Chapter 91: An Old Boss

Mikhail Dragunov.

Jet knew that name.

More importantly, he knew the man standing in front of him.

For several seconds, Jet simply stared at Mikhail while memories from his previous life finally connected the familiar face to the person he remembered.

The difference between the two versions was significant enough that Jet couldn’t blame himself for failing to recognize him immediately.

The Mikhail Dragunov in his memories had been older, considerably slimmer and carried himself with the calm confidence of someone accustomed to having hundreds of employees waiting for his decisions.

His face had matured, the rectangular glasses had eventually disappeared, and expensive tailored clothing had replaced the oversized Dungeon equipment currently wrapped around his body.

Jet had also met that Mikhail fewer than ten times in person.

Most of their interactions had been brief. A greeting inside headquarters, a meeting involving staff assignments, an occasional conversation when circumstances brought them together. Mikhail had been his boss, not his drinking companion.

Because, in Jet’s previous life, the fat E-Rank porter standing before him would eventually become the founder of one of the largest Porter Guilds in the region.

Porter Guilds operated similarly to Awakener Guilds in structure, although their purpose was completely different.

Instead of gathering combatants to clear Dungeons, they recruited and trained professional porters, harvesters, logistics specialists and support personnel before contracting those workers to Raid Teams and Awakener Guilds.

Large organizations rarely wanted to search for independent porters every time they planned an expedition.

A reliable Porter Guild could provide vetted personnel in whatever numbers or specializations a Raid required, handle contracts and insurance, organize transport, process harvested materials and replace injured workers without disrupting the combat teams.

The biggest Porter Guilds had business relationships with dozens of Awakener Guilds.

Mikhail had built one of them.

Jet couldn’t remember exactly when the organization had been founded. Back then, he hadn’t cared enough about corporate history to memorize the date.

By the time Jet entered Mikhail’s employment, the man was already successful enough that nobody would have imagined him wandering around O.R.D.O. headquarters with an enormous backpack, approaching random F-Rank Raiders and trying to convince them to hire him for a White Dungeon.

Frey had been the connection between them.

Years into Jet’s previous life, Jet had been nothing more than an ordinary person trying to make a living in a world increasingly dominated by Awakeners.

He had never awakened a Divine Rune, never possessed a Star Rank and never entered Dungeons as a Raider. Like millions of ordinary people, he had simply worked within the enormous industries that had grown around Awakeners and Dungeons.

At one point, Jet had managed to secure an ordinary job with an Awakener Guild, only to lose it later. Finding another stable position hadn’t been easy, and Frey, as usual, had refused to let Jet struggle quietly.

He knew Mikhail.

More accurately, by that point Frey and Mikhail were business partners.

Jet still remembered several calls where Frey had spoken about him, sometimes complaining about Mikhail’s obsession with profits and other times praising the man’s ability to turn Dungeon logistics into an empire.

When Jet needed employment, Frey had used those connections. A recommendation became an introduction, the introduction became an interview, and shortly afterward Jet found himself working under Mikhail’s Guild.

And now the three of them were standing together again.

Except none of that had happened yet.

Frey didn’t know Mikhail.

Mikhail didn’t know Frey.

And Mikhail Dragunov wasn’t the owner of anything except, presumably, the enormous backpack strapped behind him.

Jet’s gaze dropped briefly toward the E-Rank Porter License still visible through the transparent section of Mikhail’s chest pocket.

So this was where he started.

The thought was strangely amusing.

Jet had encountered people since regression whose futures he knew, but this felt different. Mikhail wasn’t some legendary Awakener whose name had appeared in history books.

He wasn’t a world-famous powerhouse or someone tied to one of the disasters Jet remembered. He had simply been part of Jet’s life. An employer, one of Frey’s connections and eventually someone whose company had given Jet a livelihood when he needed one.

Seeing him like this made the ten years Jet had lost feel unexpectedly tangible.

Jet stared directly at Mikhail for another second before asking, his surprise still visible across his face, "Did you say your name is Mikhail Dragunov?"

