Who Judges the Examiner? (2)
What is this.
I'm baffled.
There's the Saintess suddenly kicking back her chair and springing to her feet, and then there's that paladin staring at me with the expression of a man who's lost his country.
Did I say something strange?
No matter how I turned it over in my mind, I couldn't find anything that would constitute a diplomatic gaffe.
"Is there perhaps some problem—"
"Are you really, really the Central Officer? THE Central Officer?"
The Saintess cut right across my words and leaned her whole body toward me.
Her golden eyes sparkled to a degree that was frankly uncomfortable.
I leaned back as far as my chair would allow before answering.
"Ah, yes. That is, indeed. 'Central Officer' is this officer's official title by virtue of my duties."
"And there isn't a single word of falsehood in that? Swear it to the Lord?"
This time she thrust her face in until we were barely a handspan apart.
A scent like warm sunlight faintly tickled the tip of my nose.
No, seriously, what is wrong with this woman?
I slid my eyes sideways and sent a silent distress call to the paladin standing behind her.
But he, too, apparently found something so shocking that he merely sighed and shook his head.
"Hah, good heavens. What a coincidence this is..."
And what's wrong with that guy?
Having realized no one was coming to my rescue, I did my best to keep my smile in place and addressed the Saintess.
"Ah, the screening isn't finished yet, so if you could kindly return to your seat, I would be grateful—"
"Swear it to the Lord?????"
Ugh, this is driving me insane.
She stared at me so intently it seemed she would never back down unless I answered.
I couldn't push her away.
Lay so much as a finger on the Saintess's sacred person, and my wrist would be severed on the spot.
But telling her 'You're standing a bit close. Please step back' would constitute a diplomatic discourtesy of its own.
There was nothing for it.
I would simply have to give her the answer she wanted.
"Yes. That is correct."
I dropped the smile, looked the golden eyes in front of my nose dead-on, and spoke.
"This officer is Nathan Kell, Central Officer — chief administrator and highest-ranking Immigration Officer of the Southern Border Immigration Office."
Attendant! Fetch the stamp, and quickly.
This is going to kill me. I'm going to die of awkwardness.
Joy.
The first emotion Erzena felt was joy.
Once again, she was certain: this was destiny.
Of all the countless Immigration Officers here, the very first one she'd met — the one assigned to screen her — was the Central Officer himself.
What an astonishing coincidence it was.
As expected — the Lord has been guiding me.
He had always worked this way.
Weaving coincidence and chance and the utterly unexpected together into a tapestry called inevitability.
And once more, he had done just that.
To arrange for me to meet the Central Officer so naturally — no searching required, no asking required...
The method was so perfect that the Saintess shivered from head to toe.
"Haaah... Lorrrd..."
Ah, His love is boundless.
He had granted the Church's long-cherished northern campaign, and now, once again, He was showing her the omnipotence of inevitability.
The rapture she had only ever known upon the altar swept through her entire body.
Ah, Lord... Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lord, Lor—
"Ahem, cough! Th-that is, Your Holiness?"
"Ahhh... Lorrd... eh?"
Mohaim's sudden, awkward coughing yanked Erzena back from the very threshold of communion just in time.
Looking terribly put out, he darted his eyes this way and that as he spoke.
"There are many eyes upon us, Your Holiness. Do mind decorum..."
"I'm sorry? Decorum? What do you—"
Only then did Erzena grasp the situation she was actually in.
She was up on top of the desk, practically draped over the Central Officer, staring straight down into his face.
The distance between them: barely a handspan.
Close enough to feel his breath.
"..."
"..."
Every gaze in the hall was fixed on the two of them, every mouth hanging wide open.
"Ah."
Her golden eyes met the man's black ones.
The last few moments flickered through her mind like a lantern show.
The strange moans. The full-body shuddering. The hot, quiet sighs she'd breathed out in the grip of joy.
- Ahhh... Lorrd...
A posture that, in front of a man, was quite... obscene — and a voice to match.
"Hnngh...!!!!!!!"
The Saintess's face flared scarlet in an instant.
"Ah, ahahaha. Deep faith is a fine thing, of course."
The Central Officer, having witnessed all of it, offered a compliment along with an excruciatingly awkward laugh.
But both his eyes were shaking without mercy.
What was more, he had leaned his body as far from the Saintess as it would go, and was now balanced on the very brink of tipping backward out of his chair.
-Sssk.
The moment she collected herself, the Saintess returned to her seat with lightning speed. Then, in a voice barely audible, she said:
"Forgive my rudeness. It's just... I'd never heard that title before."
