The digital clock on my wrist display flickered to 7:58 AM.
Right on time. Or 13 minutes late, depending on how charitable the Bureau was feeling today.
I stood in front of a pair of dark glass doors, their surface reflecting the faint gold of the hallway lights.
[56B]was printed neatly above them — the designation for my assigned division: Team F.
My new workplace. My new "family," as the Bureau pamphlet so kindly called it.
I adjusted my tie again, more out of nerves than vanity. My reflection stared back from the glass — crisp BAA uniform, clean silver badge, hair neatly parted.
'First days are always awkward… just don't trip, don't say anything stupid, and maybe — maybe — don't get sent into a death trap right away.'
With a steadying breath, I gripped the handle and pushed the door open.
The faint hum of air conditioning greeted me first, followed by the soft aroma of coffee. The room beyond was surprisingly spacious — not at all like the sterile, white-walled floors I'd seen before.
To my right, a narrow corridor branched off — metal plaques reading Restroom, Storage, and Equipment Check.
To my left, a modest kitchen area came into view: a polished counter with a sink, an aging fridge humming softly, and a coffee machine that looked far too expensive for government funding. A half-empty mug sat beside it, steam curling lazily upward — someone had beaten me here.
Straight ahead was the common area, a lounge-like space that looked equal parts cozy and chaotic.
A low coffee table surrounded by mismatched couches; a few potted plants — some alive, some definitely not — scattered near the windows. A larger table sat further back, with eight chairs and a deck of poker cards fanned face-down in the center, waiting for a game that might never continue.
The light filtering in from the tall window panels gave everything a soft, dusky tone, like the room was perpetually stuck between morning and dusk.
I turned left, drawn by the faint hiss of a coffee machine.
Beyond the lounge stretched a wide office space lined with eight desks. Each had its own small holographic terminal, stacks of files, and Bureau-standard black stationery. Only three of the desks looked used — papers scattered, mugs half-full, the occasional sticky note clinging to a monitor.
The other five sat untouched, gathering a thin layer of dust like the remnants of a team that used to be bigger.
A faint unease settled in my chest.
'Three desks used… five abandoned. Guess the Bureau wasn't exaggerating when they said "rebuilding."'
I didn't have long to dwell on it before I spotted movement near the far end of the room — two figures, both already there before me.
"Do you think I should introduce myself as just T? I mean—come on, it has charm, right?"
"Theo, for lord's sake, we aren't in high school anymore," a woman's voice shot back, sharp but lazy in tone. "Spare our rookie the embarrassment of calling you T in public."
Theo leaned against one of the desks, half-turned toward her with a grin that looked like it had survived far too many arguments already. His Bureau jacket was open, tie hanging loose like a defeated truce flag. His light brown hair caught the pale morning light that filtered through the tinted windows—messy, but somehow intentional.
"But all my friends call me T outside of work, you know, Mira—"
"Uh-huh," she cut him off, not even looking up from her coffee mug. "All your friends are inside this room, you know."
The woman—Mira, apparently—was slouched in her chair, boots propped up on a stack of unopened files. Her black hair was tied in a low ponytail, a few silver-streaked strands slipping loose to frame her face. Even half-asleep, she radiated that quiet confidence of someone who'd seen too much and decided sarcasm was cheaper than therapy.
I hesitated at the edge of the lounge, unsure if I should interrupt.
'So these are my new teammates… one looks like she hasn't slept in a week, and the other's trying way too hard to look approachable.'
Theo finally noticed me, straightening with that bright grin of his. "Ah! You must be the new guy... Don't tell me you've been standing there long enough to hear that."
"Long enough," I admitted.
Mira finally looked up from her mug, her eyes a pale gray with faint violet undertones—sharp, assessing, but not unkind. "Well, at least he's honest," she muttered, setting her cup down and stretching. "Name's Mira Kessler. Vice-Leader. Try not to die in the first week, rookie—it makes paperwork annoying."
