Inside the kitchen of a grand villa, a trio of guys were busy cleaning. They had all the will in the world to scrub the place down, but there was one minor hitch: they couldn't actually find any cleaning supplies. No brooms, no mops—nothing.
Icam emerged carrying the final stack of plates. Instead of putting them in the cupboard, he nonchalantly set them down on a random table.
"And... done! Easy peasy," Icam chirped, resting his hands on his hips with a smug, radiant grin.
Alif followed closely behind, thumping his own stack of plates right next to Icam's. He looked at the mess, then at Icam, and asked bluntly, "What exactly is 'done'?"
Icam snapped his head toward Alif, still maintaining that ridiculous hero-pose. "No idea," he shot back instantly.
Iyas arrived last with the final load. He took a moment to "cool down," stretching his arms and cracking his joints like an athlete after a marathon. From across the room, he squinted at his two friends.
"You guys sure they're supposed to go there?" Iyas asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Huh?" Icam's grin began to flicker. "I mean, Lord Kirios put them here when they were dirty, so..."
Iyas nodded slowly, convinced by the flawed logic. "Hmm... fair point."
Alif let out a heavy sigh, but a sudden, weary smile crept onto his face. "Whatever. It's done!"
"If we're finished, let's get out of here," Icam said, turning to leave.
Alif reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Wait, Yas."
"I'm Icam," Icam corrected him flatly.
"Right, right, Icam," Alif agreed with a proud little finger-point.
"What is it, Lip?" Iyas chimed in.
Alif turned around casually. "Nothing."
Iyas stood there for a second, lost in thought, glancing between the plates and the window. "Great! Just great!" he cheered. He sounded exactly like a boring, middle-aged teacher trying to motivate a class.
Suddenly, Icam's eyes caught a broom lying forgotten on the floor. The realization hit him—the kitchen was still a disaster.
"I think the kitchen is still filthy," Icam remarked. He scanned the room from left to right, ending with a sharp, piercing glare at Alif and Iyas.
"Wow, I'm impressed," Iyas said with a look of pure, non-sarcastic admiration. "Besides being a professional eater and a professional boss-arounder, the Lord is also a professional at trashing this place. He's such a hard worker."
"If he loves trashing the place so much, why are we even cleaning it?" Alif asked, dead serious. Strangely, he directed the question at Icam instead of Iyas.
"Who are you asking?" Icam blurted out.
Alif stared blankly for a few seconds. "...You."
"Why me?"
"Because you looked like the one who knew what was going on."
Icam blinked twice. His confident facade began to crumble. "...Oh."
Iyas clapped his hands together. "Alright! Let's recap. Plates are clean. Gear is back. But the floor is a nightmare."
Alif looked down. There were crumbs, grease stains, and something that might have been a vegetable in a past life. "We need a broom," Alif said wisely.
"And a mop," Iyas added.
"And a bucket," Icam finished.
Silence fell. Alif's spark faded, Iyas wondered how magic worked, and Icam scanned the room like a CCTV camera looking for a glitch.
"...Where's the bucket?" Alif whispered.
Only the sound of a light breeze through the window answered him. Suddenly, Icam spun around. "I saw something long over there!"
He pointed to a dark corner. They approached it cautiously, as if discovering an ancient artifact.
It was a wooden handle. Just a handle. No bristles.
Iyas tilted his head. "It's a broom... but half of it is missing."
Alif picked it up, weighing it. "Maybe it's a minimalist broom."
Icam grabbed a dirty rag from the table. "What if we combine them?"
The three exchanged a look. Ten minutes later, they had birthed a "tool." A rag tied to a stick with kitchen twine.
Iyas held it high. "Behold! Peasant innovation!"
Icam's eyes widened. "SCIENTIST!"
Alif nodded in awe. "We should patent this."
Icam immediately tried to sweep. Within seconds, the rag flew off. Plop.
They stared at the floor. Icam looked at Iyas. "Okay. We either need stronger string, or you're just bad at building things."
"Excuse me?" Iyas retorted.
They began ransacking the kitchen. Drawers were slammed, cupboards knocked on, pots lifted. The clatter of metal echoed everywhere. Alif dived under a table. "Hey! What's this?"
He dragged out a small bucket. Dusty, but functional.
"Whoa! A bucket!" Iyas cheered.
Icam smirked. "Now, just the mop."
They looked again. No mop. Iyas wandered toward the back door. "Maybe outside?"
The backyard was quiet. Near the wall, a stick leaned against the stone with a withered, crusty cloth attached to the end—like a fossilized remains of a tool.
Alif pointed. "Is that it?"
Iyas answered before even processing the question. "No."
