By the end of it all, the room looked like a battlefield of brilliance and exhaustion.
Fauna slumped face-down against the desk, her wings drooping like wilted petals. Mika leaned back in his chair with a long stretch that made his spine pop.
Even the owlfolk, who had worked in flawless coordination monts ago were now lazily shaking their heads and preening their ruffled feathers, their quills dangling loosely in their talons.
But—
In the center of the room stood more than a dozen neat boxes, each overflowing with finished docunts—the finalized foundation of the new realm laws and regulations.
What would’ve taken teams of bureaucrats weeks to assemble had been finished in an hour.
The impossible was done.
Fauna blinked at the mountain of boxes in disbelief, then slowly smiled.
"We really did it." She said breathlessly. "We actually did it."
Mika chuckled, brushing his hair as he approached the owlfolk.
"Yeah." He said softly, pride lacing his tone. "We really did."
Then, with a small smile, he added,
"Now it’s ti to send them off."
A blue portal opened beside them, humming gently with energy.
"But before we do, we should thank them properly." Mika continued. "Can’t have them leaving empty-handed after all that effort."
Fauna perked up, curiosity lighting her exhausted face.
"Ooh, what are we giving them? It has to be sothing grand, right? Like...a chest full of gold? Or an artifact from the ancient past? Maybe a priceless relic imbued with holy energy?"
Mika simply smiled and shook his head.
"Nothing like that. Actually..."
He lifted his hand, and with a faint shimr, a small plastic container materialized in his grasp.
Fauna blinked. "A...lunchbox?"
She bent down—and imdiately yelped, stumbling backward and clutching Mika’s arm.
"M-Mika! What in the world—why are there worms in that box?!"
Inside the container, thick, pinkish earthworms wriggled lazily against the clear plastic. Fauna looked utterly horrified.
"You’re giving them worms? They worked their feathers off for us and this is what you’re rewarding them with?! That’s—that’s insulting!"
Mika laughed softly.
"It’s not what you think, Fauna." He held the box up. "These earthworms are actually a delicacy in their realm. They don’t exist there at all, and whenever I bring them so, they lose their minds. Just look."
Fauna blinked, skeptical—until she looked at the owlfolk.
Monts ago, they had looked like noble sages from an ancient order.
Now their golden eyes were wide and glimring, wings twitching with childlike excitent. One of them even let out a soft, eager hoot, its feathers puffing up like a chick begging for treats.
"See?" Mika said with a smirk. "They’re ecstatic."
He handed the box to Fauna.
"Go on, give it to them."
Fauna hesitated, then grinned and marched toward the group.
"Alright, here you go, my adorable bird geniuses!"
The leader of the owlfolk—tall, cloaked in indigo robes—accepted the box with reverence and the mont he did, the entire group began flapping their wings, their eyes glowing in delight.
Then, almost in unison, they started turning their heads around—rotating them in full circles as their version of a thank-you bow.
Fauna burst out laughing.
"Oh heavens, I don’t even need to know their language anymore to know that their happy. This is the best thing I’ve ever seen!"
She tried to imitate them, spinning her head from side to side, but since she couldn’t twist it fully, she ended up wobbling her shoulders and moving her neck awkwardly like a dancing bird.
Mika couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter. Even a few owlfolk hooted approvingly at her attempt.
After a few more bows, the owls gathered their scrolls, gave one last unified flap of their wings, and stepped into the glowing portal.
One by one, they vanished back into their realm, leaving the room behind in utter disarray—papers, ink stains, and stray owl feathers scattered everywhere.
Mika sighed fondly.
"Well...mission accomplished."
He snapped his fingers once, and the sealed boxes of completed files shimred briefly before vanishing, sent straight to the central legislative office for verification.
He turned to Anya, a grin on his face.
"See, Anya? What did I tell you? In one hour, everything’s do—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
Anya wasn’t answering.
Instead, she was slumped over her desk, head resting on her folded arms, breathing soft and steady.
She had fallen asleep right there, surrounded by the aftermath of her work.
The exhaustion that she’d been fighting all this ti had finally caught up to her.
Fauna walked over quietly, her expression lting into gentle affection. She reached down and brushed a few strands from her daughter’s face, whispering tenderly.
"Poor Anya...she must’ve been so tired. She finally got to rest."
"Yeah. She earned it." Mika smiled faintly.
Fauna looked at her fondly, then frowned softly.
"But she’ll wake up with terrible neck pain if she sleeps like this."
Mika nodded, stepping forward.
"I’ve got her."
He carefully slid one arm beneath Anya’s knees and another around her back, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. She stirred faintly, murmuring sothing incoherent before nuzzling against his chest.
Fauna, of course, couldn’t resist.
"Wait, wait—hold it right there!" She pulled out her phone and snapped a photo. "There! I’ll show her later when she wakes up—she’ll love this!"
Mika rolled his eyes but smiled as they quietly made their way to Anya’s room.
The mont they entered, the atmosphere changed.
Unlike the ssy library, her room was spotless—soft colors, organized shelves, and a surprisingly girlish charm.
Plushies sat neatly on her bed, and to Mika’s faint embarrassnt, several frad photos of him decorated her nightstand and dresser.