Frey immediately turned his head toward Jet, his eyebrows drawing together as he studied his friend’s unusually startled expression.

Mikhail blinked behind his rectangular glasses before pointing toward himself. "You know me?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised that someone he had never met appeared to recognize his name.

Jet opened his mouth to answer.

He didn’t get the chance.

Mikhail’s confusion lasted barely a second before delight spread across his round face. His chest visibly expanded as he straightened beneath the weight of his enormous backpack, and a smug smile slowly appeared while he adjusted the front of his protective vest as though someone had just informed him that reporters were nearby.

"I knew it," Mikhail declared with obvious satisfaction. "It’s finally happening."

Frey stared at him for a moment, then tilted his head slightly.

"What’s finally happening?" he asked, looking genuinely curious about how the porter had somehow become even more pleased with himself.

"My reputation is spreading," Mikhail explained with complete seriousness, pointing proudly at his own chest. "I’ve been telling people this would happen. You complete enough Dungeons, do excellent work, clients start talking, then eventually strangers recognize you. That’s how a professional reputation begins."

Jet’s surprise disappeared beneath disbelief.

Apparently some things hadn’t changed at all.

Mikhail continued before either of them could interrupt him, his enthusiasm growing with every word. "Although I’ll admit I expected it to take a little longer. I’ve only been operating professionally for a while, but quality travels quickly. Maybe somebody recommended me to you. Was it the Rasker team? I worked with them twice. Or the Hollow Spears?"

Mikhail paused, his smile weakening as another thought occurred to him. "Actually, no. They still owe me part of my processing fee, so I hope they’re not going around using my name."

Frey slowly turned his head toward Jet, giving him a look that silently demanded an explanation for everything they had just heard.

Jet rubbed his forehead.

The successful Guild owner from his memories had definitely been more mature.

Then again, ten years could do a lot to someone.

"No, Mikhail," Jet finally said, shaking his head and cutting through the porter’s rapidly expanding fantasy. "You’re not famous. Your name just sounded familiar because it reminded me of someone I used to know."

Mikhail froze.

His proud posture immediately deflated beneath the enormous backpack, and the excitement disappeared from his round face.

"Oh," Mikhail muttered with unmistakable disappointment before glancing away. "I thought I was starting to get famous."

Frey couldn’t suppress a snort at how quickly Mikhail’s mood had collapsed.

Mikhail’s head snapped toward him, and he narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "You don’t have to enjoy my disappointment that much, you know."

Frey’s mouth twitched as he fought another laugh.

"I’m trying very hard to be supportive," he assured Mikhail, although his expression showed absolutely no sympathy.

Mikhail stared at him for a second before shaking his head. "Well, you’re failing miserably."

Frey shrugged without the slightest trace of remorse. "I’m comfortable with that."

Jet shook his head, but a faint smile appeared despite himself.

His eyes remained on Mikhail for another moment.

He couldn’t tell them.

There was no reasonable explanation for how he knew that the overweight porter standing before them would someday command one of the largest Porter Guilds around. Even telling Mikhail that he recognized his name from somewhere had already attracted more attention than Jet intended.

Fortunately, Mikhail’s ego had provided the perfect distraction.

Frey wasn’t completely fooled.

Jet noticed the strange look his friend gave him.

Frey knew him too well. The reaction had been too strong for a vaguely familiar name, and Jet could practically see the question forming behind his eyes. But after several seconds, Frey merely narrowed his gaze before letting the matter go.

For now.

Jet appreciated that.

He returned his attention to the holographic terminal, but his thoughts remained on the coincidence.

Was it really coincidence?

In the previous timeline, Frey eventually became connected to Mikhail closely enough for the two to become partners. Jet had never asked how they first met. It hadn’t seemed important.

Maybe this was it.

Maybe they had always met around this point in their lives, only under different circumstances. Or perhaps Jet’s changed decisions had brought them together earlier than before. There was no way to know without asking questions that would sound bizarre.

