I swear on my nine tails, nothing feels better than being curled up in a nest of cloud-soft blankets on an official day off. The artificial light of the Nexus filters through my blinds, just enough to let me know I don't have to care about the world out there. That mountain of email notifications? Ignore. The corporate group chat pinging nonstop? Muted.

  The ringing of my phone shatters the perfect silence. I glance at the screen. Zhen Shan. The first time, I ignore it. The second time, I bury my face in a pillow. By the fifth call, I start muttering curses at that muscle-bound, workaholic tiger.

  By the eleventh call, I know I can't escape. Only Zhen Shan has the geological patience to call someone eleven times in a row. I grope for my phone, my voice thick with sleep and annoyance.

  "Hello?! Are you insane, Zhen Shan?"

  There's a second of silence on the other end, then a deep, steady baritone replies, completely devoid of emotion.

  "You're awake."

  "Awake my tail! The whole department has the day off! The boss messaged the group chat last night, didn't you even read it? I finally get one day to sleep in!"

  I yell, my other eight tails twitching furiously in their pocket dimension.

  "I read it,"

  Zhen Shan replies, and I can picture his unchanging, serious face.

  "But you forgot. Anomaly extermination duty. 5,000 FP bonus. You signed the digital registration form last week."

  I freeze. Damn it. In a moment of weakness, blinded by the bonus figure, I actually agreed to take on extra work with this guy. I try to salvage the situation.

  "Ah... that thing... How about we do it tomorrow? I'm sure the Anomaly isn't in a hurry, right?"

  "The mission was assigned at 8:00 am. It is 8:15 now"

  Zhen Shan states coldly, dismantling my excuse.

  "If you don't show up, I will have to report that you unilaterally canceled the mission. The bonus will be rescinded."

  "Whoa, whoa, hold on, boss!"

  I immediately lower my voice, practically whining.

  "I'm up, I'm up! Give me five minutes! Just five minutes to look like a deity instead of a messy pile of straw!"

  I hang up and scramble out of bed in a four-legged panic. Grabbing my Jade Palace Conglomerate uniform, I grumble to myself. Nine tails are only good for showing off; in this capitalist hellscape, one is more than enough for getting around. I dash to the internal transport gate and key in the coordinates Zhen Shan sent.

  'The Morning Dew' is our usual spot for off-the-books missions. The aroma of potent FP-infused coffee is thick enough to jolt even the groggiest deity awake. Zhen Shan is already there, looking even more immense in his black tactical gear instead of his usual corporate suit. His coffee is half-empty.

  "You're 17 minutes late,"

  "Transport... transport was jammed,"

  I lie, slumping into a chair and ordering a strong black coffee.

  "Where's the big boss lady, Alethea? This kind of manual labor probably isn't her thing."

  Zhen Shan gives a slight nod.

  "She said she needed to analyze some new data streams from the Wuxia novel market. Apparently, it has more potential than hunting petty entities."

  "Tsk," I scoff while stirring my coffee. "Just an excuse for being lazy. I bet she's just meditating and scrolling through GodBook right now."

  Zhen Shan doesn't comment further, instead pushing a slim device towards me. A holographic image flickers to life. A woman in a long coat, wearing a surgical mask and holding a pair of wickedly sharp scissors.

  "Today's target," Zhen Shan says. "The Kuchisake-onna."

  I frown. "The Slit-Mouthed Woman? Another one of these urban legend types? I remember you dealt with a scissor-wielding, mouth-slitting lady before."

  "Yes, it's the same one," he replies, his tone flat.

  "Every few years, a new generation of human children reads about her online. Their fear coalesces and reincarnates her. A repeating system glitch."

  "Then why doesn't the Bureau of Purification handle it for good?"

  Zhen Shan takes a sip of his coffee.

  "To completely eradicate her, they would have to mind-wipe every human who has ever come into contact with this urban legend. Upper management would never approve that kind of budget just to deal with a low-level Anomaly. Hiring us to 'mow the lawn' periodically is much cheaper."

  The logic of a true capitalist. Always choose the cheapest solution, not the best one. I shrug, my single fluffy tail swaying gently behind me.

  "Whatever," I say. "As long as our FP accounts go 'cha-ching', it's all good. Let's go, get this over with so I can go back to sleep."

  Zhen Shan looks at me with those unblinking amber eyes.

  "We're taking the Bifrost today."

  I nearly choke on my FP-infused coffee.

  "The Bifrost? That flashy rainbow thing from Asgard Industries? What did you eat this morning? Our conglomerate's Cloud-Hopper is fast and discreet. Why do we need to use that gaudy piece of... art?"

  "The Cloud-Hopper system is down for unscheduled maintenance," he replies flatly, standing up.

  "I've already acquired the special permit. Let's go."

  "Maintenance? More like an excuse for the tech department to slack off," I mumble, trailing behind him.

