A Song for Just One Person (1)
"Mohaim..."
Erzena quietly watched from inside the building as the Commander of the First Paladin Order walked away.
An old knight leaving the border behind, slowly heading south with the pilgrimage.
His back, always so broad and imposing, was bowed now — as though he carried some invisible, crushing weight.
The window had been open, and so she had heard every word of the conversation between Mohaim and the Central Officer.
That was why she understood his anguish and inner conflict all too well.
"So you were having those kinds of thoughts too, were you."
The man who had always prided himself on being the sword of the Church.
And that man was now seeking answers from the young man he had once declared a heretic.
It was unthinkable — the kind of thing the people of the Southern Branch would never believe, no matter how many times he told them.
Before she knew it, Erzena's hand had drifted up to her own neck.
But the necklace of the Holy Church, which should have been there, was gone.
Because she had thrown it away herself.
"..."
Opening one's eyes anew would be agonizing.
Denying what you had believed to be right your entire life was simply too terrifying.
How could a conviction rooted so deeply in one's life ever be pulled out so easily?
But if he managed to overcome it in the end — then, at last, he would be able to see.
What it truly was that God desired.
And so Erzena clasped her hands together and closed her eyes.
"Please... may the Lord God look upon you with favor as well..."
For him, now walking the same road of tribulation she herself had once endured.
For the pilgrimage, who had lost their certainty and fallen into doubt.
The Central Officer was right.
You already know the answer.
He did know. He simply did not yet dare to face it.
"May the sword of the Church... never be swung in heartlessness..."
And then, slowly, the clouds began to part from the overcast sky.
A very small gap.
Through that gap, a single beam of light fell upon the departing pilgrimage.
Whether it was mere coincidence, or the will of the Lord above, was too subtle a distinction to make.
After the pilgrimage departed, time at the Immigration Office flew by like an arrow.
Scratch, scratch, scribble.
I signed the last of the remaining paperwork.
— Nathan Kell.
Then I raised my head and spoke.
"Good work today, everyone. With this, today's duties are concluded."
"Yeaaah."
"Not like it'll change anything. We'll be working overtime again anyway..."
The voices were listless and flat.
At the sight of them, I glanced out the window for a moment.
The sun had already sunk low, and the dim haze of evening was beginning to creep upward.
They have had a rough time of it these past few days.
Come to think of it, yesterday I hadn't even managed to go home — I'd been forced awake with divine power and dragged straight back to work.
Only now did I notice that the souls of the Five Senses Officers were slowly leaking out of their bodies.
Physically healthy, but with their spirits visibly being ground away.
I watched them for a moment, and then I made my decision.
"No overtime tonight. Let's go home."
"Yes. Another day of overtime, emergency work, extended shi-, ...I'm sorry, what?"
The Taste Officer, who had been slumped face-down over his desk, jerked his head up.
At the same time, the other Four Senses Officers all turned to stare at me, each raising their own signature sensory organ to full alert.
"...Are you serious?"
"You're not about to call an emergency assembly again, are you?"
"Are you going to use the divine power trick on us again?"
The questions dripped with suspicion and distrust.
Anyone listening would think we work overtime every single day.
...Well, we do, but still.
I smiled and answered.
"The long nightmare of the pilgrimage is finally over, isn't it? Let's all head out early today."
Days like this should happen once in a while.
At my words, every gaze in the Immigration Office turned toward the clock.
Six o'clock in the evening.
Then they all looked back at me.
"...Early?"
The tone said: are you kidding me?
"Early???"
Their eyes were murderous.
"Uh..."
Right. Six o'clock is technically quitting time.
But no overtime tonight.
That alone should count for something.
"Anyone with complaints is welcome to stay longer."
The eyes went docile again in an instant.
"I mean... six is technically leaving early, I guess."
"I honestly thought it was still daytime."
I let out an awkward laugh.
"You've all worked hard these past several days. The least I can do is let you go home on time for once."
"Whoa, Central Officer, you're the best!"
"However."
Then I hardened my expression.
"Exactly three people must remain here until eleven o'clock tonight."
