Chapter 4
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Taming the Fireballs (2)
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The scorching heat that seemed ready to burn everything away subsided in an instant.
At the same time, the two spirits blinked a few times before turning to look at each other.
"D-Did that human just speak our language?"
"I must've misheard."
I opened my mouth once more.
"You heard correctly. Please don't be startled."
My mouth moved, but no voice came out.
Instead, a subtle vibration of mana shot straight toward them.
Their bewilderment turned to shock, and then to outright astonishment.
"This... this is impossible. You're not a fairy—how can a human speak Spirit Tongue?"
"Are you a spiritist? Or a mage?"
"You don't carry our race's scent."
The blazing face suddenly thrust right up to mine, sniffing several times. Then,
"No, you don't even have mana to begin with!"
It recoiled in horror, as if beholding something that shouldn't exist.
"What in the world are you?"
Seizing the moment, I stepped forward and replied.
"Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Nathan Kell."
I straightened my posture and smoothed out my slightly singed uniform.
"Chief Officer of the Southern Border Immigration Control Office."
Now that communication was possible, it was time to tackle the real issue.
I first noticed something was off around age fifteen.
"Woof woof woof woof woof."
"Arf arf, grrr, arf!"
"Woof woof woof."
What should have been the usual werewolf babble started making sense.
"Roasted meat's nice and all, but nothing beats fresh meat dripping with blood. Humans just don't get it."
"I gave them some fresh pork I caught yesterday as a gift, and they freaked out. Made me feel like a dog. Bet they'd like beef, though."
"Goblin bones would be good too. The crunch is to die for."
At first, I thought I was hearing things. It had always been just barking, then suddenly it was full sentences—I figured it was a dream.
But it wasn't.
At seventeen, I began understanding Rune—the elegant language used by magical races like elves.
"Hiyah! Liara Denih Hoshudarnia!"
"Feary Srummates!"
The graceful voices echoing from the training grounds usually amounted to stuff like this.
"Hiyah! Hot hot, Flame Breath!"
"Freeze freeze, Ice Wall!"
Once you realize that intricate, lofty language boils down to childish chants to cast magic, what would the human mages in the Magic Tower think?
They spend decades studying its profundity and the truths of the world, only to learn it's basically kindergarten talk. They'd probably bite their tongues and die.
And in the year I turned nineteen, I could understand—and speak—every language in this world.
At that point, even I realized this went beyond genius or madness into something else entirely.
"It's a Talent Manifestation. Congratulations."
When the priest at the church I nervously visited said that after checking with his crystal orb, my family was speechless.
Talent Manifestation.
A miraculous phenomenon said to be a divine blessing, appearing only in the chosen.
And it had happened to me.
The kingdom caught wind of it and specially hired me as an immigration officer. That's the short version of the story.
'From the son of a humble merchant to the top examiner at the Southern Border Immigration Control Office.'
The kind of tale with such absurd plausibility it wouldn't even fly in a street stall novel.
"E-Even if you can speak our language, nothing changes!"
"Right! We don't care how you did it—our anger hasn't subsided! Our fury burns as hot as a thousand blazing suns!"
The two spirits belatedly regained their composure and bellowed again, spewing pillars of fire and waves of heat.
Trying to hide their surprise now was awkward, but the core issue remained unresolved, so it was understandable.
"I understand. That's precisely why I'm here. Please tell me what angered you both so, and I'll do everything in my power to assist."
No sooner had I finished than the spirits, seething with rage, pointed accusingly at the Gustatory Officer in the distance.
"Until that vile water girl who insulted us pays for her crime, we will burn on!"
"Yeah! We'll blaze and blaze! Roaring flames!"
Wait—water?
Why would 'water' come up from fire spirits, who despise it above all else?
'Girl. Water. Insult.'
Putting together the keywords from their curt reply sketched a scenario in my mind.
'The inexperienced Gustatory Officer misspoke about water to the fire spirits, and they took it as an insult.'
Plausible. The most likely explanation.
The Gustatory Officer had been on the job for less than a month, so she lacked common knowledge and etiquette for other races.
She must have unwittingly committed a faux pas.
Like calling a werewolf "puppy paws!"
Obvious.
Ignorance-fueled racial insensitivity.
A classic rookie immigration officer mistake.
'That's why I told the other examiners to look after the Gustatory Officer.'
But these idiots ditched on a Friday like it was nothing and ignored their boss?
'No, not now.'
I suppressed the boiling rage rivaling the fire spirits' own.
This wasn't the time for me to lose my temper. I could vent plenty on Monday.
For now, apologies first.
