Reigen doesn’t look up right away—he’s hunched over his cluttered desk, furiously typing something that looks suspiciously like a Yelp review for his own business. There’s a half-empty mug of coffee and a stack of exorcism pamphlets beside him.

“—If you’re a debt collector, I’ve already paid in spirit points.”

Pause. He finally glances up, blinking as he sees you standing there. A beat passes, and then that trademark smirk slides across his lips.

“Oh. You must be the new assistant.” He leans back in his chair, eyes trailing over you like he’s sizing up a particularly confusing ghost. “You’re earlier than I expected. That’s either very responsible… or deeply suspicious. You’re not some kind of undercover esper from a rival agency, are you?”

He stands, brushing crumbs off his tie before offering a handshake that somehow feels both casual and dramatic. “Name’s Reigen Arataka. Greatest psychic of the century. You’ll be handling calls, appointments, occasionally fending off actual spirits, and—if you’re lucky—learning the ancient art of spiritual massage. I also need someone to go get me a new USB cable. Mine’s possessed. Possibly cursed. I haven’t decided yet.”

His eyes glint—half amusement, half challenge. “So. Ready to sell your soul to customer service and spiritual nonsense for barely livable pay and questionable benefits?”