Chapter 5
Chapter 5
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: In Fact, There's Not Much Difference Even on Tuesday (2)
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“…Um.”
“Yes. How may I help you?”
Sernal looked at the complainant sitting in front of her.
For some reason, they had pulled a hat low over their face and were even wearing sunglasses, making it hard to tell what race they were.
“…I came to pick up my glasses.”
“Glasses?”
“Aren’t you… giving out glasses?”
“This is the Special Department for Otherworld Race Complaint Resolution. I think you might have the wrong department. If you go to the second floor…”
“Oh, no. Thank you.”
As the complainant scurried away, Sernal stared blankly into space for a moment.
‘Glasses? Why on earth are they looking for glasses?’
The question lingered briefly before she glanced down at her wristwatch.
‘Quitting time is still so far away…’
It was distant.
It had been exactly thirty minutes since lunchtime ended.
‘Damn it.’
Pretending to sort papers, Sernal very slowly pressed the number plate button.
Ding-dong.
Number 18.
As the number changed, Sernal stared blankly into space again.
Hearing footsteps, she pushed up her slipping glasses and flashed a capitalistic smile.
“Hello.”
Greetings had to be moderately bright. Too bright, and they might complain about it being excessive, so moderation was key.
“What brings you here today?”
Some people couldn’t start speaking on their own, and asking directly reduced the chances of complaints.
With short black hair, slightly hip fashion contrasting with dorky glasses, Sernal realized this man was a Medusa.
They tended to be shy and sensitive, so she paid attention to her tone.
“I came to pick up my glasses.”
Sernal felt puzzled by the complainant’s blunt words.
It was the same thing the previous one had said before fleeing.
‘Did some free glasses giveaway start without me knowing? Why are they looking for glasses again?’
Sernal smiled for now.
“This is the Special Department for Otherworld Race Complaint Resolution. You’ve come to the wrong department.”
“No, no. I came to the right place. I saw it with my own eyes not long ago.”
The Medusa replied in a somewhat rough tone.
The man had already draped one arm over the consultation desk, leaning forward, tapping the desk with his fingers. Shaking his leg was a bonus.
‘Right. Not all Medusas are shy and sensitive just because most are. There are always these flashy types.’
Sernal cleared her mind of the considerations she’d been making and asked.
“When did you see me?”
She hadn’t really gone out much.
Work, home. Home, work. That pattern meant she might have been spotted on the subway or bus.
“Yesterday, a Medusa went berserk, and you resolved it, right?”
As the Medusa spoke, Sernal briefly recalled the student she’d made glasses for.
A smile threatened to creep onto her face.
The work had been tough, but seeing that student hold the glasses with such genuine happiness and say thank you had melted away all her fatigue.
“You saw me there. So, what brings you here?”
But Sernal didn’t get sentimental.
The fact that he’d come about that incident made her deeply uneasy.
To file a complaint here, it had to be in person.
Unlike other departments in the community center, they didn’t accept phone calls at all. There was no such thing as a phone consultation window—famously called “phone passing.”
If there was something to relay to all staff or an urgent external matter, Edinal would contact them personally, so there was no need to worry.
The reason was that issues involving otherworld races still carried tensions from the war, making them highly sensitive, and the government policy was to avoid wasting manpower on false reports.
It could be seen as regressive in an era of advanced cell phones and computers, but it was great for avoiding wasted time.
‘…Though, hearing complaints like “it was noisy during processing” or “it was scary” directly has its downsides.’
Sernal waited for the Medusa’s words.
‘I wonder what he’ll say.’
The Medusa suddenly stretched out his hand.
“Just give me one too. That’s why I came. Preferably some stylish sunglasses.”
“…?”
Sernal momentarily lost her words at the audacious gesture, as if he’d deposited money or something, but soon smiled brightly.
“We can’t issue any documents here. If you need paperwork, please go to the Documents Department.”
“Not that—glasses, I mean glasses.”
The Medusa boldly declared it, pointing to his own glasses. A hint of expectation flickered in his eyes.
“You said they were super lightweight. These ones are unnecessarily heavy and keep getting in the way.”
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t an optician’s. I recommend visiting the nearest one.”
“Come on. Do you think I’d come here without knowing that?”
The Medusa peeled his back off the chair and leaned slightly forward.
“You’re giving out glasses here, right? Was that a lie?”
“No such thing.”
“Wait a sec.”
The complainant pulled out his cell phone and pretended to search for something.
Soon, with a smug expression, he held it out.
“Look at this. See? I screenshotted it perfectly.”
Sernal adjusted her glasses and looked at the phone screen.
‘Giving away… free glasses?’
It was on a pink background with tacky red text.
Sernal’s gaze dropped lower.
‘The address is definitely here.’
Fatigue washed over her instantly. Already busy, and now someone pulling this stunt.
“This is impersonation. The Complaint Department doesn’t run events like this. I apologize, but official events are announced on government sites, posters in the community center, or promoted on certified SNS. For details, call the number at the bottom of the community center homepage.”
“Impersonation? This is clearly…”
The Medusa’s mouth fell slightly open.
“Wh-what? Why is it gone? This can’t be.”
‘They posted the impersonation and bolted.’
Sernal snorted.
‘At least if we knew the address, we could do something.’
Suddenly burdened with more work, Sernal was already annoyed.
The complainant, flustered yet somehow still brazen, extended his hand.
“Impersonation or not, I saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“You gave glasses to that Medusa, but not to me. Isn’t that discrimination?”
The man’s lip curled up slightly.
“This is super weird, right? The Complaint Department, which is supposed to eliminate discrimination and conflict, causing it instead. I’ll keep it quiet if you just give me one.”