"Not at all. This officer's title is admittedly rather unusual. I'm well aware."
"No, truly — I think it's a wonderful name, Central Officer."
With a faint smile, she narrowed her eyes.
"A truly wonderful name..."
And with those words, she slipped her left hand slightly behind her back and signaled to Mohaim.
You remember our agreement, don't you, Mohaim? Since we've met him by coin-ci-dence, there is to be no interfering.
The reply came back at once.
You must not. Our true purpose is not this! And in any case, you have not yet received your entry stamp, so for now I beg you to remain quiet and—
Ohooo? A holy knight breaking a promise? A promise made to the Saintess, no less? Shall I report this to the Lord?
A paladin's oath, however trivial, must never be broken — and when she probed at that exact weakness, the commander of the holy knights could only fall silent.
Have no fear. I won't ask him outright.
Meanwhile, Nathan — who had no way of knowing about this quiet exchange — clapped his hands once, loudly, to reset the atmosphere.
"Now then, everyone, enough spectating. Kindly return to your duties."
He tidied his paperwork as though nothing had happened and straightened in his seat.
"My attendant will return shortly with the stamp. I ask for just a little more patience. My apologies for the delay to your entry."
"It's quite all right. The hourglass hasn't run out yet. If it pleases you, Central Officer, might we exchange a bit of small talk in the meantime?"
"The honor is mine."
Religious ecstasy and humiliation aside, Erzena's mind had, without her noticing, regained its composure.
One peak crossed, her excitement drained away in an instant, and calm settled in its place.
I know this man is the Central Officer. But there are still things I need to confirm.
The Lord's guidance had led her to the one she sought.
But whether he truly was a Talent Awakener was a separate question entirely.
She still had no proof that this Nathan Kell was a true Awakener.
A Talent Awakener our Church knows nothing about... Could that really be the truth?
She couldn't just ask him directly.
To ask would be to reveal, in the same breath, that the Church had never known of his existence.
For the Church to fail to identify one who had received the Lord's love would betray an incompetence no less damning.
I'll find out other things first. Then approach slowly.
Starting with whether the rumors held water.
"Speaking of which, Central Officer — I hear the rumors say you're quite a capable man. Is it true?"
At the Saintess's question, the Central Officer glanced briefly at the hourglass, where the sand was still falling, then broke into a good-natured smile.
"You flatter me. Rumors are always exaggerated. I am merely a public servant doing my best at the work entrusted to me."
A modest answer, if ever there was one.
The smile of a young man who looked worn around the edges, yet lived earnestly all the same.
To anyone watching, a healthy young man of this age, working for duty and for the quiet satisfaction of a life well spent, stood before the Saintess.
"Diligence is a virtue the Lord favors, you know. And in you, Central Officer, that— hm?"
But the moment she tried to continue, something strange pricked at her — something she couldn't quite name.
"Your Holiness? Are you all right?"
"Ah, yes. It's nothing. I stumbled over my words for a moment."
His clean attire, his restrained movements, his fluent speech — all in perfect harmony, and yet something was off.
It felt as though a single black hole had been punched clean through a beautifully rendered painting.
What is that?
Confronted with a phenomenon she had never once seen in her life, the Saintess tilted her head for a moment.
Was he trying to hide something?
Then I'll simply ask a few more questions and find out.
Erzena changed her expression and spoke brightly, as though astonished.
"I hear that recently you subdued an enraged fire spirit with your bare hands. Goodness — even our own holy knights would struggle to manage that!"
-Flinch.
"Haha, there was merely a small cultural misunderstanding. The parties involved graciously let the matter pass, and everything was resolved amicably. My, word does travel fast. How embarrassing."
The Central Officer glided over it smoothly once again.
An answer that affirmed nothing and denied nothing, yet somehow sounded like a reply.
But it lasted less than two seconds — and in that span, the Saintess saw it clearly.
The discomposure. The eyebrow twitching in unease. The gaze that broke away, refusing to meet hers.
"Hmm. Is that so..."
With a small hum through her nose, Erzena narrowed her eyes.
Only after hearing his answer did she finally understand what that strangeness was.
He's lying. And he finds me uncomfortable.
His words and posture were flawless, but his body betrayed him — his gestures gave everything away.
The look of a man who had tucked a lie inside a truth and was straining to act as if nothing were wrong.
But that wasn't the strangeness she was sensing.
