Chapter 4 - Paperwork is My Greatest Enemy

"So, what now?"

"Registration."

"Oh, great. Is there a line? Do I get a number? I always wanted to pull one of those little tickets from a dispenser."

"You don't get a number."

"Of course. How could I expect such luxuries?"

Elren kept walking through the maze-like halls of Central, his pace steady, his back as stiff as ever. He was either immune to my voice now or actively pretending I was white noise.

"Do I get a badge? Maybe something that says 'Hello, my name is Anomaly'?"

"No."

"You're so generous with your answers."

He stopped at a heavy metal door, pressed his palm against a scanner, and the door slid open with a hiss.

Inside was a wide room with sleek panels, glowing monitors, and a giant central console that looked far too intimidating for me to touch.

"Sit."

"You know, you have a real talent for making commands sound like death sentences."

I sat.

An operator appeared, an older woman in uniform who clearly didn't have time for nonsense. She barely looked at me as she activated the scanner.

"Name?"

"Ava Lin."

"Date of birth?"

"June 17th"

"Year?"

"Uh, I—well…"

Now she looked so annoyed.

What can I do? I don't know what year it is. If I said I was born in 2000 something but their calendar now in 3000 something, then technically how old am I?

"Estimated age?"

"Twenty-five."

"Place of origin?"

"Ugh..Somewhere else."

Her fingers froze on the console. She lifted her eyes to Elren. "You brought me an outworlder?"

"Direct orders. Register her as anomaly-class."

"But she's not from here."

"I noticed."

"Outworlders again. We don't get them for years and now suddenly two in one decade."

Elren didn't reply.

My ears perked up. Wait. Two? So, I'm not the first?

"Her ledger?"

"Nonexistent."

The woman sighed and continued typing. I had the distinct feeling I had just ruined her entire afternoon.

"You'll need to sign this," she said, shoving a digital pad at me.

"Oh wow, a contract! Is this where I sell my soul?"

"Basic registration. It acknowledges that you're under Central surveillance."

"Okay, but I want it noted somewhere that I never agreed to this."

"Noted. Irrelevant."

I scribbled my signature.

"So, about what you said earlier. There's been another outworlder?"

"That's classified."

"Oh, come on. I'm already here. You can't just drop a bomb like that and expect me to let it go."

The operator ignored me completely.

How rude, maybe that default setting here.

Then, Mr. Silent-is-golden take me go again.

"What now?"

"We run tests. Lots of tests. Physical, mental, and oath resonance scans."

"That sounds invasive."

"It is."

"Do I get snacks at least?"

"No."

"Wow, you people really need to work on your hospitality."

Elren gestured for me to follow him again.

"Seriously, do you enjoy walking like you're constantly late for a war?"

"It's efficient."

"You should try strolling sometime. It's very therapeutic."

He led me to another facility where I was poked, scanned, and asked a thousand questions I barely understood. All the while, Elren watched from a distance, his expression unreadable.

The staff seemed both fascinated and mildly terrified of me. I overheard whispers like "ledger-null" and "system bug" and "potential fracture point."

I had no idea what any of it meant, but it didn't sound like a compliment.

And in between the murmurs, I caught another name floating around—something about "the one before her."

There really was someone before me. Another outworlder? Someone who slipped into this world like I did?

I filed the thought away. I would dig into that later.

When I was finally released from the clutches of Central's medical team, Elren handed me a sleek black badge.

"What's this?"

"Your temporary identification."

"Oh, finally! Do I get access to the cafeteria now?"

"No."

"How do you survive without snacks?"

"Discipline."

"Sounds fake, but okay."

I clipped the badge onto my jacket, feeling mildly accomplished.

"So, what's next? Do I get an apartment? An allowance? A survival manual?"

"You'll stay under my supervision."

"Great. Roommates!"

He gave me a flat look. "You talk too much."

"I've been told it's part of my charm."

"It's not."

"You're just not immune yet."

He sighed, deeply this time.

Victory. Sweet, sweet victory.

"Let's go."

"You say that like I have a choice."

He didn't answer. Of course he didn't.

Perfect. New world, terrifying monsters, emotionally unavailable babysitter, and now… paperwork. Truly, the hardest level.