by agents whose presence alone makes me feel smaller than I already am. When we finally reach the reception desk, a young woman named Julia greets us. She looks up from her terminal, her smile polite but fleeting.
"What is your business today… Mister…" Her voice trails off when she notices I don't have a nametag. My lack of status hangs heavy in the air between us.
"We're here to send a letter," Oriana interjects smoothly, stepping forward just enough to block any awkwardness.
I hand over the folded envelope sealed with the Oceanus emblem. Julia takes it carefully, her fingers trembling slightly. Whatever this letter contains, it's clearly important.
She clears her throat, standing abruptly. Professionalism cracks under the weight of urgency. After glancing at the seal, she bows deeply.
"Please excuse me. I will deliver this as quickly as possible."
"Please do," Oriana replies, her tone calm but firm.
Julia hurries away, leaving us behind in the lobby.
"So…" I glance at Oriana, who has been watching me intently—or so it seems. With those unfocused grey eyes, it's hard to tell. "Is my job here done?"
"The delivery was a complete success," she says simply.
"Well, it was just delivery," I mutter. "Not exactly something to celebrate."
"And now," Oriana continues, ignoring my sarcasm, "the second part of your mission begins."
"Second part?" I repeat, dread pooling in my stomach.
She nods once.
Before I can ask another question, a group of people approaches us. They're dressed sharply in matching suits, their badges glittering like badges of honor. Without hesitation, they bow deeply to me—not to Oriana, but to me .
"We've received the letter," one of them says. "And we're ready for your evaluation."
"Evaluation?" I echo blankly.
My gaze flickers to Oriana, silently begging her to explain. But she anticipates me this time, meeting my unspoken plea with a faint smile.
"You don't have to worry about anything, Mister Steven. Just act how you are."
That's supposed to reassure me? Act how I am? I'm not even sure who I am anymore. All I know is that these people work for the Omega Association—the ones who sort, rank, and classify Agents. If they're evaluating me, does that mean…
Am I taking an Agent evaluation?
The apathetic face of Oriana flashes in my mind again. How can she expect me to "be myself" when being an Agent without a superpower is suicidal? Am I walking straight into my own death sentence?
Even if I am, I don't have a choice. Not anymore. I've already used the money. And now I have to complete my end of the deal.
The room they lead me to is blindingly white. No furniture. No windows. Just four walls, a single light fixture overhead, and a mirror that likely hides observers on the other side.
I sit down cross-legged in the center of the floor, feeling ridiculous. For a moment, I expect monsters to burst out of the walls—something for me to fight, some way to prove myself. But nothing happens.
I glance at the mirror again. Are they waiting for me to do something first? Has the evaluation already started?
How long should I stay here?
Then, as if answering my silent question, the room flashes green for a brief second. The door behind me opens with a soft hiss.
"Is that all?" I mutter aloud, standing up. I didn't do anything except sit and talk to myself. Is this some kind of test to see how well I can maintain proper posture while bored out of my mind?
When I step outside, two men in identical white lab coats greet me. They look eerily similar—same golden eyes, same blond hair, same nametags reading Leo & Teo | Omega Association .
Twins. Definitely twins.
They bow in perfect synchronization, speaking almost simultaneously but with slightly different pitches.
"Your evaluation is finished. We will provide results within three minutes. Please wait in the lobby."
"But I barely did anything!" I protest.
They both smile, eerily cheerful. "You did everything."
Confused, I wander back to the lobby. That's where I find Oriana sipping something from a small cardboard box with a straw sticking out. Strawberry juice, maybe? She looks up when she hears me approaching, coughing slightly as she hastily shoves the box into her pocket.
"Ehem… Mister Steven, you're earlier than I expected."
"Yeah…" I say slowly, sitting down across from her. "So, care to explain what's going on now?"
She hesitates, then nods. "As you wish. The Association wants you to become an Agent, Mister Steven. It ties into… the story they want you to play."
Her words sink in slowly. Becoming an Agent would explain how I claimed the bounty for killing Miyori. If the public believes I'm officially ranked, it covers up the fact that I'm just a civilian who got lucky—or unlucky—with that cursed sword.
But still…
I glance down at Oriana's nametag. Knight . Am I supposed to become one too? That seems like the least believable story if they want to sell the idea of me defeating an E-Seven threat. Unless…
Unless they're planning something bigger.
Another group of suited individuals approaches me, carrying a sleek black suitcase. After exchanging formal greetings, they open it to reveal a single nametag resting on velvet padding.
This must be the result of the evaluation.
I reach for it eagerly, eager to confirm what rank they've assigned me. But as soon as I see the inscription, I freeze.
The employees exchange puzzled glances, clearly confused by my reaction.
"I'm sorry…" I stammer. "But this can't be mine."
Before I can pull away, Oriana steps forward. Her blind eyes lock onto mine, demanding understanding. I stay rooted to the spot as she lifts the nametag gently, placing it around my neck like a ceremonial necklace.
With a serene smile, she says, "Congratulations, Mister Eclipse."
Because that's what the tag reads:
Agent: Eclipse | King | Oceanus Association – Rose Board Section 1