Eyes (4)

I'm screwed.

That was the conclusion I reached. I sprang up from my seat and bowed my head.

"I apologize once more for my rudeness. My office has been in a state of absolute chaos lately, so much so that I failed to recognize your badge even while looking straight at it."

Please, please just don't lose your temper.

"It's quite all right. I didn't recognize it either when I was standing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in line and showing up late, so let's call it mutual fault."

Thank the heavens — this particular auditor was, at the very least, someone you could talk to.

Still, I couldn't help feeling a bit wronged. What kind of auditor in this whole wide world spends two and a half hours outside, standing in the applicant queue, before walking in? Just barge in and bang on the door shouting 'I'm here to inspect you!' like anyone with sense.

And one more thing.

"But... why have you come alone?"

Why are you by yourself?

A fleeting, ominous thought crossed my mind.

"Surely the others aren't still standing out there in the queue..."

Oh no. Taste Officer.

Please tell me that isn't what happened.

Rike answered with a look of clear reluctance. "I am the only one assigned to the Southern Border. The Finance Ministry head allocated personnel this way for this audit."

"Hooaaah..."

A sigh of relief escaped me before I could stop it.

And that was when it happened.

- BANG.

The door burst open. The Taste Officer, beads of sweat collecting on his forehead, beamed brightly and announced:

"Central Officer, sir! Lunch hour is almost here — shall I tell the applicants we're taking a thirty-minute recess?"

"...Taste Officer."

Speak of the devil, and he doth appear.

He was the loose thread that unraveled the whole thing from the start.

Should I be grateful to him, or what?

It was hard to say. As Melanie and I sat there in tangled, complicated silence, the girl turned her gaze toward Rike, who stood before us.

"Huh? It's the arachne applicant!"

Applicant.

That single word told me everything.

She genuinely had no idea.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Aaaah.

By any measure, this was a flagrant breach of etiquette. Not intentional — but a breach of negligence all the same.

'But I don't blame you for it.'

If even I never saw it coming, how on earth were you supposed to guess that the woman was an auditor?

This was my fault. I beat my chest in deep repentance.

'Mine, all mine. The fault of a man who never placed his talent where it belonged, who simply sent that girl off to wrangle external personnel instead.'

As I conducted this ill-timed confession, and as Melanie fought to hold down the laughter bubbling up out of her as the situation dawned on her, Rike spoke briefly.

"You're the Taste Officer... I take it."

"Oh, your interview must be over! Great work in there. I'm sure the results will be wonderful!"

"..."

For a long moment, the arachne simply stared down at the girl who stood before her, chattering away so freely with that sunny smile.

"...Thank you."

In the end, I couldn't hold it in any longer. Swallowing my anger down in great lumps, I addressed the Taste Officer.

"Taste Officer. Greet her properly. The lady before you is an auditor from the Finance Ministry who will be handling our Administrative Office for the next three days."

"...Whuh?"

Sita whipped her head around, startled. "Wh-what are you saying? That's the person who tried to cut in line earlier and got caught and scolded by you, sir!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

The atmosphere froze over in an instant.

Ahh. Stop. Please, just stop.

This was getting worse and worse. Taste Officer, come on. Take the hint.

Melanie, wagging her tail furiously as though she might die of enjoyment, pointed at Rike.

"Taste Officer. Look at what's pinned to that auditor's chest."

"...A gold coin-shaped badge? Isn't that the kind only Finance Ministry people are allowed to wear?"

"Correct."

"........"

The smile drained away, slowly. The face went white, bit by bit.

The corner of Rike's mouth curled up, ever so slightly.

"Good day to you. I am Rike Nirweber, Chief Auditor."

And roughly five seconds later—

"I'M S-SO SO SORRYSORRYSORRY!!!"

The second scream of the day echoed through the interview chamber, hot on the heels of the first.

The audit process was broadly divided into three stages: the first review, the second review, and the final phase.

The first review was a comprehensive examination of the previous fiscal year's financial records. One must always begin with the institution's conduct. It was a thoroughly grueling procedure — verifying whether the taxes the state had collected from its citizens were being spent properly, and whether every expenditure stayed within the bounds of its granted authority.

The second review was the on-site inspection. A ledger, after all, is written by human hands — and anyone can write down falsehoods. That was precisely why the auditor had to personally open the institution's vault and confirm that its contents matched the books. At the same time, the second stage's purpose was to discern any monetary movement arising from unofficial dealings over the course of three days of observing how the audited body actually conducted its work.

