“Attention, Red Tape party! Please proceed to the test-taking room for your written examination.”
Zenith blinked, a crease formed between her eyebrows as she processed the words. Red Tape party? She glanced at Kaito, who stood beside her with a grin on his face.
“Did you seriously name our party ‘Red Tape’?” she asked.
Kaito only laughed. “Let’s go, they’re calling us.”
Zenith shook her head. Trust Kaito to find humor and enjoy all sorts of bureaucratic situations.
Rosto and Anfrid still had their noses buried in the pamphlets they’d been given earlier, oblivious to the announcement, lost in the complicated diagrams.
“Hey, guys!” Zenith called out, waving her hand to get their attention. “They’re calling us. Time for the test!”
Rosto looked up. “Oh! Right, yes, of course. The test. Let’s go, shall we?”
Ansfrid merely grunted, tucking the pamphlet into his armor as he fell into step beside them.
As they entered the testing room, Zenith felt a flicker of nerves in her stomach. She’d never been particularly fond of tests, especially ones that involved kingdom regulation. But one glance at Kaito gave her all the confidence she needed. Together, they could handle whatever this test threw at them.
A tall, imposing figure stood at the front of the room, his beard impeccably groomed and streaked with gray. He wore the formal attire of the guild’s higher echelons, adorned with intricate gold embroidery—a dragon consuming a flower—that denoted his status. But the most striking aspect of his appearance was the large, ornate quill he wore like a badge of honor, pinned across his chest.
“Welcome, Red Tape party,” he said, his voice a commanding boom that filled the room. “I am Marcellus Ironquill, and I will be overseeing your compliance test today.”
He paused, his sharp eyes sweeping over each of them in turn. Zenith felt herself straightening under his gaze, her chin lifting almost involuntarily.
“This test is designed to ensure that all adventuring parties are capable of handling the complexities of questing in a bureaucratically bound city,” Marcellus continued. “It will consist of three components: a written exam on bureaucratic navigation, a practical assessment of teamwork, and a simulation of a field mission to retrieve an ancient artifact.”
Zenith looked at Kaito with a stare that said everything—This is going to be interesting.
As Marcellus explained each component in detail, Zenith found herself getting more and more excited.
“You may turn over your exam papers at this time. Good luck.”
Zenith stared at the first question, her forehead creased. The excitement she had been holding onto vanished even faster than it had appeared. Form 27B/6? For spellcasting? She’d never even heard of such a form, let alone knew when it was required. She glanced at the options, hoping for some sort of clue, but each one seemed more absurd than the last.
Summoning a mildly inconvenient rain cloud? Zenith couldn’t help but smile at the thought. She imagined herself summoning a tiny storm cloud to follow around someone who had annoyed her, with the raindrops pattering down in a steady, irritating drizzle. Ridiculous, she thought. Just like this exam.
But as amusing as it sounded, Zenith knew it couldn’t be the right answer. She moved on to the next option. Teleporting less than five feet? That seemed even more ridiculous. What possible bureaucratic purpose could there be in regulating such a small teleportation? She pictured Kaito filling out a lengthy form just to move a few steps to the left in his bakery. The image was so comical that she had to stifle a laugh.
The last option gave her pause. Making a public declaration of love. Zenith’s flushed. For some unexplained reason, she thought of Kaito declaring his love for her, in grand gestures and quiet moments alike. Her cheeks warmed, and she looked down nervously, trying to hide it. The idea that such a pure expression of emotion could be regulated by bureaucracy felt wrong on a fundamental level.
Zenith shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. None of these options made sense, but she had to choose one. She glanced around the room, hoping for some sort of hint, but everyone else seemed just as lost as she was. Rosto was chewing on his quill, his face scrunched up in concentration. Ansfrid was staring at the paper as if he could intimidate the answers into revealing themselves. And Kaito...Kaito had pulled a small abacus from his pocket and was rapidly sliding the beads back and forth, his fingers a blur. Suddenly, he nodded, satisfied, and with a flick of his wrist, sent a bead flying across the room to land squarely on his test. The right answer, she betted.
