It was a common piece of folklore that wicked things sought an invitation.
There were deeds even seemingly omnipotent divinities could accomplish only after receiving permission. They could not enter another’s home uninvited, could not leave unless someone helped them, and so on.
“……”
“……”
The guild members exchanged glances.
“…Mr. Seo Gio?”
The voice beyond the door answered the recovery-team member’s question.
“Yes. My name is Seo Gio.”
The contradictory emptiness of that voice made them doubt for a moment.
The Collectors, where all manner of strange Works gathered, was inherently rife with ghost stories. They were certainly waiting for “Mr. Seo Gio,” but they could not help worrying that the wrong choice now might invite disaster.
Then Garasani, the Fifth-Floor Manager, rose from his seat.
“Floor Manager.”
“What concerns you?”
“Ah, well….”
“……”
“…My apologies.”
“Tsk.”
After looking over his juniors, Garasani opened the meeting-room door.
“……”
“Welcome, Mr. Seo Gio.”
A platinum-haired man stood before him.
Soft, flowing hair and eyes that held the summer sea. Garasani did not meet that gaze directly. He bent at the waist, observing proper etiquette toward a Work. He was a servant to countless Works.
“We have been waiting for you.”
“Am I late?”
“No. You arrived precisely on time.”
It was four in the afternoon, the exact time of their appointment.
The recovery-team member already inside the meeting room looked past Curator Garasani…