"The Prescript is for Parkye: follow me and become a Proselyte."
The Index Messenger bowed politely, but Putato knew these people wouldn't hesitate to strike if necessary.
Faced with this sudden Prescript, both Parui and Parkye were clearly stunned. Parkye retreated, trembling with fear and hesitation.
"Where are you taking my sister?!" Parui demanded.
"Apologies, but that is confidential to outsiders," the Messenger replied smoothly, adjusting her gold-rimmed glasses. "Rest assured, we take great care of our comrades; after all, this is the will of the Prescript."
She answered Parui's barrage of questions calmly, but her hand had already drifted to the hilt of her rapier.
Seeing this, Putato shifted his stance, ready to shove the Messenger's blade back into its scabbard if it came to that. He hadn't gone through all that trouble to rescue someone only to watch them die over this.
"It's okay, Putato. I won't do anything stupid," Parui said, trying to de-escalate the tension. He looked at his sister, Parkye, and after a long struggle, he grit his teeth.
"I have no objection, but you cannot force her!"
"Hehe, the Prescript has already shown me how to approach her."
Releasing her blade, the Messenger strode over to Parkye, took her hand, and led her away. Parkye looked conflicted but didn't resist.
Once they were gone, Parui slumped down, rubbing his temples. Noticing Putato's bewildered gaze, he began to explain.
"There's no other way. I've spent everything on that commission; I'm a pauper now. At least the Index is a Star of the City. If they're inviting her to be a formal member, she won't starve."
"Bro, thanks for everything."
Parui clearly had more on his mind than he let on, but he bid Putato a quiet, somber farewell.
Finally, Putato had a moment to contact Olga.
"You are incredibly reliable! You slipped away with her so quietly. Did you get the payment?!"
"Yeah. It was more than we agreed on."
"Of course it was! You handled the intel and the key moves. It felt like Rosedale and I were just riding your coattails!"
"Don't say that. I was spotted earlier. It was thanks to you guys drawing the enemy out."
"When? Wait... that lunatic silhouette sprinting straight through the Sweeper tide was you?! I thought, 'who is this madman?' Do you really value commissions over your life?!"
"Because I want to make a name for myself."
There was a pause on the other end.
"Fair enough. No wonder you're always in such a rush. Most of the credit will go to you. I'll apply for your Grade 5 Fixer promotion through the Office."
"But I have to warn you: from Grade 5 onward, the Hana Association's audit standards get strict. There have been cases of people using their own money to fake commission records. Don't go tainting your record."
"Of course. I wouldn't gamble with my future."
"Alright then. You're buying me a drink tonight! You made so much money, don't tell me you aren't sharing?"
Beside him, Mo stiffened, her optical sensor glaring at Putato.
"Another day. I've got some Syndicate business to handle. I need to pay my Smiling Faces friend for the intel."
"Well, you aren't getting out of buying that drink. I'll check back tomorrow."
Putato let out a sigh of relief as he hung up, only to face Mo, whose anger still hadn't subsided.
"Oh, 'our relationship is so good,' 'you aren't getting out of it,' 'I'll check back tomorrow.' My foot!"
"So you have so many friends, huh? You definitely don't need one more like me."
Hearing her sarcastic tone, Putato simply gave in and transferred a portion of the money to her. Thinking about it, most of the money he was spending technically came from Parui's assets.
Sigh. Matters in The City are truly tangled, like a messy ball of yarn that's impossible to unravel.
Listening to Mo's cheerful whooping, Putato headed out to find a quiet alley to contact Smiling Faces.
"Hello."
Putato spun around in shock, thinking another monster had come knocking. At the end of the alley, wedged in a pile of trash, he found a vending machine facing the wall, emitting a soft light.
"What are you supposed to be?"
"My name is Brandon. I am a customer service representative specifically designed to address low customer satisfaction and high vending machine damage rates. My personality chip is plugged right in here."
"Are you insane?! Did you get sucked into some black-hearted Corporation?"
"Uh, not exactly. This was a job I worked hard to get. Recently, a wave of monsters ate the boss of my original processing factory. I was happy about that, of course, but then I was unemployed."
"Bro, do you get a commission when someone buys something from the machine?"
"Of course! I'm very grateful to the Corporation. After all, why would an automated vending machine need customer service? Isn't it wonderfully strange?"
Putato stepped forward, casually ordered a drink, and paid. He looked down to see it was a pepper-flavored carbonated soda.
How do you even drink this?!
"Ah! Dear guest, thank you so much for your patronage. I don't suppose I could be fortunate enough to ask you for a small favor?"