Of course, Zenith thought fondly. Kaito has a knack for spotting amusement within the most stressful circumstances.
She turned back to her own paper, determined to make a choice. Think, Zenith, think. What would Kaito do? She closed her eyes, trying to channel his unique blend of wisdom, whimsy, and a fraction of IDM.
And then it hit her. Maybe the answer wasn’t about the specifics of the scenarios at all. It had to be about the principle behind them. The idea that even the most trivial or personal of actions could be subject to bureaucratic control.
Zenith opened her eyes, they glowed with the residual mana of her brief meditation. She circled option C with a decisive stroke of her quill. Making a public declaration of love. Because if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that love should never be regulated.
She moved on to the next question, her confidence renewed. These tests were designed to trip them up, to make them second-guess themselves. But Zenith refused to fall into that trap. She would trust her instincts, just as Kaito always did.
Question after question, Zenith worked her way through the exam. Some were straightforward, testing her knowledge of bureaucratic procedures. Others were more abstract, presenting hypothetical scenarios that required a blend of logic and creativity to navigate.
But through it all, Zenith kept her focus. She thought of Calmo, of the people counting on her to represent them in this strange, bureaucratic world. She thought of her father, and the mystery of his reluctance to visit Regulatia. And most of all, she thought of Kaito, of his unwavering support and the way he always managed to find the humor in even the most challenging of situations—and solve them too.
We can do this, she told herself while her quill flew across the paper. Together, we can handle anything this city throws at us.
Or so she thought. By the time she reached the last question, cold sweat trickled down her temple and her heart felt as heavy as a stone sinking in a still lake. Zenith realized she had completely guessed every answer on the test—and she wasn’t confident that any were right.
Kaito was the first one to finish. When he was done, he crossed his arms, blew softly onto his test.
She watched as the test page soared through the air, propelled by his gentle breath, and landed with precision on Marcellus’s desk. The guild official barely acknowledged the feat, save for a slight quirk of his eyebrow. Ansfrid rose from his seat shortly after, his armor clanking and creaking with each movement as he strode to the front of the room to submit his test—way too loudly for the otherwise silent classroom.
Realizing that no amount of additional time would improve her answers, Zenith resignedly completed her own exam and turned it in to the guild official. As she made her way out of the room, she caught a glimpse of Rosto, his face a spectrum of colors ranging from crimson to violet. He seemed to be locked in a furious battle with his test, his quill dancing across the page, only to be followed by vigorous erasing moments later.
She left the room with wide eyes as she observed Rosto’s increasingly agitated state. The thought of Rosto transforming into the hell beast sent a chill down her spine.
As she stepped into the hallway, Zenith found Kaito and Ansfrid waiting for her. Neither seemed one bit concerned.
“How do you think you did?” Zenith asked, trying to gauge their reactions.
Kaito shrugged. “Well, in hindsight, we should have asked Neo for copies of Regulatia’s policies. To be honest, this is not normal for a typical fantasy world.”
“What in the demon king’s standing do you mean?” Zenith asked.
“Uh, nothing, never mind. Regarding the test, we were lucky most of the questions answered each other.”
Zenith’s face went white. “Wh-what? Really?”
“The test was... perplexing. But even though there have been thirty-nine revisions since I last took it, the essence of the questions remained true,” Ansfrid grunted, his deep voice resonating through the corridor.
Zenith could only nod along. Unable to find the courage to reveal that she didn’t even understand half of those questions.
The minutes ticked by, and finally, Rosto burst through the door, his face a mask of frustration. He was a mess. His normally immaculate chef’s outfit was slightly disheveled, and his hair had escaped its usually perfect coif.
“That,” he said, “was the most ridiculous test I have ever had the misfortune of taking.”
