Mina refuses Clarence's bribe and keeps the altered charm. Basil Quill opens an unofficial file on Mina.
Clarence Vale arrived at Neon Owl Call Center carrying roses, a silver umbrella, and the expression of a man who had never waited on hold in his life.
The basement door had a keypad, two warning stickers, and a mop bucket wedged under the handle because Juno Vale still believed security worked if it looked annoyed. Clarence ignored all of it. The lock clicked open for his gold cufflink. He stepped over the bucket, smiled at the night shift, and placed a velvet box on Mina Park's ruined keyboard.
"For your service," he said.
Every headset in the room went quiet. Even the support-line queue paused as if listening.
Mina looked at the box. Domino poked its paper head from her hoodie and hissed static. "If this is a lawsuit, your packaging is adorable."
Juno shot upright from her supervisor chair. "Clarence, I told you to call first."
"I did." Clarence glanced at the wall of blinking phones. "No one competent answered."
The laugh that followed was small, nervous, and aimed at Mina because everyone knew the safest direction to punch. Heat crawled up her neck. She opened the velvet box anyway.
Inside lay a five-star rating charm, bright as a little sun. The charm projected polite words above the desk: CUSTOMER SATISFIED. HANDLER COMMENDED. CASE CLOSED.
Mr. Grit's stolen receipt mark burned cold inside Mina's sleeve.
"That would fix your metrics," Juno said too quickly. "Accept it."
Clarence lowered his voice. "It would fix several things. Your rating. Your employment. Perhaps the charming misunderstanding with my driveway contractor."
"Mr. Grit is not a driveway contractor. He is a summoned monster client with an active complaint."
"No? He certainly flattened well."
Domino sprang from Mina's hoodie and slapped the charm with an ink paw. The five stars flickered. For a moment, beneath CUSTOMER SATISFIED, another line showed through.
GRIEVANCE SUPPRESSED.
Mina felt the whole room tilt. Not magic awe. Anger. The ugly, useful kind that kept her voice steady when customers screamed.
"That line was hidden," she said.
Clarence's smile stayed perfect. "Many systems have backend language. You would not understand."
"I understand a case closure without customer consent." Mina lifted the barcode wand. Its casing was still scorched from Mr. Grit's ticket. "I also understand evidence."
Juno moved around the desk. "Mina, scan that and I will write you up for equipment misuse."
Mina met her eyes. "You already wrote me up for sounding too alive."
Clarence laughed. "Cousin, your staff are spirited."
"My staff are replaceable."
That was meant to land. It did. Mina thought of Aunt Nari counting dumpling-cart coins under the kitchen light, of rent due, of her coat pocket chewed open by a paper cat. Then the support-line queue flashed red behind Clarence's shoulder.
CALLER: MR. GRIT
REVIEW: ONE STAR
ISSUE: RICH MAN IS STANDING ON MY RECEIPT.
Mr. Grit's gravel voice came from every speaker. "Tell him I can hear his shoes."
The office laughed before remembering Clarence was dangerous.
Mina scanned the charm.
Gold light burst across the ceiling. The charm tried to sing a jingle about premium service. Domino bit the note in half. The barcode wand printed three strips of paper: Clarence's account seal, the time of alteration, and a residue map that pointed from his cufflink to Mr. Grit's stolen receipt.
Basil Quill appeared in the open doorway holding an inspector badge and a paper cup of vending-machine tea. He looked at Clarence, then at Mina, then at the smoking wand.
"I came because the Municipal Occult Bureau received a noise complaint," Basil said. "This appears noisier than average."
Clarence's face finally changed. A fine crack opened in the polish. "That scan is inadmissible."
"Maybe," Basil said. "But it is interesting."
Juno grabbed Mina's wrist. Her nails dug in. "Do you know what family you are embarrassing?"
Mina could have pulled away. Instead she held up the printed strip so the whole office could see Clarence's seal.
"He came to my desk," she said. "He brought the bribe. He called it service."
Clarence closed the velvet box. The charm inside thudded like a trapped heart. "You are confusing attention with importance, Miss Park."
"No," Mina said. "I answer complaints. Importance is usually what people demand when the facts are bad."
Mr. Grit whooped through the speakers. Someone at the back of the room clapped once and pretended it was a cough.
Basil tucked the printed strips into an evidence sleeve. "Miss Park, do not leave the city."
"I cannot afford to leave my block."
"Convenient."
Clarence stepped close enough for Mina to smell rain on expensive wool. "You have made yourself visible to the occult elite."
Domino climbed onto Mina's shoulder, black paper fur bristling.
"Good," Mina said. "Maybe they can finally find the complaint form."
The fake five-star charm began to ring inside its velvet box.
Not like a phone. Like a throat trying to remember speech.
A woman's dead voice whispered from the gold: "This is Sylvie Chalk at the Aureate Club. My tips are being stolen after death, and I would like to speak to someone unimportant."