Growing List

The sound of footsteps echoed through the marble hallway — steady and not a hint of his usual carefree rhythm.

Isaac walked alone, hands tucked neatly into his coat pockets, head slightly lowered in thought. His usual half-smile was absent, replaced by an unreadable expression. His gaze flicked across the empty corridor, seeing without truly seeing.

A lot was swirling through his mind.

'This past month, I've observed that a lot of the people here lean towards the notion of the Mankind Caucus, while some are probing around the edges and remaining neutral...'

He sighed.

'Politics... I'm never gonna enjoy this topic. Ever.'

Honestly, if he knew he would dabble in this kind of thing, he would have listened and taken his lessons in social sciences more seriously. But alas, all he could do was regret now.

He might be good at espionage and giving analysis as an advisor, but he was never good at debates or power struggles — in fact, he hated that latter part.

So, as much as possible, he'd like to minimize the complexities of his current tasks... As well as to live up to his promise and reach that ambition of his through any means necessary.

He then stopped in front of a door and grabbed the handle. With a smirk, he murmured to himself, "But honestly, this is far easier than I thought."

With that said, he entered the room with a pleasant smile on his face.

"Good morning. I heard you were in need of my help?"

The man inside looked up from a desk buried under a miniature mountain of paperwork. His brows were knitted together, dark circles under his eyes — the look of someone thoroughly defeated by bureaucracy.

"You're… Isaac, right? Madam Z's new assistant?" The man asked, voice weary.

Isaac gave a small, easy bow. "At your service. I heard through a little bird that you were... swamped."

The man let out a long groan and ran a hand through his hair. "More like drowning. These reports need to be sorted, cross-checked, and refiled by the end of the day — and I'm nowhere near done."

Isaac tilted his head, his smile still light. "Mind if I lend a hand, then?"

"You know how to handle these?"

"I'm an assistant now, after all. Paperwork comes with the title, doesn't it?" He quipped. "Besides, I like making things... neat."

The man blinked, clearly skeptical — but in no position to refuse help. "If you're sure..."

Isaac nodded and before pulling up a chair and rolled up his sleeves. What followed next wasn't chaotic scrambling, but instead, a surprisingly methodical rhythm. His hands moved deftly between documents, glancing over lines of dense text and notations, cross-referencing with the kind of sharp efficiency that would've put even a seasoned clerk to shame.

Page after page, file after file — processed, sorted, corrected.

The man watched in faint disbelief. "You're… actually good at this."

"Now, now..." Isaac replied with a smirk. "Don't sound so surprised. I do have my talents."

The man raised a brow. "Erm, If you say so...?"

And so, for the next hour or so, the two of them worked in tandem. Eventually, the towering stack shrank — until the final sheet was stamped, filed, and set aside.

Leaning back in his chair, Isaac exhaled lightly. "And… done."

The man wiped his brow and chuckled weakly. "I owe you one, seriously. I'd have been buried alive if not for you."

Isaac smiled wider at that. "I'll remember that."

There was a small pause, the man hesitating slightly. "...You will?"

Isaac's tone remained perfectly pleasant. "Of course. A promise is a promise."

Another pause. The man eventually sighed, resigned. "Alright. You've got me on this one. If you want something in the future... Just hit me up."

Pushing up from his chair, Isaac smoothed down his coat and offered one last courteous nod. "Glad I could help. I'll be seeing you."

With that, he left the office — footsteps now carrying a faint return of that carefree rhythm.

Inwardly, though, he was already noting the man's name, face, and department.

'Another entry for the ledger.'

His mental black book — an ever-growing collection of favors, debts, secrets... and the occasional bit of leverage.

He smiled faintly to himself.

'This network… will serve me well.'

---

Knocking before entering Madam Z's office, Isaac, ignoring her silent piercing glare, walked over to the couch and sat down with a carefree attitude.

He then pulled out a black book and waved it around while looking at her.

"The list grows, Ms. Z." He grinned. "Sooner or later there's gonna be enough names here to scare even the VP."

Madam Z arched a brow at the little black book. Her lips curled a bit — not quite a smile — before sighing. "Building a list is one thing. Putting it to use… is another matter entirely."

She folded her hands atop her desk, her gaze unwavering on him. "And that is where things become… messier."

Isaac leaned back, still twirling the book between his fingers. "Messy's just another form of fun. Besides, you know I clean up after myself."

For a moment, Z studied him in silence — then gave a slow nod. "That much is true. You've done well."

Her tone shifted just slightly. "Too well, in fact. You're more proficient at this than any decent person should be."

"Aw, you flatter me!" Isaac replied, voice light, though his smirk was sly as ever.

Z let the faintest sigh escape her lips and finally leaned back in her chair. "Joking aside… I want you aware — things are shifting."

Her gaze turned sharper. "There have been… incidents. Small, scattered arguments between arcanists and humans. Scuffles at facilities, heated debates rising in various departments, and other interpersonal oppositions."

Isaac tilted his head, listening with interest. "So… the ground's starting to tremble."

She nodded. "Yes. And those small tremors… they will be the bedrock for our adversary's next moves."

He snapped his fingers before tapping his knuckle against his chin. "Or an opportunity ripe for… gentle nudges."

Her glare cut across the room in a beat, reprimanding him like a mischievous tomcat. "No."

Isaac held up both hands innocently, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him. "Of course, of course. Purely theoretical, Ms. Z. I wouldn't dream of exploiting the cracks in our precious Foundation."

Her eyes narrowed. "It won't be necessary. The time will come — sooner than you think — when subtle sabotage won't be needed. Stability must hold."

With a chuckle, Isaac tucked the black book away. "If you say so, Madam."

Z sighed again and stood. "That's all for now. Keep yourself sharp, and… under the radar. I have another task for you tomorrow and a conference alongside me in two days so... Be alert."

He rose, straightening his coat with a mock salute. "Conferences... Fine. Understood."

"Have a good day, Ms. Z!"

With that said, Isaac exited her office, boots clicking softly against the polished floor.

The halls felt a little colder now — the lingering echoes of tension in the air were more noticeable than before.

'The situation's shifting, huh… Well, that suits me just fine.'

Isaac thrived in instability. This was his source element.

He was halfway back to his quarters when a voice called out from behind.

"Mr. Isaac."

He stopped, turning to see a young staff member approaching, a cool look on their face.

"The Vice President would like to see you… in her office."

Isaac's smirk instantly vanished — replaced by a calm, unreadable expression.

'Constantine… wants a talk?'

Now that was truly concerning.

'Did she smell the blood in the water that I've been hiding? The recent instability in the workplace? Or... Is it finally my turn?'

The last part meant being dragged away from the Timekeeper's team — which was impossible since he had already voluntarily set his distance.

He was already under the Foundation — well, by Madam Z, at least — so he couldn't possibly be Constantine's suitable target.

'Well... Let's see where this would lead.'

After thinking about it for a while, he soon straightened his cuffs and gave the staffer a polite nod.

"Lead the way."