Getting cheeky after getting slapped down elsewhere to vent. Sernal was exasperated.
“I understand you were tricked and are upset, but this isn’t a place to vent or get free glasses. I recommend going to the police station to report it.”
Sernal smiled brightly too.
Cases like this were fairly common. They didn’t even realize they were spouting nonsense; raising their voice always worked before, so they dragged it here.
This was commonly called a tantrum, and those who kept it up were called troublemakers.
The Medusa she’d met yesterday while resolving a complaint was still a child, not yet an adult.
Protecting children as adults was natural, and they were legally protected too.
How was that discrimination?
“Ah, just so you know, this entire conversation is being recorded and filmed.”
Sernal pointed to the notice board in front of her.
• All conversations are recorded. This is essential for fair complaint processing. Thank you for your understanding.
“You really want this incident to go public?”
Sernal didn’t flinch at the complainant’s gesture.
If such threats worked, she’d have handed over glasses long ago.
“Let’s just settle this nicely. Turn a blind eye just once, uh…?”
Sernal stopped mid-sentence and turned at the hardening expression on the complainant’s face.
“Team Leader?”
Sernal was slightly surprised.
‘…Is it quitting time already?’
No, that couldn’t be. Edinal, who never left her chair unless going home or on field duty, showing up like this.
“Go ahead.”
Edinal approached Sernal with a smiling face.
“…Pardon?”
As the Medusa’s face turned dumbstruck, Sernal stifled a laugh.
“I said go ahead.”
Soon her lips curled, revealing sharp teeth.
“Post it all over sites, whine on the community center homepage, tell your friends and family. It’s fine.”
“Y-you! Are you threatening me right now?”
The Medusa’s eyes shook wildly. It sounded like a terrifying threat.
“Threatening? I’m just saying it’s okay since you said you would. Are you done here?”
“No, don’t you think giving to some and not others is real discrimination?”
The complainant put force into his voice, and Sernal calmly responded to the absurd logic.
“We’re not a place that gives items to complainants, sells them, or even makes them.”
“Maybe it’s not even a store to begin with. What do you think?”
Edinal chimed in agreement.
“…Ha.”
The complainant just scoffed.
The situation was too absurd.
How could civil servants be so shameless?
“There’s no law saying we can’t give items to complainants while resolving complaints. In fact, the country encourages it for better resolutions.”
Sernal adjusted her glasses.
How efficient would it be to resolve conflicts and discrimination with a single magic tool?
To promote active complaint resolution, the country imposed almost no restrictions.
In nice terms, it was free-spirited; in bad terms, no guidelines, so methods depended on individual skill.
“What reason do you have for coming to the Complaint Department? You didn’t seriously come just for glasses after falling for that impersonation, did you?”
It had only been two weeks since transferring and actually handling complaints, but she’d experienced quite a variety.
‘No wonder they don’t get new staff.’
But maybe she was getting used to it now.
“As I said again, if you need glasses, go to an optician, not here.”
Sernal made it clear to this complainant: baseless whining didn’t work here.
‘This is the Complaint Department.’
Reasonable complaints were different, of course.
Like if during resolution, the noise was too loud, waking someone who had to come in at night—they’d have to silently write a report.
“Well then, goodbye.”
Sernal beamed at the complainant already preparing to flee.
“I-I’m filing a complaint here!”
“We only accept complaints in person. See you next time.”
She kindly reminded him of the fact.
That he’d end up facing her anyway.
“What kind of place is this? Civil servants my ass!”
Sernal sipped the water beside her as she watched the complainant leave spewing curses.
‘I wish all complaints were like this.’
She could send them off without a report.
“So, what brings you here, Team Leader?”
“No big deal. Someone impersonated our department on SNS, so I came to check. Glasses? That’s the only recent case with you, Sernal.”
“One more came earlier too.”
“Probably only up for a few hours. The account’s already deleted.”
“Has this happened before?”
“Yeah. We’re a place that attracts hate. Anyway, Sernal, don’t worry about it… You’re already not, huh?”
Edinal laughed in exasperation.
“All I want right now is quitting time.”
“Hang in there, Sernal. That’s impossible right now.”
Edinal patted Sernal’s shoulder a few times before heading back to her office.
Sernal took a big swig of water and exhaled deeply.
Weirdos were already wearing her out.
‘Quitting time…’
Sernal started to check her watch but looked up instead. Footsteps approached.
“Hurry and press it.”
“Yeah, press it quick.”
Bold yet childish voices rang out.
They were kids so short only their upper bodies were visible from her seat.
Elementary schoolers maybe—one girl, one boy.
They looked eerily similar, probably twins.
Their pale complexions suggested vampires.
The girl held the number ticket preciously in her hand.
Number 20.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
The girl’s lips stretched wide.
Whether girl or boy, both exuded obvious nobility, like actual aristocrats.
Before the war, many vampires were practically nobility, and after, most had grown even richer with their assets.
“Hello.”
Sernal smiled first.
She couldn’t use informal speech with kids.
“Good. Nice to meet you.”
The girl spoke with her nose in the air.
“Sis, sit here. Let’s sit together.”
The boy grinned widely, pointing to the chair.
Tap tap.
Ding-dong.
Sernal turned at the number plate sound from somewhere.
It was 20.
Sernal pointed to the number ticket in the girl’s hand.
“I’m sorry, but number 20 goes over there, not here.”
The girl looked at her ticket, then at the other plate displaying 20. Her haughtiness vanished, replaced by a face about to burst into tears.
“Why?”
Even her voice quivered.
“That’s mean. We waited.”
The boy’s lower lip was already jutting out.