People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

"Do as I say."

The person in charge was taken aback: "You mean?"

Ernst zipped up his briefcase: “Arrange for her to come, I’ll interview her myself. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The person in charge blinked in surprise: "But, she's infected..."

"Hey, it's no big deal." Ernst waved his hand speechlessly. "I'll tell you, my sister is also infected. She's a mountaineer too. Every time I go back, she rushes up and gives me a hug. I've never been afraid that the Originium on her will infect me."

“In Sherag, you might get thrown off a cliff if you don’t believe in Yeragand, but if you just have Oripathy, not many people care.”

Ernst stated it as a statement.

In a way, this is one of the benefits of religion. The benevolent god Yeragand did not list Originium Disease as one of the so-called original sins, which means that the panic caused by this disease, which only appeared and spread after the widespread use of Originium, has little market in Kjerag.

The two families once set a trap for the Shivaish family, making Enya a saintess and causing her to break with her family, and also infecting Enshia with Oripathy. But in the end, the only real goal they achieved was to sever ties between Enya and her brother Enshiodis. As for Enshia, instead of being ostracized by Ernst and the others because of Oripathy, she became the darling of the family and all the people of Sherag.

Everyone still likes Encia, this lively girl, just the same. As for the Oripathy that might cause infection, what is that?

It's not even as scary as Hugh Ruth's amateurish cooking.

"Your country has such simple and honest people... Haha..." The person in charge forced a smile that was hard to tell whether it was embarrassment or relief, and nodded. "I understand. Miss Joyce should be very happy to have a boss like you."

Ernst nodded and turned to the next resume.

A completely unfamiliar face made its first eye contact with Ernst through an ID photo.

Her mint-green pupils, her meticulously sculpted face like a work of art, and her subtle dark green eyeshadow paired with vibrant lip gloss set her apart from the other Libori, the White Owl, in two completely different extremes of charm.

Her expression in her ID photo was a faint smile, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, but somehow Ernst always felt that if she smiled more boldly, it might have a very shocking effect.

"This is Ms. Holheimia. She is applying for the position of secretary."

Ernst frowned: "Judging by her attire, her appearance, and her eyes, she's not a recent graduate, is she?"

“Uh, that’s not true, but Miss Holhaya is an extremely talented person with rich work experience and outstanding abilities…” the person in charge explained. Before he could finish speaking, Ernst put the resume in his hand on the table and started looking at the next one.

This means "pass".

Just kidding, this woman named Holhaya has the air of a powerful career woman. Her eyes, her expression, her smile—they're practically radiating confidence. And she's neither a college graduate nor lacking in work experience, and she's incredibly capable. What do we usually call someone like this?

A seasoned veteran in the workplace!

The kind that lets water flow out with just a slight twist! And the water is slippery and oily!

Ernst would bet that hiring such a capable, experienced, and beautiful woman would cost as much as hiring three White Owls or five receptionists!

For the sake of your health and your wallet, you should probably put this person out of your consideration list for now!

Let's look at the next one!

Chapter 41 Horhaiya: They're back, they're all back

Holhaya was very relaxed.

Compared to other anxious and restless college students waiting anxiously for their three rounds of notifications, her mindset was much calmer.

The reason is simple: she wasn't worried at all about losing the election.

Unlike college students who haven't experienced the harsh realities of society, Horhaiya's life experiences are so rich that they could fill a thick memoir. From the moment she was born, she seemed to know five hundred years into the past, possessing a wealth of experience passed down through generations, accumulated into a towering mountain of knowledge.

Although the price of gaining this experience was so heavy that she sometimes felt suffocated, she also had to admit that it allowed her to be at ease in any situation.

There's nothing I can do; my mind is filled with over four hundred years of glorious history of the feathered serpent clan.

Her legs, encased in black stockings, were crossed proudly, and her perfect figure seemed to create an inexplicable aura around her, making the college students, whose eyes still held a naive and extravagant innocence, feel extremely oppressed. They all consciously or unconsciously moved away from where Holhaya was.

Holhaia also enjoyed this time of "glorious isolation." She took out a book recording the history of Gaul from her expensive handbag and began to read it as if no one else was around. Only the slight swaying of her ear revealed that she was still quietly waiting for the call from the interview room not far away.