Zenith placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, more out of self-relief to see that Rosto hadn’t become a hell-beast. “I think we all feel the same way,” she said, offering a sympathetic smile—”
The door to the classroom swung open, revealing Marcellus Ironquill and his unreadable expression sweeping over the group.
“Good, every member of Red Tape is here, makes things easy,” he said. “I have the results of your compliance test.”
Zenith felt her heart pounding in her chest, her palms slick with sweat. The thought of Calmo’s future depending on the test results made her knees feel weak and her stomach revolt. From the corner of her eye, she caught Kaito looking as calm as ever, Ansfrid too. But Rosto... Rosto was fidgeting, his eyes darting between Marcellus and the floor.
“Two of you,” Marcellus continued, “barely passed the examination. Your grasp of Regulatia’s bureaucratic intricacies is tenuous at best.”
Zenith felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed was still a blow to her pride. Rosto, on the other hand, seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping as he let out a soft groan.
“However, two of your party members achieved perfect scores. A remarkable feat, I must say.”
Perfect scores? She turned to look at Kaito and Ansfrid—Nevermind that. We did it!
Marcellus nodded. “Well, thanks to your two exceptional members, Red Tape is cleared to move on to the practical assessment. Congratulations.”
Zenith caught Kaito’s eye, a silent thank you passing between them.
“What a joke…” Rosto muttered. “I’ve navigated the intrigues of hell, but this... this is beyond me.”
“Don’t worry, my friend. We still appreciate your help with this,” Kaito said.
“Victory!” Ansfrid grunted. “We are Red Tape. We will not be defeated by paperwork.”
Zenith couldn’t help but laugh. And agree.
She turned back to Marcellus, a new determination in her eyes. “We’re ready, what’s next?”
Marcellus’s sighed, but there was still a glimmer of something—amusement, perhaps, or respect—in his eyes. “Follow me,” he said, turning on his heel. “The practical assessment awaits.”
“Attention, Red Tape party! Please proceed to the test-taking room for your written examination.”
Zenith blinked, a crease formed between her eyebrows as she processed the words. Red Tape party? She glanced at Kaito, who stood beside her with a grin on his face.
“Did you seriously name our party ‘Red Tape’?” she asked.
Kaito only laughed. “Let’s go, they’re calling us.”
Zenith shook her head. Trust Kaito to find humor and enjoy all sorts of bureaucratic situations.
Rosto and Anfrid still had their noses buried in the pamphlets they’d been given earlier, oblivious to the announcement, lost in the complicated diagrams.
“Hey, guys!” Zenith called out, waving her hand to get their attention. “They’re calling us. Time for the test!”
Rosto looked up. “Oh! Right, yes, of course. The test. Let’s go, shall we?”
Ansfrid merely grunted, tucking the pamphlet into his armor as he fell into step beside them.
As they entered the testing room, Zenith felt a flicker of nerves in her stomach. She’d never been particularly fond of tests, especially ones that involved kingdom regulation. But one glance at Kaito gave her all the confidence she needed. Together, they could handle whatever this test threw at them.
A tall, imposing figure stood at the front of the room, his beard impeccably groomed and streaked with gray. He wore the formal attire of the guild’s higher echelons, adorned with intricate gold embroidery—a dragon consuming a flower—that denoted his status. But the most striking aspect of his appearance was the large, ornate quill he wore like a badge of honor, pinned across his chest.
“Welcome, Red Tape party,” he said, his voice a commanding boom that filled the room. “I am Marcellus Ironquill, and I will be overseeing your compliance test today.”
He paused, his sharp eyes sweeping over each of them in turn. Zenith felt herself straightening under his gaze, her chin lifting almost involuntarily.
“This test is designed to ensure that all adventuring parties are capable of handling the complexities of questing in a bureaucratically bound city,” Marcellus continued. “It will consist of three components: a written exam on bureaucratic navigation, a practical assessment of teamwork, and a simulation of a field mission to retrieve an ancient artifact.”
