Occupation

The parasite recognized the road she was walking in, the institution of translation was not so far from auction house she visited not so long ago.

She pulled her brown pants up, tucked her shirt better -not her roommate's this time-. 

Her brain, the main one, ran through the list. 

'Different demography, different norms.' She blinked slowly, adjusting the parameters of her behavior.

Pushed the wooden door with murky glass squares. The inside was fancier than what she was familiar with in the institute of agriculture, including the normal windows instead of a half missing wall.

Large framed texts in ancient Arabic, Greek and Chinese covered the walls.

"Are you visiting someone, little miss?" Sitting on a stool, a woman in the fedora of security guards asked her.

"Hello, Yuki-himegime told me to come here. Roxanne Norwel."

The guard looked for her name in a hexagono in the wall.

She was allowed to enter, the guard told her Yuki will not be here today which she already knew.

The building had an intimate modeling with a small center hall connecting many rooms, every alley lead to few rooms, in a corner there was a rotating magazine rack filled with books with titles like 'How to fix a bicycle' and 'Indoor gardening' as well as other non-fiction titles.

She looked at the almost overflowing rack, picking up the book in Latin about fixing bicycles.

'So this is the situation huh?'

'Translating was mostly a job for nobles, since they were financially able to take a job that barely pays, plus they indulged in fiction more than others with their abundance of free time, at some point in time translating non fiction got abandoned.' She recalled her information.

She was halfway the thin book when a tall man holding many books in his arm passed near her, he had a stern look on his face. The one of people who seldom relaxed, a look that made people assume he was angry.

She looked at his sleeves that lacked golden cufflinks, a silent declaring of nobility that they all wore regardless of background or even if the piece of clothes didn't had cufflinks opening in its design traditionally.

"You're the one Yuki called?"

"Yes sir." Some whimsy slipped in the professional tone.

He took a double look on her, a little confused.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen and two thirds."

He took a pause before asking again.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

"It's summer vocation sir, and I'm a graduate."

He remembered what Yuki said. 'A girl that speaks almost five languages and have too much energy.' The noble description was on point, like a true translator.

"Pick whatever you want, sign the translation contract and bring a draft to the editor according to the deadline."

"Thank you! I'm Roxanne Norwel."

"Fradio Mark."

'No longer than life name? Yup, not a noble.' 

In the shabby apartment, blazer off and sleeves rolled up, the watermelon necklace out, she closed the thin book.

'Sadi I know, Latin I know, plants and beetles languages I know. This should be a piece of cake, a chess cake even, dare I say!'

One exited the rich neighborhood and another entered it. Ryu was on the doorstep of the president house with a box of melons, delivering food between the president and his brother like usual.

He put the box of seven melons on the spacious marble kitchen counter, the president took one to cut.

"He took some for himself right?" She asked.

"I don't know."

"Snitch on him once will ya?" She sighed.

"He doesn't like them to begin with."

The sound of many footsteps coming downstates halted their talk. Sami and the president's husband as well as Lisa. Upon seeing her, he subconsciously patted his pocket lightly, the top hat shaped gems were indeed in his pocket. Lessening the unease but not eliminating it.

Standing near the counter the husband ate melons with a fork, golden cufflinks catching the light every now and then. Lisa grabbed herself a wedge of melon, sneaking a quick shy look at Ryu, who chewing absently. The president hummed while pouring everyone some horchata.

Sami eye bags were gone by now.

"I heard you sold in the auction, congratulations!" Lisa said, her shy voice was velvety smooth.

"Thank you." He said, almost formal.

"Lisa has a show next weekend, you should come." The president invited, Lisa blushed a little.

"Sorry, promised bobby to go fishing." He apologized politely.

He washed his cup and marched to the door.

"Stay for lunch kid."

"Can't do, I have to g-" He paused, one foot in the shoe and not the other, he looked back at her dramatically.

"Did.. did you just let us have a snack before lunch?"

"...You will be late.." President avoided eye contact.

He walked the street full of bicycles. The stone streets of the art academy campus. He pulled out the hat shaped gems, they were crashed and empty of shine.

'That regulator, I hope its not getting stronger.' He thought, recalling the blushing girl.

He packed his new artwork in one of the academy's workshops.

'The president has gotten soft. Yeah, she is not the president anymore. The orphanage is gone and I'm grown, and fine lines grew on her face.' He looked up, adjusting the big box in his hand to gain some of the vision field the box was blocking.

Unsure where the waves of nostalgia is coming from, his mind drifted to his old friends, the grandmas and aunties of the countryside. Although that was cut quickly by the crowds of the 3rd avenue street.

The 3rd avenue was a disorienting place in general and for someone from the simple countryside specially, a huge mall where established artists rented shops to sell their work, in addition to the art dealers and their shops, even some foreign furniture companies had branches there.

The way to the mall filled with smaller artists or even ambitious kids that sold their work on the floor or a small tables, not to forget local auction houses.

There were also a side street where affordable classes were held, but he would be lost if he tried to head there. 

'Today's mission is experimental. Just to see for how much my work sells for in the real market, without the academy's support and the rich costumers that shop there.'

'In the exhibition I sold three pieces, my average price was 9300 moro and some change. Let's see if I'm gonna make more or less than that.'

He put the box on a stone stool in the pavement, made for resting big things, taking a break he bites a popsicle and struggles to open his bank statement on the hexagono. The last transaction was from the city auction house, a solid 56000 moro. The dragon technically sold for 75000 but the auction house and shipping had their fees.

'For the debut in an auction they charge 25% but after that 30% will be charged... If there is a next time.'

He hoped there will be, that waiting, hearing the auctioneer goes 'Sold'. It still rings in his head from time to time.

