July 17, Year 993 8:30 a.m
The morning air was crisp, and the sky above was a sheet of brilliant, unblemished blue. Shafts of golden sunlight poured across the wide boulevard, bathing the asphalt in an almost illusory warmth and optimism. The city was a current of vibrant motion: storefronts bustled with preparatory energy, raising their awnings for the day's heavy trade. From the mixed residential blocks—which included both standard high-density apartments and prestigious, towering dormitories—a steady stream of young men and women poured out, many of them running in a professional hurry towards their scheduled jobs. Deep within one of these most grand and costly dormitories, along the edge of a long, shadowed corridor, lay a room whose appearance was strikingly anomalous.
It was almost painfully bright and aggressively shiny, ostentatiously decorated with small, incessantly blinking lights, demanding attention from every other anonymous door. The display was unwarranted, as no seasonal festival justified such conspicuous ornamentation.
That room belonged to Leonard Zaskil, now twenty-one years old and freshly graduated from his university with honors. Inside the compact space, a single cot dominated the floor, crowned with a luxuriously thick mattress. Beside it, a full-length mirror, housed in a polished silver frame, gave off a brilliant, luminous shine. In front of that mirror stood Leonard, impeccably dressed in a crisp white shirt and black trousers, currently adjusting a sky-blue tie around his neck. His eyes were alight with intense excitement, and his carefully styled, uncombed hair still managed to look perfect.
A slow smile played on his lips. "Can't believe I'm about to become a corporate slave at the tender age of twenty-one," he mused with a dramatic sigh, holding the knot of the tie. He paused, admiring his reflection. "God damn, I'm handsome as hell… this blue tie doesn't fit the aesthetic, though. I should become a District Chief quickly so I can switch it out for that red tie."
He pulled on his black suit jacket and strode out of the room, locking the door with a confident click. This was the first day of his career, and the thrill was palpable. He quickly exited the imposing dormitory and climbed into his sleek car. The vibrant, bustling streets, now choked with morning traffic, made him feel instantly integrated as a part of the working force of the country.
After a mercifully short drive, he reached his destination: a monumental skyscraper whose pinnacle disappeared into the haze of the upper atmosphere, invisible to the naked eye without a sharp squint. Etched clearly onto the center of the building was a distinct, bold logo in the shape of a star, emblazoned with the words: "SPECIAL ORDER FOR REGULATION OF CRIME – SPANIA." This was the very organization Leonard had trusted nine years ago, only to be met with failure. The SORC was the largest military and police force not directly controlled by the Royal Family, yet it commanded immense respect and fear from both the Crown and the general populace. Every officer within its ranks was treated with a distinct blend of reverence and apprehension
And this formidable fortress was the site of Leonard's inaugural job. He had been recruited as a Squad Captain, a designation unprecedented for a fresh graduate, a feat unheard of among the general masses.
The power structure of the SORC was admirably efficient. A Squad formed the fundamental working unit of the organization, comprising anywhere from one to fifty officers, depending on the purpose of the squad's existence. This Squad was led and supervised by a Squad Captain.
Multiple Squads operated within a single District, the number determined by the strategic political value and the endemic crime rate of that region. The highest position of authority within a District was the Chief of District.
Officer Roland, whom Leonard encountered nine years prior, held the pivotal position of Chief of District for the Spania branch.
The only people holding rank above the Chief of District were the Company Commanders. These elite few dictated every major strategic and operational decision concerning the SORC. They represented a formidable power base, second only to the Royal Army itself, and wielded considerable, non-negligible political authority within the royal court.
Presently, only three Company Commanders were actively serving in the force, and their true identities were one of the SORC's most rigorously guarded secrets. In fact, Leonard himself was privy to the identity of only one of them.
Thinking about the fundamental power structure within the SORC, Leonard strode through the entrance gates after verifying his identity. The interior of the colossal skyscraper was a pleasant shock. He had anticipated a bland, institutional space, but instead, the atrium was an architectural marvel. It was breathtakingly splendid and immediately engaging to the eye. Despite being an enclosed space, the lobby felt alive, accented by thriving small trees and meticulously manicured shrubs placed at perfectly balanced intervals.