Finally, the last phase concluded with one-on-one interviews with every person involved. The ledger, the site, and the people — examining these three was the administrative mandate known as an 'internal audit.' Only after passing through all of it was the audit complete, and only then could the institution return fully to its duties.

It was going to be a punishing, exhausting three days. Ordinarily, an audit called for a team of at least three, working through the nights.

And the auditor who had come to the Southern Border was Rike — and Rike alone.

"Can she really manage all that on her own?"

"Something's off. Feels like the Finance Ministry botched the staffing."

"She's built a whole mountain of paperwork over there."

The Five Senses Officers, each grasping the absurdity of the situation, murmured among themselves.

But then—

"Then, effective this moment, I hereby commence the internal audit of the Immigration Administrative Office of the Southern Border, subordinate to the Foreign Affairs Ministry."

The moment Rike swept aside the bangs that had hidden her eyes and took her seat, those murmurs dissolved into gasps of awe.

"Whoa..."

"Impressive in its own right, that."

Dozens of vital documents were strung up across the desk and from spiderwebs suspended from the ceiling. Like a spider weaving her web and sorting her prey within it, she used her forelimbs to classify and distinguish the papers, arranging them in order. Her left hand traced the key points of the first-quarter expenditure report while her right hand transcribed them for submission to the Finance Ministry. Two great eyes, ringed by six smaller ones dotted around them, swept over the documents on the desk and floating in the air, each pair covering its own ground.

- Shrrrrrrip.

- Scratch-scratch-scratch.

- Ziiiing. Swoosh.

A strange symphony of white noise rang out through the Administrative Office without pause — and at the sight of it, every gaze in the room, applicant and waiting candidate and border-crosser alike, locked onto her and refused to fall away.

"So that's how a spiderweb can be used. If she works like that, the workspace becomes three-dimensional, which means..."

"Look, look! She's even stamping documents with her side leg!"

The Five Senses Officers — and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even Nathan — were beholding her feat with faces split evenly between admiration and disbelief.

Despite the murmuring behind her, Rike carried on with her work in silence.

"Please prepare the second-quarter materials next."

"Y-yes, ma'am!"

The Taste Officer, who had been staring blankly at the spectacle, dashed off to the records room in a scramble.

Meanwhile, the Central Officer — still dwelling on his earlier discourtesy — crept over, shuffling, with a cup of water in hand.

"If it's no trouble, might I offer you a cup of tea while you work...?"

"No."

She cut off his offer without a moment's hesitation. "I'm sorry, but during an audit I may not accept anything provided by the institution under review. I'll drink water I brought myself."

It was the right call. Anything an auditor accepted could be construed as a bribe. She had come here alone. However refreshing her first impression might have been, she could not afford to forget why she had come.

Thus, several hours into the audit...

Rike set down the last of the first-quarter documents with a look of astonishment.

'Why is this... so clean?'

It was baffling. As though a supremely seasoned merchant had devoted themselves exclusively to managing the office's finances. The first-quarter expenditure report alone made that plain.

Funds had been used strictly within the granted authority, and every single entry carried a detailed reason and timestamp. There was even a record showing that overtime and weekend work had been logged down to the individual minute, with allowances paid out to match.

'...Do they have some kind of administrative officer?'

It read as though someone had recorded it all with pathological precision — not a single omission in rows packed tight to the margins. Normally, only something like the administrative-assistance golems used by the Grand Academy of Sorcery could manage this kind of bookkeeping.

When Rike went still, her expression grave, the Central Officer asked anxiously, "Is, is something wrong with the documents?"

"No."

There was no problem. They were so problem-free that their perfection was itself the problem.

She glared up at the first-quarter expenditure report hanging from the web and sank into thought.

'Not even the smallest, most trivial slip.'

Everywhere you looked — even in the Finance Ministry itself — there were always minor errors or lucky oversights. Staff dinners billed to institutional funds, informal extra payments slipped to employees, or supplies purchased just past the permitted threshold. Crack open any government agency and you could count on finding three or four such items; that was the norm. However airtight the system, as long as an organization was run by people, missing records and mild ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deviations were simply a fact of life.

And yet she had combed through the entire first quarter and found not one.

'No — perhaps it's only these documents.'

