Chapter 4. File Opened: Tom Ross

Daniel Kim had settled into my favorite chair with the air of someone who had been paying its mortgage. He lounged back, casually crossing one leg over the other, methodically destroying a pizza straight from the cardboard box resting on his lap. In his other hand, he held a sweating can of cola. And this was my handler? The man my future now depended on? So far, he inspired anything but respect.

I recognized him instantly. The same features as in the photos online: a typical Korean American, with sharp yet pleasant facial features. Our eyes met, and for a moment, silence hung in the room, both of us doing the exact same thing, scanning each other, trying to figure out who we were dealing with.

What could I tell about him at first glance? Danny looked like he had just stepped off the cover of a surfing magazine. A deep golden tan, well-defined muscles clearly visible beneath the thin fabric of a white tank top. Short shorts, a cap worn slightly sideways, scuffed sneakers. Completing the look was a scratched skateboard leaning against the wall in the hallway. A real “beach boy.” I would not have been surprised in the slightest if he suddenly jumped up, threw up the horns, and yelled something stupid like “Cowabunga!”

“You’re Tom Ross?” he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice, as if he’d expected someone else.

“Yes, that’s me,” I replied in the most even tone I could manage.

I walked further into the room and sat down on the couch next to Mom. She was sitting stiffly, clutching a cup of tea in her hands, long since gone cold.

“Is there any reason for the doubt?” I added, looking him straight in the eye.

“Not really,” Danny narrowed his eyes, “you look exactly like your file photo. Your luggage just threw me off.”

He gave a meaningful nod toward the door, where I had dropped my gym bag. The edge of a tracksuit was visible through the half-open zipper.

“There wasn’t a word in your file about you being a regular at the gym.”

“I only started today,” I cut him off.

A fleeting sense of relief stirred inside me. Thank god I had the sense to take a shower right in the locker room at the gym, otherwise this small room would have been filled with the thick smell of sweat, completely destroying what little confidence I had left.

“So you’ve already put together a file on me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Three days ago,” he waved his free hand carelessly, almost spilling the cola. “But don’t take it personally, Tom. These days they open files on every awakened the moment the system flags them. Nothing personal, just bureaucracy. As you’ve probably guessed, I’m your official handler, Daniel Kim. But let’s skip the formalities, just call me Danny. I’m here to bring you up to speed and explain what your profession looks like now. You got the text about my visit?”

“Yes, I got it,” I confirmed.

I could feel a dull irritation and tension building inside me. I expected the usual lecture to start any second, something straight out of a strict teacher’s playbook: why I was not home, why I made an important person wait, why I was not showing proper respect…

“Good, that means less paperwork,” Danny, contrary to my expectations, didn’t even think about getting angry. He took another eager bite of pizza, smearing his fingers with grease. “There’s an official order with stamps lying on the table if you feel like reading it. Though I usually let parents go through that kind of paperwork, it makes them feel better.”

I glanced at Mom. She gave a barely noticeable nod, apparently she had already studied the document inside and out. I reached out, took the sheet of paper that smelled of fresh ink, and skimmed through it. I already had experience dealing with government paperwork, so I quickly filtered out the legal fluff. The gist was simple: Kim’s full details, a bunch of identification numbers, and confirmation that he was assigned to me as my handler for three months. By law, he was required to supervise me and coordinate my actions.

“Want a cola?” Danny deftly pulled a fresh can from the cardboard pack and held it out to me. “I’ve got a strategic reserve here.”

At that moment, a translucent interface window popped up before my eyes:

[Trainer Analysis: The familiar’s blood glucose level is sufficient. Consumption of high sugar beverages is inadvisable and harmful for the current metabolism. Refusal is recommended.]

“I don’t drink cola,” I said shortly.

Danny deflated instantly. His face fell, and his enthusiasm faded as if I had just slapped him. He looked like I had not refused a soda, but his sincere friendship.

I shifted my gaze to the open box. Inside was a classic pizza with chicken and pineapple. The smell of garlic sauce and baked cheese was heavenly, especially after an exhausting workout.