"Speak up. I've got nothing but time right now."
"Some rowdy customers dragged me back here, so the Corporation's maintenance crew couldn't find me during their scheduled inspections. Could you please move me back out? I would be eternally grateful."
Putato hadn't expected the most eloquent individual he'd met in The City would be a vending machine.
Setting the pepper soda aside, he easily moved the machine back to the street.
"So, how exactly do you reduce the damage rate? By reasoning with those idiots?"
"I tell jokes. Please, allow me to tell you one."
"Fine. Go ahead."
"I tried a new weight-loss app. It promised a refund within 30 days. I ended up losing weight because I was too afraid to eat for the whole 30 days."
"Haha, see you around."
"Dear guest, until we meet again!"
Putato forced a thin smile, thinking this "customer service" was utterly useless, and headed back into the depths of the alley to contact Smiling Faces.
"Hey there. Looks like you found a safe haven. You move fast, Putato."
"Cut the crap, Wang. I just killed that idiot Wym. I'm calling to get an advance on my pay."
His nonchalant tone caused even Wang to fall silent.
"It hasn't even been half a day since we split up. You truly are unfathomable, Putato. Coming to our Smiling Faces is honestly beneath your talents."
"Ah, right. You're here to learn our knife skills. Tell you what: our big operation is basically wrapped up. It's time to provide some 'reference material' for your culinary arts."
"But I have to warn you: you're getting a bit too much spotlight. There's no rule in The City saying only Syndicates can raid Offices. Plenty of people looking for fame will have their eyes on you, including other Syndicates. You understand?"
Putato frowned; he understood Wang's meaning perfectly.
It wasn't just about "the tall poppy gets cut"; it was simply that people seeking fame target those who already have it. As a newcomer who suddenly burst onto the scene, many would want to use him as a stepping stone.
"I'll handle it. I'm also contacting you for something else. I want to use the Smiling Faces' connection with Gaze Office. Can I buy some intel?"
"Of course. You're a member of Smiling Faces now: a Priest, no less. But do you mind telling me whose intel you're after?"
"I'd rather not say."
[Use a coin toss to determine if it will rain today. Heads means rain.]
Putato issued a Prescript and tossed the coin, pinning it against the back of his hand. It was tails.
He looked up at the clear sky, thinking that his Unfettered talent was practically a cheat code in The City. Finding people was effortless.
He needed to settle his own affairs, and fast!
...
Alloc, whose head featured a horizontal row of green, yellow, and red circular lights, looked at the glowing tablet in his palm and raised his head triumphantly toward his two companions.
On the table, Alloc's file clearly listed him as a Grade 4 Fixer and the representative of Gaze Office.
"Haha, you lost to me!"
Dalloc, a short individual in a fluorescent pink and white coat with seven different cameras on his head, waved his oversized, puffy sleeves in protest.
Dalloc's cameras all swiveled toward Alloc in accusation.
"Is that smoke? Everything in the fight is blurred. Even infrared couldn't pick up the silhouettes of Wym and Putato."
"An unknown nobody actually managed to kill a Ring Maestro? Alloc, did you cheat? What the hell is this Putato's background?"
Bono, who was busy maintaining his four mechanical tentacles, let out an uneasy sigh and complained to the two who were settling their bet.
"You two shouldn't keep using client privacy for gambling. It's not a good look."
Dalloc simply displayed a single white eyeball on all his cameras, clearly dismissive of Bono's caution.
"Hey, hey, Alloc. Someone from Smiling Faces is calling. Want to pick up?"
Alloc snatched the money from Dalloc's hand and gave the order.
"Of course. Money has to be earned bit by bit. Besides, it's not us the Ring will be hunting for revenge. Patch it through to me!"
...
In the heart of the dense commercial district.
Putato walked vigilantly into a hotel lounge and ordered a table of food for one.
"Gaze Office? I want information on a K Corp Director. Make it as detailed as possible."
"Issuing a commission regarding the Wings of the World? That's a bit whimsical, isn't it?"
"Just a photograph and a name. You can't even get something that simple?"
"No one has ever made such a strange and simple request. A Wing Director's movements are hard to track, but if it's just that level of detail, it's actually too easy."
The red, yellow, and green lights on Alloc's head flickered incessantly. He was full of questions regarding Putato's bizarre request.
"A commission of this specification is quite a mismatch for our Office's grade."
"I can pay extra. My time is valuable. Can you do it or not?"
"Are we speaking with the esteemed Mr. Putato? Your Excellency just offended the Ring; poking at K Corp now might not be the wisest move."