She steadied herself and picked up the next file. Everyone is diligent at the start of the year, aren't they? Surely, as the year wore on, omissions and deviations would start to appear.

But the first quarter, the second, the third...

Even in the 'year-end settlement papers' — the fabled graveyard of tax accountants — there was not a single flaw to be found.

'...This doesn't make sense.'

For the first time, Rike's expression crossed from bewilderment into outright shock.

She had encountered this exact situation only once before — when a colleague who had left the Finance Ministry was caught running a trading company for the purpose of tax evasion. People who've moved money know: how to pay less in taxes, where to skim financial support. That was why ledgers this spotless, without a speck of dust on them, were usually disguised books.

"Central Officer. Might I know who was in charge of keeping these ledgers?"

"Ah — that would be me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I originally graduated from a merchants' academy and spent time managing a trading company."

Suspicion began to lift its head.

'The chief executive handles the finances himself?'

In an instant, all eight of Rike's eyes fixed on Nathan. Financial control by the commanding officer. A career in trade.

Melanie, reading that suspicious look, moved smoothly to Nathan's side and spoke. "Auditor Rike, as you can see, the South has only five inspectors. So the Central Officer has had no choice but to take charge of the finances himself."

"...I see."

It was startling enough that the Director of Intelligence was here at all — and now that same woman was shielding the subject of an audit. That, too, was worth noting. She lowered her suspicion, and for now, conceded the point.

"Very well. Nothing to flag from the first review."

"Is that... truly the case?"

"Yes. At this level, the Finance Ministry could designate this office as a model audit subject."

She offered her honest impression. 'If not a word of this is false, then this Central Officer is undeniably capable.'

But Rike had no intention of believing it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that easily.

"Then is today's audit finished?"

"No. Now I must verify whether my own judgment was wrong — whether I checked everything properly."

The faces of the Central Officer and the Five Senses Officers died black all over again. Reading a certain dread in those expressions, Rike continued flatly: "You inspectors are free to leave early. The first stage of the first review is complete, so there's no need for you to wait around for the verification work."

"Hurray!"

"HURRAY!!!"

"We're going hooome!!!"

The Central Officer's and the Five Senses Officers' faces blazed back to life, bright white once more. They were so guilelessly honest it was almost comical.

But one person alone reacted differently.

"Th-then what about you, Auditor?"

The Taste Officer crept close and asked carefully, a tangle of guilt over his own breach of etiquette and something like worry for her lingering in his two small eyes. "You have to go home too, of course. N-not that you'd have been late for two whole hours if my mistake hadn't caused it..."

"...."

Eight spider eyes gazed down at those two small ones.

'The people here... really are strange.'

Her habit of hiding her eyes behind her bangs had never been her own choice.

- It's creepy.

It was because of the words she always heard from those around her. The fact that she showed her eyes only when absorbed in her work was, at times, galling to her.

And yet the people of this Immigration Administrative Office had watched her bare face and her ceaselessly scuttling spider's lower body all day long — without a single reaction.

Benign indifference.

How could she put it — the unprejudiced way they treated her felt fresh all over again, and opening her mouth, she said: "I intend to stay here tonight."

Even with a three-person team, an audit meant working through the night. Naturally, any sane part of her wanted to finish up here and go back to the inn to rest — she was shouldering this mountain of documents alone, after all.

She did not do this work out of some iron sense of duty or love of country. If she let even one flaw in the Southern Border's finances slip past, those colleagues at the Finance Ministry — too generous a word for them — would fling their contemptuous jeers at her all over again.

- I thought it was fine to let her go alone, but look, she put on airs and in the end she's no different from the rest of us.

That was what she'd heard the last time, when she had audited the Foreign Affairs Ministry solo, collapsed from overwork, and failed to catch a handful of errors.

Those words, more than any others, she would sooner die than hear again.

'Sorry, but I won't be dropping my suspicion so easily.'

She had to be airtight. Perfect, like a flawlessly spun spiderweb.

'Just as they said — there must be no exceptions.'

She had to be perfect. Because as long as her kind was despised, she refused to let her skill be the thing they laughed at.

"Go on ahead, everyone. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that resolve, she bent once more over her documents, alone.

And at the sight of her, Nathan's black eyes glinted, ever so faintly.

"Hm."

It was the gaze of a merchant who had just discovered an uncut gem.