The Mask and the Flame

Night had settled over the city, casting long shadows across the apartment as Sienna shut the door behind Camille. The faint hum of streetlights filtered through the thin windows, mingling with the distant sounds of traffic—a lullaby of urban life.

"Come in, at least stay for dinner," Sienna offered brightly, motioning toward the small kitchen.

Camille shrugged off her tailored jacket with effortless grace, draping it over the back of a chair as if even that act was part of some unspoken performance. "If you're cooking, I'm staying. Can't say no to free food."

Sienna grinned and disappeared into the kitchen, the sounds of clattering dishes following her.

I lingered near the doorway, the mask still in my hand, its smooth surface cool against my fingertips. My mind wasn't on dinner.

I leaned in slightly, my voice low. "How much can we trust her?"

Sienna glanced over her shoulder, her expression softening. "Relax. Camille's always hated evaluators and the system. Says it 'stifles creativity.'" She rolled her eyes fondly. "She's anti-authority in the most dramatic way possible."

That didn't exactly ease the knot in my chest, but it was enough for now.

"Besides," Sienna added, "we haven't told her everything. She just made a mask. That's it. No need to drop apocalyptic conspiracies on her plate with dinner."

Fair point.

Still, paranoia had a way of nesting in your mind once you let it in. I gave a curt nod and turned toward my room.

"Going to prep for tomorrow," I muttered.

"Don't overthink it," Sienna called after me, her voice laced with that same warmth that had anchored me earlier.

I didn't respond. I just closed the door behind me.

While I laid out my casual clothes for tomorrow—a plain hoodie, dark jeans, and of course, the fox mask—I could hear faint voices from the other room. I couldn't make out the words, but Sienna's laughter drifted through like soft echoes.

Unbeknownst to me, their conversation had shifted.

Outside Reynard's Room

"Okay, spill." Camille's voice was sly, teasing. "Are you dating him?"

Sienna nearly dropped the spoon she was stirring with, her cheeks instantly flushed. "W-What? No! I mean—yes. I mean… it's complicated!"

Camille arched an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with a smug grin. "Because if you're not, I'm taking him."

Sienna's pout could've powered a small city. "Reynard is mine."

"Oh-ho," Camille chuckled, crossing her arms. "And you won't share with me? How selfish."

"Absolutely not!" Sienna snapped, her pout deepening.

Camille burst into laughter, the sound light and infectious. "Relax, I'm kidding. Mostly." She winked, making Sienna groan in frustration.

When I finally emerged, the teasing vanished like smoke. Camille's expression was smooth, unreadable, while Sienna busied herself pretending to be very interested in the pot of rice she was stirring.

We ate dinner with casual conversation about nothing too serious—just enough to feel normal. Whatever normal meant anymore.

Camille left shortly after, waving a dramatic goodbye with a promise to "design more masterpieces" if needed.

The Next Morning

The city was draped in that gray-blue hue that only existed at dawn, the streets still half-asleep as I made my way to the evaluation center. The fox mask felt snug and familiar now, like it had always been part of me.

Hiding your identity wasn't uncommon. Plenty of people wanted to keep their personal and professional lives separate, especially in high-risk jobs. The system allowed it under one strict condition: if you were caught pretending to be someone else—both you and the person you impersonated would be blacklisted. Fired. Permanently marked. No second chances.

I walked through the sliding glass doors, the sterile scent of bureaucracy hitting me instantly. The lobby was sleek, minimalist, and cold.

Behind the front desk sat someone I recognized.

Rebecca Kline.

It was the same secretary that was here when I did my re-evaluation 3 days ago. Her hair was still the same chestnut brown, tied neatly in a bun. She didn't recognize me, of course. The mask did its job.

"How can I help you?" she asked, her tone polite but distant—the kind of voice reserved for customer service.

I kept my voice lower, slightly rougher. "First-time evaluation."

She blinked, clearly surprised. Most people my age had already been evaluated. But after a brief pause, she nodded. "Alright. Follow me."

The process was simple enough. We walked down sterile hallways until she led me into a small room—a single chair, a table, and an evaluation orb resting atop it.

"Place your hand on the orb when you're ready," she instructed, tapping something on her clipboard. "Once the scan is complete, you'll receive your job classification and skill portfolio. Keep in mind, first-time evaluations are permanent. You can't re-evaluate unless formally requested by an employer or through a government mandate."

I nodded, waiting for her to leave. She didn't.

"Name?" she asked, pen poised.

I hesitated, then answered coldly, "Mr. Fox."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't question it. Just wrote it down.

Once she turned her attention to her clipboard, I reached out, my hand hovering over the orb for a moment before making contact.

[EVALUATION IN PROGRESS]

The orb pulsed with faint light, and data flooded the display screen.

Job: Firefighter (C-Rank)

Skills:

Fire Suppression (Lv. 3)

Emergency Response (Lv. 2)

Hazard Assessment (Lv. 2)

Strategist (Lv. 4)

I clenched my jaw. I couldn't hide the Strategist skill. Unlike my construction worker skills, I couldn't place this one in a portfolio. Hopefully, it wouldn't raise too many questions.

Rebecca handed me a new ID card, sleek and unassuming, with the name "Mr. Fox" printed clearly.

"You've been assigned to Station 47," she said. "They're expecting you today."

I gave a curt nod, slipping the card into my pocket.

As I exited, a figure entered from the opposite hallway.

Evelyn.

She passed by me, her sharp gaze locking onto mine—or rather, the mask. She slowed slightly, her eyes narrowing in faint recognition.

My heart raced, but I kept walking, refusing to look back.

She didn't stop me.

Just raised an eyebrow before disappearing around the corner.

I arrived at Station 47 shortly after, the building's red-and-white façade standing like a sentinel against the morning haze.

I took a deep breath, adjusting the mask slightly.

And then—

WEEEOOO! WEEEOOO!

The alarm blared.

No time to think.

Mr. Fox's first real test had arrived.

[SYSTEM INTERFACE]

Name: Mr. Fox (Reynard Vale)

Job Title: Jobmaster (Rank SSS)

Active Portfolio: Construction Worker Portfolio (A-Rank)

Endurance Boost (Lv. 9)

Heavy Lifting (Lv. 8)

Material Efficiency (Lv. 5)

Team Coordination (Lv. 6)

Structural Reinforcement (Lv. 7)

Precision Engineering (Lv. 6)

Fast Assembly (Lv. 2)

On-Sight Adaptability (Lv. 2)

Workforce Command (Lv. 2)

Visible Job Skills:

Strategist (Lv. 4) – Improves planning and problem-solving abilities

Fire Suppression (Lv. 3) – Enhances effectiveness in controlling and extinguishing fires

Rescue Operations (Lv. 3) – Improves efficiency in locating and saving individuals in emergencies

Heat Resistance (Lv. 3) – Significantly reduces the impact of extreme temperatures on performance

Jobs:

Construction Worker (A-Rank) — Active in Portfolio

Firefighter (C-Rank) 

Special Skill:

Scan, Absorb, Destroy

Cooldown:

Skill Copy (Ready for Use)