Temporary Asylum

"Temporary... asylum?"

Erzena blinked, her expression one of pure bewilderment, as if the answer had caught her entirely off guard.

"I'm... not quite sure what that means."

"It's simple. It means you are to remain in our kingdom for a time."

Only Hailin and the Minister seemed to grasp my meaning, nodding along.

"Well, I'll be. Not just asylum, but 'temporary' asylum. What a clever dodge."

"You catch on quickly."

Asylum. It was an administrative procedure available to any individual facing — or liable to face — persecution on political, cultural, or religious grounds. In plain terms, fleeing to another country to survive.

"Asylum applications exist for the sake of personal safety, so no misunderstanding or complication will arise from it."

At my words, she shook her head.

"But I'm not in danger right now."

A fair point. With her divine power restored, she could shrug off most threats with ease. Hardly the profile of a suitable asylum applicant.

But that was a statement about the present.

"No. You were in danger."

"Pardon? What do you—"

"The pig."

"...Ah."

At that single, clipped word, the color drained from her face.

Consider what Erzena had been through mere days ago.

You were kidnapped after being turned into a piglet — if that isn't a threat to your personal safety, what is?

We didn't know who was behind it. We didn't know their motive. But she had undeniably been abducted.

"Those unknown parties may well come after you again. So it is entirely fair to say that you have fled here for refuge."

"Th-that's how it works? But everything's been resolved already..."

"No, Erzena. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠We still haven't identified who they are. Which means there is no guarantee another threat won't come."

Framed that way, the story held together: she had applied for temporary asylum to the Crossline Kingdom in order to shelter herself from danger as quickly as possible.

Kidnapping was a grave crime constituting an urgent circumstance, and urgent circumstances demanded immediate measures. It was far better than blithely returning to the southern continent and throwing the Holy Order and the Pope into chaos. If she went back right now, a storm of confusion verging on a purge would be certain to follow.

If she truly means to rebuild the Order from the ground up, she needs to move only after the story has spread far and wide.

At last grasping my intent, she murmured:

"So officially, I ran away because I wanted to survive. And behind the scenes, I'm buying time."

"Precisely."

"Even though I've done nothing wrong."

"Wrongdoing has nothing to do with it. This is simply a chance to catch your breath."

Meanwhile, Hailin, who had been listening to our exchange in silence, spoke up.

"...Pig? Why does a pig come into this?"

"It's a long story."

Not exactly the place for it. Some things were better left unsaid here.

"I... see. Asylum, hm..."

Erzena looked just the slightest bit deflated. She stole a glance down at the wrist I still held.

"But then why 'temporary' asylum?"

Hailin answered.

"Simple. Formal asylum involves a labyrinthine process. Since it presumes long-term residence, it requires approval from a whole raft of state agencies. Probably a stack of paperwork about that high."

The Director gestured at the pile of documents she'd overturned during the trial earlier.

"But 'temporary' asylum is treated as an emergency measure, so under the judgment of the on-site chief, it guarantees one to two months of unconditional stay. All it takes is a single sheet of paper. The 'Temporary Asylum Application Form.'"

This time she held up just one page.

"During the stay, responsibility for the asylum seeker's protection is vested in the responsible officer — which means the Central Officer and the Immigration Administration would be tasked with safeguarding you."

A clean explanation. Emergency measures are always processed first. For protecting her right now, it was the optimal solution.

Erzena, looking somewhat convinced, turned to me.

"Then... is this what you intend for me, Central Officer?"

A moment of silence. I met those golden eyes.

What you intend for me.

What did that even mean? The things I could do for her. A repayment to someone who had gone so far on my behalf. Or perhaps... some other feeling entirely.

I spoke, quietly.

"...This is the very most this officer can do to protect you."

I had no combat strength like the Olfactory Officer, no seasoned cunning like the Minister. I held no lofty authority like the Pope, no web of connections like a royal consort.

But there are things an Immigration Officer can do.

Institutional power and regulation — and the legitimacy that stood upon them. Those were my weapons, my strengths.

"This officer will protect you with everything he has. That, I promise."

I did not say from what. In its place, I tucked away the words: with every ounce of strength I possess.

An sincerity left slightly understated, but offered all the same.

Erzena's expression brightened again.

"I see. This is what the Central Officer can do with his full strength..."

Her divine power rippled pleasantly through the air.

"To protect me..."

Completely recovered now, she nodded vigorously.

"All right, let's do it now. I'll apply for temporary asylum. With the Central Officer as my guardian. Is that how it works?"

