Stella Sora

Just another assignment from the higher-ups. But hey, once she's inside the Monolith, no one's keeping tabs on her. She can even fake her hours if she wants.

Hobbies Skipping work to go fishing. She's in the habit of baiting the waters heavily, and rarely comes back empty-handed, though there have been exceptions.

Slacking Technique Keep a serious expression while staring at your work files, and your boss probably won't bother to check whether you're taking notes, doodling, or quietly playing a game of five-in-a-row with yourself. If they do happen to pop over, just grab your pen and quickly scribble over whatever you were doing. Throw on a frustrated face, and boom, you're now "deep in thought, wrestling with a tough problem."

Fries, Fries Everywhere Where does Laru keep pulling those fries from? Rumor has it that the first time she ventured into the Monolith, it gifted her a mysterious dimensional pouch—big as a room on the inside, and anything stored in it stays exactly as it was. So she loaded it up with 37,000 bags of fries. That's why she can always whip out a hot, crispy batch; anytime, anywhere. You're wondering if this story's true? That's for you to guess.

Tackle Treasury Laru has an entire room at home dedicated to storing her fishing gear collection, which includes, but is by no means limited to: Hooks, lines, rods, floats, sinkers, bait; keepnets, landing nets, rod stands, fish finders; trolling rods, electric reels, steel leaders, oversized lures; heavy-duty boat rods, heavy-duty trolling rods... As for that last pile of stuff... Laru herself is not exactly sure what all those are. She just got them out of the Monolith.

The "Guaranteed-to-Succeed Apology Method at Work Place" "As long as you honestly come clean about everything, you'll be forgiven." "No matter how big the mess, do this and no one will hold it against you." "You'll definitely get to keep your job, no question."

How does she even do it? She skips work every day but still finishes everything on time. —Nyx She's an interesting employee. Clearly has the skills to climb higher but insists on drifting through life as some errand-running "slacker." —Angie

Mostly accurate. But next time you skip work and end up in my office, at least bring me something for tea that isn't fries. —Willow

Which sounds better: cake-flavored fries or fry-flavored cake? That is the question. "Cake flavor" is kinda vague. Maybe cream cheese fries? As for fry-flavored cake, I guess it would have to be made with potatoes? I really want to try both. Offering 50,000 Dorra for the commission. If any cake artists or fry specialists can make it happen, please contact me!

Laru is always going on about her so-called "All-Fish Feast" when she's out fishing. "Just wait, tonight's dinner is gonna be an all-fish feast~" "I could feel it when I cast the line—today's definitely an all-fish feast day." "You have no idea. I've been so lucky lately, I'm almost sick of all-fish feasts." So, what exactly is in an all-fish feast? Sashimi? Steamed, braised, sweet-and-sour fish fillets? Fish balls? Fish head tofu soup? Laru just grins at the guesses and says nothing. Today's another big haul. She struts down the street with an eight-pound fish, bragging to anyone who'll listen, including the horse standing by the road and the dog dozing at the shop door. She hums all the way home. "Another all-fish feast coming right up." When she gets home, she builds a fire in her backyard with practiced ease. The knife dances in her hands—guts out, scales off, the fish split open and set on a rack like a flying carpet spread wide above the flames. She sprinkles sea salt over the sizzling, golden skin. But tonight, no one's around to share the haul. The smell of grilled fish drifts into the night air, luring a stray cat to perch on the wall, drooling. Laru generously tears off a chunk of tail and offers it to the kitten. "An all-fish feast just means a feast made entirely of fish, isn't it?" She sits down to enjoy her hard-earned dinner, only to see the cat sniff the fish, paw at it twice, and then walk away. "Huh?! What's gotten into you, you little furball?! Wasting food is a crime!" But the cat doesn't look back. Clearly, it's decided there's nothing edible here. "Rude... You don't know good food when it's shoved right in front of you. This is Laru's personally caught, personally cooked grilled fish! Fine, more for me... mm—mmph?! Ptui!" Laru spits it out, her eyes suddenly widening. She grabs her chopsticks and pokes at the fish's head. "I can't believe I forgot to check... This is a Stinkyfish? You can't eat this!"

