Leon entered the Bureau of Extraordinary Sanitation clutching two resolutions - survive if possible, secure death benefits if not. The corridor's peeling directional signs led him to a familiar obsidian door.
"Anyone there? I'm applying!"
The creaking door revealed not the crimson-haired interviewer, but... a bipedal black goat clutching a cigarette.
"Never seen a demon before?" The goat exhaled smoke rings through foam-flecked lips. "Your balls get crushed or what? I amplified your malice sevenfold and you still didn't gut that fat bastard!"
Before Leon could process this, an empty whiskey bottle arced from the shadows, knocking the demon goat unconscious into his arms.
[Encountered Unidentified Entity: Crimson Badge "Materialist's Soul" Activated]
[Entity Designation: Infernal Horns (Corruption/Erudition/Whispers)]
[Description: Welsh Mountain Goat transformed through sacrificial rites. Capabilities: Malice Amplification, Occult Knowledge]
[Weakness: Welsh-born Males]
[Corruption Level: 0.1%]
As Leon gaped at the holographic text, the red-haired woman emerged wielding another bottle. "Back again?"
"I'm abnormal!" Leon blurted. "I mean... I have special capabilities!"
Her emerald eyes narrowed skeptically. "Prove it."
Leon gestured at the unconscious goat. "Its true form's the horns. Feeds on 'Gault' cigarettes and sinful souls. Belongs to someone called Olivia. Terrified of Welshmen."
The woman's bottle paused mid-swig. She smashed it against the goat's head.
"Olivia you bi--" The demon goat's curse died under her glare.
"Meet your new partner," she declared. "From Wales."
The goat's pupils dilated. "Bullshit! Headquarters' audit is--"
"True," she grinned wolfishly. "But you're scared of Welshmen. Why?"
After verifying Leon's claims, she extended a pale hand. "Welcome to Virgo Sanitation Bureau - Division Six."
Leon's relief lasted precisely three seconds. "Wait... Virgo Bureau?"
"We've 87 branches named after constellations." She gestured at their scarab-shaped emblem. "Ours is a dung beetle maiden pushing cosmic waste. Quaint, no?"
Leon stared at the absurd insignia. In this gods-forsaken world, even salvation came with shitty merchandise.
[New Badge: "Probationer" (Iron-tier) Activated]
[Effect: +15% Work Efficiency]
[Evolution: Survive 2 months → Bronze "Corporate Drone"]
[Hidden Curse: Designated Scapegoat During Crises]
As Leon rushed to secure his sister's medical benefits, the reanimated goat sneered: "Playing savior, Olivia? That walking corpse won't last a week."
Olivia drained another bottle. "He's tougher than you think."
"Remember the last charity case?" The goat mocked in a falsetto: "Why show me sunlight if you'll drag me back to hell?"
A blade-hum filled the air. The demon disintegrated into woolen confetti.
"Never," Olivia whispered to the remaining goat head, her crimson hair darkening, "say my name."
Olivia studied the goat's severed head, its obsidian eyes burning with impotent rage. "You did decent work during the Astlan incident," she admitted, swirling amber liquid in her whiskey bottle. "But this seems more your speed now."
The crimson-haired woman tapped the bottle's base thoughtfully. "While I'm investigating why Welshmen make you shit your hoofs, you'll keep that stitched mouth. Consider it... vocal rest."
"Mmmph! Mmmphmmph!" The demon's muffled protests rattled its sutured lips.
...
Across town, Leon slammed his new credentials onto the respiratory department's reception desk. The walrus-like chief physician squinted at the embossed insignia - a scarab pushing celestial ordure.
"Bureau of... what now?" Sweat beaded on his triple chins as he deciphered the authentication codes. The Kingdom's five-tier civil service system flashed through his mind - from exalted Statesmen to lowly Functionaries. This ragged youth held Administrative-Grade status with Executive-Level benefits!
Twenty years of ass-kissing to maybe reach Assistant-Grade by retirement, the chief seethed, and this gutter rat waltzes in with noble connections? His smile turned saccharine. "How may we serve House Lane's esteemed scion?"
"My sister's condition-"
"Top-tier ward! Experimental therapies! Personal supervision!" The chief interrupted, already drafting transfer orders. "Our finest phthisiotherapist will-"
Leon endured the sycophantic barrage until nurses ushered him to a private suite. The antiseptic whiteness of Anna's new bed contrasted sharply with their mildewed tenement. His calloused fingers brushed the ridiculous dung beetle maiden badge - a small price for salvation.
Yet the burn came without warning.
[Iron-tier Badge "Probationer" Activated]
[Effect: +15% Workplace Efficiency]
The scarab emblem seared through layers of wool and cotton. Leon's triumphant smile faltered. What cosmic joke made a shit-pushing insect his lifeline?