Vera broadcasts Mina's dirty switchboard to shame her as unsafe. Rafi's body-cam records the script as time-stampe...
At 12:01 a.m., Vera Saint-Glass went live outside Bellwether Call Center with a silver microphone, a halo of five-star reviews, and the smile of a woman who had never been put on hold by her own utility company.
The first thing she did was pronounce my name wrong.
"Tonight," she said to the floating camera charms circling her perfect hair, "we are standing before the infamous Bellwether Night Desk, where probationary summoner Meena Park has allegedly exposed vulnerable supernatural clients to review contamination."
Inside the lobby, I watched the broadcast on my cracked monitor.
"Meena?" I said.
Dax Candle flared on the switchboard. "That may be the true crime."
"I am trying to focus on the defamation."
"I contain multitudes."
Outside, Vera turned so the camera captured Bellwether's front windows, peeling paint, flickering sign, and one rain bucket shaped like a frog because the old manager had once mistaken whimsy for maintenance.
The live comments streamed beside the broadcast.
IS THAT THE ONE-STAR GIRL?
SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE SMELLS LIKE COFFEE.
WHY IS THE BUILDING SAD?
I closed my eyes.
"The coffee thing is becoming a brand issue."
Dax said, "A brand requires assets."
"I own a cursed desk."
"Liabilities."
The front door opened and Rafi Bello stepped in with his EMT jacket half-zipped and a small black body-cam clipped to his chest.
"Harlow sent me," he said. "She said if you speak to the glamorous lady, do it on camera and do not improvise law."
"Harlow wounds me."
"She also underlined do not improvise law."
Outside, Vera lifted one gloved hand. Her five-star aura brightened behind her like a review constellation. Each star was pearl-white and polished enough to make a customer feel expensive for looking at it.
"We have invited Miss Park to answer a simple question," Vera said. "Why do black stains follow her clients?"
The camera charms turned toward the door.
My switchboard rang.
Not the phone.
The board itself.
Streetlamp bulbs clicked awake in a line pointing straight through the glass toward Vera's microphone.
Dax's flame thinned. "Do not answer the public."
"Can I answer the complaint?"
"If there is one."
The Authority dashboard flickered.
NEW REVIEW EVENT DETECTED.
COMPLAINT ANCHOR: PUBLIC SAFETY CLAIM.
CLIENT: SILENT.
PROXY BROADCAST: ACTIVE.
I smiled without meaning to.
It felt like finding a loose thread in an expensive coat.
"Rafi," I said, "is your camera recording?"
"Since before I walked in."
"Good. Try to look trustworthy."
"I am medically licensed."
"That is close."
I opened the door.
Rain hit my face. So did about fourteen camera charms.
Vera's smile widened.
In person, she looked less like a medium and more like an apology offered by a hotel room. White coat. Pale gold jewelry. Eyes lined in silver. Her aura hummed with purchased sincerity.
"Miss Park," she said.
"Mina."
"Of course. Mina." She made the correction sound like charity. "Thank you for joining us. Would you like to address the vulnerable client community?"
"Sure."
I looked directly into the nearest camera charm.
"If you have a real complaint against Bellwether, bring it through a complaint anchor, name your harm, and I will record the cost. If someone offers to improve your review before you speak, run."
The comments spiked.
Vera's smile held, but something cold moved behind it.
"Deflection," she said gently. "Our silent client reports that your desk spread black review stains after contact."
"Which silent client?"
"Their identity is protected."
"Protected by whom?"
"A licensed proxy."
"Which proxy?"
For half a second, Vera looked past me.
Not at Bellwether.
At something only she could see.
Then she said, "The affected client states, and I quote, 'Mina Park failed to contain contaminated service energy, causing distress, reputational danger, and a loss of confidence in all low-tier summoners.'"
My Streetlamp bulbs flashed.
Dax, through the open door, hissed, "Script."
I held up one hand. "Repeat that?"