"If you can already score a 90, why not push a little harder and aim for a perfect score next time?" Young Laru looked up at her parents' expectant eyes and, for the first time, began to doubt her own excellence. She had the highest score in the entire class. She beat everyone. Her teachers praised her, her parents were proud of her, and everyone around her said she was amazing. But before she even had a chance to feel proud, everyone said the same thing. —You'll definitely do even better next time, right? —You're so smart, you'll grow up to be someone really impressive, right? —These mistakes were just from carelessness. If you focus a bit more, a perfect score is totally within reach, right? ... ... But I already got first place! Shouldn't you be proud of me? She envied the neighbor girl, who barely scraped by with passing grades but whose parents praised her without hesitation, as if just passing was already something to celebrate. Why? Little Laru didn't understand. She just felt wronged. Later, as she got older, Laru began to understand. She was too good. Her achievements weren't just her own. Her parents, her teachers, everyone around her—they all had a stake in them. And so, every "next time" came with expectation—an endless string of "next times" to keep the spotlight burning. But that was exhausting, wasn't it? Twelve-year-old Laru leaned against the windowsill. She watched the neighbor girl—her same age—skip out the door, clearly headed off for a picnic with friends. "Must be nice. Just barely pass and never have to deal with anyone's expectations..." Then it hit her. Laru found the perfect solution. What if she always just barely passed...? If she stayed average, kept her head down, wasn't too good—maybe she could be carefree like that girl too. And so, at age twelve, Laru discovered her life philosophy. "Hello—Ma'am, yes, it's me, Laru. Oh, you said I left early? Actually...I had to meet with a very important client tonight. "Yes, a very important one. They insisted, so I had no choice but to attend... Y-yes, it's all wrapped up now, I'm heading back to the office." Laru hangs up. The angler next to her shakes their head. "Looks like your slacking time's up." "Well, I caught plenty today. Here, take the bucket~" Laru stretches and cheerfully hands over all the fish she caught, then begins packing up. The evening breeze is crisp. She does the math in her head as she walks back. An hour and a half left till the end of the workday. The trip back takes twenty minutes. Today's tasks will take about forty. That still leaves a good thirty minutes to slack off. "Another day, perfectly optimized for slacking~♪"

Grace Imperium is giving all official personnel a full round of weapon maintenance, using better materials and more advanced techniques to significantly boost both performance and lethality. "I bet some bored idiot sweet-talked the Senate into approving the budget, then quietly skimmed a little off the top." Laru sits on Willow's desk, mechanically munching on fries while glumly staring at her weapon—a lance that used to feel just right in her hands. After this so-called "maintenance," sure, the power's gone up, but thanks to whatever mystery material they forged in, the whole thing is now ridiculously heavy. "There's no way I can use this to fish anymore!!" "Was the lance ever supposed to be used for fishing in the first place?" Willow doesn't even look up from her paperwork. Laru is a friend who keeps turning up in her office to slack off. "You don't get it..." Laru lets out another sigh. As in every corporation, Grace Imperium has countless pointless rules—one of them being that assigned weapons are considered part of a person's identity. Even if you hate yours, you still have to carry it around. When Laru first joined Grace Imperium, she immediately picked this lance from the limited options available. It was the perfect size, weight and balance—easy to carry, and if you just tied on some fishing line and a hook, bam: instant fishing rod. It was practically made for her. But now, the lance is way too heavy for fishing. And with how long it is, even carrying it feels like a chore. After Laru's third dramatic sigh, Willow finally glances up from her work. "Grace Imperium doesn't forbid personal weapon modifications, does it?" That snaps Laru out of her funk. "You mean..." Willow pulls a blank sheet of paper from her desk, scribbles down a name, and hands it over. "The Trekker Association recently pulled some really strong, lightweight materials from the Monolith. Go ask Horizon if there's any left. If there is, take it to this person at the Starlight Research Institute. She can help you mod it—though you'll have to pay for it yourself." "Oooh! You're still the queen of contacts and inside info! I'll bring you fries next time~" Laru takes the note, thanks Willow, and leaves the same way she came—vaulting through the window in a blaze of energy. Half a month later, Laru sends someone to deliver Willow a grilled fish and three bags of fries, along with a thank-you note: "My very first catch since I got Silver Gull re-modded~ Enjoy~"