New York hummed, a constant thrum of sirens echoing in every direction, the rhythmic slap of soles on pavement. The thick city air, shared by countless breaths, felt charged—perhaps justifying the underlying anger that simmered beneath the surface.
A sleek black car, its engine a low growl, snaked through the choked traffic, finding a narrow escape route. A patrol car, noticing the brazen maneuver, quickly pulled it over.
"Heh, buddy, you were really blowing off some steam there, squeezing through that narrow gap. Looks like you've got your hands controlled, huh?" The officer leaned against the window, a smirk playing on his lips. His fellow officers chuckled, but the joke didn't sit right with those inside the car.
"What can I say, officers? I've had a lot of practice." The driver replied, his voice a matter-of-fact monotone. The officer peered in, catching sight of a man with a hoodie and a faint smile, and a boy whose gaze seemed lost somewhere beyond the cramped vehicle.
"Afraid that won't cut it…" Before the officer could hand out a ticket, the driver produced an ID card. The officer took a quick look, his expression shifting.
"We're with the Bureau of Cult Abnormal Invading Investigation."
The officer's brow scrunched up in dissatisfaction and irritation, but he gave a curt nod, signaling his coworkers to let them pass. The black car zoomed off in haste, leaving June, the boy, fascinated by the abrupt interaction.
"Seems like you guys are known legally?" June asked, his arms folded across his chest.
"Not until recently," Jean, the man in the hoodie, replied. "The government just made us a sector in our own right. Gives us more room to operate now that we're recognized legally."
"Operate? I'm guessing paranormal stuff? Like rituals, unexplainable deaths, that kind of thing?"
Jean's smile widened, his hoodie amplifying his mysterious air. The car pulled up to a towering business building, stretching far and wide into the skyline. The parking lot was surprisingly empty, despite the bustling figures June could glimpse inside.
"We don't just take cases a detective or the police can't crack," Jean clarified. "Sometimes, it's crimes committed by people the police department simply can't identify."
June scratched his head. "So, how do you guys identify what cases are for you to operate on?"
"All will be explained later on. To understand that, you'll need to learn the basics."
"The basics of what?!" June pouted, frustrated by Jean's evasiveness.
Jean offered only a knowing silence.
"Screw you," June mumbled, biting back a more elaborate response.
Jean waltzed past the woman at the counter, June noticing her awe and surprise at Jean's presence. She barely registered June, trailing in his wake. As they walked past several individuals in suits, they all wore the same look of surprised recognition.
"Seems like you're popular around here?" June ventured.
Jean smirked, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Yes, I am."
Jean and June stopped before a sleek, black door, its surface reflecting the modern expertise and style of the building. They stood there, looking at the door, for what felt like an eternity.
"Uhhh… Aren't you going to open the door?" June finally prodded.
"Huh? Oh! Yeah. I was just wondering what she's gonna pull this time…"
"Who?"
Jean grabbed the handle of the door. "Do yourself a favor and duck."
Jean opened the door, sidestepping for a reason June didn't quite grasp.
"Duck fro—"
Thud!
A flying chair missed June by a hair's length, his heart rate spiking in response. Jean peeked back into the room. "Morning!"
"Screw you!!" A woman, dressed in a sharp blue suit with a coat draped over her shoulders, spat back, her tone laced with venom. Jean chuckled, amused, from under his hoodie.
June, still reeling from the unexpected projectile, slowly regained his composure.
"Who's the kid?" the woman asked, her voice still sharp. "Finally went and adopted one for yourself?"
"I guess you could say that."
Inside the spacious room, four individuals occupied four chairs. A huge, muscular man sat hunched, a scar running across his eyes and cheeks. His small, focused eyes seemed to quantify June's slender frame against his own. A calm woman, who appeared to be in her early twenties, exuded a pleasant air. She was the only person with a blazer or coat hanging casually on her shoulder, her light red hair cascading over one shoulder. Then there was a young man, about thirty, sitting with disciplined posture, his well-kept hair a testament to his cautious sense of order.
"G-good morning…" June stammered, feeling their collective gaze judging him severely.
"I'll go straight to the point. I want June here to be part of the Youth's Program in the Neavu Ritual School!" Jean announced excitedly, striking a strange pose with a peace sign.
They remained silent, their eyes silently evaluating June's worth. They didn't say it, but June could feel it.
"What do you want here, boy?" the muscular man finally rumbled, his voice heavy.
June felt his throat constrict, his own nerves making it hard to breathe. "Umm…"
It wasn't that he didn't know what he wanted, but the sheer pressure these people exuded was beyond comprehension.
"You can't even say for yourself what you want?" the muscular man pressed.
But June wasn't going to back down. He hardened his expression. "It's not what I want… It's something I need. I've made a promise, and I intend to keep it. Not because it was a dying wish, but because it's for my own good."
The large man scoffed. "Your own good? Or something you've forced yourself to see as a benefit? Coming here with a weak resolve will get you killed. I'll be plain and simple with you. If you're not sure what you need to achieve, then that's the door."
"Doors are to me something I pass through to get something I need and want," June countered, his voice gaining strength. "What I don't do is go through a door for something I don't want or need, and definitely not something that won't benefit me."
The calm woman, her voice soft but firm, backed up the huge man. "So your 'need' is to die? I'm sure Jean here has told you the nature of our work around here. It's either you die, lose your humanity, or engage in dirty, constant pain. The only thing rewarded here is your paycheck, but trust me, it's not worth it."
June narrowed his eyes. "I've seen the implications… But if you don't mind me asking, what are your own needs in joining this cause? I'm sure you all understand the results and consequences."
A silence fell over the room as their eyes and thoughts re-evaluated June, who stood in resolute defiance.
The disciplined man in neat clothing finally spoke. "I respect and see your intentions… Hmph! Heroism? Well, I have a question."
June folded his arms, his face calm and focused.
"If you were to die today, who would you blame?"
June went numb, his mind grasping at several surface-level reasons, but none felt right.
"That's a question you'll have to answer for yourself." The man stood up, walking towards June. "You are welcome. Uniform, identification code, and all other resources will be provided to you in the nearest future. I'm Dean Kimberly."
June nodded, his hands shaking slightly, betraying his earlier confidence. Dean noticed and offered a faint smile.
Jean chuckled loudly, seemingly for no reason. "Hey, you faker, you placed Dorothy up at the very top of the building! What kind of sick joke is that? She could have jumped off!"
The woman who had thrown the chair earlier expressed her frustrations, a small Cavalier King Charles Spaniel emerging from under her coat. She quickly showered the dog with attention, petting it like its mother. Jean wiggled his fingers, threatening to take it off her hands.
"Don't you dare…" she warned, shifting her attention back to Dorothy. "Isn't that right, Dorothy?"
The dog whimpered. Jean looked back at June, who was getting acquainted with the other woman in her mid-twenties.
"Alright, June, we're getting ready to move to the academy!"