Vera's eyes narrowed by one polite millimeter.
"The affected client states..."
She repeated the exact sentence.
Same cadence.
Same pause after contaminated service energy.
Same tiny upward lift on low-tier summoners.
Rafi shifted beside me.
"Mina," he murmured. "Her ear cuff lit before she said it."
"You got that?"
"Body-cam got that."
Vera's camera charms swooped closer.
"Do you deny that your switchboard carries black stains?"
"No."
That answer bothered her.
Good.
"Do you deny that clients have been harmed by your desk?"
"No."
The live comments hesitated.
Vera recovered. "Then you admit-"
"I admit real harm requires real remedy," I said. "I also admit your complaint script arrived before your client."
The smile disappeared.
Only for a heartbeat.
But Rafi's body-cam was cruelly democratic. It recorded heartbeats too.
Vera laughed softly. "Miss Park, desperation is unbecoming."
"Mina."
"Mina. You are a Matchstick with one peeling upgrade, thirteen bad reviews, and a building that appears to be losing an argument with water damage. What exactly do you think you caught?"
The underestimation landed in front of me like a gift-wrapped brick.
I picked it up.
"A proxy-review broadcast."
I opened my palm.
The switchboard answered from inside the lobby. One Streetlamp cord shot through the doorway and plugged into the base of Vera's microphone with a clean brass click.
The live audience saw it.
So did Vera.
So did whoever was feeding her lines.
The microphone squealed.
Then it began reading out loud in a flat Authority voice.
PROXY BROADCAST PACKET.
STYLE: COMPASSIONATE EXPOSURE.
CLIENT ARRIVAL: NOT YET CONFIRMED.
SCRIPT RELEASE: PRE-FILED.
PUBLIC BLAME TARGET: MINA PARK.
Vera grabbed the microphone.
"Cut the feed."
The camera charms did not cut the feed.
One of them rotated in a circle, delighted by scandal. Technology had no morals, but it loved engagement.
The comments exploded.
WAIT DID SHE FILE BEFORE THE CLIENT?
THAT IS NOT HOW PROXY WORKS RIGHT?
WHY IS THE MICROPHONE A SNITCH?
Dax shouted from the lobby, "Because unlike some professionals, it has standards."
Vera's aura brightened violently.
The five white stars behind her unfolded like flowers made of teeth.
"This is unauthorized interference with a protected medium," she said.
"No coercive summons," I said. "No client. No complaint. No testimony. You are broadcasting a satisfaction script without harm."
"I am protecting clients from you."
"Then name one under appeal."
The stars behind Vera rotated.
For the first time, I saw what the Hollow Market ledger had meant by five-star debt.
Threads ran from each perfect star into Vera's shoulders. Not light. Hooks. Tiny, glittering, beautiful hooks. They pulled her posture straighter, her smile wider, her voice sweeter.
And under the center star, almost hidden by all that polished praise, sat a black stain.
Not one of mine.
Same shape.
Same wet-paper smell.
Same Velvet Door formatting Dax had found under Osric's curse.
I stepped closer.
Vera stepped back.
The camera charms followed me.
"Vera," I said quietly, "who holds your bad review?"
Her face went white under the silver makeup.
"I have perfect ratings."
"That was not my question."
The black stain opened one thin eye.
It looked at me from inside her five-star aura.
Then it whispered through the microphone in my own voice.
"Mina Park spreads black stains to innocent clients."
Rafi swore.
Dax's flame went blue.
The live comment stream froze.
Behind Vera Saint-Glass, above Bellwether's leaking sign, every one of her perfect stars turned toward me like a row of polite knives.
## Canon Notes
This chapter uses registered canon for Mina Park, Dax Candle, Vera Saint-Glass, Rafi Bello, Bellwether Call Center, Rainmark City, Lantern Rank, and Proxy Review. Vera's public broadcast backfires when Mina catches a pre-filed proxy-review script on Rafi's body-cam, matching the chapter 7 state.