Work Text:
“Hello, thank you for contacting Mirai Zero Player Support. This is Ricky speaking. What can I do for you today?”
“I forgot my password!” the caller screamed.
Ricky imagined the caller jumping up and down in distress. But this is truly hurting his ears.
The other seemed to realize it too.
“Oh—sorry. But I forgot my password and I need serious help. I already spent about $5000 on that account. I’m actually doomed. My poor, poor Sho is trapped in there.”
Sho.
A popular character in Mirai Zero. One Ricky fairly likes himself.
“Okay,” Ricky said calmly. “We’ll just need to reset your password.”
“I tried that already! I got locked multiple times, and even the passwords I could remember didn’t work. My email got compromised, but my account is still safe in-game, so I changed my password… and then I forgot.”
That is impressively tragic.
“Alright, I understand. Let’s try again.”
“But I tried! I even emailed. The others I called ignored me, but you’re the only one who answered. You’re literally my savior.”
That was surely an exaggeration.
Ricky still had to do his job properly if he wanted to clock out by 5 P.M. sharp.
“To verify your email, could you state it?”
“You’re not a scammer, are you?” the caller asked suddenly, suspicious.
“Sir,” Ricky replied evenly, “you called customer service.”
“Right. Sorry. My email is [email protected].”
“So that’s Kilo, Golf, Victor…” Ricky paused. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
“Oh, you’re using the phonetic alphabet. Okay, wait. Kilo, Golf, Victor—and for Eumppappa—Elephant, Umbrella, Monkey, Papaya, Pizza, Alpha, Papaya, Pizza, Alpha. Eight. Three. @gmail.com.”
“Alright. Thank you. That’s [email protected], correct?”
He’s amusing, Ricky thought, having only gotten Alpha correct.
Is he the alpha? The leader? The one to trust? Awoo. He’s a wolf.
“Yes,” the caller responded, startling Ricky because he had momentarily forgotten he asked a question.
“Okay, sir. An OTP will be sent to your email so you can reset your password. I also recommend linking your account to official game accounts rather than a compromised email.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Please let me know once you’ve received the code. I’ll stay on the line.”
“Really?!” He sounded absurdly glad.
“Yes.”
A few moments passed, and the caller was screaming again.
“Wahhh! Thank you! It worked!”
“I am pleased to hear that, Sir.” And now, he would repeat his spiel again. “Thank you for calling Mirai Zero Player Support. If you have any future concerns, please don’t hesitate to call or email us. Have a good day.”
But before he could end the call, the caller shouted, “WAIT!”
“Yes, is there any further problem?”
“What’s your name? Don’t think of it as anything weird. Just so you’ll answer if I call again. Please.”
Um, why was he begging? He’s weak for men who beg. Okay, shut up inner Quanrui.
“Ricky.”
“Oh, Ricky! Is that Roses, Ink, Caramel, Kiwi, Yemen… your name is pretty, by the way. Is that right?”
“Uhh, yes.” What? Was he flirting, by chance?
“Great. I’m Gyuvin. That’s Great Yummy Undeniably Very Incredibly Nice. Make sure to write that down.”
“Ah, right.”
“Thank you, Ricky! I’ll call again.”
You should really not.
When the call ended, Taerae pointed something out.
“Ricky, you’re really red.”
“I-I’m…” Oh god.
It was three days later when Ricky saw the email again, asking once more for support:
Taerae glanced at him from the next cubicle.
“Repeat caller. Same account.”
Ricky swallowed and accepted the call.
“Thank you for contacting Mirai Zero Player Support. This is Ricky speaking. How may I assist you today?”
“Oh. Ricky. You picked up again. What fate.”
Yeah, what fate—since the call was likely routed to him anyway.
He hears that excited voice again.
“Yes, Sir. How may I assist you?”
“Well, I didn’t forget my password this time.”
“That is good to hear.”
“I just have a small question.”
“Yes?”
“How do I make sure I get transferred to the same agent again?”
Ricky paused.
“Sir, we do not guarantee specific agent assignments. Calls are routed automatically.”
“Ah,” Gyuvin hummed. “But there must be some way.”
“If you have an existing case ID, it can sometimes be routed to the same representative.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
There was rustling. Ricky imagined him grinning.
“Then can I get a case ID?”
“For what concern, Sir?”
“For… emotional support?”
Silence.
Ricky cleared his throat. “Sir, this line is strictly for game-related concerns.”
“Right, right. Then let’s say… I’m concerned about purchasing in-game items incorrectly.”
“Alright, we can work with that.”
“What if I accidentally gifted a Sho skin to a Sho main ranked #4 in Asia server… and the username just happens to be Ricky.”
Ah. He’s been found out.
But really—if you’re working for a gaming company, it’s only natural to have an account. Maybe stream a little on the side.
And he should’ve realized from the beginning that the caller was the #1 Sho main—Gyubbean. That should’ve been obvious.
“We could refund your purchase, Sir,”
“Oh no,” Gyuvin replied easily. “I just wanted to let the recipient know. But my main concern is still the case ID.”
Oh my god.
“Sir.”
“Yes, Ricky?”
“If you call again and provide your email and prior notes, any agent will assist you accordingly.”
“I don’t want any agent.”
Ricky’s heartbeat betrayed him.
On the other end, Gyuvin chuckled. “Okay, okay. I won’t get you in trouble.”
“…Thank you.”
“But just so you know.”
Ricky regretted asking: “Know what?”
“If I call and say…”
“…India.”
“…Lima.”
“…Yankee.”
“Know that the call is meant for you.”
Ricky’s brain short-circuited.
He forced the closing script out.
“Thank you for contacting Mirai Zero Player Support. Have a good day.”
“You too, Ricky.”
Click.
The line disconnected.
“Who was that?” Taerae asked.
“…Just a customer. Kilo, Golf, Victor.”
“Victor?”
Yes. Victor. Whatever his name is.
His ears were red again.
And unfortunately, so was the rest of him.