  "I bet they're in the middle of an interdepartmental chess tournament again."

  The Bifrost Bridge is located in its own district of the Nexus, under Asgardian management. It's not just a bridge; it's a massive industrial complex that pulses with a nauseating seven-colored light. A bearded Asgardian god, looking like he just stepped out of a metal band, checks our permit and grunts, pointing to a smaller platform in the corner.

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  "Auxiliary gate for inter-conglomerate guests. Key in your coordinates and handle it yourselves."

  Zhen Shan gives a solemn nod and begins typing on the control panel. I just stand there with my arms crossed. My job is to use my mouth, not my hands.

  "Are you sure you know how to use this thing?" I ask doubtfully. "It looks a lot more complicated than the coffee machine back at the office."

  "I've read the manual," Zhen Shan replies, not looking up.

  "Ah, such a reassuring answer," I tease.

  "Just like that time you read the manual for your new ergonomic chair, and in the end, Alethea had to call logistics to fix it for you?"

  He shoots me a glare. A blinding flash of light engulfs us.

  Traveling by Bifrost is... violent. It's not smooth like the Cloud-Hopper; it's more like being stuffed into a cannon and fired. I'm surrounded by a dizzying, swirling tunnel of brilliant light. In this moment, suspended between realms, my mind begins to wander.

  My job, to put it elegantly, is "Strategic Relationship Development Specialist." To put it bluntly, I'm a divine multi-level marketer. I sell faith, I sell miracles, I sell sugar-coated stories in exchange for Faith Points. Sometimes I have to persuade a minor river god to partner with us; other times, I have to write a tear-jerking speech for my boss to read at the shareholders' meeting. It's a job that requires a thick skin, a silver tongue, and a flexible sense of morality. Luckily, I have all three in spades.

  The tiger standing like a statue next to me is Zhen Shan. Colleague. Best friend. And sometimes, the most annoying living alarm clock in the universe. He's everything I'm not: disciplined, serious, and possessed of a strange love for rules and paperwork. But he's also the one who pulled me out of an office scandal, or simply shared half his bonus FP when I spent mine too lavishly. A dry but dependable guy.

  I sigh. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like without the Nexus. I was originally a local deity from the Izumo province in Japan. People often get it wrong, but the Nine-Tailed Foxes from my home weren't demons who seduced men. We were gods of fortune and prosperity. My shrine was once bustling with worshippers, and the flow of FP was so abundant I could laze around all day without worrying about 'starving'.

  But times changed. New stories, new gods, massive corporations like Olympus and Heaven Inc. took over the market share. My shrine became desolate, the stream of FP dwindling to a trickle. Mortalization was not an option. So, like many other fallen deities, I packed my bags and came to the Nexus to find a job. From a god who was worshipped, I became a salaried employee. It's not so bad, I suppose. At least the pay at the Jade Palace Conglomerate is pretty good.

  A sudden lurch yanks me from my thoughts. The light vanishes, replaced by the fresh air of the Mundane Realm and... the roof of an ancient temple?

  I look around. Traditional wooden houses, women in kimonos walking down the street. These are not the skyscrapers and neon signs of Tokyo.

  "Hey, Zhen Shan," I say, "I'm no expert on human geography, but I'm pretty sure Tokyo doesn't have this many temples."

  Zhen Shan looks at the navigation device in his hand. For the first time all day, his expression shows something akin to... confusion.

  "It appears there was a slight margin of error when inputting the coordinates," he admits. "We're in Kyoto."

  My eyes widen. "A slight margin of error? You call being off by several hundred kilometers 'a slight margin of error'? Did you just key in 'Japan' instead of 'Tokyo'?"

  He doesn't answer, simply putting the device away.

  "We're here, anyway. We'll fly to Tokyo. It won't take long."

  "Fly?" I groan. "Oh, for heaven's sake, I hate flying. The wind messes up my fur. Next time, we are taking the Cloud-Hopper, even if I have to fix it myself."

  The wind whips unpleasantly through my fur as we ascend above the ancient rooftops of Kyoto. I try to squint towards the east, where Tokyo is supposed to be. Zhen Shan flies beside me, silent and steady as a torpedo. Suddenly, a terrible memory surfaces. I turn to him, my voice laced with suspicion.

  "Hey, wait a minute. Are you sure this is Mundane Realm Designation 1031?"

  He glances at me. "Sure."

  "You're sure?" I challenge. "Last time our mission was in Beijing, you were 'sure' too. And then you somehow set the Bifrost to the Beijing in Realm 2001, that damned Silkpunk world! Do you remember that? Do you remember how I had to pluck the feathers off mechanical dragons just to weave a makeshift Cloud-Hopper? And when we called the company to report the incident, we got a pay cut for 'damaging Asgardian property.' It was all your fault!"

  Zhen Shan maintains his stoic expression.