Zenith looked at Kaito with a stare that said everything—This is going to be interesting.
As Marcellus explained each component in detail, Zenith found herself getting more and more excited.
“You may turn over your exam papers at this time. Good luck.”
Zenith stared at the first question, her forehead creased. The excitement she had been holding onto vanished even faster than it had appeared. Form 27B/6? For spellcasting? She’d never even heard of such a form, let alone knew when it was required. She glanced at the options, hoping for some sort of clue, but each one seemed more absurd than the last.
Summoning a mildly inconvenient rain cloud? Zenith couldn’t help but smile at the thought. She imagined herself summoning a tiny storm cloud to follow around someone who had annoyed her, with the raindrops pattering down in a steady, irritating drizzle. Ridiculous, she thought. Just like this exam.
But as amusing as it sounded, Zenith knew it couldn’t be the right answer. She moved on to the next option. Teleporting less than five feet? That seemed even more ridiculous. What possible bureaucratic purpose could there be in regulating such a small teleportation? She pictured Kaito filling out a lengthy form just to move a few steps to the left in his bakery. The image was so comical that she had to stifle a laugh.
The last option gave her pause. Making a public declaration of love. Zenith’s flushed. For some unexplained reason, she thought of Kaito declaring his love for her, in grand gestures and quiet moments alike. Her cheeks warmed, and she looked down nervously, trying to hide it. The idea that such a pure expression of emotion could be regulated by bureaucracy felt wrong on a fundamental level.
Zenith shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. None of these options made sense, but she had to choose one. She glanced around the room, hoping for some sort of hint, but everyone else seemed just as lost as she was. Rosto was chewing on his quill, his face scrunched up in concentration. Ansfrid was staring at the paper as if he could intimidate the answers into revealing themselves. And Kaito...Kaito had pulled a small abacus from his pocket and was rapidly sliding the beads back and forth, his fingers a blur. Suddenly, he nodded, satisfied, and with a flick of his wrist, sent a bead flying across the room to land squarely on his test. The right answer, she betted.
Of course, Zenith thought fondly. Kaito has a knack for spotting amusement within the most stressful circumstances.
She turned back to her own paper, determined to make a choice. Think, Zenith, think. What would Kaito do? She closed her eyes, trying to channel his unique blend of wisdom, whimsy, and a fraction of IDM.
And then it hit her. Maybe the answer wasn’t about the specifics of the scenarios at all. It had to be about the principle behind them. The idea that even the most trivial or personal of actions could be subject to bureaucratic control.
Zenith opened her eyes, they glowed with the residual mana of her brief meditation. She circled option C with a decisive stroke of her quill. Making a public declaration of love. Because if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that love should never be regulated.
She moved on to the next question, her confidence renewed. These tests were designed to trip them up, to make them second-guess themselves. But Zenith refused to fall into that trap. She would trust her instincts, just as Kaito always did.
Question after question, Zenith worked her way through the exam. Some were straightforward, testing her knowledge of bureaucratic procedures. Others were more abstract, presenting hypothetical scenarios that required a blend of logic and creativity to navigate.
But through it all, Zenith kept her focus. She thought of Calmo, of the people counting on her to represent them in this strange, bureaucratic world. She thought of her father, and the mystery of his reluctance to visit Regulatia. And most of all, she thought of Kaito, of his unwavering support and the way he always managed to find the humor in even the most challenging of situations—and solve them too.
We can do this, she told herself while her quill flew across the paper. Together, we can handle anything this city throws at us.
Or so she thought. By the time she reached the last question, cold sweat trickled down her temple and her heart felt as heavy as a stone sinking in a still lake. Zenith realized she had completely guessed every answer on the test—and she wasn’t confident that any were right.
Kaito was the first one to finish. When he was done, he crossed his arms, blew softly onto his test.