Whatever the answer, Jet couldn’t ignore what he knew about Mikhail’s future.

The man had talent.

Not combat talent. Not the kind measured through Star Ranks or Divine Runes. Mikhail understood people, logistics and business. Somewhere between being an E-Rank porter and becoming a Guild owner, he had learned how to turn one of the least respected professions in the Awakener industry into an organization powerful Guilds actively depended upon.

That kind of person could be valuable.

Jet immediately caught himself.

He had spent too much of the past month looking at everyone through the lens of the future. Mikhail wasn’t currently the man Jet remembered. Right now, he was an independent E-Rank porter looking for work.

That was enough. They could see where things went naturally.

Frey clapped his hands once, drawing Jet and Mikhail’s attention back toward him.

"All right, now that we’ve established that our porter isn’t secretly famous, can we actually go Raid the Dungeon?" he asked, glancing between them with growing impatience.

Mikhail adjusted the straps of his backpack and lifted his chin with wounded dignity.

"I’m not secretly famous yet," he corrected Frey. "Give me some time."

Frey ignored the correction and turned toward Jet instead. "We’ve already agreed on the Dungeon, and we’ve apparently acquired Fatty as additional luggage. Let’s register before another team takes the slot."

Mikhail’s expression immediately changed. He turned toward Frey with an offended frown and pointed a thick finger at his own chest. "Wait a minute. Are you seriously planning to call me Fatty for the entire Raid?"

Frey looked Mikhail up and down before giving a slow nod, amusement appearing in his eyes. "Probably. It already feels natural."

"My name is Mikhail," Mikhail reminded him, pushing his glasses higher with one finger while looking increasingly offended by the nickname.

"I know your name," Frey replied with an unconcerned shrug. "You literally told us less than five minutes ago."

Mikhail spread both hands in disbelief. "Then why did you bother asking me what my name was if you were just going to call me Fatty anyway?"

Frey’s grin widened as he looked at Mikhail’s enormous backpack and then returned his gaze to the porter’s round face. "Because I wanted all the available information before making an informed decision about what to call you."

Mikhail stared at him for several seconds before slowly turning toward Jet.

"Is he always like this?" he asked, pointing one thumb toward Frey while his expression suggested he was already reconsidering the employment arrangement.

Jet gave Mikhail a sympathetic look before nodding. "Unfortunately, yes. You’ll eventually learn that arguing with him usually makes things worse."

Frey immediately placed one hand against his chest and looked at Jet with exaggerated betrayal. "Bro, you’ve known this guy for thirty seconds and you’re already taking his side? Where’s the loyalty?"

Jet nearly laughed at the absurdity of the question.

If only Frey knew.

He reached toward the holographic terminal instead and selected the Dungeon profile they had been examining.

[WHITE DUNGEON — ZN-W-77104]

The projection condensed, and the registration option appeared beneath it.

Jet transferred the Dungeon identification to his Raider interface before stepping away from the terminal.

He glanced toward the registration counters across the headquarters lobby and gestured for the other two to follow. "All right, we’ve picked our Dungeon and settled the porter situation. Let’s make it official before someone else registers for it."

Frey nodded and pushed himself away from the terminal. "Finally. I was starting to think we’d spend our first Raid day standing around discussing Fatty’s future fame."

Mikhail tightened the straps of his massive backpack and hurried after them, giving Frey an irritated sideways glance. "Keep laughing. When I actually become famous, I’m charging you double."

Frey looked over his shoulder at him and smiled. "Then I’d better hire you while you’re still cheap."

Mikhail opened his mouth as though preparing another comeback, then paused when he realized Frey’s statement actually made sense. His face tightened for a moment before he muttered, "I don’t like you."

Frey laughed and continued walking.

The three headed toward one of the O.R.D.O. counters together.

Jet glanced once at Mikhail from the corner of his eye.

His former boss.

Frey’s future business partner.

One of the men who would eventually build a Porter Guild from the ground up.

For now, however, Mikhail Dragunov was simply an E-Rank porter trying to earn his next paycheck.