"Is Miss Joyce Moore here? Is Miss Joyce Moore here?"

Finally, the silver-haired girl, who had been preparing for a long time, emerged from the room and, referring to the list in her hand, began to call out towards the door.

The white-faced owl sitting opposite Horhaiya suddenly jolted, its head spinning 270 degrees to look at Hinterlea, who stood at the doorway with a terrified expression. Then, under her astonished gaze, it slowly stood up, turning its body to face her as well, and replied:

"I'm here."

Hinterea gasped, adding a small boost to the already warming Colombian air caused by the reclamation movement and the expansion of heavy industry.

"Miss Moore... are you alright?"

She carefully examined the girl's long neck as she approached. The only knowledge she had gained from her life as a competitive knight—about the arrangement of the human skeleton—came in such an unexpected way, helping her confirm that Joyce had no signs of a fracture.

Is this some kind of racial talent?

Hinterlea was amazed. She had long heard that the Felin race was more flexible and petite, giving them an advantage in the sex industry. Pero and Rupert, on the other hand, had a keener sense of smell and were quite successful in detective and police work. Kuranta, being good at running, often had a tendency to work as a messenger.

It was truly astonishing to see a Libo using such a method to showcase his racial talents for the first time.

"Please come in."

She composed herself, led Joyce into the office, and closed the door the moment she did so.

The corridor immediately erupted into chaos.

"Joyce? It's actually Joyce!"

"Doesn't she have Oripathy? Would any company actually hire her?"

"Don't joke around. I bet she's just going in to get scolded. She'll be the first one rejected. I bet she'll come out with a long face!"

College students may lack social experience, but they are never lacking in competitive experience. Every one of these high-achieving students who stands here has gone through a long struggle of more than a decade. They are never stingy with their methods, nor do they shy away from inflicting malice on others.

"If you ask me, if Joyce gets selected, it's definitely because her boss... oh no, I mean some high-ranking official has taken a liking to her."

"What can a person with Oripathy do? If they don't get a job, are they just going to starve to death on the streets? Please, they used to be a top student at Trimont University, you have to understand their difficulties, right?"

They began to joke, fantasize, and interpret Joyce's current situation through the doorway. Seeing this, Holhaia scoffed and shook her head.

"It's just sour grapes."

she thought.

It's winter now, not just in a weather sense, but also in the job market.

Once the peak recruitment season of September and October is over, those remaining in the job market are either mediocre talents lacking any real skills, or fools with some ability but unrealistic expectations. Holhaia was certain that if one of them were the first to get the job, even without the excuse of Oripathy, they would find ways to belittle the person who got the opportunity.

It's not because they're confident, but precisely because they're afraid.

They feared that the first person to enter would seize the opportunity, leaving those who lagged behind empty-handed. Their lack of social experience prevented them from knowing how to handle such a situation, so they resorted to this form of denigration to comfort each other. They reasoned that if they lost the opportunity, it wasn't because they were incapable, but because the boss lacked vision and valued other things besides ability.

But Horhaia wasn't worried at all. She simply smiled lightly, without even attracting the attention of the students gathered around her, and continued reading her brief history of Gaul, maintaining her glorious isolation.

"True strength lies in having nothing to worry about. Opportunities will come knocking on your door."

She thought so.

A short while later, the soundproof door to the interview room opened, and Joyce walked out, clutching her resume in her arms. Her eyes were slightly red, as if she had accumulated a lot of emotions and was about to express them through tears.

The once noisy corridor fell silent instantly, and all eyes turned to Joyce. No one spoke, but everyone's expression echoed the same question: "How are you feeling?"

Joyce glanced around, then lowered her head as if hesitating, before finally whispering:

"I feel fine. The interviewers were all very nice people. I just need to perform normally."

After she finished speaking, she pursed her lips and quickly left the corridor.

Her departure was naturally interpreted as a hasty retreat after failure, while her uninformed answer was taken as a stubborn refusal to lose face.

Laughter erupted again in the corridor. But the appearance of Hinterlea turned the suppressed laughter into a serious tone.

Is Mr. Mira Soren here? Is Mr. Mira Soren here?

