The voice on the other end of the phone seemed to choke for a moment, lingering in silence.
After a while, Shiro Sakamaki could almost hear the deep breath that Hiratsuka took before her voice came back, this time with a different tone.
"Are you really struggling with money right now? I heard Chihiro mention a bit about your family situation, and I would've thought you wouldn't be short on cash."
Shiro chuckled lightly. "Teacher Hiratsuka, have you ever heard of anyone who thinks they have too much money?"
"Hah, fair point. Come by my office tomorrow around noon. I'll explain the details, and if you want to take on the commission, you can decide then."
Shiro paused for a moment, then asked, "Hiratsuka-sensei, one thing—aren't you the head of the task force? Shouldn't you be handling this kind of thing yourself? Why come to me?"
The line fell silent again. Hiratsuka seemed to be thinking for a while, and when she spoke again, there was a certain resigned tone in her voice.
"Don't make the mistake of thinking that everything is as straightforward as it seems. Our special ops group might sound impressive, but truthfully, most of our personnel are lacking in combat ability."
"Most of the extraordinary power in this world is still concentrated in the hands of a few families. And even though some of them cooperate with us, the manpower we can rely on is minimal."
"You've seen what I'm capable of. I can handle physical monsters, but the target this time is more likely to be a supernatural one, and that's not my area of expertise."
She sighed, continuing, "In our team, the abilities of most of the members in this regard are average at best. To minimize casualties, we usually collect the information and delegate the actual work to third parties who are more suited for it."
Shiro nodded silently. It made sense why she, as the team leader, would turn to him.
Although Shiro wasn't particularly invested in their situation, he couldn't help but feel that the official forces here seemed a bit too weak for his liking.
"Alright, I'm on board for now. But the exact payment depends on the specifics."
"If the cooperation goes smoothly, and if you ever need help again in this area, feel free to come to me. Distance won't be a problem, as long as we're still on the same planet."
He said it with a hint of pride, even though his "pink scooter" might be more macho than he cared to admit, he was confident that it would serve him well for the right amount of money.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself. If there's ever that much work on this planet, we won't need to come to you," Hiratsuka teased.
Shiro smirked, "Alright, Hiratsuka-sensei, it's getting late, and it's time for me to sleep. As a growing teenager, I need my rest!"
"Fine, fine," she grumbled. "Just don't forget to come by my office tomorrow at noon."
"I won't forget. And just a reminder, Teacher, based on your looks, you must be at least thirty, right?"
On the other end, there was a loud crash, followed by a muffled voice.
"Stinky brat! Don't you know that a woman's age is taboo? I'm only a few months away from thirty!"
Before she could finish, the call abruptly ended with a click. Clearly, Shiro had hung up on her, and Hiratsuka, now frustrated, angrily slammed her desk. Her assistant, Saburo Watanabe, nervously looked on as her desk nearly cracked under the impact.
Watanabe's eyes widened in a mixture of concern and disbelief. "Uhhh, Sensei, if you're so upset, I could always send you on a patrol at the wormhole."
Hiratsuka shot him a cold glare, causing him to immediately return to his work, avoiding her gaze.
The wormhole. It was a topic no one in the Paranormal Administration liked to bring up. The wormhole was one of the three mysterious rifts in the world, where visitors from other dimensions sometimes appeared—some hostile, others benign.
But no one truly understood why they came. Most visitors from other worlds were hostile, and every year, there were casualties among the guards stationed there. Everyone knew that the risks of guarding the wormhole were immense.
Even worse, in the modern era, the most infamous case was the demon king who had escaped from the neon country's wormhole nearly a century ago. Although the military had quickly eliminated the surrounding guards, the demon had managed to escape and vanish. Since then, countless demons had wandered the world, causing untold casualties. The legend of the demon king still haunted the people, but fortunately, after all these years, the king himself hadn't shown his face again.
It was no surprise that the mere mention of wormholes sent a chill down the spine of anyone working in the Paranormal Administration.
---
Early Morning
The soft sunlight poured through the windows, casting a golden glow across the dorm. The morning breeze carried the fragrance of blooming flowers, signaling the start of a new day.
Ding~~~ The shrill sound of the alarm clock shattered the peace of Sakurasou, and the building came alive. Everyone began their morning routines—washing up, preparing breakfast, and packing lunches for the day ahead.
Shiro Sakamaki, having finished his daily morning class (a habit drilled into him by his teacher), was now used to the rhythmic pace of early mornings. It was second nature to him now.
After having breakfast with everyone, Shiro, ready to leave, heard a familiar voice calling his name.
"Junior Shiro, please wait a moment."
Turning around, Shiro raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled, unsure of what Misaki might want from him now.
"Misaki-senpai, what's up?"
"You just got here from abroad, so you're probably still getting used to things," Misaki said cheerfully, holding out a pink bento box adorned with a cartoon cat pattern. "This is for you—just a little reward for taking me to play games last night!"
It looked playful, very feminine, but the gesture was thoughtful. After a moment of hesitation, Shiro took the box from her.
"Hehe, then I'll accept with gratitude. Thank you, Senior Misaki-san."
"Hehe, don't overthink it," Misaki giggled. "Jin helped prepare it, so don't feel like you owe me anything, Junior Shiro."
Shiro felt a sense of warmth at the gesture. What a good woman, he thought, as he marveled at how considerate she was.
---