Blackstone City, 10:00 AM.
On North Whitepine Street, outside a basement storage room on the lowest level of the Tax Bureau building, Hall was pacing anxiously, muttering to himself.
"Strange. It's been an hour. Why haven't those two come out yet? Could something have gone wrong?"
This secluded room, rarely approached by anyone, served as the teleportation conduit between the Bureau of Heresy Research and the Tax Bureau. As a long-time clerk in the Tax Bureau's Personnel Department, Hall wasn't a member of the secret organization; he was an external operative placed there by the Bureau of Heresy Research.
His job was to guide the newcomers who passed Marcus's test to the reception room, triggering the subsequent screening protocols. Usually, the process took ten minutes at most. Eliminated candidates would remain in the original reception room to have their memories wiped, while those who passed entered the Bureau and eventually returned through this storage room to complete the "official" paperwork.
In Hall's experience, the newcomers were usually back within thirty minutes. But today, an hour had passed, and the storage room remained deathly silent, with no sign of the door opening.
Is the conduit malfunctioning? Or did those two have an accident during the screening?
Hall's heart hammered against his ribs as grim possibilities swirled in his mind. He was just a low-level runner; he didn't understand the mechanics of the screening process and had zero authority to interfere with the Bureau's internal affairs. If something truly broke, he—as the liaison—would be the first one to take the fall.
At the thought, Hall reached out to grab the door handle, but his hand recoiled before he could touch it. The Bureau had strict rules: external personnel were forbidden from touching the conduit. Violators were subject to "Purification."
The mere thought of those words made Hall shudder, his anxiety instantly replaced by cold dread.
After another seven or eight minutes, the storage room door finally creaked open. Byrne and Selena stepped out together. Seeing them unharmed, the weight finally lifted from Hall's chest. He hurried forward, his voice tight with relief.
"You two! You're finally out. It's been an hour, I thought—"
He cut himself off, realizing he had overstepped. He quickly corrected himself: "Nothing. I was just worried you might have gotten lost. That reception room can be... complicated."
Byrne had long since seen through Hall's role and knew exactly what the man was worried about. That lapse in composure was simply the fear that if something happened to him and Selena, Hall wouldn't be able to answer to his superiors. These external operatives often knew just enough to be terrified, but not enough to have any real power, leading them to live more cautiously than anyone.
Byrne didn't call him out. He played along. "True. We were waiting quite a while in that reception room, and there was a circuit failure that delayed us."
"A circuit failure?" Hall blinked, then realized it was a convenient excuse. He nodded vigorously. "Ah, yes, yes! This building is decades old; the wiring is quite unstable. As long as you're both alright. Follow me, there are just a few final formalities to handle."
Hall turned and led them toward the stairwell. Shortly after, the three of them arrived at the Personnel Department on the third floor. Once the data entry was complete, a clerk handed over two dark grey ID cards and two brand-new uniforms. The clerk didn't say a word, performing the task with mechanical precision.
Hall took the items and handed them to Byrne and Selena. "The Tax Collection Department is on the west side of the fourth floor. I'll show you the office area and introduce you to your colleagues."
The office for the Tax Collection Department was spacious, with dozens of desks arranged in neat rows. Staff members kept their heads down, buried in work. Hall led them to the north side of the office and pointed to two adjacent empty desks.
"These will be your desks from now on. The documents on the desks are the tax manifests for various districts in Blackstone City. You can look through them when you have a moment." Hall paused, remembering something. "Oh, right. The Head of the Tax Collection Department is a stern man who doesn't tolerate nonsense. Just try not to make any mistakes."
Byrne picked up the file on his desk and flipped through a few pages. It was filled with tax records for ordinary merchants and residents—nothing special. He looked up at Hall. "Specialist Hall, since the induction is finished, are we permitted to leave according to the regulations?"
Hall nodded quickly, a look of pure relief washing over his face.
"Yes, all the paperwork is in order. As per custom, newcomers can spend their first day familiarizing themselves with the environment. If you have nothing else to do, you can head back to rest and report for duty tomorrow morning. If there's nothing else, I'll get back to my own work."
After a few polite pleasantries, Hall turned and hurried away. His pace was significantly faster than when they arrived, clearly eager to be rid of the job that had kept him on edge.
Once Hall was gone, the office remained a hive of activity; no one paid much attention to the two rookies. Selena held the bag containing her ID and uniform to her chest and whispered, "This isn't a good place to talk. Let's get out of here."
Byrne nodded, grabbed his gear, and followed her out of the office. They walked out of the Tax Bureau building in silence. It wasn't until they stepped onto the sidewalk of North Whitepine Street that Selena spoke softly.
"What a day. I never expected that while we're Tax Collectors on paper, we're actually Apprentice Investigators for the Bureau of Heresy Research."
Byrne sighed, rubbing his face. "Incredible doesn't cover it. It's overwhelming. One second, I thought I was finally getting a stable life as a Tax Collector, and the next, I'm sucked into an even more dangerous whirlpool."
Selena looked at him, her tone carrying a hint of playful reproach. "By the way, I had no idea you were a psyker. You hid it so well during the desert test that I didn't suspect a thing."
Byrne rolled his eyes and fired back, "Heh. Look who's talking. You did exactly the same thing."
The two shared a quick, knowing smile. Selena tucked a stray hair behind her ear and asked with feigned casualness, "It's still early, and I'm not planning on heading straight home. How about you, Byrne?"
Byrne checked his mechanical watch. "Yeah, I'm not in a rush. I was planning to walk around the city and find a suitable apartment to rent."
"Rent an apartment?" Selena blinked, but understanding soon followed. "Right. The Lower District is a mess; given your new status, it really isn't the best place to live."
A thought struck her, and she smiled. "What a coincidence. I was actually thinking of finding a new place to stay myself. I know the Upper District better than you do—why don't I help you look?"
Byrne didn't hesitate to accept. His knowledge of the Upper District was limited to the street where the Ironbone Cafe was located. Having a noble "guide" would save him a lot of trouble.
"I'd appreciate that. With you leading the way, I'm sure I'll avoid a lot of dead ends."
He suspected that Selena's offer wasn't just to help him; she likely wanted an excuse to stay away from her family's watchful eyes. After all, the way she had looked when facing that Lawrence family hover-car at Emperor's Square hadn't exactly screamed "happy at home."
Selena laughed. "Don't be so polite. We're companions, aren't we?"
With that, the two set off toward the intersection ahead, chatting and laughing as they navigated the streets of North Whitepine.