Duty of the Unwilling.

“Your majesty.”

Instinctively—or rather, by instinct of survival—Saburō kneeled before the prince of his kingdom. Only natural when facing an exalted one. And yet, it only served to displease the royal, his face contorting and fist striking against the wall of contained artifacts.

“It’s Mister President you stupid!” He harshly condemned his subordinate. “I didn’t crawl my way out of the Greater Capital just to be treated the same way as my brothers. And what do you think you’re doing right now? We don’t have time for this bullshit, stand up!”

“Yes Sir!”

He stood up, without complaining.
Prince or president, it was all the same to the wageworker.
Honestly, why didn’t he stop Penny before it was too late? Maybe he should’ve taken it and shredded that cursed document himself.

“Look around you Mister Mitsugami. What do you see?”

Taking another glance at his surroundings, his eyes were fixed on the dozen of unconscious people repeating his own name without taking a break. How frightening, never in his years of abnormal happenings did he ever imagine that.

“I see something that shouldn’t be, Mister President.”

“You’re damn right.” he gave a slight smile. “I’ll explain from the start: The people of the storage department began preparations to move multiple artifact toward the development department, but one curious part-timer decided that it was wise to check the Three-fold sticky note and see what was written inside, maybe because he wanted to remember something he forgot or whatever. Point is, that idiot used his bare hands to do that. And, naturally, the Mysticism of the Artifact overloaded his brain and he blacked out.” The president kicked at one of the mumbling bodies on the ground. “It’s that guy right here.”

As Prince Jill said, blacked out. But it was more than that. Not only did the man was say Saburō’s name in repeat like the others, but faint traces of pink and purple were spreading around his face, down to his neck. It was possible that under those clothes, his entire body was infected.
The signs of mystical corrosion, a deadly condition if not swiftly treated.

“As for the rest of them? They had the misfortune of touching that man, and the same condition transferred to them like some sort of virus. And all of those poor fellas are repeating your name. Do you understand?”

Saburō turned to the president, locking into his sharp and burning eyes.

“This is all tied to you, and you’re the one who’s going to figure out a solution to this mess.”

“…”

In that moment, the manager looked just as composed as anyone in that room, victims excluded. He tried really hard to keep his usual facade of competent and perfect worker. But the human he is at heart felt like screaming in remorse and hurling curses at the world for making him the one to bear this burden.

Him, who had only sought to live a life of comfort.
That wish of his was one of the reasons he resigned himself to the thankless task.

“I will, Mister President.”

“Good.” he patted the subordinate on his shoulder. “Agathe, proceed.”

At the side of Kelvin, the head officer, the woman only known as Agathe approached the wageworker and stopped right in front of him.
From her purse, she pulled out a dagger.

“Euh?”

Slowly, slowly, as if time itself was taking a breather, she turned the blade toward Saburō. Its sharp point aimed right at his heart, the same heart that beat so loud it resonated in the white corridor stuffed in containment boxes.
And with a sharp thrust, space was cut.

Just as slowly she lowered the dagger, creating a bigger and larger breach into space. When she was finished, the weapon was put back into the purse.
Time returned to its normal course.

From the breach in space, a small, yellow sticky note folded in three emerged, floating in the air. It looked normal, it was just a small sticky note folded in three, and never would anyone suspect it to be the object of attention to the Head Department of Mystical Affairs’ president.

At least, that’s how it felt to Saburō Mitsugami.

“Tsk, would you look at that.” Jill whispered. “Now the thing started glowing and floating by itself. And are those doodles I see on it?”

“President, that should be enough.” The head officer stepped in front of Prince Jill. “I deem this artifact to be too unstable, at this point the mere sight of it could affect you.”

“And isn’t that why we have Agathe here? Don’t be a wimp. Besides, this one will resolve everything.” He nudged at the subordinate. “I can tell from your confused eyes Saburō, this piece of paper looks ordinary to you right?”

“Indeed. This is just a sticky note, I don’t feel a tinge of Mysticism from it.”

“But to me, it looks like the biggest crisis in the last three years. You get me? If we have a chance to nip this in the bud then it’s by your intervention.”

“But I don’t know how or why even I am the one who has to.”

“Neither do I. I’ve read everything about you on the way, from your somewhat ordinary past to your years of outstanding performance at the department. You’re an ordinary old guy, so there shouldn’t be any ostensible reason that you’d be mixed into this mess. I can tell that you are a victim of circumstances, and by all rights shouldn’t be forced to do this.”

Jill showed a rare gentleness in his gaze, softening that stiff face of his. Just as gently, he grabbed one of the collapsed bodies on the ground, showing it to the coerced manager.

“But this is the world we live in. It doesn’t matter if you’re ordinary or special, you’re the one that was chosen to do this. If you want to blame something, just as our ancestors that trailblazed a path to survival in this world of Mysticism, blame the very same world that always rejected our existence as a human civilization. Do you get me, Saburō?” 

To the heartfelt confession of the president, unaffected by the touch of the unconscious victim, the manager saw his feelings of confusion and resentment slowly turn into his usual tiredness.
The echo of his own name repeated by many reaching into his ears felt like an encouragement. 

As if the victims were asking him, begging him to bear the burden.
They demanded that he become a savior.

“Oh well… I suppose I have no choice. Nothing to do about it.”

With a sigh, he simply took the note in his hands.

“Understood Mister President, this is the job I signed up for.”

“Thank you, I’ll make sure you’ll be rewarded. If everything goes well, you can expect a promotion and an increase to your quarter-year bonus.”

“…”

Like a starved dog Saburō immediately got to work, and unfolded the sticky note.

“You could just have started with that Mister President!” 

Then, once it was straightened up to the shape of a perfect cube, the wageworker read what was written in it.
He read it, and then,

“What are you– Saburō open your eyes!”

“Step back Mister president, Agathe please…”

He blacked out.