"On behalf of our office, I apologize. She seems inexperienced with other races, leading to this mishap. I'll retrain her properly."
"Inexperienced? You think such a horrific insult stems from mere inexperience?"
A snort sent a gust of flame billowing out. The spirit behind stomped in agreement.
'Hmm. Something's off.'
The fire spirits' anger felt excessively intense.
They'd be mad, sure, but not to the point of scorching everything around. Not even over water.
They hated water, but unless it was doused directly on them, fire spirits didn't lose control easily.
That's how docile they were—hence the nickname "hearthside friends."
'Normally, they'd flare up once and calm down. Is there really reason for this level of fury?'
Unless someone actually threatened to splash them.
Wait.
No way.
They couldn't have.
"...If it's not too rude, could you tell me exactly what the officer did wrong?"
"You're apologizing without even knowing?"
"I can't judge fairly from one side alone. I need to hear from the offended party as well."
"That arrogant wretch doused us with water! A whole bucket of it! Water—right on us!"
They actually did.
My own fury surged like the towering fire pillars.
I whipped around and bellowed at the Gustatory Officer, who had been blankly listening to our exchange.
"Gustatory Offiiiiicer!!!!!"
"Y-Y-Yes, sirrrrr!!"
She jumped like she'd been struck by lightning and scurried to my side.
"Wh-Wh-What's wr-wr-wrong...?"
"Are you insane? You splashed water on fire spirits!?"
"Eek! How did you—?"
Did I hear that wrong?
"You really, really did that? Tell me you didn't."
Praying for a denial, I enunciated each word with gritted teeth.
And the Gustatory Officer, in a shrinking voice, delivered a fantastically idiotic response.
"W-Well, fire goes out with water, so... I thought it'd help cool the heat faster..."
Oh lord.
"Do you drink the ocean when you're thirsty? Set your house on fire to warm up?"
Think about it—dousing a race whose very existence is fire with water.
That's not just attempted murder; it's species attempted murder.
"Who in this world doesn't know water and fire are mortal enemies?!"
"S-S-S-Sorry!"
"This is basic common sense... Sigh, never mind. We'll talk later."
Ah, my blood pressure.
Hold it together. Not yet.
I could chew her out later to my heart's content. Right now, placating the spirits came first.
"We sincerely apologize. This was unequivocally our office's error."
"Too late. We gave that girl plenty of chances to apologize, but she wouldn't utter a word! We demand punishment!"
The fire spirits, now fully enraged, intensified their heat, threatening to incinerate everything.
"What sort of punishment do you seek?"
"She tried to kill us, so she forfeits her life. We'll purify her body with fire."
Oh no. This is bad.
"Ch-Chief Officer, what are they saying?"
"They say they'll only be satisfied after burning the Gustatory Officer alive."
"Eeeeeek!"
At the brutal translation, she convulsed and hid behind me.
"Sp-Spa-Spare me, pleeeease!"
"Fire spirits rarely back down once they've decided."
Sorry. I didn't expect them to be this pissed.
"Couldn't you two show mercy with your boundless magnanimity?"
"Out of the question! Hand over the girl!"
Utterly unyielding.
No choice, then. I'd have to call in the Border Guard.
Even if we could communicate, if they refused apologies, we'd need force.
As I signaled my attendant to summon them, one spirit spat one more line.
"Don't think we'll overlook such rudeness on this homeward path that should be peaceful, human!"
Hold on—homeward path?
That sparked a solution in my mind like lightning.
'I see it—the way to resolve this!'
"If I may ask, how long do you plan to stay in the Crossroad Kingdom?"
"Hm? Well... We've come a long way, so we'll rest three days before heading to the western volcanic region. I hear the Red Dragon eggs are hatching soon."
Three days.
That's quite a while.
Which means they'd need lodging somewhere, plus food—and all that incurs expenses.
"Have you already secured accommodations?"
"We'll have to look now. Not sure if anywhere accepts fire spirits like us."
The other nodded worriedly in agreement.
There it was—their concern. And I had the means to solve it.
Only one thing left to do.
Begin negotiations.
"If you'll allow it, as atonement, we'll provide top-class lodging and firewood for your entire stay."
"What?"
A merchant heir's secret technique.
Preemptive strike (=load up on gifts).
Fire spirits' staple food: firewood.
They eat anything flammable, but firewood is their favorite.
But it's late autumn now—firewood prices are skyrocketing.
And lodging?
A regular bed would go up in flames, so they'd need a stone inn.
Stone inns cost nearly double a normal one.
'In other words, three days would rack up hefty bills.'
What if I preemptively covered those two tricky conditions?