"Th-three people?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Someone has to keep the place running, don't they?"
The border operates at night, too.
If we all went home, what would happen to the people crossing the border after dark?
Night duty was the inescapable fate of every civil servant.
"One will be selected from among the Five Senses Officers and myself, and two from among the attendants."
Not everyone could be happy.
Someone had to make the sacrifice.
"Three people..."
"Three of us..."
"A-as long as it's not me, right?"
Gazes darted back and forth across the room.
Tension, anxiety, and hope, all tangled together.
"How will the selection be made?"
Someone asked.
A fair question.
This was the kind of thing a superior could simply settle by pulling rank.
All I'd have to do was send everyone out in order of seniority and keep the three lowest on the totem pole.
But I shook my head.
"We will proceed according to tradition."
There was one method, above all others, guaranteed to work in this exact situation.
The venerable tradition of the Immigration Office itself.
A sacred method capable of selecting people with perfect fairness, regardless of race, gender, age, status, or years of service.
"Tra...dition?"
Only Erzena failed to grasp my meaning, and looked at me blankly.
"What is it?"
"You'll see."
After that brief reply, I slowly raised my right hand high toward the ceiling.
"Now then... let us begin."
At that, everyone — as if on cue — raised their hands along with me, their faces grim with resolve.
Clenched right fists, ready for battle.
"Is everyone prepared?"
Nod.
I drew in a deep breath.
And then, all together, we shouted.
"ROCK! PAPER! SCISSORS!!!"
Thus unfolded a death match, fought with all the desperation of souls etched with resolve.
Nothing in this world is fairer than this.
Thirty minutes later.
Erzena and I walked down the street wearing utterly opposite expressions — I, beaming from ear to ear, and she, utterly unable to make sense of anything.
"Hahaha."
The laughter just kept bubbling up.
I was so happy.
"Leaving work at this hour feels remarkably novel. It's as if the whole world has changed."
Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she finally whipped her head around and asked.
"...That was the tradition?"
"I'm sorry?"
"What you did back there. The rock-paper-scissors. That's the tradition?"
"Yes. A time-honored custom, established when this officer became the Central Officer."
"..."
Erzena stared at me with a look that clearly said, what kind of nonsense is that?
"It is fair, it gives everyone a one-in-three chance, and no one can predict or manipulate the outcome."
"But..."
Her words trailed off immediately.
She had nothing to argue against.
So instead, she brought up a certain name, her voice low.
"...The Smell Officer looked absolutely devastated, you know."
At once, a single pitiful soul from thirty minutes prior flashed through my mind — a soul freshly defeated at rock-paper-scissors.
The werewolf who had torn at his own hair and rolled around on the floor wailing.
NOOOOOOOO!!!
WHY DID YOU THROW SCISSORS, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!!!
I had never seen him wail so bitterly before.
Anyone watching would have assumed he'd gambled away his entire life savings.
And the two attendants fated to share his lot were, as it happened, none other than the personal aides of the Smell Officer and the Taste Officer. A truly cruel coincidence.
Consider it the karma you've built up. You've skipped out early plenty of times yourself.
He should be thankful tonight wasn't a full moon.
"He simply met his fate as the game decreed."
"You're heartless."
"The Smell Officer was a fool for throwing scissors. That's all there is to it."
"..."
The world of competition is a cold one.
With that, a brief silence settled over us again.
After we had walked a while longer, I opened my mouth once more.
"Erzena."
"Yes?"
"Would you, ah... care to have dinner with me? Before heading home, I mean."
I rubbed the back of my neck as I asked.
"Your, um... your place is still a disaster zone, isn't it? Not exactly fit for dinner just yet."
It was half past six — just about the hour when the stomach starts to rumble.
But feeding a guest in a house still buried in dust was poor manners indeed.
The Southern Border had no great metropolises, but it did boast plenty of buildings and shops with long, storied histories.
Some of the restaurants had been passed down for generations, which made them reliably good.
"This officer happens to know a decent place. Shall we go together?"
Erzena fell into thought at my offer.