He went to art shops a little far from the mall. The first shop's clerk checked the piece. A 90cm three colored glass dango. He pocked it carefully proving the stick's stability. The dango was standing on its own, squatting to check the base he saw something moving inside the pink ball on the top of the dango. Mini dangos were swimming in some sort of pink liquid inside the ball. He asked for permission before holding the artwork up for better look.

"Glass work makes me nervous."

"Me too." Ryu agreed, which was a little too honest from someone trying to sell glass work.

The clerk took his time, the white and green balls had the same moving liquid motions inside them, without any mini dangos.

'Every ball is actually made from three glass balls, each with slight color difference, ever so slightly craved to create the swirling effect when the observer moves their head.'

He looked at the teen with cardigan and a glasses on his chest on a chain.

'Not bad. Weird concept but great technique.'

"Do you have a catalog?"

Ryu handed him his, eyeing his expression that went from impressment to confusion.

"Do you plan on making these on demand?"

"No?"

"Figures, I only buy from artists who can remake the same art piece on demand, plus even if the craftsmanship is admirable I don't think many people would buy a standing dango."

The other three shops rendered him with the same result, work too niche and most wanted to make contracts with an artist who's willing to mass produce their products, many dealers were selling to another countries and needed the quantity.

'As expected, I either find a patron or work for or an established artists to mass produce work. Should I make a contract and work for two months until school start? '

He thought to himself while walking, what brought him back to reality was the supposed way home...which didn't lead to home. He got lost in the bystreets of 3rd avenue.

Moving his eyes on the hexagono to get the city map was in vain, he will surly be called 'CouNtrY BoI' whenever he is back home.

It was four in the afternoon, that what his hexagono managed to supply.

'Well, I'll just wait till everyone closes, morph and fly home.' He opened a malai ice cream sitting on a bench, dango in a box on the ground.

The clerk from the first shop passed by him, he was walking with another woman.

"Too early to give up kid, you still have two hours or so." He encouraged, no longer talking to him professionally.

"No I just, lost on the way home." He was just sitting there, hand clasped together in his lap, like a grandpa after a long day of work.

"Clover neighborhood? You gotta walk in the opposite direction till the end of 3rd avenue." He instructed.

The woman peeked at the shiny glass, intrigue in her eyes, she gave the clerk an eye gesture.

"Niche glass work, no mass producing." The clerk supplied. She gave Ryu a similar eye gesture.

In the guest room of the small auction house Joya was reading his catalog, he was staring at the sculpture of a reptile skull on the above her.

Every artist had a catalog that displayed pieces they sold, and ones offering to sell. The one in her hands was short but good. Three sales in one day at the art academy exhibition, the last of them grossed 20000 moro sold to a business man. Other two sold for a normal wage, 3000 and 5000 moro plus the fresh auction profit.

"Your record is great, but you know.." She paused on purpose, eyeing him, measuring how he might react to the next words.

"The auction revenue might be a one hit wonder." He took the words out of her mouth, she smiled, handing the catalog back.

"Doesn't matter much, I want to sell this." She held the dango like a kid, looking at him through the glass.

"But I take 40% as my fees, gotta buffer the risk."

She puts the piece down, looking at him directly. The tense silence followed.

"30%." He simply said reciprocating the eye contact, if that is all it takes then he's winning.

"Why so sure?" She questioned.

He looked at the skull above her again.

"I guess you know why, I trust my work. Like you do."

"You can't trust the crowd though." Her voice challenged softly.

"Yet you're here." He looked at the skull then her. With a similar eye gesture.

They eye each other again, she lets a soft smirk.

"37%."

"Done."

They finished the paperwork tad before sunset, and she walked him to the start of the elusive 3rd avenue, where he knew how to return home.

"I'll send you the dates later."

"Pleasure to work with you."

"Same here."

He didn't know what to say exactly, parting ways with a fresh stranger who walked him because he would get lost, plus acting in professional way was a new skill to him. 

"Um so.. see you later alligator."

"..After a while crocodile."

He will regret it when he register it.

At night Karaza was down on the ground as usual, the mixture of silence with the lack of anything to do was getting cruel, she tried "Relaxing" as people loved to do but it was like an illiterate trying to solve a math problem, and she was never in school.

Turning around got irritating, she searched for the golden apple underneath the pile of catalogs in the only surface in the apartment, the kitchen counter.

'Maybe I should get a fight before I rust.'

She uprooted one seed. 

No longer in the flat, rather jumping high in the Santorini blue clear sky. She was falling but she wasn't accelerating toward the ground, just descending like a feather downwards.

The soft fall ruffled colorful flower petals in the air, landing on her face. She blowed the flowers and pollen away, looking around she recognize the flower field.

'This place.. it's outside the grand forest.' She sat, looking around until her eyes met the big green patch of trees to her right.

Laying down in defeat, arms spread, she let a sigh.

'There is absolutely no one to fight here, lucky me.' She joked to herself looking upward. A bee flew above her, landing on a flower. Watching the flower swaying slightly while the bee sucked the pollen.

'So there's bees here huh? A hive should be somewhere, in the forest? Kinda far.'

'Must be nice, having a purpose...and being content with it.'

'I couldn't even achieve that.'

She turned on her side, watching the bee comfortably without turning her neck.

'This gonna turn into honey.'

The bee flew away. She stared at the grass and soil in her vision field, a tiny worm was crawling. Sleep creeped up on her eventually.

Back to her flat via the golden apple she grabbed a catalog from the kitchen counter, looking at the beekeeping training page.

In the shabby apartment bathed in sunlight, the usual routine didn't happen. 

"...It's not a piece of cake, not a piece of food even!" Roxy said, head slammed on the kotatsu, nothing done.

Under the blankets Ryu was murmuring to himself, knees clenched to his chest.

"Who says see you later alligator to A BUSINESS PARTNER?"