"Whoa, whoa there. Steady, you young sparks. This is not a marriage registration — you don't just file it because your hearts agree!"

Hailin wedged herself between the two of us, waving her arms like a windmill.

"And this hardly seems the place for such a conversation. We'd best move somewhere else."

She gestured at our surroundings with her eyes. The empty courtroom was quiet — but it was spacious enough that anyone sneaking in could eavesdrop with ease. Definitely an improper venue for deciding what came next.

The Minister spoke.

"To my office. The soundproofing spells work there. And..."

His wrinkled eyes darted between me and Erzena.

"I'll be wanting to hear just how the two of you went from enemies to comrades this fast, mind you."

A short while later, in the Minister's office, we laid out everything that had happened — for the Director and the Minister both. Once from my perspective, and once from Erzena's.

"Wh-what? That damned woman kicked our Central Officer in the face?"

"Is all of this true? Every last detail, nothing left out?"

The two of them sat gaping, having heard it all.

"Well, I never..."

While Hailin groped for an appropriate word, the Minister let one fly instead, clean and crisp:

"That is a Clusterfuck of the Highest Order."

The secretary, mid-pour of the tea, slipped badly.

- Clink.

The Minister hastily made a gesture of apology, then pressed on.

"The kidnapping of a Saintess... but why didn't you report it to me? Every other border chief knew."

"Every minute and second counted. I wanted to establish the encirclement first, then report."

"And yet you didn't."

"I meant to persuade Erzena first, and right at that very moment, the King's Proxy stormed in."

I still remembered it. Incansus Vermotem — the crushing pressure that radiated from that overwhelming bulk and authority.

"Hoooo."

A shiver ran through me before I could stop it. Not quite like facing the King, but the dragonewt carried that peculiar aura that made a man's spine go cold.

Meanwhile, Hailin chewed over what she'd just heard with a grave expression.

"The Saintess was turned into a pig... so does that make her a sow-Saintess? No, wait — a female would make her a—"

"D-Director."

I barely managed to stop her before the deep immersion in the story sent something unutterably rude out of her mouth.

"Ah, my apologies. Let's sanitize it — the Beast Saintess."

Only then did Hailin come back to her senses, giving Erzena's back a few companionable pats.

"Still, what a wretched fate you were born to, Former Beast-Saintess-on-Probation. You've truly experienced the lowest of the low."

"Ah, ahaha... I did learn a great deal from it, but I'd rather not go through it a second time."

That much was sincere.

Just then, the secretary approached the table with a document in hand.

"Minister, the paperwork you requested."

"Much obliged."

Katon passed the document straight to Erzena.

"Now then, setting all else aside. Let us begin."

He meant to proceed through the official process. He cleared his throat a few times, then looked at me.

"Central Officer. This is your jurisdiction."

"Yes."

I nodded, then spoke.

"Miss Erzena Selaphe."

"Yes? I thought we agreed you'd just call me Erzena—"

"Miss Erzena Selaphe. You are here to apply for temporary asylum in the Crossline Kingdom. Is that correct?"

The formal register rang through the office. Catching the meaning behind it, Erzena answered with a solemn expression.

"...It is."

"Then, before you sign, be advised that asylum carries two conditions."

I raised one finger.

"First. The asylum seeker may take no political action whatsoever. Contact with political organizations, factions, or cliques is prohibited, and any violation will result in deportation."

I raised a second.

"Second. The asylum seeker will be assigned a residence and a designated living quarter. Within it, you may move freely as you please, but beyond it, you may not go. This, too, will result in deportation if violated."

"That sounds less like protection and more like confinement, somehow."

she answered, a hint of complaint threading ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her tone. I didn't deny it.

"Freedom carries risk, and safety carries control — that is simply the law of things. But in your current circumstances, I intend to loosen that control as much as possible, so don't worry."

After all, only if you stay within reach of my hand can I actually respond when a real threat comes calling.

I'd rather not relive anything like Operation Pig Hunt.

I pointed to the signature line at the very bottom of the form.

"Sign here, and for the next two months, your safety and protection become this officer's responsibility."

"..."

She hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"All right. I'll sign."

She took up the pen and began to write her name.

- The Saintess Er...

The pen stopped mid-stroke. Erzena stared down, unblinking, at the word she had written before her own name.

"..."

Her hand trembled, ever so slightly. I kept silent, watching.

No matter how resolved she may be, forsaking the identity she's carried her entire life can't be easy.