But he pretended not to notice and laid her gently on the bed, adjusting the pillow beneath her head, and Fauna tucked the blanket over her shoulders.
As soon as the warmth of the covers enveloped her, Anya’s lips curled into a small, content smile.
Fauna’s voice softened.
"I wonder what she’s dreaming about...to smile like that."
"She’s probably not smiling because of a dream. Rather..."
He said as he looked toward the window, where the moonlight spilled across the floor.
"She’s probably just thinking about the parliant mbers who dumped all that work on her."
His smirk deepened, sothing sly glinting in his eyes.
"They’re probably having a very rough night right about now."
Fauna blinked.
"Wait, what do you an by that? Are they in trouble?"
"Oh, definitely. Let’s just say from this mont on, they won’t have the ti or the power or their lives to ever try sothing like that again."
A cool breeze drifted through the window as he added quietly, almost to himself,
Fauna’s eyes trembled at Mika’s words.
"Oh no...don’t tell you did sothing, Mika." She said, her tone caught between worry and exasperation. "I know how protective you get when it cos to your family. But please don’t do anything extre to punish them for what they did."
"You can be a bit...brutal sotis."
Mika looked down at her, amusent glinting faintly in his eyes.
"I didn’t lift a finger. Okay maybe I wiggled them around a little bit...But it’s what they did that matters"
A knowing smirk curled his lips.
"Their own arrogance is going to bite them in the ass right about now. Even if I didn’t act, they’ve already written their own downfall."
The casual way he said it sent a small chill down her spine. Fauna didn’t fully understand what he ant.
But she knew his words were never empty. And if Mika said those people were dood, then their fate was already sealed.
—
anwhile, elsewhere...
High above the sleeping city, atop a rooftop wrapped in bright neon light and laughter, a party was underway.
The terrace of a luxury building was filled with n in expensive casual suits—middle-aged, loud, and self-satisfied. The table was stacked with fine liquor bottles, plates of food, and half-empty glasses.
"To us!" One of them shouted, raising his drink.
"To us!" The others echoed, clinking glasses.
The leader of the group—a heavyset man with greying hair and a smug smirk lifted his drink again.
"Congratulations, gentlen. With this, we’ve finally done it. That little girl won’t be able to keep up this ti."
Another man, barked a laugh.
"You an the Battle Angel’s brat? Oh, I can’t wait to see her face when the review board kicks her out!"
"After the workload we dumped on her..." Said another, swirling his glass. "...there’s no way she’ll finish it before the deadline."
"And even if she does, it’ll be a ss—errors everywhere. The Judicial Council will shred her reputation themselves."
The group erupted into laughter, their voices echoing in the night air.
These were no ordinary n—they were high-ranking mbers of the Parliant of Heroes.
The so-called council mbera from various organizations—nobles, ministers, and bureaucrats who had banded together out of jealousy and spite.
Their goal? To remove Anya, the youngest, most promising mber of the Parliant from her position.
"She thought she could just waltz in here at her age and play politics with us."
Sneered one of them, slamming his glass down.
"She’s smart, sure, but she’s naive. Doesn’t know how this world really works."
"Exactly!" Another agreed. "She’s too arrogant—thinking she can take everything on herself like her mother. Well, she’ll learn soon enough."
"But..." One of the quieter n at the far end spoke hesitantly, adjusting his glasses. "Still, that girl really is talented. Even at her age, she handles her duties better than most of us. She’s disciplined, dedicated...she has potential."
His words hung in the air.
The others glared at him.
"Potential?" The heavyset leader scoffed. "Talent ans nothing when you’re on the wrong side. Don’t let her innocent act fool you—she’s still one of them. The daughter of a Battle Angel. The blood of arrogance runs through her veins."
"Exactly." Said another, sneering. "It’s her fault for thinking she can stand alone. She deserves what’s coming."
Their laughter resud, louder and crueller than before—until a sharp ping cut through the noise.
The man who had spoken last paused, pulling his phone from his pocket.
He smiled lazily at first—until his eyes fell on the screen.
"Wh-What the...?" He whispered.
The others looked at him, irritated.
"What’s wrong with you, Derrel? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
Derrel didn’t answer. His eyes were wide, trembling slightly as he stared at the ssage on his screen.
He swallowed hard and turned the phone around.
On the glowing display was a single alert from the Central Legislative Office’s internal network:
"Submission Received: Complete Draft and final manuscript of the Cross-Realm Policy Act—Submitted by Councilwoman Anya Chernovskaya. Verified. Approved for Review."
The rooftop fell silent.
For a few seconds, no one moved. The only sounds were the faint hum of the city below and the distant buzz of the speakers.
Then the mustached man leaned forward, blinking furiously.
"T-That’s impossible..."
Derrel’s voice shook. "It was tistamped one hour ago."
The n looked at one another in disbelief.
"She finished it?"
"Already r?!"
"That can’t be right—she’s one person!"
Another ssage pinged. Then another. And another.
One by one, their phones buzzed with alerts—confirmations from the Parliant server, notifications from their assistants, and, finally, the most devastating one of all:
"Internal Audit: Submitted Docunt found flawless. Zero inconsistencies detected. Integration pending."
