[You have beheld the Gates of Ildrig. Confirming qualifications......]

I could read the strange symbols that popped up each time in the white box, but I wasn't able to read the runes on the door, written in a flowing, delicate script.

[Processing..]

Who's Ildgrig? What's Ildrig? The mechanical lady's voice doesn't stop, continuing her emotionless declarations.

[Processing..]

[Processing..]

Growing impatient, it makes me tap my claws on the ground. Please don't tell me this was going to continue for a while. I'd developed a dislike for repetitive sounds.

Shrrrrrk. Clunk. Shrrrrk. Clunk.

Confused, I stare at the door when the runes start to shift, scattering and coalescing to fall in wavy lines down the door and back up.

The runes float off the smooth door and whirl towards and around me, flying faster and faster as they surround me.

"Keeeei!"

Greenie's panicked voice echoes out behind me

[Processing..]

I blink, only to feel a flurry of papers thrown at my face.

"AGAIN! Redo it again!!"

It's my boss, face red like a tomato, yelling at me to finish the presentation for our next possible big client. My head feels tight. It's the bun at the back of my head, pulling my strands so tightly against my scalp, not a single black hair out of place. Of course, I was obsessed with perfection. Makeup on point, suit free of any wrinkles, and face expressionless as usual.

What's happening?

Pushing my glasses up on my nose, I look down at myself. I'm wearing a nice, form-fitting grey pencil skirt and suit jacket.

Wait. I have a nose now!? My beak was gone!

And hands?

"This! This! And here too! It's no good" The red marker seeps into the paper as my fat boss, sweating in his tight suit, marks up the remaining sheets on his desk. My older boss, who had strong chauvinistic principles, was always angry that I was good at what I did. He would nitpick at the smallest details, trying to prove his superiority over me, a woman.

Ahh- This again. I've experienced this often.

"Are you ignoring me!? Listen up, the deadline is tomorrow and you have the capacity to be this nonchalant-"

My boss continues his rant while I stare at my hands in confusion.

I- I'm back?

The thought enters my mind, snapping me into a shocked awareness like a springing rubber band.

My work should be perfect. There was nothing to nitpick over. I'd gone over it 3 times before I'd submitted it for checking.

I remember this. Everyday, working like a slave, finishing work at odd hours to make projects meet their deadlines. Losing control of my life, disconnecting from my friends, as I come home each day. Only able to see my parents for short amounts of time before I fall asleep of exhaustion on the sofa.

The other female coworkers had dropped out, one by one, citing reasons like marriage and pregnancy. Each time they left, they would come to me. "You're the last hope we have left. Prove them wrong!"

Maybe they trusted me because I was the one always willing to help out a coworker. I can't help myself. It was the worst combination possible. I was a perfectionist by trade, with a bad case of needing to help others in trouble.

When something is readily available to you, people will begin to take that thing for granted. Soon, the work I was helping others with grew heavier than the work I needed to be doing.

In the end, me helping them had been pointless.

They all left.

After the last woman other than me left, I was now the one in charge of all their previous work.

Who gave them the right to pile all their expectations on me so easily!? What about the other girls? Was there something about me that gave off an aura of 'career woman for life'?!

My hands grip into tight fists, the knuckles turning white as my boss continues on with his rant. There was nothing else for me to do now but to wait for him to finish.

I wanted to get married too! Having someone do the work while I relaxed at home watching tv with the babies, who wouldn't want that?

While they dropped, one by one, like flies, I stayed in the game, grinding away at the piles of data, trying to prove myself to my boss, to my male peers.

The only solace I had was in the time spent on the train to work, when I devoured any entertainment I could get my hands on during that short time. Trains were peaceful. No boss, no coworkers, no expectant parents.

My job was a research analyst for a market intelligence firm. Whatever information the client wanted, it was my role to research, analyze, interpret, and present back to the client.

"Pick up the papers!!" Spit flies in my face as my boss screams at me, and I silently bend down, making sure my skirt doesn't ride up, to pick up the papers with colorful diagrams that I had made with so much care and effort.

The fat man before me was famous in his field, leading the firm into its position as a top market intelligence firm. Though he was well-known for being good at what he did, no one talked about his mood swings.

All smiles and kind for one moment, bringing donuts to the office, and berating an employee for not understanding his instructions in the next breath. After one of his rants like the one he was giving me now, he would always give me a private apology, as if that negated what he'd done before.

It didn't.

Mom and Dad were both already successful in life. Dad was a lawyer, Mom a neurosurgeon. My sister, the popular graphic artist. It was so easy for them to live life the way they wanted, when their path was already set, their positions respected.

Compared to my parents, I was nothing special. It was hard for them to understand why it took so much more effort for me to do something they could do effortlessly.

It was that competitive streak within me that pushed me forward. That, and not wanting to let down the heavy expectations of my family, of the other women who'd left the company. I wanted to be the best of the best.

Somehow, I made it through highschool with this burning motivation, getting straight As, and took the job that my father had gotten for me with his connections. During this time, I forgot about the whimsical child I'd been. The one who did crazy things for the sake of it.

When you're a small child, people will smile and think whatever strange things you did was sweet and charming. As an adult, if I did the same things, like chasing after my dream of holding the award for best international chicken dancer, they would look at you with confusion and disgust.

So I experienced what any child does after a childhood filled with wonderful adventures.

I grew up.

I was already good at analyzing data, a star student in high school, my Dad would say. What better way to become the best than by joining one of the top market intelligence firms in the country?

It was a big mistake.

No one told me it would be this hard. Living a life of cheap company-provided tv dinners and tinny-tasting coffee, typing away on the computer to keep up with the ever-growing list of demands. I'd moved back to my parents' home from my apartment when it became clear I couldn't keep up with the housework when I was barely at home.

Compared to my sister the artiste, who'd hit the genetic jackpot like my parents and had an easy time with whatever she set out to accomplish. She lived in a studio apartment, free to do whatever she wanted, anything at all for her 'inspiration'.

Mom and Dad never knew how hard it was for me. They were proud of me, thinking I was out having glamorous company dinners in nice suits, mingling with CEO's and experts of different fields. Too bad. That was what the male employees in the firm got to do. Not me.

The most interaction I got with any big shots was getting called in to prepare tea for them.

I glance out the window after handing back the gathered stack of papers to my boss, staring at the birds sitting on the telephone lines outside... The crows had the most freedom, terrorizing the people like me that tried to keep them away from the trash.

Becoming a bird may have been the result of the many times I'd wished to be free of all responsibility. To get away from the pressure of it all, and live life the way I wanted.

If I had more of my own time, I would've spent it burying my head in books, in tv and movies, pop culture that was deemed worthless by my boss...Taking in data that I wanted. Not data that companies wanted from me.

But now that time was gone…

The image of my boss shimmers, fading away before me.

[Qualifications confirmed!]

[Ildrig takes notice and smiles upon you]

[Acquisition of skill『Appraisal (Unique) LV1』successful!]

[Title: 『Perseverant』Obtained!]

---Status---

Name:

Raven

Race:

Common Black Raven

Title:

[???] , [Perseverant] New!!

Magic:

N/A

Abilities:

Skill [Raven Call]

Skill [Peripheral Vision]

Skill [Flight]

Skill [Goblin Call]

Skill [Peck]

Skill [Appraisal (Unique)] New!!

Resistances: N/A

------