L'hôtesse du comptoir est en réalité un invocateur légendaire

Prologue: The Timesheet and Dragon Breath

The Amber Pavilion Guild’s timesheets were cheap hemp paper, but the ink was expensive, because the counter clerk Hiiragi Makoto pressed so hard when he wrote that he split a nib every three days.

No one knew he pressed that hard to pin another line beneath the grid: Oro, a twenty-minute walk, no fire started.

The ring sat on the little finger of his left hand, verdigris green, like a trinket bought on a whim. One turn of his thumb, and the golden dragon yawned in the shadow of the back alley and blotted out half the moon.

“Makoto, overtime again?” The guild master tossed him the keys. “There’s an S-rank commission tomorrow. Don’t wreck the window.”

Hiiragi Makoto nodded. In the shadow, the dragon rolled over, and the guild’s cup rack gave a soft chime.

Chapter One: The Most Hopeless Receptionist

“The Most Hopeless Receptionist” was a title chosen by adventurer vote. The prize was a crooked badge. Hiiragi Makoto pinned it beside his nameplate and smiled as he poured tea for every guest.

The tea was ordinary. The smile was ordinary. Ordinary enough that people forgot there was still a person standing behind the counter.

Until a B-rank swordsman wiped blood across an application form and roared, “Window! Put me at the front of the line! I nearly died out in the suburbs!”

Makoto’s stamping hand never paused. “Expedited service costs three silver coins. Please don’t drip blood on the number field. It smears.”

The hall burst out laughing. The swordsman was furious enough to draw his blade, but the instant he met Makoto’s eyes he stopped—those eyes were calm, as if they had already looked on something larger than a sword.

“Three silver coins.” Makoto pushed the teacup across. “The tea is free.”

Chapter Two: The Colleague in the Ring

Oro called himself Makoto’s colleague. His post was “Window Atmosphere Unit.”

“You ought to let me show my face.” Deep in the night, in the back alley, the dragon rested his head on the roof. “When they laugh and call you hopeless, I can blow a smoke ring.”

“A smoke ring would set off the fire alarm.” Makoto wiped the soot from the seams of his scales. “And the moment you show your face, commission fees go up, and the tea goes cold.”

“The Summoner King actually cares about tea.”

“The counter clerk cares about tea,” he corrected. “The Summoner King already resigned.”

Oro brought his nose close to the ring. “I never signed that resignation letter.”

Chapter Three: The Morning the Subjugation Order Fell

The subjugation order arrived at dawn. The sealing wax was black, which meant the target was not a beast, but “someone who had once been a person.”

The guild master’s hands were shaking. “S-rank. The name field is blank. A blank name only appears at legend rank. Makoto, the window today takes evacuation applications only.”

Makoto wiped his nameplate clean and set it straight. He glanced at the ring. Oro was sleeping soundly inside it, as if he still did not know the world was about to collapse.

“I’m requesting the duty shift,” he said.

“You? The most hopeless—”

“Someone still has to stamp the duty roster.” Makoto soaked the nib full. “Otherwise the people who evacuate will forget they ever lived through it.”

Chapter One: Taking Off the Nameplate

The sound of the nameplate coming off was very soft, softer than dragon breath.

The adventurers watched the young man from behind the counter walk out into the square. The ring blazed into a small sun. The golden dragon rose from the shadow and blew the morning mist off the whole street.

“Legend recall in progress.” Oro was very pleased with the line he had thought up.

Makoto rolled his cuffs, and the motion was still the motion of stamping a seal. “Please form a line. Civilians first. Titles after.”

The nameless S-rank came walking in from beyond the city. Every step was like tearing a corner off an old map. Makoto raised his hand. Oro’s wings blocked the sky. The tea was still hot, left at the window, waiting for him to come back and stamp the next seal.

Chapter Two: Legend Recall in Progress

After the battle, the badge was still crooked. Makoto did not straighten it.

“Legend,” someone shouted. Others shouted, “Mister Counter.” He answered to both.

The guild master held out a new nameplate. It read Summoner King. Makoto shook his head and asked for the old one back. “The window is short-staffed. A dragon can work part-time. Stamping cannot.”

Oro stuck his head in through the window, frightened three newly registered adventurers into tears, then dried their forms with a breath from his nose.

“Colleague.” Makoto set the tea where the dragon could reach it with his tongue. “Tomorrow it’s still a twenty-minute walk. No fire started.”