A young man on his way to an interview

Case Holmes never really liked his name. Sounded more like a filing cabinet than a person. Chase, now that was a name that carries swagger. People who commanded attention the moment they entered a room have names like Chase. Case? He might as well be “Guy #4” in a crime drama.

The city buzzed around him—blaring car horns, sharp bursts of conversation, and the distant grind of subway brakes. Case was just another moving dot in the rush, head down, feet quick. However, he didn’t have time to dwell on his mediocre name today.

Glancing at his phone, he grimaced. “They’ll understand,” he muttered. “Who even arrives on time in the city?”

The elevator dinged, its tone echoing louder in Case’s head than it should have. He adjusted his collar, pretending the heat rising in his neck was from the city air. Stepping onto the 7th floor, he tensed. The floor lobby was packed. Everywhere he looked, there were hopeful faces bent over resumes, lips murmuring last-minute rehearsals.

Great. No seats.

Just as he was about to resign himself to standing, he spotted a small space on a worn leather couch. Squeezing in, he felt the pressure of several glances as he tried to calm his racing heart.

His eyes scanned the room, narrowing when he noticed every other candidate wearing a “Hello, My Name Is…” sticker. Perfect. Now he’d have to get up and ask for one, losing his seat in the process.

He shifted, muttering a quiet curse under his breath. But that’s when he felt something hit the back of his foot. Looking down, he spotted a roll of “Hello, My Name Is…” stickers peeking out from beneath the couch, its edge curling like a beckoning finger.

Perfect.

He snatched the roll and fished a pen from his pocket. Ripping a sticker out, he stopped. Sure, he was supposed to write his name, but wouldn’t it be better if he wrote a nickname? Besides, when the interviewer sees “Chase” or even “Case”, they’ll think of him even after he explains that Chase is a nickname.

This was his chance to redefine himself, even if only for the next hour.

Slowly, he wrote Chase Holmes in bold, confident letters. Peeling the backing off, Case pressed the sticker onto his chest, smoothing the edges carefully as though he sealed a pact.

The moment the adhesive bonded with his suit, a prickling sensation surged through his skin—warm, electric, and grounding. His heart thudded like a starting gun, and for a moment, it felt as if the world shifted ever so slightly around him.

“Hey.” A voice cut through the haze, accompanied by a light tap on his shoulder.

He blinked and turned. A woman stood beside him. Her name tag read Jemma. “You have to get a name tag like everyone else, or they won’t call your name.”

“I already…” Chase began, then hesitated. He already… what? His hand grazed his chest instinctively, searching for something he wasn’t sure should be there. His suit was smooth, empty.

“Thanks,” he said, flashing a charismatic smile at Jemma as he stood.

As he approached the front desk, his other hand tightened its grip on something, a roll of “Hello, My Name Is…” stickers. He frowned. He remembered doing something with these, but the memory was foggy, slipping just out of reach. Shoving the roll into his pocket, his fingers grazed something crisp and rectangular. He pulled out a small card with a scripted message.

The stickers are magic.

His head spun, a wave of dizziness threatening to overtake him. Chase (Case?) **** himself to keep walking, shoving the card deep into his pocket.

The front desk receptionist greeted him with a polite smile. Just as Chase opened his mouth, ready to introduce himself, his gaze flicked downward.

The sticker was on his suit.

His breath hitched. He glanced back at Jemma on the couch. She was thumbing through her phone, indifferent.

Why did she say he didn’t have a sticker?

“Can I help you sir?” the receptionist asked.

“It’s alright,” Chase began, looking back at the front desk worker. “I was about to ask for a name tag but I already have one.” He pointed at the name tag, the one that read, “Chase Holmes”.

The receptionist squinted at the spot before shaking her head. “There’s nothing there, sir. Would you like a name tag while we sign you in?”

Chase stared down at his chest. The sticker was right there, Chase Holmes in bold, assertive letters. However, the receptionist’s face remained polite but oblivious like she was watching him pointing at thin air.

“Uh… sure,” he said slowly, fighting the sudden chill creeping up his spine.

She slid a blank sticker across the desk. “Please write your full name clearly.”

Shaking his name, Chase wrote down the name Case Holmes on the normal name tag, or at least he tried to. His fingers seemed to be getting mixed signals as he wrote Chase Holmes on the paper.

He flashed a grin at the receptionist. “My finger slipped and I accidentally wrote the wrong name,” Chase tried to explain. “Can I have another name tag, please?”

The receptionist blinked at him but nodded as she pulled out another name tag. “Of course,” she said. “Can I also have your driver’s license so that we can sign you in?”

Chase nodded as he received the new name tag and felt his pocket for his wallet. What was going on with him? His head had felt confused ever since he read that card. He knew his name was Case, but somehow Chase now fitted him better. It almost felt like he always had that name.

Suddenly, his eyes widened when he pulled his wallet out and he looked at his license. It had to be a mistake. It should have been a mistake. But written as clear as day was Chase Holmes. Not Case, but Chase. Interestingly, it wasn’t the only thing that had been changed. Glancing at the picture, the annoyed look he had on his face when he had his photo taken was gone and was replaced by a confident smile staring back at him.

How was this possible?

“Here you go,” Chase **** himself to say as he handed the receptionist his driver’s license.

“Thank you, and don’t forget about signing your name on the name tag,” she replied, taking it without a second glance while she searched for his name on the computer. Somehow, Chase knew the receptionist wouldn’t have any issue finding his new name on the computer.

Staring at the ordinary name tag, Chase wrote down his name and stuck it on the other side of his suit.

“Thank you, sir,” the receptionist said, handing him his license back. “We’ll let you know when the interviewers are ready.”

Nodding, Chase turned around and walked across the lobby, feeling the magic roll of stickers in his pocket.

He should have been panicking, worried that he’d accidentally changed his identity. But that was the old “Case” that felt less and less like him the more he embraced the new name. “Chase” felt so freeing, and for the first time, he felt like he could do anything. He wasn’t sure who he was becoming, but the uncertainty thrilled him in a way he’d never known before.

Sitting beside Jemma once more, Chase felt his pocket until he found the card and pulled it out. Somehow, there was new text on the card and it read:

“Anyone who doesn't know about the true nature of the sticker will ignore them until they are applied.”

Chase blinked at the text. He hadn’t seen this part before, but the words gave him an idea. His heart raced as he waved the “Hello, My Name Is…” sticker in front of Jemma’s face. She didn’t flinch or look up from her phone. Neither did anyone else in the room. It was as if they were completely blind to its presence.

The magic was more powerful than he’d thought, and it left him wondering just how far he could push it. He looked around the room as people remained unaware of his new abilities while he wondered who he should try the sticker on first.