I understood. Resolve and reality were two different things. From now on, the title "former Saintess" would dog her endlessly — and every time it did, she would be reminded of what she once was.

And that gulf between them is going to be immense.

From the symbol of an entire Order to a nobody, newly born. Emptiness and hope would tangle together in her, hopelessly intertwined.

Without a word, I placed my hand where her eyes could see it — at the corner of the document, just within reach if she stretched out her hand.

But you have somewhere to lean on. It isn't only the Lord who reaches out a hand to you.

Those golden eyes shifted quietly, falling on my hand.

"..."

Then she steeled herself once more. She drew line after line through the word 'Saintess' and signed her name anew.

- Erzena Selaphe.

And beside it, I wrote mine.

- Guardian of Record: Central Officer Nathan Kell.

Pressed down hard, the name engraved itself dark and deep onto the page. I lifted the pen away.

And that was that. The procedure for the temporary asylum application was complete. All that remained was to accept it.

Hailin spoke.

"The application has been duly completed, and the guardian of record has been clearly designated."

Her voice was solemn — unusually so for her.

"As of this moment, the Immigration Administration and the Central Officer bear a duty of protection toward Miss Selaphe. Central Officer Nathan Kell."

"Yes."

"Do you swear, as an Immigration Officer, to faithfully honor this duty as applied for?"

I rose slowly from my seat. And, looking at Erzena, I answered.

"I so swear."

"Then the request is granted. From this instant forward, every privilege she received as a visitor is void, and the rights and obligations of a national are conferred upon her."

The final formality. Even the acceptance of the application was done.

Only then did Hailin's face relax, and she extended a hand to Erzena.

"Welcome to asylum, Miss Erzena Selaphe. Welcome to the Crossline Kingdom."

"Th-thank you..."

She took the hand, flustered — and the Director pumped it up and down with gusto.

Still shaking it, she turned to me.

"Well then, Miss ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Erzena's safety is secured. What now? Do you have a schedule ahead of you?"

"Right... now, you mean? I have no plans beyond returning to the Southern Border."

My business here was finished. What was left was processing the three thousand-odd Pilgrim Army troops back out through the border, I supposed.

I'd already left the Immigration Administration in my direct subordinates' hands for nearly two days. I could faintly hear the screams they were surely letting out.

'Central Officer, come baaack!'

'GRAAAH! How are four of us supposed to process THREE THOUSAND people out of the country?!'

'I want to resign! Oh wait, there's no one around with the authority to accept it!'

'I need a drink. Today, tomorrow, and the day after that.'

If I didn't get back soon, there was no telling what state those fools would be in.

Reading my expression, Hailin snickered.

"Worry not. If it's just the two of you going, you have some time to spare. Take an express coach and it'll only take a day."

"Is... is that so?"

"It is. And the pilgrimage is a large group, so it'll take them at least two days to reach the Southern Border. So — how about it? A drink or two for old times' sake?"

"A drink?"

She dangled the bait with transparent slyness, wagging her fingers like some laborer who'd just finished a big job.

"Didn't you say your father gave you an expensive bottle a while back? What was the name again... Ah, right! Frost Dragon's Wine! What better bottle for a commemorative day like this — we drink it together!"

"I gave that to the Auditory Officer."

"...Huh?"

She froze solid, mid-glow, expectation plastered across her face.

"...Why?"

"Negotiating overtime pay for the pilgrimage ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠job."

At my answer, she slumped bonelessly back into her chair. Then she fished a strip of dried pig jerky out of her coat and listlessly popped it into her mouth.

"...This is why they say inlanders have no romance. After a great deed, it is a man's duty to wash the dust from his throat with wine — such is the way of the desert!"

This isn't a desert.

Meanwhile, Erzena's face had gone pale at the sight of Hailin gnawing the jerky with such irritation.

"P-pork..."

Like watching a monster devour its own kin, her golden eyes wavered without mercy.

Leaving Hailin to grumble about whatever it was she found so lamentable, the Minister spoke up.

"Well then, Central Officer. Heading straight back?"

"Ah, about that..."

That had been the plan, originally. But hearing the Director's words just now, another thought had surfaced.

"If there's a little time to spare... my mind has changed somewhat."

I turned my head toward the window and looked out. Far in the distance, a quiet open clearing came into view. Written there were these words:

"...I think I'll go see the Sight Officer."

Quite suddenly, I found myself wanting to visit a bond I hadn't seen in a long while.