The Wageworker out of Comfort

As his gaping mouth suggested, his senses were completely thrown out of the window. “Where in the containment department is that?!”

Right as he got out of the management building he was met with two men in black suits, escorting him to the containment building in a just as unnervingly ominous black car. A mere senior manager, treated like a VIP by the higher ups. He already knew trouble was at the horizon.
Not even ten minutes later, he got there—the containment department building. Entering the elevator, thinking that he would go to the usual containment floor at B2, one of his escorts inserted a key near the panel.

He pushed on the very last button. A button that didn’t appear until the key was turned.

B999.

The door closed, and reopened not a second later.
His entire body felt like being held in the grasp of something unseen, something vast, something that neither terrified nor comforted him. In his hands, strange markings were drawing themselves in red, encroaching a strange sensation through him as it kept going.
The eyes of the manager, fighting desperately against the sudden sense of dormancy, couldn’t understand what he was seeing. Nor was he able to explain it.

A starry sky at his feet, murals at his right and left, many kinds of birds hanging and spinning by the ceiling like an ever-turning crib mobile. In the distance, a luminous door. The only light that exists.
Saburō really couldn’t understand what was going on.
But he didn’t need to. He knew where he was.
Somewhere that no mere employee like him should be.

“You’re here.”

In front of him, another door faded into existence. Opening itself, two people walked to the wageworker.
A man in his neat uniform of containment officer, and a woman dressed like someone from the Greater Capital, but not in uniform.

“Good to meet you Mister Mitsugami.” The man handed his badge to him, delivering proof of his identity. “Head Officer Kelvin Everett, we’ve just talked on the phone.”

“Of course.” The manager gave it back, and shook his hand firmly. “And this is?”

“You will only address her as Agathe, you may as well ignore her existence.”

Saburō gave a quick look at the woman. She seemed out of her element, and a tad too young to be allowed in the containment building—at a glance, about twenty. “Very well then. So, what’s the emergency?”

“…Please come with us.”

The door they came through faded out, and another door, a glass door, faded into reality.

“Hmm? Sir. Are we not using that one?” He pointed at the luminous white door in the distance.

“Oh that? It’s a fake. Walk in and you’ll end up in Hell.”

“In actual Hell?”

“In one of the 32 archived entrances to Hell yes.”

“Is it really okay for me to know that?”

“It depends on your performance.”

The head officer opened the door, which forcefully sucked in everyone like a typhoon. And at last, Saburō reached the place he was invited to. An enormous room, seemingly an entrance room, filled with people in white suits and others in black uniforms. And some wearing specialized hazmat equipment with containers in their hands.

“Welcome to the true headquarters of the Artifact Containment Department, Mister Saburō Mitsugami.” The head officer handed him a visitor badge.” I know I’m repeating myself but we have to hurry, the artifact is getting more and more unstable as time goes.”

“The Three-fold sticky note? How does a sticky note give the containment department so much trouble?”

“You should be the first to know that an artifact’s appearance or original function doesn’t translate to its potency to harm.” they spoke as they walked. “And you should know just as much that in every matters related to Mysticism, nothing is truly 100% guaranteed.”

“That I understand. But I know it isn’t capable to cause any harm. I’ve never heard of an artifact changing its own nature or function without the effect of another…”

It dawned upon him. It finally dawned upon him. The stupid mistake that his lovely protege made, the strange document she opened, the words they read. What if interacting with that document, caused the Three-fold sticky note to change in nature? The thought made him shiver in fear, but he kept his composure with the decade of experience spent handling the unexpected.

“You’re right, Senior Manager Mitsugami. This is what we suspect as well. But deductions serve nothing with the situation we’re facing. No matter what, you have to do something about it.”

“Me?”

“That’s what I said.” he nodded, turning his head at him. “We’re here. In an instant you’ll meet with someone of exalted status. Do mind your manners before that person.”

The group arrived at another elevator. With yet another turn of key, it opened its doors to a narrow corridor. Boxes of strange looking artifacts lined up neatly, forming walls, a ceiling and a floor of contained oddities. Saburō could recognize some of them from the internal journals, highly dangerous artifacts that often caused the entire Public Safety Department and Magical Hazards Department to partner up despite their rivalry.

They walked and walked and at the end of that corridor.
Something unexpected, once more.

“Saburō Mitsugami.”

“Saburō Mistugami?”

“Mistugami Saburō!”

“Senior Manager Mitsugami.”

“Saburō. Mitsugami. Saburō. Saburō. Mitsugami.”

Bodies. Many bodies were lying on the ground unconscious, each repeating the name of that man over and over, with their eyes closed and limbs limp.
He felt the surging blood heat and race through his veins, his heart beating to the rhythm of his growing dread. In the spotlight of a most terrifying phenomenon, Saburō only thought of how much he missed his bed. How much he should have taken the day off. How much he regretted being involved in such troublesome matters.

Just another day at work, he would say. Even though never in his career was he ever faced with such a turn of events.
One thing was certain, Penny could only dream of ever getting that weekly bonus.

“You better have an explanation punk.”

Someone else came to them from behind. A person whose face he recognized. A person that everyone in the city would recognize.
It was the president of the Head Department of Mystical Affairs, the man that oversees everything related to the mystical in the entire nation.

His highest superior: Prince Jill Falkner.

The one person he couldn’t afford to offend.