Chapter 84: Registration
Handling identity registration for two beings who may or may not even qualify as “Human”—this was certainly a fresh experience for Yu Sheng. But the moment he sat down in front of Miss Foxy’s form, he realized this novelty applied only to him. To the Special Affairs Bureau, it was business as usual.
Because the very first line of the form read:
“If the registrant belongs to a long-living species (1K years and above average lifespan), fill in the age as a percentage, followed by the average lifespan of the species. If the registrant’s species has no concept of gender, black out the gender section. If the registrant cannot write using pen-shaped tools or identifies primarily through pheromones or other unique secretions, a Bureau operative will assist with sampling and form completion. For other special circumstances, see the appendix for explanation and staff signature.”
This was immediately followed by a string of disclaimers, which could be summarized as:
“The Special Affairs Bureau is well aware that this place is full of bizarre and uncanny entities. We’ve tried to accommodate all kinds of lifeforms and cultural taboos. If you still feel offended, take it up with the High Council.”
Yu Sheng sat there staring at the flood of disclaimers and instructions, flipping to the second page before he finally reached the part where you could actually fill in name, gender, age, and address.
He looked up and asked Ren Wen Wen, the young Special Affairs Bureau operative seated nearby: “…This can’t be the same form that ordinary folks in Boundary City use, right?”
“Of course not,” she nodded without hesitation. “Ordinary citizen forms are way simpler. This one’s specifically designed for ‘guests’ who intend to reside long-term in the Borderland but aren’t Human. The ID cards we’ll issue to the two Young Ladies afterward will also be special versions—externally they look similar to regular IDs, but they store data readable only by certain Department-authorized devices. If there’s ever trouble, it functions as both a distress beacon and a channel for preferential treatment for ‘special residents.'”
“Do you guys get a lot of these… ‘cases’?” Yu Sheng asked, curious.
“Definitely fewer than regular residents, but we still process several thousand to ten thousand new records annually,” Ren Wen Wen replied openly. “This is the Borderland. Travelers show up from everywhere, seeking to stay for all sorts of reasons.”
Yu Sheng listened intently, a strange feeling rising in his chest—some subtle, inexplicable stirring.
This form, filled with all manner of strange accommodations, suddenly made the fantastical nature of the Borderland—and that world beyond the mundane—feel profoundly real.
Nearby, Irene was hunched over her form, gripping a pen that was massive compared to her tiny frame. She struggled to write—an A4-sized sheet was nearly half her height, and the pen was nearly as long as her arm—but she showed no sign of asking for help. She was focused and oddly enthusiastic, carefully scribbling away.
Yu Sheng lowered his head and began to fill in the form in front of him, writing “Foxy” in the name field.
Then he got stuck on the next item.
“Benefactor?” the Demon Fox Maiden tilted her head, curious.
“…How old are you?” Yu Sheng asked with an awkward expression, then frowned. “Wait—first, what’s the average lifespan of your species?… No, actually, do your ‘years’ match the Borderland’s solar years?”
Miss Foxy tilted her head, her fluffy silver ears twitching. She didn’t seem to understand immediately.
A couple of seconds passed before she answered hesitantly, “Roughly… over two hundred? We come of age at 180, but I’m not sure how long we live. FatherMother said when we tire of living, we just ‘Return To The Great Dao.’ But they said that’s not death—it’s joining the Celestials in the skies…”
Yu Sheng: “…”
He looked helplessly toward the Bureau operative.
Ren Wen Wen pointed at the age field: “Just write ‘Extremely Long-lived.'”
Yu Sheng blinked. “…That works?”
“If you think that’s too informal, you can just put ‘Unknown,'” she said seriously. “We get plenty like that every year. Some species live absurdly long without even having a lifespan concept. Others have short lifespans but cycle through generations rapidly. They don’t mark age in years, but in ‘generations.’ Even they can’t keep track.”
Yu Sheng opened his mouth, then moved on to the next field. “…What do I put for Place of Origin? I don’t even know where she’s from.”
Ren Wen Wen remained composed. “Just write ‘Foreign.’ Anyone born outside the Borderland with unknown origin can be archived under that.”
Yu Sheng’s face started to look dazed. “…Species?”
Ren Wen Wen pointed again: “Check the ‘Appendix’ box, then flip to the last page. There’s a checklist. See if any of the categories feel like a match.”
Yu Sheng flipped to the final page of the form—and was greeted by a dense wall of tick-box categories crashing into his field of vision.
Yu Sheng’s eyes immediately landed on the final column of the form, marked “Notes”: If your species possesses variable characteristics, please select ‘Mimicry Department’; if your species is not listed in any category, please write ‘To be added’, and we will open a new department for you as soon as possible.
