Philip started pacing in circles around the celestial office like a man betrayed by the HR department of the universe.
"That explains everything! Every time someone said 'Heir,' I felt ashamed. My spirit naturally rejected it!"
Seravion slowly closed the scroll.
"If it's any consolation… the Creator spent three hours choosing the name."
Philip froze.
"He spent THREE HOURS thinking of that atrocity?"
"There was a vote."
"THERE WERE MORE PEOPLE INVOLVED?!"
Seravion coughed again.
"The Luminarchs participated partially."
Philip looked at the golden ceiling of paradise.
Then at the floor.
Then back at Seravion.
"I was the victim of a celestial corporate meeting."
"Technically—"
"THERE IS NO 'TECHNICALLY' THAT CAN SAVE THIS!"
He threw himself back onto the sofa, defeated.
"My mother spent months choosing my name… just for me to die and a group of angels decide 'Philip' wasn't protagonist enough."
Silence lingered for a few seconds.
Then Seravion commented calmly:
"To be fair… you really don't seem like a traditional protagonist."
Philip immediately pointed at him.
"Thank you."
"That was an insult."
Seravion tilted his head slightly.
"But you died."
"SHUT UP, SERAVION!"
His voice echoed through the celestial office.
Philip took a deep breath, rubbing both hands over his face like a man trying to prevent a nervous breakdown.
"Anyway…" he muttered. "Where are you shoving me now, man?"
Seravion adjusted a few golden scrolls on the desk.
"Before explaining the next world… you received some new rules."
Philip immediately narrowed his eyes.
"This never starts well."
"First rule: no telling people you're an employee sent to solve narrative problems."
Philip stayed silent for two seconds.
"Only if you let me keep my name."
Seravion blinked.
"What?"
"Basic negotiation tactics from an exploited worker. You want quality service? Then I want minimum labor rights. My name comes back and I stop exposing the company to the clients."
Seravion sighed slowly.
"Philip—"
"No." He raised a hand. "No more 'Heir,' 'Aster,' 'Kael,' 'Lucion,' or whatever orphan protagonist name with a sharp jawline you people invent. I want to be Philip. Simple. That's my branding."
The Solaris remained silent for a few seconds.
Then:
"…I can try submitting a formal request."
Philip's eyes widened.
"THERE'S A FORM FOR THAT?!"
"There are forms for everything."
"My God… you people really turned divine transcendence into public bureaucracy."
Seravion ignored him.
"Second rule: avoid excessively altering the core narrative."
Philip immediately raised a finger.
"I disagree."
"This is not a debate."
"If the narrative core sucks, I'm changing it anyway. I'm not going to sit there watching a protagonist suffer because some movie-obsessed god wants 'dramatic density.'"
Seravion massaged his forehead again.
"Philip… the Creator is personally observing your interventions now."
Silence.
Philip blinked.
"…What do you mean 'personally'?"
"He found you… interesting."
Philip pointed at himself, horrified.
"That is the worst thing that has ever happened to me."
"Probably."
He started pacing in circles again.
"No, because now everything makes sense! I became entertainment for the supreme boss! I'm literally an interdimensional reality show!"
Seravion decided not to comment.
Philip stopped abruptly.
"Wait."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Do I get a raise for that?"
The silence came too quickly.
And Philip recognized that silence.
It was the same silence managers used before saying, "We're offering experience."
"Oh no…" he slowly pointed at Seravion. "I'm solving problems and being entertainment for the boss… I'm doing two different jobs."
Philip crossed his arms indignantly.
"I should receive TWO salaries."
Seravion opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"You talk too much… let's move on to what matters."
Philip immediately narrowed his eyes.
"Look at that. Changing the subject because you know I'm right."
Seravion pulled another golden scroll out of nowhere.
Philip kept grumbling anyway:
"Typical corporate behavior. The employee starts questioning compensation and HR immediately goes, 'let's focus on growth opportunities.'"
"Philip."
"'We're a family.'"
He raised his voice dramatically.
"'Here we value passion for the mission.'"
"PHILIP."
"And another thing—"
The Solaris simply smacked the scroll against Philip's forehead.
Philip went quiet.
More from shock than pain.
"Thank you. Finally silence," Seravion muttered, clearly exhausted for the first time in ages.
Philip slowly removed the scroll from his face.
"You assaulted me in the workplace."
"You never stop talking in the workplace."
"My God, nowadays even angels are aggressive."
Seravion completely ignored him.
"Next world."