Soone dropped his glass. It shattered on the rooftop tiles.
The mustached man’s voice trembled with fury.
"How the hell did she do that...?"
Then, chaos erupted.
"How?!" One of them shouted, slamming his drink onto the table so hard that the glass shattered. "How the hell did she do it?!"
"This shouldn’t even be possible!" Another yelled, his voice breaking. "The workload we dumped on her was enough to drown a team of forty! There’s no way she could’ve finished it!"
"There has to be a mistake."
Soone said frantically, scrolling through his phone. His fingers trembled as he scrolled faster, his breathing erratic.
"So kind of system glitch—maybe the verification system got hacked or sothing—"
But before he could finish, another voice cut through the panic.
"No! There’s no mistake!" the man barked, his face pale as snow. "It’s been verified—officially verified!"
"What?!"
"Yes!" the man shouted, his hand shaking as he turned his phone toward them. "Look for yourselves! The status isn’t ’Pending’ or ’First Draft.’ It’s Finalized and Approved! The final draft’s been submitted and logged!"
"What?! That’s bullshit!"
Another scread, grabbing the phone from his hand to see it for himself. His eyes went wide with disbelief.
"She couldn’t have finished the final draft—hell, we haven’t even finished the preliminary frawork yet!"
Panic spread like wildfire. Voices overlapped, curses filled the air, and every man around the rooftop table was on his feet, shouting, pacing, or clutching his head.
One of them suddenly stopped mid-rant, eyes widening. "Wait...hold on."
Everyone froze and looked at him.
"If the final draft has been submitted..." He said slowly, his face draining of all color. "Doesn’t that an...our deadline has already started?"
A heavy silence fell over them.
Then realization hit and it was like a slap to their face.
"Oh no..." Soone whispered. "No, no, no!"
"We’re dead!" Another shouted, his voice shaking. "We’re fucking dead! We’re going to lose everything—our positions, our pensions—oh gods—!"
The group devolved into panic once again.
They knew the law better than anyone—the Legislative Council’s Efficiency Mandate, a system designed to prevent bureaucratic laziness and ensure equal accountability.
It dictated that when multiple divisions submitted work for the sa policy frawork, the larger workload parties—like Anya’s—were granted a longer deadline.
anwhile, minor factions like theirs had to submit within twelve hours of the major party’s submission—or risk formal scrutiny by the Judicial Council.
And failing that deadline didn’t just an a slap on the wrist—it ant full-scale audits, suspension, and, in severe cases, dismissal from the Parliant.
And Anya hadn’t just submitted her first draft four days early.
She’d submitted the finalized, verified version—sothing that usually took weeks of review and multiple internal sessions to confirm, which she herself didn’t know about and was sothing Mika did on his own and added in.
Which ant every single one of them—who hadn’t even started their drafts yet, laughing and drinking under the city lights—was now in direct violation of the Council’s efficiency code.
Their smiles were gone. The color had drained from their faces.
One man slumped into his chair, whispering.
"We’re done...all of us..."
The leader slamd his glass to the ground, trembling.
"How...How did she pull this off?! She’s just a girl! There’s no way she could’ve finished it all by herself—"
"Maybe she didn’t." Muttered another. "Maybe...soone helped her."
They all exchanged uneasy glances.
And then—ping!
A new notification flashed across every single phone.
No one dared to check it. The air was filled with dread.
But slowly, one man raised his trembling hand, unlocked his phone...and the mont he saw the ssage, his eyes went wide in horror.
His knees buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to the floor.
Another opened his phone. Then another.
And within seconds, the rooftop was filled with screams.
"NO—NO, THIS ISN’T REAL—!"
"What the hell—how did this get leaked?! I hid everything—every transaction, every record!"
"MY LIFE—MY FAMILY—MY DAUGHTER WON’T EVEN BE ABLE TO LOOK AT ANYMORE!"
The n were falling apart—so pacing frantically, others clutching their heads, so breaking down entirely, wailing in disbelief.
Because every secret they thought buried had just been unearthed.
The new notifications weren’t from the Parliant—they were from public dia networks. Dozens of headlines, reports, and files were spreading across the web at lightning speed.
"mbers of the Parliant of Heroes Linked to Illegal Financial Manipulations."
"Bribery and Policy Sabotage Against Young Councilor Exposed."
"Evidence Confirms Collusion Among Faction Leaders."
"Council mber found engaging in prostitution with minors."
Screenshots of their ssages. Copies of falsified invoices. Secret recordings. Bribery logs. Pictures of them cheating on their partners.
Everything they had done—their entire web of corruption was out in the open.
It was as if every lock in their system had been neatly undone at once, every hidden file dragged into the light.
One of them fell to his knees, sobbing hysterically.
"It’s over...it’s all over..."
Another tried to throw his phone off the roof, screaming.
"WHO DID THIS?! HOW?!"
And sowhere far away, a young woman slept peacefully in her bed.
And the man standing by her window smiled faintly, watching the city lights flicker below...
...as the rot in the Parliant began to crumble from within.
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