With a hint of amazement on his face, Yu Sheng looked up at Ren Wen Wen, his eyes carrying a trace of admiration. “Your daily work must be… quite complicated, huh?”
“Not too bad. I’m actually with the Logistics Department—Door—it’s the Special Archives Division that directly manages this stuff. They are busy. Doesn’t matter if they’re male or female, none of them have much hair left,” Ren Wen Wen replied casually. She pointed to one of the options in the checkbox section. “Pick this one: ‘Beast Spirits or Humanoid Shapeshifters.'”
Yu Sheng glanced at it and frowned slightly. “Why not ‘Celestial Spirits and Abnormal Beings’? That seems to fit too…”
“Group benefits,” Ren Wen Wen replied breezily. “Half-price on the metro. And her tail leans more toward ‘Beast Spirit’ anyway. But it doesn’t matter too much—if it feels off to you, pick something else. As long as it’s within the ‘Humanoid’ category, no one’s going to look too closely.”
The more Yu Sheng filled out, the more astonished he became. He even craned his neck to sneak a look at Irene’s side. The little doll was diligently ticking the box for “High-grade Dolls or Alchemic Constructs,” and had carefully handwritten a note in the remarks: From Alice’s Little House.
It took a long while, but at last the forms were done.
Honestly, it was no easier than doing homework for Little Red Riding Hood—the form was packed with such bizarre and eccentric content that, had he not seen it himself or had Ren Wen Wen explain, Yu Sheng wouldn’t have even imagined those kinds of terms could appear in an identity registration form. No wonder a Special Affairs Bureau operative had to assist on-site. Without help, just the sections on “Cognitive Profile” and “Neuroevolution Classification” would have eaten up Yu Sheng’s entire day…
Then again, certain parts of the forms were incredibly lax. For the many fields he couldn’t possibly fill out, Ren Wen Wen had simply instructed him to write “Unknown,” “Random,” or “Any” – to the point where Yu Sheng began to question the professionalism of the Special Affairs Bureau itself…
“You really don’t need to worry,” Ren Wen Wen patiently explained. “The form is designed around maximum adaptability. Generally speaking, if an ‘Outsider’ registering in the Borderland can complete even a quarter of the content, it’s sufficient to accurately describe their origin, purpose, and personal traits.”
“We can’t expect a single registration form to impose strict constraints on an Outsider. The fact that the Borderland has run smoothly until now is thanks to an immensely vast and effective management system backing it up.”
As she spoke, she placed a small device on the table. “Next, we’ll collect biometric data. Since both of you are in the humanoid category, we’ll go with fingerprints?”
Irene lifted her hand. “I have no fingerprints.”
Ren Wen Wen paused. “…Blood, then… no, Dolls don’t have blood… hair samples? Uh, Dolls tend to resist that too. How about some surface scrapings? From the arm maybe?”
Irene sighed. “Scrape that, and you’ll just get lotus-root powder.”
Ren Wen Wen: “…?”
“It’s a long story,” Yu Sheng rubbed his temple. “This body of hers is temporary. Better not bother with the sampling—you won’t get anything useful. All of it’s made from supermarket ingredients.”
“Well… that works too. The Director said to be flexible,” Ren Wen Wen said, her expression subtly conflicted. She glanced through both forms quickly, sighed again, and looked to Irene. “Miss Irene, under ‘Standard Form or Physical Traits,’ you can’t just write ‘Good-looking.’ It should be ‘Humanoid’… Never mind. I’ll rewrite this page for you. Just need your signature to confirm at the end. Also, get ready—you two need to take a photo. Miss Foxy, can your ears be hidden?”
Foxy casually plucked her ears off and tossed them into her tail.
Ren Wen Wen: “…Ah?!”
The young operative froze, stunned by what she had just witnessed. She turned to Yu Sheng, eyes wide. “M-Mr. Yu, sh-she just took off her…”
“Calm down,” Yu Sheng had clearly anticipated this, and now played the part of the calmer party. “You work for the Special Affairs Bureau. Try to keep an open mind.”
Ren Wen Wen: “…”
After struggling for a moment, the operative managed to compose herself. She pulled out another stack of forms and handed them to Yu Sheng.
“Uh, these are your registration documents. Before the two ladies’ ID cards become effective, you can start with this.”
Yu Sheng’s eyes lit up, and he swiftly took the sheets.
Unified Registration Form for Independent Organizations/Groups/Offices in the Borderland
A faint smile crept across Yu Sheng’s face.
At last, it was time.