"Hmm... yes, why not. That doesn't sound bad. It's been a while, and I do need to learn my way around the Southern Border... wait, hold on."
She murmured to herself, then suddenly her eyes went wide, and she squealed at me.
"A-are you asking me to have dinner with you? A-all all all alone, just the two of us!?"
Her divine power churned violently around her.
"It's a bit late to invite anyone else, so I suppose dining just the two of us will have to do."
My calm reply only flustered her further.
"O-okay! Yes! Just the two of us... eating, let's eat!"
And with that, she marched off ahead all by herself, striding with exaggerated purpose.
Her sudden surge of enthusiasm made me blink.
Spending all that time at the Immigration Office, this woman is starting to turn into one of us.
"Not that way. It's this way."
"Oh."
Swish.
The moment I pushed open the door of a certain restaurant, a lively girl's voice rang out.
"Welcome! How many in your party?"
The place I'd brought her to was a tavern near the border — a regular haunt of the Hearing Officer and the Touch Officer.
Amid the cheerful din of a packed house, I raised my voice.
"Two of us."
"Huh? Central Officer! It's been ages!"
"Indeed it has. I found myself with some free time, so I came for a meal."
"Then I'll show you to your table!"
The girl, who recognized me, nodded with a bright smile.
Well, when you're dragging a drunk elf out of here every other week, the staff tend to remember your face.
But just as I was about to sit down at the table I'd been shown to, the girl caught sight of Erzena following behind me — and abruptly pointed to a different set of seats across the room.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! That's the couples' seating. Let me show you over here!"
I shook my head.
"No, there seems to be a misunderstandi—"
"Th-that's right, we are a couple! A man and a woman! Two young people!"
Erzena cut me off in a rush and plopped herself down into the couples' seat before I could say another word.
"..."
When I silently stared at her, she muttered, cheeks faintly flushed:
"...The seats over here are just bigger. That's all. That's the only reason."
And so we sat in the couples' seat and ordered.
The meal was quite excellent.
The pork the waitress recommended I declined, for reasons of my own. Somehow, for some inexplicable reason, it just didn't sit right with me.
In its place, the chicken barbecue and the cheese bread were the best things I'd eaten in weeks.
"Ahh... I'm so full..."
Erzena, having cleaned her plate completely, let out a long, satisfied sigh.
"I'm glad it was to your liking."
"I'm coming here often from now on. It's a good place."
Perhaps the tension had finally drained out of her — she leaned back against her chair with a happy smile, and I found myself smiling at the sight.
"Erzena."
"Yeees?"
"Thank you. It's a little late in coming, but — thank you, once more, for helping this officer."
No amount of thanks would ever be enough for her.
Not only for the trial, but in so many other ways as well.
As for this whole affair with the Evil God Cult — had it not been for her, I would have caught on only after far, far too long.
"Perhaps it really was a stroke of fortune, you staying at this officer's home."
Whether it was the full stomach, or simply the loosened mood, I found myself speaking my heart honestly.
At that, Erzena dropped her head low.
"...Um."
Her voice was barely audible.
"If you're that grateful... could I ask you for just one favor...?"
I nodded readily.
"Anything within this officer's discretion."
"Could I... call you by your name?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You, you don't call me 'Holy Maiden' anymore — you call me Erzena. So then I was thinking, maybe now I could... even so, I..."
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet mine again.
"May I... or... not. That is."
Her eyes held a quiet hope, tangled with an unreadable shyness.
Well.
Using official titles in public settings was proper, of course, but clinging to them in private, or at home, did seem a bit absurd.
Besides, wasn't I already calling her by name?
There was no reason to refuse.
"Very well. Then go ahead. Say it."
"H-here? Right now?"
"We are in private right now."
"Uu..."
She narrowed her eyes and glared at me.
Then, slowly, her lips parted.
"Na, Nthan..."
She bit her tongue.
"It's 'Nathan.' Once more."
"I know! ...Na, Nathan."
And when she said my name like that, Erzena's cheeks were so red they looked about to burst.
And somehow, for some reason, the tavern felt a little warm that evening. Surely just my imagination.
Definitely just my imagination.