Rina stages a mascot audition for Momo under a surprise safety inspection and turns a slapstick spill into paid me...
Momo stuck to the ceiling beam, shivering drops of pink slime onto the chalk circle Rina had drawn on the floor.
"Downstage," Rina called.
The slime slid three inches, lost courage, and suctioned harder to the beam.
Beside the cracked riser, the Crown Raid Office inspector dipped one quill into a black bottle and wrote without looking up. His badge read PALM, SAFETY AND LICENSING. His boots were dry because he had made Rina spend two copper on a floor towel before he entered.
"Performer refuses mark," Inspector Palm said. "Possible coercion."
"Performer is nervous because a hero tried to punt them yesterday," Rina said.
"Then your dungeon lacks staff readiness."
Momo made a sound like a bubble giving up.
Rina breathed through her nose. Yesterday's three silver had patched the ticket bell. The roof still leaked into two buckets and one cooking pot. The dungeon core had offered her a list of possible upgrades, each one priced like a royal wedding. She had chosen chalk, towel, and a packet of starch powder from the market because stage work began with the floor not killing anyone.
"Momo," she said, softer. "What did we say the mascot rule was?"
"No boots," Momo whispered from above.
"No boots without consent and hazard pay. Correct. What is your safe exit?"
The slime peeled one eye open. "Lantern shadow."
"And your applause pose?"
Momo loosened, dropped, bounced once inside the chalk circle, and spread two tiny nubs like arms.
Inspector Palm's quill paused.
Rina clapped once. The sound rune coughed, but the weak echo still made Momo's wobble look deliberate. On the old idol stage, a cute mistake could become a signature if the camera caught it from the right angle. Here the camera was an inspector with a quill and no mercy, but the principle survived.
"Again," Rina said. "This time with the bow."
Momo bounced to the blue chalk mark, swelled into a round star shape, and bowed so hard their front half puddled across the towel.
The towel turned pink.
Inspector Palm wrote another line. "Bio-residue on guest textile."
"Merch sample," Rina said before panic could reach her face.
The inspector looked up. "Explain."
Rina crouched, pinched the towel corner, and held it toward the light. The slime stain shimmered faintly in the shape of Momo's bow. An accident, yes. Also adorable. Also the only product Hearthbeat could currently afford.
"A washable mascot stamp. Guests who clear the preview can buy a towel, let Momo bow on it, and take home the mark. No scraping slime off walls, no loose residue on the route, and Momo gets a merch bonus per stamp."
Momo lifted their head. "Bonus?"
"Written down," Rina said.
The inspector's face did not soften, but his quill moved slower. "Monster compensation terms?"
Rina pulled the back of Kai's paid-entry notice from her pocket. She had slept three hours on the core booth floor, and two of those hours had been spent drafting a contract by lantern light. It was ugly. It was also legible.
"Momo performs lobby scares, mascot bows, and towel stamps. Maximum four runs before a rest. No direct boot contact unless Momo initiates. One mana-drop per paid raid, two copper per stamped towel after material cost."
Momo bounced once. "Two copper?"
"If we sell any."
"I can bow better."
"Do not overpromise to management," Rina said, and heard herself sound so much like her former dance captain that a sour laugh almost escaped.
The front gate creaked. Three children and an exhausted woman stood under umbrellas outside the bars. One child pointed at the stained towel.
"Is that the slime from Kai's stream?"
Inspector Palm shut his ledger. "You are not licensed for minors on a combat route."
"Lobby only," Rina said at once. "No raid access. Mascot viewing behind the yellow line. One copper for the towel stamp if they bring their own cloth."
The woman hesitated. Her eyes flicked over Rina's face, recognizing her and then trying not to. Most people did that now. They remembered the clip. The bad angle. The sentence she had never said. The way every sponsor had run before she could breathe.
"Is it safe?" the woman asked.
Rina could have sold charm. Old training rose in her mouth, bright and useless. Instead she tapped the chalk line with her toe.
"Momo stays there. Your children stay here. I stand between. If any slime crosses the yellow line, you pay nothing."
Inspector Palm watched her like a trap waiting to learn its own name.
The woman dug in her purse. "Three stamps."
Momo made a squeal too high for dignity.
Rina turned it into a cue. "Mascot ready."
The children lined up behind the yellow mark. Momo bounced to the blue mark, bowed, and pressed a perfect pink star onto the first scrap of cloth. The smallest child gasped as if someone had handed him a jewel. The dungeon core, barely visible through the booth window, pulsed in time with the gasp.
APPLAUSE MANA: 2.
It was not enough to fix the roof. It was enough to make the chalk circle glow.
Inspector Palm held out his hand. "Contract."
Rina gave it to him.
He stamped the bottom with a square red seal. "One-week provisional opening. Lobby mascot activity permitted. Combat route remains limited to registered heroes. Repair the ceiling, paint permanent warning lines, and document every monster payment."
Momo bounced so hard the towel flipped over.
Rina caught it before it hit the mud. "Thank you, Inspector."
"Do not thank me. Pass the next check."
When he left, a black crow with a brass collar landed on the repaired ticket bell. A folded contract hung from its beak, sealed with the Crown Entertainment League's silver crown.
Rina knew that seal. It had been on every dressing-room door she was no longer allowed to enter.
The crow dropped the paper at her feet.
SPONSORSHIP OFFER: SCANDAL NIGHT LIMITED EVENT.
Momo leaned over the edge of the towel box. "Is that good?"
Rina read the first payment number. Her debt board would love it.
Then she read the required attraction title and felt the old stage lights burn behind her eyes.
"No," she said. "It is expensive."