If Riley were being honest, his only request would’ve been to be allowed to resign.
Really, he wouldn’t even ask for separation pay or whatnot. But since that wasn’t looking all too possible after that demonic contract signed by his ancestor, all he could really do now was lobby for better treatnt.
But how should he go about doing such a thing when even the Four Elental Dragons weren’t capable of asking for more concessions?
Hmmm.
Riley peeked over at his boss, who was reviewing multiple reports, probably multitasking as he digested everything at once.
And the others wondered why they always got complaints about inefficiency. What could they do when their boss wasn’t hypocritical?
Maybe it was one of the things Kael Dravaryn had going for himself. For all the complaints he would have about everyone, it was impossible to hurl it back at him, for he could really perform the feats he was asking from everyone else.
It was just that none of them were golden dragon lords. And they certainly weren’t born with the kind of immortality that would allow a person to be referred to as a walking historical reference.
Very much unlike him, who was a human. And without an ounce of ability to withstand the sa pressure as all the other employees they had.
Which was funny, considering that clause that he was now banking on.
That Article V: Hazard Pay.
In reality, that section was mostly a benefit to his family, but at the sa ti, there was that small bit about being granted the required abilities to fulfill the nature of work required of him.
It didn’t sound like much, but if he bundled that with the reality that he was but a weak human, which he usually heard from literally everyone, then shouldn’t he be treated as one and given the proper leeway?
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Yeah. He should do it like this.
Riley stared at his parchnt.
It wasn’t really looking so promising right now. But if nothing else, he could argue this.
A human’s physiological needs.
That was about all he had going for him. A very short and thankfully broad line.
And since no one had actually given him any magical boosts—because, of course, they hadn’t—then he was going to write these down. Clearly. Boldly. In ink so dark it bled through the page.
Breathing. Food. Water. Shelter. Clothing. Sleep.
The basics.
Breathing...was fine.
For now.
For aside from that one ti when the sirens tried drowning him, so far his ability to breathe hadn’t been threatened. Normally, they weren’t that particular and just threatened his entire life.
Which, if he really thought about it, should be taken into consideration when they calculated his hazard pay!
Because even if it wasn’t exactly Kael’s fault, he wouldn’t have to be subjected to such threats at all if he hadn’t ended up as his poor aide!
Right. That’s really an issue he needed to address. So he wrote it down.
Next: food.
He glared at Kael, who was across the room, reading five reports at once like his brain was so kind of processing center.
His boss, who routinely summoned trays of sweets he barely touched, would usually work nonstop. Which, honestly, was fine. Admirable, even. If he didn’t continuously require his presence in the sa space!
Because, unlike the Dragon Lord, he, in the light of professionalism, couldn’t go munching on treats while working, not when every sound he made would irritate the glorified lizard with divine ears!
So in the end, it’d be like any other day. One where he felt like his stomach would eat itself just to tide him over.
And it was basically that all the ti, skipped breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. Then, when he was lucky, he’d be able to stuff himself with so roll or wrap between bathroom breaks.
So he scribbled furiously: Mandatory lunch breaks. For humans. Or at least snacks that won’t curse . Also, a gastritis prevention plan.
Water? Fine. He guessed. Maybe he could just ask that they stop boiling the water when they’re angry, because humans are incapable of drinking that off the bat.
What else? He thought, finally giving himself a chance to unearth all those grievances he usually buried so he wouldn’t feel so bad about his situation.
Shelter.
He froze. Then wrote slower.
Because, technically, yes. He had a beautiful apartnt. HR called it "prestige housing."
It was one that he got when he insisted on not living in the Lord’s estate for convenience. Because how would he survive seeing him 24/7? And how would he be able to do anything if he lived in such a place?
That was what 20-year-old Riley thought back then, when his naive self thought he’d have ti to appreciate anything other than what his boss would be able to see.
But then again, at least when needed, he was able to tell himself that he’d got such a nice apartnt to his na. And that, worst cos to worst, maybe he’d be able to rent it out because HE DOESN’T EVEN GET TO SEE THE DARNED THING!
HA! Screeched Riley as he gripped his pen far tighter than necessary.
When was the last ti he’d been awake in his own ho? Long enough to enjoy the view?
He couldn’t even rember what his kitchen looked like anymore.
He scrawled: Permission to see the apartnt (before dying of exhaustion).
Well, he probably should take out the last part, because then he might really end up dead. Or maybe join that with what felt like the biggest thing for him:
Sleep.
Oh, sleep.
Riley sat back, staring at the ceiling. He might’ve teared up a little, but he’d deny it if asked.
This company was packed with employees who didn’t even understand the concept of sleep.
They worked around the clock. Held etings at midnight. Demanded reports at dawn.
It was barbaric. But apparently just part of their natural makeup. They just didn’t require sleep.
But Riley Hale was human.
He needed sleep.
He slamd his quill down and wrote: Sleep. Just...sleep. At least six hours.
Adult human males need about seven to nine hours. But since that might be pushing it, then he’d be fine with six. At least six uninterrupted hours where he didn’t have to solve a trafficking issue right when he closed his eyes.
The scratching of his pen sped up. He could feel his feelings bleeding out onto the page.
And yet when he looked at his pitiful list, it didn’t even feel like he was bargaining for benefits.
After all, humans were fragile. They cracked. They needed maintenance. Like glassware. Or fine china.
He was not asking for luxury. He wasn’t even asking for fairness. Just the bare minimum to survive without collapsing in the stairwell like last ti.
By the ti he was done, his parchnt was a ss of underlined points, exclamation marks, and sothing that suspiciously looked like a tearstain.
He set the pen down with trembling fingers.
And then, suddenly, behind him, Kael’s voice cut through the silence.
"...Hale."
Riley froze.
The Dragon Lord’s tone was sharper than usual. Not angry. Not amused. Just... surprised.
Riley swallowed hard and turned.
His boss was staring at him. At his list. Then back at him.
And his golden eyes narrowed.
"...You’re telling ," Kael said slowly, "that you haven’t been imbued with anything?"
Riley blinked. "Imbued...?"
The Dragon Lord straightened to his full height, papers forgotten in his hand.
"You an to tell ," Kael continued, his voice now low, dangerous, and just a little incredulous, "that all this ti you’ve been running around my office, surviving this job, with no enhancents? No wards? Not even a basic stamina spell?"
Riley stared at him, mouth slightly open.
"...You an those were an option?"
Kael’s fingers twitched. Like he was deciding whether to laugh, strangle soone, or burn the building down.
Then he said flatly:
"Human Resources is dead to ."
Riley blinked again.
"Um, Sir...Does that an I can have a lunch break?"
Kael stared at him, and the poor aide thought it was better to shut up while he was ahead.
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