by Neven Iliev
“That’s fine then,” he declared. “I’ll save my inquiries for another time.”
It seemed as though he would look into what Boxxy’s original species might have been, but the younger shapeshifter wasn’t worried about it. There was no way Reginald could deduce its origins. Mimics were far too idiotic and short-lived to achieve a Rank Up, especially since they were practically nonexistent outside of dungeons. The only reason Boxxy had made it thus far was due to a combination of luck and talent. However, if it were to point to a more tangible reason for its success, it would have to be the succubus familiar it contracted early on in its life. The moronic box it used to be – and in some ways, still was – would have died several times over without Xera’s aid.
The only thing that may have revealed Boxxy’s initial species was the already performed Full Appraisal. However, if its host asked about its origins, then he clearly failed to identify the Mimic Job. A normal Scribe stood no chance of recognizing Monster Jobs unless they conducted extensive research into the species they were analyzing. Reginald might have been able to do it since he was a doppelganger, but that didn’t seem to be the case.
Actually, now that Boxxy thought about it, wasn’t this a tasty opportunity?
“So, Reggie,” it spoke up. “Can I call you Reggie?”
“I would prefer-”
“I’m calling you Reggie,” it cut him off. “Anyway, I do have one more question. Are you capable of Job Removal?”
If it was this guy, then there was a chance he might be able to remove Boxxy’s useless Cat Job.
“No, I’m not,” came the disappointing answer.
“Why not?”
“That’s a Level 60 Skill. My own Scribe Job is capped out at 50 and it’s unlikely I’ll advance beyond it.”
It took a lot of time and effort to illegally secure Level 1 of the Job, and even then Reginald had gotten lucky. ‘Acquiring’ a high-Level Scribe trainer was far too risky to even consider, and he wouldn’t be making a Breakthrough anytime soon. Nor did he need to as he already had all the necessary Skills to suit his organizational needs, such as Eclectic Memory, Fraud Detection, and Language Comprehension. Honestly, the Appraisal-type Skills were simply an extra.
“Hmm, that’s too bad.”
Boxxy kept its disappointment out of Keira’s voice. It would seem the hurdle of abolishing the Cat Job was not so easily overcome.
“Alright then, Reggie, here’s what’s going to happen. You will not approach me nor any of my associates. In return, I won’t kill, eat, and rob everyone in this bank, yourself included.”
The former mimic had no idea how large Reggie’s organization was, but from what it had seen and heard it was quite sizeable. Though it could lop off the head here and now, it would cause more problems than it solved. Without the ‘ganger capo to keep the others in line, there was a good chance the idiotic ones would expose their existence to the Republic. The government would react instantly and decisively if they caught wind that doppelgangers had infiltrated their capital. Even Boxxy’s Essence Concealment wouldn’t prove enough if the authorities started testing the citizenry en masse. The monster couldn’t take Reggie’s place, either, as it knew next to nothing about running his syndicate of shapeshifters.
Agreeing to a non-aggression pact under the threat of mutually assured destruction was a far less troublesome approach.
“I can agree to that,” the old ‘ganger decided. “Is it okay if my agents keep an eye on you from a distance?”
“I’d rather you not. The idea of someone spying on me is quite uncomfortable. You’ll probably go ahead and do whatever you like regardless of my opinion, but you should take this as a warning.”
The catgirl-shaped monster lurched forward and slammed its hands on the desk hard enough to shake the entire room. It opened its doppelganger and beastkin mouths at the same time, revealing a cross-shaped maw filled with jagged teeth.
“Keep your ‘people’ away from the area around my home base. It’ll be your own fault if any of them wind up in my belly.”
That display made even someone as jaded as Reginald feel fear. His long-dormant survival instincts screamed at him that this Boxxy T. Morningwood was deadly serious when it spoke of cannibalizing others of its kind. It was a vicious and barbaric display completely unbefitting a doppelganger, driving home the point its base nature was of something far more vicious. At that moment, Reggie stopped thinking of Boxxy as an absurdly strong doppelganger and regarded it as the concept of violence made flesh.
“Are we clear?” asked the girl through her horrifying maw.
“... Crystal,” he said dryly.
The maw closed up, restoring Keira’s face to its usual attractive features while the girl relaxed back into her seat.
“Excellent,” she smiled sweetly. “I also want to clarify that, while I am protective of my privacy, I am not unreasonable. In fact, I was hoping to offer my services, should you have need of them.”
“Services, you say?” Reggie raised an intrigued eyebrow.
“Indeed.”
“Alright, I’ll bite. What sort of services?”
“I assume you occasionally run into some stubborn problems you’re not quite sure how to handle. I dare say it’s practically inevitable given your line of work.”
“You’re not wrong there.”
“Luckily for you, I’m what you would call a troubleshooter.”
Which was to say it shot trouble in the face, usually with high-powered magic.
“I’ll take care of those things, and you’ll do something for me in return.”
“A favor for a favor, hmm?” Reggie considered the proposal. “I can agree to that. However, if you’re bringing this up, I imagine you have something in mind already.”