Center stage, dominating the vast marble floor, was the magnificent sculpted figure of a woman representing the Goddess of Light, Luminos. Her hair, long and flowing, cascaded down to her waist. Her eyes were wrapped with a simple cloth, a veil against her blinding divine radiance, as ancient legends claimed her true gaze was more than capable of blinding mortals. In one hand, she clutched a colossal spear, a weapon said to eradicate absolute darkness, while her other hand gently cradled a small, incandescent sphere—the undiluted manifestation of the sun itself.
Leonard was utterly spellbound by the statue, instinctively admiring the sculptor's masterful artistry that had infused the cold stone with palpable, divine life. He reluctantly moved on, passing the bustling reception desk, where a considerable crowd gathered, likely seeking the force's urgent assistance. Walking past the activity, he entered a sleek elevator.
Inside the elevator, two middle-aged men were engaged in quiet conversation. Both were balding, yet they possessed a striking fitness that suggested they were more vigorous and active than most of the youth outside.
The moment they caught sight of Leonard, their chatter ceased, and they offered a crisp, deferential bow. Leonard returned the courtesy immediately. The men's eyes glistened with astonishment—a reaction Leonard understood instantly.
They wore green ties, a sign that his Squad Captain designation placed him at a significantly higher post than theirs. The social hierarchy did not bother him; his policy was simply to always return any greeting in kind.
The sleek lift began its ascent, moving upwards at an agonizingly slow pace. Leonard was bound for the 30th floor, indicating a tedious ride ahead. Having nothing else to occupy himself, he settled back and began listening to the men's conversation.
One man leaned closer to the other, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Oi, did you hear about the new recruits?"
"Yeah, apparently one of them was directly posted as a Squad Captain," the second man replied, shaking his head slightly.
"That alone is incredibly rare, but apparently, he even had the opportunity to become a Battalion Leader in the Royal Army, and he was accepted into the Intelligence Bureau."
The second man scoffed, crossing his arms. "Ehh… rumors often tend to be wildly exaggerated. Sure, he must be extraordinary to be given the post of Squad Captain, but Battalion Leader? The Intelligence Bureau? A sane person would never choose the SORC if they were offered those opportunities."
He paused, tapping his temple. "Also, to even enter the Intelligence Bureau, one needs to be among the top ten graduating students from Lionheart University. A commoner can never crack the top ten rankings—surely you know that, Marco?"
"The source of the so-called exaggerated rumors was my niece, who herself ranked within the top thousand students this year. I have more than enough reason to believe in these rumors," Marco insisted, his tone defensive.
The second man—Marco's friend—argued, "Marco, think logically. If he was given the offers you mentioned, he must be at least within the top ten. A person of that caliber would definitely be offered the post of Chief of District at the very least. Even then, he probably wouldn't join the SORC. The information completely contradicts itself."
The lift finally chimed and slowed to a smooth stop at the thirtieth floor. It was time for Leonard to disembark.
As he was about to exit, he paused, turning to face Marco and his friend, his lips curving into a predatory smile. "The rumors are definitely true," he stated, his voice cool and confident. "I will confirm them for you, after all… they are about me."
The doors of the lift slid shut immediately after Leonard stepped out, leaving the two officers frozen in mid-motion. The lift began its journey further upwards, carrying Marco and his friend, whose mouths were left wide open in shocked, silent astonishment.
****
Leonard found himself standing before the office suite. The entrance was dominated by two imposing, large black doors, fitted with heavy, polished golden handles. Beside the frame, set into the smooth, white wall, was a striking gold-colored plaque engraved with bold, black text: "CHIEF OF DISTRICT: SPANIA."
He had come here to greet the Chief of District, his direct superior—a necessary formality for his first day on the job.
Leonard raised his hand and delivered a sharp, decisive knock. Without pausing for the expected response, he immediately grasped one of the golden handles and pushed the heavy door open.