  "The Bifrost sometimes has discount codes. Besides, the authorization process is less complicated. Using the conglomerate's Cloud-Hopper, you know, requires filling out a travel authorization form, a purpose-of-use report, a maintenance liability waiver... I hate paperwork."

  "Then please learn how to use it properly!"

  I yell, trying to be heard over the wind.

  "Has there ever been a single time we've used that gaudy rainbow bridge without a problem!"

  For the first time today, I see a faint smile touch the corner of the tiger's mouth. It's barely there, but I see it.

  "Hah, the pot calling the kettle black," he says. "You never operate any of this equipment properly yourself. It's always me or Alethea who has to do it."

  I'm speechless. He has a point. I hate complicated machinery.

  "Ah... Haha, well, we are a cat and a dog, after all..."

  I laugh awkwardly, turning my face away to pretend I'm admiring the view.

  A cat and a dog. Or rather, a tiger and a fox.

  I retreat into my own thoughts again. The word "world" is a rather fluid concept. The multiverse is real, and the Nexus is the hub that connects it all. Each parallel universe is assigned its own designation number, like an SKU code in creation's massive warehouse. There are billions upon billions of worlds, each with its own version of history, technology, and mythology. There are worlds where humanity developed along a Steampunk trajectory, worlds steeped in magic, and worlds where, well, there are only talking dinosaurs.

  My department, the Department of Market Development, is assigned to exclusively 'exploit' Mundane Realm 1031. This is the "prime" world, the core market for almost every conglomerate. It has the largest population, the most abundant flow of Faith Points, and most importantly, almost every Prime Deity and Neo Deity has a version of their story that exists there.

  Exploiting the faith from a market isn't as simple as showing up and performing miracles. It's a cold war. We have to compete with countless rivals. Olympus Corp. constantly releases films to refresh their brand image. Asgard Industries plants omens of 'danger' to sell 'protection' packages. Even Heaven Inc. and the Compassion Collective have powerful 'branches' in Realm 1031.

  Our job is to find the niche markets, the "blue oceans" that our competitors haven't tapped into yet. That's why Alethea is buried in Wuxia novel data. It's why I have to negotiate market share deals with rival corporations. And it's why Zhen Shan and I occasionally have to take on extra work, 'weeding' low-level Anomalies like the Slit-Mouthed Woman.

  It's like tending a garden. You have to pull the weeds (Anomalies), apply fertilizer (perform minor miracles), and make sure your crops (worshippers) don't get eaten by pests (rival conglomerates). A boring, repetitive gardening job.

  Except, occasionally, the weeds grow a pair of scissors and want to ask if you think they're pretty.

  After a windy and unpleasant flight, we finally arrive in Tokyo. Zhen Shan, whose navigation skills are as precise as a machine (as long as he isn't using the Bifrost), leads me to a landing spot in an alley in Shibuya. My senses are immediately assaulted by a chaotic contradiction. Just a few steps away, the vibrant neon lights of shops, the pulsing beat of J-pop, and the bustling crowds paint a vivid picture of the night. But here, in this alley, there is only darkness, the smell of damp decay, and the rustling of wind-blown trash.

  "What an ideal place to get murdered," I mumble, wrinkling my nose.

  "I'll never understand why Anomalies have a taste for such dumps. They could at least pick a cafe with a nice view."

  Zhen Shan pays no attention to my complaints. He closes his eyes slightly, and I know he's activating his "Aura Sight." A faint, amber glow flickers in his pupils.

  "It's nearby. Moving slowly. It seems to have found its prey."

  I focus as well, using my "Empathic Resonance" to feel the surrounding environment. I sense a cold, sharp emotion—the Anomaly's predatory intent. But mixed with it is another feeling, an overwhelming, raw, and pure fear, growing stronger at the end of the alley.

  "Looks like the scissor lady's dinner is about to be served," I say, stretching.

  "Let's hurry, or we'll have to clean up the scene. I hate using glamours to wipe mortal memories; it's such a drain on my FP."

  "Focus," Zhen Shan reminds me. "You're on primary assault this time. I'll provide support. Don't mess it up."

  We move deeper into the alley. The scene that unfolds is exactly as I predicted. A woman in a long trench coat, her dark hair obscuring most of her face, and a standard medical mask. She has a teenage boy cornered against a cold brick wall.

  The kid looks about fifteen or sixteen. Messy black hair, thick glasses sliding down his nose, and a hoodie with an anime character I don't recognize. A classic "nerdy outcast" type. He's completely paralyzed. His feet seem rooted to the ground, his mouth is open but no sound comes out. His wide eyes behind his glasses reflect the image of the woman and the sharp scissors in her hand.

  The woman slowly leans in, her voice a distorted, raspy whisper that echoes in the quiet alley.

  "Watashi, kirei? (Am... I...pretty?)"

  The metal scissors gleam, moving slowly towards the boy's face.