“That’s right. I need you to find me a Warlock trainer who can get me past Level 50 without asking questions.”
“Interesting. You’re not going to aim for a Breakthrough and the Perk that comes along with it?”
“I will admit it is a tasty prospect, but it would take too much of my time.”
The boon in question would add 5 Warlock Levels on top of whatever overflowed XP Boxxy had waiting for it. Considering Level gains were considerably more difficult to obtain past the 60s, it was theoretically a better option in the long run. However, raising a Job’s maximum Level through a Breakthrough meant maxing out all of its Skills. Demonology alone would take months of work to raise up to Level 10. Boxxy didn’t have that kind of time with the threat of Edward looming over it. It might have successfully hidden itself within the Republic, but that guy was the Empire’s Spymaster. He no doubt had all kinds of resources and powerful allies he could use to track down and recapture the shapeshifter.
Admittedly, Boxxy couldn’t be sure Edward was still gunning for it, but it saw no reason to assume otherwise. Even if the Spymaster didn’t come looking for it, the spiteful monster would quietly amass power and bide its time until it felt ready to hunt him down instead.
“And you can’t secure a Mentor for yourself?” Reggie asked. “I can’t imagine it would be too difficult, given your abilities.”
“I could, but I’d rather not. A previously unknown Level 50 Warlock showing up out of nowhere and asking for a Job advancement at a guild? That would attract way too much attention, even without a war going on.”
“I see,” the ‘ganger capo nodded. “I suppose I should be relieved that you’re thorough when it comes to your Facade.”
Indeed, there was a reason why Reginald referred to it as such. In his eyes, a doppelganger’s public persona was something that had to be built up slowly, carefully, and meticulously. Documents had to be forged, alibis had to be invented, and inspections had to be circumvented. Rather than a mask one put on and took off at their convenience, it was closer to equate the concept to constructing a house. Hence the internal term – Facade.
“So, can you do it?” Keira pressed.
“That depends. How do I know how ef
fective you are?”
“Wait a few days for the official war report from the western front,” the beastkin smiled viciously.
“I see. Well, assuming I find it satisfactory, I can arrange a black market Mentor of that Level. It will be difficult, but not impossible. And it just so happens that I have a little something-something you can help me with. How should I contact you once I’ve made the necessary arrangements?”
“Have one of your goons send a personal request for me at the guild. That way I’ll have an excuse to be away from town for a while and a justification for any spoils I bring home.”
“That’s as good way to handle things as any, I suppose. Let’s go with that. And you know where to find me should you need me.”
“Yup. Just keep in mind I’ll be shipping out in a week or so.”
“Noted. Well then, Miss Morgana - or is that Morningwood? On second thought, is it alright if I just call you M?”
This habit of Reginald’s was not strictly to maintain secrecy, but to make it easy for fellow doppelgangers to identify one another. Faces and names were changed with every assignment, so having them call each other by a single letter as a sort of codename avoided confusion. Even then the shapeshifters had trouble keeping track of who was who within their own organization sometimes.
“No, it’s not.”
However, Boxxy didn’t want to be addressed the same way as that guy’s subordinates. It rubbed it the wrong way, not to mention it might give others the impression it was working for him. It was also rather hypocritical considering it systematically and one-sidedly assigned nicknames to those around it.
“Of course. Please accept my apologies.”
“Keep that crap to yourself. I can’t eat apologies.”
“... Quite.”
“Anyway, I think we’re done for the day, yes?”
“Indeed. You have given me much to think on.”
“Then I guess I should take my leave. Later, Reggie.”
“Until next time.”
“Say goodbye, Claws.”
“Uhm… G-goodbye, Reggie,” Drea spoke nervously.
“Madam,” Reginald bowed his head.
The two guests nonchalantly leaped out an already open window. The old doppelganger was surprisingly okay with their exit. After all, he hadn’t even batted an eye when the man-sized, multi-limbed bug-thing suddenly dropped down from the ceiling. He didn’t even question how or when she arrived in the first place.
After today, he wouldn’t be surprised if winged pigs suddenly started pouring out of his nose.
Part Three
Not even a minute had passed since Reginald’s visitors had left through his window before Keira returned. Her upside-down visage briefly popped out from the top of the open window before she grabbed onto the wooden frame and swung herself inside. She then sat down on the windowsill, allowing her hair and tail to sway gently in the chilly breeze.
“Hey, Reggie, me again,” she waved.
“Welcome back, Boxxy. Did you forget something?”
The two-faced banker replied in a calm tone that did not betray he was currently reevaluating his entire life.
“Yeah. How long does a doppelganger usually take to Rank Up past Level 25?”
“About twelve to fifteen years.”
“That’s way too long!”
“That’s how it normally is. A newborn doppelganger’s mind and body need to develop to a certain degree before it can start accumulating XP and Levels. It’s something our kind shares with enlightened children. In your case, you probably got a bit of a… head start.”
That was most definitely the case. After Boxxy’s last Rank Up, it came out the size of a pre-teen rather than an infant or toddler. If it was reborn almost fully developed, then that would explain why it was approaching Level 25 of the Doppelganger Job in less than half a year. It was good information to know, but it was the answer to the wrong question.