Theo laughed. "Ignore her, she says that to everyone. I'm Theo Marchen, This Teams Senior Investigator—seven years of bad decisions and still kicking. Welcome to our Team, kid."
I nodded awkwardly, forcing a smile. "Uh… thanks. I'm Yuwon."
"See?" Theo said, turning to Mira. "He's already got the polite smile down. He'll fit right in."
Mira rolled her eyes, but I caught the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. "Polite smile or not, he still seems a little nervous."
Their bickering continued like background music—half-serious, half-friendly. For the first time since joining the Bureau, I didn't feel like I'd stepped into a battlefield.
Just… an office that happened to prepare you for one.
I'd settled down at an unused desk next to Theo's. He'd spent the first hour of the morning walking me through the cabinet system, showing where every file, report, and coffee stain in the place belonged. Then came a crash course on the Bureau's computer programs, followed by how to write proper anomaly reports and manuals — or at least how not to get yelled at when you filed one.
'Too much information at once…'
By the time half our shift was over, we still hadn't left the office. No fieldwork, no emergencies, no monsters — just the hum of monitors, the soft clatter of keyboards, and Mira occasionally sighing into her coffee. I spent most of it scrolling through the tiny sliver of the Bureau's databank I was actually cleared to access.
"Sorry if this sounds dumb," I finally asked, leaning back in my chair, "but… aren't we supposed to be doing something? Anything?"
Mira swiveled around lazily in her chair, one eyebrow raised.
"Oh wow. Took you only four hours to build up the courage to ask. Bet Theo would need twice as long."
"Hey—! Why am I catching strays outta nowhere?" Theo protested, his hands frozen mid-typing.
I tried not to laugh, but judging by the smirks I got from both of them, I failed miserably.
"Even our rookie agrees," Mira said, her grin widening.
"Yuwon, don't tell me you're siding with her!" Theo gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he'd been mortally wounded.
"Okay but seriously," Mira continued, brushing off his antics, "we don't always have busy days. Mondays are pretty quiet for us. Don't expect to enter an anomaly today."
Theo nodded. "Yeah, 'busy days' is kinda relative anyway. Usually one anomaly a day, tops. Two if they're low-tier, but we clock out right after the reports."
"So… we just sit here and do nothing?"
"We're not doing nothing," Mira corrected with mock dignity. "We're tactically preparing ourselves while remaining on standby."
"Exactly," Theo said without looking up from his monitor. "Strategic idleness. The backbone of any great organization."
That earned a snort from me.
He glanced over. "Hey, don't laugh. We also get briefings sometimes. New policies, benefits, safety protocols — you know, thrilling stuff. Happens maybe once every two months if we're lucky."
"Speaking of which…" I glanced around the half-empty office. "Where's our Team Leader, anyway? It's been almost four hours, and lunch is coming up."
"Oh, she's on paid leave," Mira said matter-of-factly. "Pushed overhours for three straight weeks helping Elite Team B with containment. Finally decided to take a break before her brain melted."
Theo leaned back with a sigh. "I still don't get why they didn't just call one of the Support Teams. There's, what, a dozen of them?"
"It's just a rumor," Mira said, her tone lowering slightly, "but I heard that anomaly only allowed a limited number of participants."
I frowned. "Anomalies that… limit how many people can enter?"
Both of them turned to look at me — same raised brow, same 'are you serious?' expression.
"Yes," Mira said slowly, "wasn't that one of the main topics on this year's theory exam?"
'Ah, shit.'
'I wouldn't know. Julian talked the Vice-Director into skipping that whole process for me.'
"Uhh—yeah," I said quickly, forcing a nod. "Just… hearing it out loud hits differently."
Theo chuckled. "Figures. I still remember the countless nights i spent studying."
"Yeah," Mira added with a smirk, "and you still almost failed it."
Theo pointed at her with mock offense. "Almost. Almost, Kessler."
Mira raised her coffee cup in salute. "Which is exactly my point."
And then, Lunch-time came.