No — this strangeness was something of an entirely different order from the awkwardness of an ordinary lie.
This man... I can't feel anything from him.
Every living person carried mana, or something akin to it.
Even newborn infants came into the world bearing the faintest wisp of energy.
Those beloved by God carried divine holy power; those beloved by the world carried the breath of spirits or mana.
It was one of the fundamental laws of this world.
An unchanging truth, an immutable course of nature.
Yet nowhere in the Central Officer could she sense the Lord's energy.
Not even mana.
Nothing at all.
What on earth is he?
Faced with a thing that could not rationally exist standing right before her eyes, Erzena momentarily lost her words.
She focused her spirit, reaching deeper to examine him — but the result was the same.
Nothing. Not a trace. Not even a speck of dust.
The aura that ought to be visible on every person alive was simply absent. This man had none.
As though he were severed from the world itself.
Like a hole punched through the middle of a finished painting.
And at last, Erzena understood what she was looking at.
Good heavens...
A black — a blackest black — sat before her in the shape of a man.
Void.
That was the energy that emanated from the Central Officer.
This is... possible?
An impossible phenomenon. A grotesque form she had never seen.
Amid her bewilderment, one calm and certain fact surfaced in her mind.
He is not a Talent Awakener. He can never be one.
Everything the Lord's hand touched was imbued with divine holy power.
A Talent Awakener — one drenched in His love above all — even more so.
There was no way the Saintess could fail to sense it.
An aura golden and warm and radiant as the sun itself — she could never miss it.
And yet — black.
Darker than the night sky, black with a hollowness so total it sent a chill down her spine.
This defies the order of the world. A being of nothingness cannot exist!
Then was he an unbeliever? A fraud who denied the Lord and falsely claimed an Awakening?
No. Not an unbeliever either.
Even those who did not believe still carried mana.
Irreverent, but an undeniable fact.
The mages and the elves made that plain enough.
There were whole peoples under heaven who denied God's existence even as they drew upon the world's power.
He doesn't seem the type to lie as empty bravado, either.
The Central Officer did not look stupid enough to tell a lie that would come apart in seconds.
And even if he had, it would have shown at once.
Nothing in everything he'd displayed so far smacked of arrogance — he was hardly the type to posture.
Then a single phrase flashed through Erzena's mind.
A tendrils-man of the Evil God Cult.
If that were it, everything fit.
That he had silently cried out the moment he first laid eyes on her.
That he was so uncomfortable sharing space with her now.
That, like the void of the world itself, no energy of any kind could be felt from him.
If he were a filthy heretic, all of it made perfect sense.
Beings who denied the Lord and, not content with denial, sought to drag the whole world into ruin.
They had never been meant to exist in the first place — that was why.
Erzena quietly recited a single verse of scripture, low enough that no one could hear.
"Doubt leads to unbelief — and yet it is the shortest road to conviction."
And she felt, at last, that she had found that road.
The Saintess's eyes grew sharper by degrees.
He guided us here for a reason. It was never coincidence.
The Lord had not led her here to prove the blessing of a Talent Awakener.
He had led her, on her road north, to cut down the wretch who dared impersonate His love.
And I didn't know — I rejoiced like a child...
Shameful.
Not only had she misread the Lord's will — she had fawned on a lackey of the Evil God Cult.
The fondness she'd felt for him only moments ago curdled into fury, and with it, a cold contempt.
What Erzena had to do now was clear.
Turn doubt into conviction.
- Sssshhhhh.
The sand in the hourglass was racing toward its end.
"There's just one last thing I'd like to ask."
Only the final question remained.
The blasphemer glanced briefly over his shoulder, saw her attendant approaching from far off, and smiled thinly.
"The stamp is finally coming. And the time is nearly up — I suppose one last question can be permitted."
How revolting that smile is. Utterly repugnant.
"How generous of you. Then I won't decline."
She answered his smile with a cold one of her own.
"It's a very simple question. A yes or no will do."
In that instant, Mohaim knew — instinctively — what she was about to ask.
"Your Holiness! That was not the agreem—"
"Stay out of this, Mohaim. That is an order."
Pressed by a rising dread, the knight commander stepped forward, heedless even of the queue — but Erzena's firmly raised hand stopped him.
"Mohaim? Don't tell me — Mohaim Espirentse, Commander of the 1st Holy Knight Order?"
A flicker of discomposure crossed the Central Officer's face.
She would not miss that opening.
"Do you believe in God, Nathan Kell?"
The golden halo behind her began, slowly, to darken.