She watched as the test page soared through the air, propelled by his gentle breath, and landed with precision on Marcellus’s desk. The guild official barely acknowledged the feat, save for a slight quirk of his eyebrow. Ansfrid rose from his seat shortly after, his armor clanking and creaking with each movement as he strode to the front of the room to submit his test—way too loudly for the otherwise silent classroom.
Realizing that no amount of additional time would improve her answers, Zenith resignedly completed her own exam and turned it in to the guild official. As she made her way out of the room, she caught a glimpse of Rosto, his face a spectrum of colors ranging from crimson to violet. He seemed to be locked in a furious battle with his test, his quill dancing across the page, only to be followed by vigorous erasing moments later.
She left the room with wide eyes as she observed Rosto’s increasingly agitated state. The thought of Rosto transforming into the hell beast sent a chill down her spine.
As she stepped into the hallway, Zenith found Kaito and Ansfrid waiting for her. Neither seemed one bit concerned.
“How do you think you did?” Zenith asked, trying to gauge their reactions.
Kaito shrugged. “Well, in hindsight, we should have asked Neo for copies of Regulatia’s policies. To be honest, this is not normal for a typical fantasy world.”
“What in the demon king’s standing do you mean?” Zenith asked.
“Uh, nothing, never mind. Regarding the test, we were lucky most of the questions answered each other.”
Zenith’s face went white. “Wh-what? Really?”
“The test was... perplexing. But even though there have been thirty-nine revisions since I last took it, the essence of the questions remained true,” Ansfrid grunted, his deep voice resonating through the corridor.
Zenith could only nod along. Unable to find the courage to reveal that she didn’t even understand half of those questions.
The minutes ticked by, and finally, Rosto burst through the door, his face a mask of frustration. He was a mess. His normally immaculate chef’s outfit was slightly disheveled, and his hair had escaped its usually perfect coif.
“That,” he said, “was the most ridiculous test I have ever had the misfortune of taking.”
Zenith placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, more out of self-relief to see that Rosto hadn’t become a hell-beast. “I think we all feel the same way,” she said, offering a sympathetic smile—”
The door to the classroom swung open, revealing Marcellus Ironquill and his unreadable expression sweeping over the group.
“Good, every member of Red Tape is here, makes things easy,” he said. “I have the results of your compliance test.”
Zenith felt her heart pounding in her chest, her palms slick with sweat. The thought of Calmo’s future depending on the test results made her knees feel weak and her stomach revolt. From the corner of her eye, she caught Kaito looking as calm as ever, Ansfrid too. But Rosto... Rosto was fidgeting, his eyes darting between Marcellus and the floor.
“Two of you,” Marcellus continued, “barely passed the examination. Your grasp of Regulatia’s bureaucratic intricacies is tenuous at best.”
Zenith felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed was still a blow to her pride. Rosto, on the other hand, seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping as he let out a soft groan.
“However, two of your party members achieved perfect scores. A remarkable feat, I must say.”
Perfect scores? She turned to look at Kaito and Ansfrid—Nevermind that. We did it!
Marcellus nodded. “Well, thanks to your two exceptional members, Red Tape is cleared to move on to the practical assessment. Congratulations.”
Zenith caught Kaito’s eye, a silent thank you passing between them.
“What a joke…” Rosto muttered. “I’ve navigated the intrigues of hell, but this... this is beyond me.”
“Don’t worry, my friend. We still appreciate your help with this,” Kaito said.
“Victory!” Ansfrid grunted. “We are Red Tape. We will not be defeated by paperwork.”
Zenith couldn’t help but laugh. And agree.
She turned back to Marcellus, a new determination in her eyes. “We’re ready, what’s next?”
Marcellus’s sighed, but there was still a glimmer of something—amusement, perhaps, or respect—in his eyes. “Follow me,” he said, turning on his heel. “The practical assessment awaits.”