"The Crossroad Kingdom welcomes all who enter peacefully. But having committed such a grave insult against you, allow us to atone by handling your stay's conveniences."
"Uh, er... But we were insulted—we demand fitting punishment..."
Red tinged their originally blue flames.
Proof their anger was fading.
See? Direct hit.
Fire spirits' emotions show in their colors—super convenient.
Time to land the follow-up on that wavering resolve.
"If you wish, we'll provide a room with its own hearth. You'll rest comfortably."
"A h-hearth? For real?"
"And four charcoals a day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snack!"
"Seriously!?"
Charcoal—rarer than firewood. Burns longer, hotter, purer, tastier.
This was 1+1, no, 1+3.
Even the stingiest miser couldn't refuse.
Not even a vengeful ghost nursing eternal grudges would say no—it'd go, "Tch, fine."
Their flames turned fully red.
One more step to orange.
Time for the finishing blow on their crumbling wills.
I held up four fingers and declared solemnly.
"...Premium hardwood charcoal."
The clincher.
Beautiful sunset-orange flames flickered before me.
Not the furious blue-flamed youths, but serene orange-flamed ladies nodded in satisfaction.
"We'll forgive the young examiner. It was ignorance—let her learn from this and be cautious."
"Thank you for your generosity befitting fire's descendants."
Look at those kind smiles. Utterly lovely.
I grabbed the nape of the Gustatory Officer—who'd watched blankly without understanding—and forced her to bow.
"Eek? Chief Officer?"
"It's settled. Bow."
After that, things wrapped up smoothly.
Stamps on entry papers, fireproofed "Foreign Affairs Ministry guaranteed checks" swiftly prepared by my attendant and distributed—only then could the fire spirits cross the border.
"Welcome to the Crossroad Kingdom. We hope you enjoy your time."
"You too, human who speaks Spirit Tongue."
Once the spirits were far enough away, the Gustatory Officer sighed in relief.
"Is it... over?"
"Yes. Nicely resolved. And now... we have the matter of your punishment."
One more step left.
Deciding the fate of the Gustatory Officer who caused this mess.
"...Huh?"
Her relieved expression froze.
"Gustatory Officer. Do you know the official punishment for a major blunder by an immigration examiner?"
I lowered my voice menacingly, and she trembled violently before squeaking out an answer.
"Ex-Exec-Exec-Execution...?"
"Correct."
"Ch-Chief Officer, I-I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"
"An apology can't undo the water you splashed."
The crime of trapping me right before quitting time and forcing overtime.
The crime of that insane stunt with the fire spirits providing zero help in resolution.
And the crime of burning extra Immigration Control Office budget.
These are some serious offenses.
How could I just let them slide?
Punishment was inevitable.
But the situation was a mess.
"However... You've only been on duty a month, and your assigned mentor, the Olfactory Officer, bailed early."
The ones who ditched the newbie were the real culprits.
After brief deliberation, I decided her penalty.
"Starting today until Monday, you'll stay with me for retraining."
"Wh-Whaaaat???"
Her face drained to a deathly blue at my thunderbolt declaration.
Almost as blue as those fire spirits earlier.
"I'll sacrifice my weekend too. Report here today, tomorrow, and the day after. I'll drill it into you properly."
Weekends weren't the priority now.
How could someone call themselves an examiner without basic interspecies etiquette?
Time to reteach. Until it was etched into her skull.
And the silver lining amid the misfortune: no one got hurt, no incidents from the fire spirits' rage.
'If real damage had occurred and it escalated diplomatically, even I couldn't have handled it.'
That would've meant execution for sure.
But I stepped in and contained it—no need to report upward.
Just bury it like this.
Of course, I'd ensure this nomad girl never erred again.
Hearing a punishment as terrifying as a death sentence, the Gustatory Officer frantically shook her head.
"I-I'll just resign! Or headbutt the fire spirits myself!"
"No can do. It's settled, and I won't accept your resignation."
As if.
Ah, there was another option, of course.
"If you hate it, I can report to the Foreign Affairs Ministry right now for official execution—"
"I-I-I'll take it! Retraining! I'll do it!"
"...Good."
About time.
And that was that.
-Grab.
I seized her by the nape.
And,
-Drag drag drag.
Pulled her into the empty Immigration Control Office.
"Waaahhh..."
The lamb's wail on the way to slaughter never escaped into the world.
Over the weekend, the Gustatory Officer had to memorize twelve volumes of Encyclopedia of Continental Races' Traits by heart.
Next up: the Olfactory, Auditory, and Tactile Officers who ditched without reporting.
You're next. You're screwed.