The clock had long since ticked past midnight.
The final light in the bank flickered and died, plunging the interior into a deep, silent darkness.
Ray couldn't suppress a long, jaw-cracking yawn, exhaustion etched clearly onto his face. He slowly pushed the company's main door shut. The soft click of the latch sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet night.
As usual, he was once again the last… well, one of the last workhorses to leave the office.
"Are you sure you didn't forget anything?"
Ray turned, his gaze slightly glazed, staring blankly at Zani.
She was leaning against a lamppost by the street. The look in her eyes was one of sheer, unadulterated exhaustion as if her soul had already been spirited away to the heavens by the Sentinel, leaving only an empty, lifeless shell behind in this mortal world.
"Got everything," Zani mumbled around another yawn, her whole being radiating lethargy. "Let's grab something to eat. We've still got more overtime waiting back home."
Hearing the word "overtime" slip from Zani's lips made a muscle in Ray's cheek twitch involuntarily.
Before he crossed over, he was a workhorse.
After crossing over, he was still a workhorse.
So what was the damn point of crossing over, then?
That's right, Ray was a transmigrator.
Two years ago, back in his old life, he had pushed his body past its limit with endless overtime. One moment he closed his eyes from sheer exhaustion, and the next he opened them to find himself inexplicably in this strange world, Solaris-3.
He knew precious little about this place. He had a vague recollection that it might be the setting of some anime-styled game from his previous life. The problem was, he'd never actually played that game. So, faced with everything in this world, he felt utterly blind and completely clueless.
Fortunately or perhaps not, thanks to the rich, soul-crushing "workhorse experience" he'd accumulated in his past life, he had been hired by the Averardo Bank shortly after arriving, thus resuming his glorious career as a corporate beast of burden.
As for Zani, she used to be his senior. Now, she was his partner.
Well, to be honest, there wasn't any real difference. They were both just workhorses, after all.
"It's this late. What's even open?" Dragging his tired body, Ray shuffled over to a vending machine. His fingers jabbed at a couple of buttons, and he bought two cans of coffee.
With a practiced flick of his wrist, he tossed one can in a smooth arc towards Zani.
Zani snatched it out of the air with ease, cracked the tab open one-handed, and took a small sip before speaking.
"Margherita's pizza place should still be open. Wanna go? Or…" A hint of teasing crept into her tired eyes. "Are you still traumatized after what happened last time?"
"Why wouldn't I go? All I did was add a few extra slices of warm sea-crown pear to my pizza. Was her reaction really that necessary?" Ray retorted, a touch of indignation in his voice.
A faint smirk played on Zani's lips, a glint of amusement cutting through her weariness. "Oh, that reaction was absolutely necessary. Back in the old days, with your unorthodox culinary heresy, the folks from the Ministry would have dragged you off and had you roasting over an open fire."
Ray was left speechless by her remark. He rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just say the Ministry's cathedral would suddenly transform into a defensive turret and start blasting me?"
"Defensive turret? That's an interesting way to put it," Zani said, stretching her arms with a groan. "Let's go. I only had a snack for lunch, and now that I've finally got a moment to breathe, I feel like I'm starving."
With a resigned sigh, Ray took a few steps to fall in beside her. "Ugh, suddenly I'm really missing Huanglong cuisine."
Huanglong.
A nation lying across the sea from the Rinascita region.
Truth be told, Ray had never set foot in Huanglong. His knowledge of the country was limited to the sparse descriptions in books and the fragmented, fantastical tidbits scattered across the network.
Even with the scant information he had, he'd picked up on something: this place called Huanglong shared quite a few similarities with the country from his past life.
Even after crossing worlds, he was still a guy with a asian stomach.
The rich cheesiness of pizza, the hearty broth of stewed noodles, they were delicious, sure. But after eating them for so long, he'd occasionally find himself craving a simple bowl of steaming, perfectly plump rice, missing its plain yet deeply comforting texture.
It was a shame, though. Finding truly authentic Huanglong food in all of Ragunna was a challenge. The dishes flying the Huanglong flag in the market were all adjusted to suit local tastes. They weren't exactly bad, but compared to the authentic flavors lingering in Ray's memory, they always fell frustratingly short.
"Oh, I almost forgot, you're from Huanglong," Zani said, glancing at the young man beside her. "Aren't you Huanglong folks supposed to be pretty skilled in the kitchen? Why not just cook for yourself?"
At that question, Ray's face took on a look of utter despair. He slowly raised a hand, pointing a languid finger at the bright but cold-looking moon in the sky.
"Don't you think... saying that right now is just mocking ourselves? Look at the past few weeks. When have we not been swamped, working past any sane hour? When would we possibly have the time or energy to cook?"
Zani paused for a second, then caught on, offering an awkward, wry smile. "Sorry, my bad. Forgot about that part."
"Eh, it's fine. What can we do? We're just workhorses," Ray shrugged helplessly. "But, speaking of cooking, I am actually pretty confident in my skills. If we ever get the chance in the future, I'll cook you a proper meal. You can judge for yourself."
"Really? I'll be looking forward to it, then," Zani said, lightly tapping her chin. "As for tonight..."
Her words trailed off as she came to a stop, tilting her head back to look up at the warm, glowing sign of Margherita's Pizza above them.
Then, she tilted her head slightly to the side, glancing at Ray beside her with a questioning look. "The usual?"
Without missing a beat, Ray strode right past her towards the shop, calling out as he went, "The usual, please! Two honeydews, two orders of crispy potato wedges, and one signature pizza."
He was directing this at Margherita, who was busy working inside the shop.
The place was quiet and cool at this hour, with only the proprietor, Margherita herself, bustling about. It wasn't that business was slow, quite the opposite. Margherita's Pizza was one of the most popular spots in all of Ragunna. It was just that in the dead of night, the only customers you'd find were exhausted souls like them, grinding away to make ends meet.
"So, no warm sea-crown pear on the pizza tonight?" Margherita asked, not turning around as she continued scraping bits of crust from the oven.
A slight grin touched Ray's lips. He leaned forward, slouching against the counter. "If I insisted on it, would you just throw me out?"
Finally, Margherita paused her work and turned. She fixed him with a firm glare before nodding decisively and uttering a single, crisp word.
"Yes."