[Trainer Analysis: The food item contains an optimal ratio of calories, proteins, and essential nutrients. Consumption is strongly recommended to accelerate muscle fiber regeneration and replenish energy deficit after physical exertion.]

“I don’t drink cola, but I won’t say no to pizza,” I corrected myself.

You should have seen how Danny transformed. He practically lit up, his eyes sparkling again, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“Mom, could you bring me a glass of milk, please?” I asked.

“Of course, dear,” she stood up from the couch and headed toward the kitchen, but suddenly froze in the doorway. Turning back, she gave us a strict, almost suspicious look over her glasses. “Deal: don’t discuss anything important without me. I’ll be right back!”

As soon as she disappeared behind the door, a heavy, almost tangible silence settled in the room. We sat across from each other, and the pause stretched, becoming genuinely awkward.

“Hey, Tom…” Danny finally muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “do you watch the World Cup final?”

“No.”

Now the awkwardness became unbearable. I honestly did not understand what he was trying to do. According to every protocol, he should have read me my rights and obligations, handed over a schedule of inspections, and left. A dry tone, military posture, that I would understand. But this pizza, these attempts to start a conversation about sports… it felt like he was trying way too hard to become my best friend. That made me far more uneasy than if a stern general in the Pentagon had called me in and started giving orders in a steel voice.

Soon Mom returned, carrying a glass of cold milk. Right now, it was the best drink in the world. I started eating, washing down the pizza with milk, not taking my eyes off my handler. My gaze showed maximum focus, I was letting him know I was ready to listen.

“Tom,” Danny finally set the box aside and grew serious. “Before you came, I was trying to explain the situation with the army to Mrs. Ross. Unfortunately, I can’t exempt you from service.”

“I still don’t understand why!” Mom adjusted her glasses with a sharp, nervous motion. “My son isn’t a soldier. He’s never held a weapon, he can’t shoot, and he’s certainly not a killer. Why do you need him there? What’s he supposed to do on the front line?”

“Mrs. Ross, it’s much more complicated than it seems at first glance,” Danny took a long sip of cola, clearly choosing his words carefully, trying not to say too much. “I’m not authorized to disclose details of what happens inside the portals to civilians. But believe me, they need more than just people who can pull a trigger. Right now, all awakened individuals and their abilities are under special state supervision. Every ability is a resource.”

“What use is that kind of ability in combat?” Mom threw her hands up. “Tom can just build muscle faster. And then what? I read online that half of those who enter a portal never come back! Can one person really change that?”

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“So, building muscles, right?” Danny suddenly went still. His gaze, which had been wandering around the room, locked onto me, turning sharp and cold. “Is that all you can do, Tom?”

The question sounded strange. There was a catch in it, a hidden test. Did he know the true nature of my ability? Or was he bluffing, trying to provoke me into revealing something? Should I lay my cards on the table in front of someone I had just met for the first time?

I decided to stick to a half truth. If anything, I could always blame it on inexperience and not fully understanding my own power.

“It’s a bit more complicated than just rapid bicep growth,” I began, carefully weighing every word. “Let’s put it this way: I have the ability to reach an extreme level of focus on a specific process. That allows me to accelerate it and significantly improve the final quality.”

“Examples?” Danny reacted instantly. It seemed like he’d even stopped breathing.

“Yesterday I fully focused on my work. As a result, I finished it several times faster than usual without making a single mistake. Today I applied the same level of concentration to my training at the gym. That allowed me to perform exercises with perfect technique, the kind people spend years refining.”

“Interesting… very interesting,” Danny slowly reached for a second pizza box, but his eyes were still drilling into me. “You know, Tom, I think you still don’t realize your own potential. I believe you’re capable of much more than just high quality work.”

“And what makes you think that?” I took a long drink of milk, feeling the pleasant coolness calm not just my throat, but my racing thoughts. “Have you encountered something like this before? Someone with the same kind of… concentration?”