Clarence is publicly tied to altered customer ratings. Basil Quill warns Mina that evidence can become a warrant a...
The refund sigil on Ivorystone Tower's marble service counter screamed in Clarence Vale's voice every time Mina Park tried to press the cheap plastic button beside it.
"Unauthorized caller," the sigil sang. "Please return to the basement where expectations are lower."
Three lobby attendants laughed into their gloves. A golden elevator waited behind them with no buttons, only a customer rating dial fixed at five stars. Mina stood in damp sneakers under a chandelier shaped like a halo of receipts, holding Mr. Grit's complaint ticket in one hand and her cracked support-line phone in the other. The screen showed one active one-star review, routed to her name because nobody with a better salary had answered it.
Mr. Grit oozed beside the velvet rope, trying not to drip on a sign that said MONSTER CLIENTS BY APPOINTMENT ONLY. "I hate this floor."
"The floor hates you back," Mina said. "Try not to take it personally."
Basil Quill adjusted his municipal badge and gave the nearest attendant a tired smile. "The Municipal Occult Bureau has a courtesy inspection scheduled."
"For next month," the attendant said.
"Then we are extremely early."
Clarence stepped from the elevator in a white coat cut sharp enough to slice paper. His smile brightened when he saw the lobby crowd staring at Mina's hoodie, her frayed cuffs, and Mr. Grit's asphalt knees. "Miss Park. If you wanted a tour, the public humiliation package is on the second floor."
"I need you to issue a refund."
The laugh that rolled through the lobby had money in it. Mina felt it land on her skin like thrown coins. Her customer ratings had dropped again overnight after Nox Harrow's review bomb. One more complaint against her tone warmth and Juno could suspend her headset. Aunt Nari had texted three times about rent. None of that made Clarence's smile worth obeying.
Clarence touched the refund sigil. It purred for him. "Refunds require proof of purchase."
Mr. Grit slapped a palm on the counter. A round patch of marble turned to sticky road tar. "I was the purchase."
"You were ambiance."
"I was abandoned in a parking lot and rated one star so you could avoid paying the summoning balance."
"Aesthetic dissatisfaction is not fraud."
Mina set the complaint ticket under the sigil before Clarence could lift his hand. "Then say that into the support-line queue."
Her phone rang once. The lobby's chandelier dimmed. The one-star review opened wide on her screen, and the marble counter split along a glowing customer rating scale. Five gold stars floated above Clarence. One black star burned over Mr. Grit.
Clarence's smile thinned. "You brought an illegal summons into my building."
"No. Your unresolved customer did." Mina nodded toward Basil. "I brought an auditor."
Basil sighed. "I am already regretting it."
The sigil demanded a handler voice. Mina put the phone on speaker. "Mr. Grit, state the grievance."
"The noble summoner Clarence Vale took my service, altered my customer rating, stole my receipt, and called me decorative."
"Adorable," Clarence said. "But unsupported."
Mina scanned the ticket with her barcode wand. It sparked against the counter, then printed a strip of gray paper. The lobby attendants leaned in despite themselves. The strip showed a payment line, a missing refund field, and a routing number hidden under gold dust. Mina's stomach tightened. The number was not Clarence's private account. It was a review broker route.
Clarence reached for the strip.
Mr. Grit put one asphalt finger on it. "Bad service. Wait your turn."
The sigil flared. REFUND ELIGIBLE appeared above the counter in letters so bright the attendants stopped laughing.
Clarence's cufflink cracked. "This is a clerical artifact."
"Good," Mina said. "I work with those."
She pushed the plastic button. The sigil bit her thumb hard enough to draw blood, then spat a refund token into the tray. Heat climbed Mina's arm. Her phone battery dropped from forty percent to six. The support-line queue charged the cost to her handler account with a cheerful ding.
Basil watched the blood bead on her thumb. "Miss Park, evidence obtained through your queue can support a case. It can also support a warrant against you."
"For what?"
"Unlicensed summoning, coercive customer resolution, magical trespass. Pick a column."
Clarence seized on that. "Listen to the auditor. Basement girls should not confuse lucky misconduct with standing."
Mina lifted the refund token. Its underside glowed with the safehouse routing number. "And noble summoners should not hide broker addresses inside refunds."
The gold elevator opened behind Clarence. For half a second, every lobby screen switched from perfect customer ratings to a refund map burned in black light: Ivorystone Tower, Underpass Bazaar, then a coin-fed address at the Mirror Laundromat.
Mr. Grit laughed so hard tar bubbled out of his shoulders. "Two-star handler, you made him pay."
Clarence's face lost its polish completely. "You think a refund makes you important?"
"No," Mina said, wrapping her bleeding thumb in a receipt. "It makes a route."
The token grew hot enough to smoke. Black lines crawled across Mina's palm, drawing washers, mirrors, and a door number that turned itself backward whenever Basil tried to read it.
Then the refund sigil burned through the paper strip and branded one clear instruction into the counter.
MIRROR LAUNDROMAT. WASH BEFORE DAWN.