“I meant just the Rank Up process itself,” it clarified. “How long does it take?”
“Ah. That takes about three, maybe three and a half hours.”
“That’s way too short!”
Boxxy’s first Rank Up lasted a few days while the second took about a week. It was already worried how it would explain Keira’s disappearance for a prolonged period of time, and was even considering putting it off until after the war.
“I assure you it’s quite normal for a minor Rank Up. It’s only short compared to a major one that would advance you into a completely different species. For instance, one of my former associates took a good fifteen days to transition out of being a doppelganger.”
Reggie’s words made a good deal of sense. It was only natural that major changes would take longer. However, his example raised another question. Boxxy got the distinct impression the ‘ganger capo was positively ancient. Given the amount of time he had to work with and his prestigious Facade, he was surely able to take the Doppelganger Job to its utmost limits. And if that was the case…
“Why haven’t you Ranked Up?” Keira pressed.
“I choose not to.”
“Okay, but why?”
“Because, to the best of my knowledge, our kind can only evolve into combat-oriented species. Though they’re unquestionably tougher and stronger, their shapeshifting is far more limited. My own options are particularly unsightly. None of them are remotely capable of fitting into enlightened society, let alone on the level of a ‘ganger. As such, I’d rather keep things the way they are for as long as I am able to.”
There was some truth to those words. Boxxy had rifled through quite a few monster encyclopedias during Keira’s training, and the most dangerous shapeshifters were completely lacking in subtlety. For instance, there were massive lumps of sentient flesh called abominations. Their size alone negated the possibility anyone would think they weren’t monsters. There were also creatures that were technically shapeshifters even though they were limited to a few predetermined forms. For instance, werewolves could freely change between quadrupedal and humanoid forms, but both options were clearly monstrous in appearance.
“I see, I think I get it,” Boxxy nodded. “I wouldn’t want to give up a building full of shinies, either.”
“… Shinies?”
“Never mind. Thanks for the info, Reggie.”
“Please, it was no trouble. After all, this is the kind of knowledge I offer to every newcomer that- Oh, it’s gone already, huh?”
Boxxy abruptly and silently left the office as Reginald fell into his old, prideful habits. The old ‘ganger shrugged off the disappearing act and resumed figuring out whether today was a bad dream or not.
Meanwhile, Boxxy climbed onto the bank’s rooftop, whereupon it invoked the Transfamiliar Spell. Its vision spun and blurred for a few moments before it found itself standing on an entirely different roof. The abnormal teleportation forcibly reverted it to its true form as per usual, causing Keira’s outfit to hang loosely from its childlike physique. It took a moment to catch its bearings and scan its surroundings, then instantly morphed back into the catgirl. After one last cursory glance for potential eyewitnesses, it silently descended into the nearby alleyway. Finally, the girl-shaped disaster calmly strolled around to the front of the building and entered through its impressive double doors.
The room Keira walked into was made entirely from wood. The floorboards were polished and smooth to the point of making them slippery, and the walls and ceiling were painted pure white. A tall counter separated the place in two with several people forming a queue in front of two white-coated clerks. The employees behind the counter stared at the eyesore of a visitor with brazen looks of disbelief and awe. Even the customers turned around to see what they were gawking at. The visitors turned away soon enough, but the employees’ stares lingered for a while longer. The looks Keira got from them felt strangely more personal than idle curiosity.
Not disturbed in the slightest, the beastkin confidently walked up to the free clerk while hu
mming a random tune.
“Excuse me,” she said sweetly.
“Uhm, yes? How may I help you?” the man warily asked.
“Is apothecary Slyth here?”
“S-she is but, uhm… you wouldn’t happen to be Keira, would you?”
“Yup! That’s me!” she proudly declared.
“Please lower your voice!” the elf whispered harshly. “We have patients who need their rest on the upper floors.”
“Whoops, sorry.”
“No worries, just be more mindful in future. Anyway, are you here just to visit Rowana?”
Keira nodded enthusiastically.
“I’m afraid it’ll be a while longer before her shift is over, so please wait over there.”
The clerk pointed towards one of the cushioned seats in the corner, and the catgirl gleefully sat and waited while her girlfriend finished work for the day. Rowana was an apothecary at this modest 24-hour clinic and typically worked the day shift from early morning until late afternoon. Her schedule changed sporadically as she rotated with other apothecaries, so she sometimes had to work evenings or even nights. Her duties involved treatment of diseases and conditions that needed more attention than a simple healing Spell as well as the production and research of medicines, salves, and potions.
Boxxy had come to her place of work by swapping places with Snack. It had ordered the succubus to keep an eye on Rowana for the day to make sure that whoever was targeting Keira wasn’t going after her as well. That foolish woman was a major contributor towards the shapeshifter’s Doppelganger Levels, which made her a convenient asset in need of protection. Plus, if something happened to her, Boxxy would have to act worried, sad, or grief-stricken, and it really didn’t want to go through those annoying motions.