Icam approached it like he was picking up a legendary sword. He lifted it. Dust fell in clouds. "...This is a mop."
Iyas beamed at him as if they had solved the final puzzle of the universe. "We're fully equipped."
Alif nodded firmly. "Now, we actually work."
They returned to the kitchen. Icam filled the bucket. Iyas wrung out the mop with the intensity of a sacred ritual. Alif swept the crumbs with unusual focus. For once, the jokes stopped. The rhythm of the mop and the splash of water filled the room.
A few moments later... Iyas stood up straight. "Uh oh."
"What?" Alif and Icam stopped.
Iyas pointed at the floor. "Why is it getting slipperier?"
Icam looked down. Alif tried to take a step. His feet shot out from under him. THUD.
Silence. Iyas and Icam looked down at Alif, who was now staring at the ceiling. Alif blinked slowly. "...I think we over-cleaned it."
Icam stroked his chin. "Too much water," he mused. "Or you're just heavy."
Iyas nodded. "Change of plans. Our job isn't cleaning anymore." He paused for dramatic effect. "...It's drying."
Alif, still on the floor, raised one hand. "If possible, don't use me as a test subject again. I've basically turned into a human squeegee."
Without a word, they got back to it. And for the first time, the kitchen actually looked like a kitchen. Alif sat by the door rubbing his back, Icam used spare rags, and Iyas was literally blowing on the floor to dry it.
Suddenly—BAM!
The door flew open, slamming right into Alif. Icam and Iyas froze. Iyas was still on his hands and knees, mid-blow.
It was Kirios. He entered like a lightning strike, tossing his hair back, his blue eyes piercing the room like he was looking at a bunch of cockroaches. He stepped forward, slow and imposing.
Kirios scanned the room. "Hmph. Decent," he muttered. "Where's your other filthy friend? Is he slacking off?"
Alif pushed the door back, groaning in pain. "First my back, now my legs... sorry, knees..."
Kirios glared at Alif. "How dare you hide behind the door instead of working!"
"What? I was working, Lord Kirios! I just happened to be behind the... uh, the door?" Alif stammered.
"I just came back from slaying demons! You should work harder than this!" Kirios barked, rubbing his temples. Then, his eyes landed on the plates. "WHAT!? YOU FOOLS!"
The trio jumped.
"Why are the plates there? There's a cupboard for a reason, you idiots!"
They scrambled to move them.
Kirios continued to fume. "And don't stack them like that! Have you never seen a dish rack in your lives? Low-born peasants!"
Finally, everything was in its place. Kirios stared at the plates, sensing something was off. The trio wiped their hands on their clothes, exhausted.
"Lord Kirios, did you really kill the demons?" Iyas asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
Kirios smirked, his ego inflating instantly. "Heh! Of course! I took down the Minotaurs in a single strike!" He flexed his arm dramatically.
"Minotaurs? Slaying? What is he even talking about?" Icam whispered to Iyas.
Iyas shrugged. "No clue."
"Hooray! Lord Kirios is the greatest!" the three of them cheered in unison.
Kirios laughed, but the laughter died down as he began counting the plates. Six per stack, twenty-five stacks... but the end pile was short.
"143..." Kirios muttered. "Hey."
Icam and Iyas snapped to attention. "Yes?" Alif just smiled innocently.
Kirios looked down, then slowly raised his gaze to the trio, his face darkening. "You lot...!! Three plates! Where are the other three plates?!"
Icam and Alif gasped. Iyas let out a small burp.
"You failed your first job! Do you have any idea how much those cost?!" Kirios roared.
"Sorry," Icam and Alif bowed, full of regret. Iyas, however, remained unfazed.
"Thanks! Can we eat now?" Iyas asked casually.
Kirios's veins looked ready to pop. He balled his fist. "Shameless peasants!"
He dragged Iyas toward the door, the other two following nervously. "No food for you today! Spend the rest of the day outside! You can sleep in the shed tonight. Mark my words, you low-lifes!!"
SLAM!
The back door was bolted shut. They were left outside like cats kicked out for breaking a vase.
"Lord Kirios is so mean..." Alif sighed, sounding genuinely hurt.
Icam looked up, a confident smirk returning to his face. "Hey, thanks to his 'privilege,' we're not in prison."
"Wait, the yesterday itsn't a hotel?" Alif muttered.
"And we found a way to survive," Iyas added, stepping closer to Icam.
They stood there in the silence... until Icam suddenly punched Iyas right in the face.
"Gross, get away from me!" Icam barked.
Iyas hit the dirt. Alif watched, looking worried, but honestly? Not that surprised.
[FIRST MISSION : FAILED!]