"Of course, I won't turn a commission away at the door. But perhaps we could exchange a more private method of contact?"
"No need."
Putato didn't care for the Fixer's small talk.
Even though Offices are monitored by the Association to follow the rules, rules are always flexible. There was no guarantee the other party wouldn't turn around and sell his own intel.
A Fixer technically cannot betray a client, but one commission doesn't necessarily conflict with another.
As long as one's ethics are loose enough, there are always more solutions than problems.
"Uh..."
Alloc paused for a brief moment. He really hadn't expected Putato to refuse further cooperation with Gaze Office.
Alloc wasn't just bragging; Gaze Office sat in a sweet spot. They handled outsourced commissions from high-tier Grade 1 Fixers like Cane Office, while maintaining back-alley dealings with every major Syndicate. Their intelligence wing was the definition of "high quality, low cost."
"Mr. Putato, I believe no one turns down money. Perhaps in the future, I can bring some high-end commissions your way. Your combat prowess has already earned our Office's stamp of approval."
So that's it. Putato finally realized this guy was trying to cultivate a Syndicate enforcer. He'd taken a liking to Putato's raw power.
After all, the Hana Association didn't have a rule saying Fixers couldn't hire Syndicate thugs for a job.
"Then show me your sincerity. Get this current job done first. I haven't given your Office my stamp of approval yet."
Once he realized the play, Putato naturally adopted a haughty stance. This kind of simple intel commission was a buyer's market: if they didn't do it, someone else would. He was the one holding the cards.
"No problem at all. We'll compile the data and send it over immediately. Our Office's work quality is absolutely reliable!"
Putato spent the next minute frowning through the man's sales pitch before finally setting the communicator aside to eat.
Even though his body was back to full health, his stomach was still empty. He hadn't had a decent meal in ages, so he dug in with gusto before picking the device back up.
"Hey. You done?"
"Dear client, our service is well worth your commission!"
"Please check your inbox."
Putato was a bit surprised by the man's sudden friendliness. This "pay-to-be-polite" Office style was actually quite refreshing.
Opening the email, he found a mountain of credential portraits, including newspaper clippings, event photos, and shaky hidden-camera snaps. Each was paired with a corresponding name, clearly collected from a vast array of sources.
It was a shame The City didn't have a one-click corporate lookup website. Personnel changes within the Wings of the World were rarely made public, which was exactly why one had to pay for this kind of information.
After leaving the hotel, Putato eagerly numbered the documents. Then, he pulled a coin from his pocket.
Who needs an intel Office when you have The City's prescriptions?
Compared to working as a corporate drone to earn money just to spend it on expensive rumors, Putato only had to move a finger to get pinpoint-accurate intel. Today, he was going to smoke out that K Corp Director!
That neurotic bastard who dared to ambush him was as good as dead!
Putato propped himself up against a dumpster and began sifting through the targets one by one.
[Use a coin toss to determine if the person I am looking for is this one. Heads means yes.]
No matter how well these City lunatics hid, could they really hide from The City itself?
"..."
"Putato?"
Sasa and Darcy were strolling down the street, hand in hand, when they noticed Putato crouching in a corner, tossing a coin like a madman. They tried calling out several times but received no response.
"He looks busy. Let's not disturb him."
"I heard Rosedale collaborated with Molar Office yesterday, and Putato was there too. Apparently, he joined Smiling Faces."
"Just based on his power, he's incredible. It's hard to imagine he'd sponsor an orphanage."
CLINK!
The repetitive mechanical motion had left Putato slightly dazed. The coin hit the ground and rolled, heading straight for the sewer grate.
"Are you f***ing kidding me?! I'm busy here!"
Putato had been completely focused on solving the mystery, and having it interrupted left him fuming. He glared at the rain-slicked sewer grate, cursing and even reaching out to pry it open.
I'll melt you down once I'm done with your scrap metal!
"Here, use mine."
A hand wearing a black lace glove offered a coin. Putato took it in a daze, hastily fishing a bill from his pocket and shoving it back in return. He didn't even have time to talk as he resumed his coin-tossing.
Darcy stared at Putato, slack-jawed, and swallowed hard.
"He really is busy. Let's just head to that orphanage instead."
"Good idea. We can add this money to our own donation. Consider it a thank you for the cathedral incident."
The two didn't dare stay any longer, fearing Putato had a case of "City Madness." Even after they'd reached the street, they cast lingering, fearful glances back.
BOOM!
A cloud of smoke erupted from the mouth of the alley they had just left, shattering the glass of nearby shops.