With a bored and somewhat indifferent tone, he repeated his call, and a man of medium build squeezed through the crowd and walked up to Hinterlea:

"I'm."

Hinterlea glanced at him, said nothing, and mechanically repeated, like a certified and qualified receptionist:

"Then come in with me."

Holhaya watched as the man, who had affectedly straightened his tie and sleeves, walked into the room with his head held high. She pursed her lips, a moment of doubt arising in her heart.

Why isn't it me yet?

But she quickly put that question out of her mind.

It's okay, it's just a matter of order. Maybe the resumes were placed face down on the table, so you're reading them from the last one?

With my impeccable resume and ability to be a top agent in the Meland, there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to handle an interview at a small rural government... right?

.............

One by one, the interviewees came and went, their expressions ranging from excitement to disappointment, a mixture of overjoyed, confident of victory, or dejected and regretful.

After seeing off the second-to-last interviewee on the list, Ernst looked at the last name, Holheimer, hesitated for a moment, and closed his notebook.

Vina, who was acting as the deputy interviewer, asked the question that had been on her mind for a long time:

"Did Mr. Ernst intend to hire Miss Joyce from the very beginning?"

Ernst shook his head: "Not really."

"Then why did you specifically remind her not to reveal the interview information after she left?" Vina asked, puzzled.

Ernst shrugged: "Because that girl is simple-minded, or rather, a bit kind."

He pointed to the computer screen on the table, which prominently displayed the surveillance footage of the corridor: "Everyone who came in after that participated in the discussion about Joyce. They know how to compete too well; in this kind of situation, how could they possibly hand over their answers to their competitors for reference?"

“But Joyce is a little different.”

Ernst rubbed his throbbing temples.

"I even specifically reminded her that she could keep her interview process confidential, as this would put more pressure on the next interviewees, making them more likely to make mistakes and improving her score. But she still told them."

"Although it was just two insignificant sentences, she still shared them with those people. That's why I decided to hire her, of course, not as a secretary."

Ernst sighed.

The white-faced owl is an honest and good person, but not a good political prospect. Technical or accounting positions certainly need someone with such a sense of responsibility and justice, but he would be unsuitable as a secretary.

After all, she wouldn't pretend to be confused.

The famous stuntman, Mr. Huang, once said: Pretending to be confused is innate, it's a talent, and it can't be changed.

Ernst still needs to find a more suitable genius to feign ignorance.

She looked at Hinterlea and said slowly, "Call the last person. That Horhaya."

Hinterlea nodded and walked towards the door.

As soon as she opened the door, a figure in dark green blocked the entrance to the interview room.

Holhaia's eyes were filled with tears of resentment, her face was full of unyielding determination, and her eyes shone with a sense of grievance as she looked at Hinterlea and the people inside the door.

Her fists clenched tightly, her tightly pressed lips parted slightly, and she uttered a questioning sound that sent chills down one's spine, like the persistent lament of a vengeful spirit:

"Is it my turn?"

Am I any worse than those people? Whether it's my resume, my abilities, or my social experience and network, I'm no worse than those fresh-faced college graduates, am I?

They openly slander their opponents in their hearts to fill the emptiness brought about by fear.

Why did everyone else get in while I was at the very back of the line, even waiting outside for ages? Was this all pre-arranged? Was this interview predetermined from the start?

Making wild guesses and fabricating stories about the interviewer and the legitimacy of the interview in an attempt to salvage one's confidence and face.

I'm a high-ranking agent of Melander, and I only signed up for your interview with a casual attitude. Did you really think I cared about the outcome of this interview?

The kind of arrogant attitude of saying "sour grapes" when you can't have them.

The words, which had been like a boomerang that circled the field once before crashing back onto his own forehead, lingered in the air, as if proclaiming the miracle of "They're back, they're all back."

But Holhaia seemed to selectively ignore it, completely oblivious. She simply looked once more at Ernst, who was surrounded by people, with a resentful voice and eyes that seemed to be stretching out threads of longing, her tone like a thirsty snake flicking its tongue at its favorite prey:

"Is it my turn, esteemed interviewer?"

Chapter 42 Horhaya: Let's talk about this in private.

Holhaya walked out of the office with a serene expression.

Ernst had been wavering on whether to hire Holheimer.