Chapter 51
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 51
Chapter Title: A Song for Just One Person (1)
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"Mohaim..."
Erzena quietly watched the retreating back of the 1st Paladin Order Captain from inside the building.
The old knight slowly leaving the border, heading south with the pilgrimage group.
His broad back, which had always seemed so vast, was hunched as if carrying some invisible, crushing burden.
Because the window had been open, she had overheard the entire conversation between Mohaim and the Central Officer.
That's why she understood his anguish and conflict all too well.
"So you were thinking the same thing."
A man who had always prided himself as the church's sword.
For such a man to seek answers from a youth declared a heretic.
Even if she told the people at the southern branch, they would never believe it—something unimaginable.
Unconsciously, Erzena brought her hand to her neck.
But the Holy Church necklace that should have been there was gone now.
Because she had thrown it away herself.
"..."
Opening one's eyes anew would be incredibly painful.
Denying what one had believed right for a lifetime was utterly terrifying.
How could one easily uproot beliefs deeply rooted in one's life?
But if he could overcome it in the end, then he would see.
What the divine truly desired.
With that, Erzena clasped her hands and closed her eyes.
"May the Lord look upon you with mercy..."
For the man walking the same path of torment she had endured.
For the pilgrimage group lost in doubt and uncertainty.
The Central Officer was right.
- You already know the answer.
He knew it. He just couldn't face it.
"May the church's sword not swing mercilessly..."
And slowly, the clouds began to part in the overcast sky.
A tiny gap.
Through that gap, a single beam of light shone down on the pilgrimage group.
So subtly that it was impossible to tell if it was coincidence or divine will.
After the pilgrimage group departed, time at the Immigration Control Office flew by like an arrow.
- Scratch, scribble.
I signed the last remaining paperwork.
- Nathan Kell.
I looked up and said,
"Great work, everyone. That's it for today's duties."
"Yes, sir."
"As if... it's still gonna be overtime anyway..."
A listless voice.
At that, I glanced out the window for a moment.
The sun had already set, and evening dusk was settling in.
'We've been through the wringer these past few days.'
Come to think of it, yesterday I hadn't even gone home—forced back to work with divine power recovery.
Only then did I notice the life slowly draining from the sense officers' faces.
Their bodies were healthy, but their spirits looked gnawed away.
I watched them for a bit, then made my decision.
"No overtime today. Everyone head home."
"Yes. Time for overtime special extended duty again-, ...yes?"
The Gustatory Officer, slumped over her desk, jerked her head up.
The other sense officers tensed their unique sensory organs, staring at me.
"...For real?"
"This isn't another emergency call, right?"
"Not pulling the divine power trick again?"
Questions brimming with suspicion and distrust.
Anyone would think we always pulled overtime.
...We did, but anyway.
I smiled and said,
"The cursed saga with the pilgrimage group is finally over. Let's all leave early today."
Days like this are necessary now and then.
At my words, every gaze in the Immigration Control Office turned to the clock.
6 PM.
They looked back at me.
"...Early?"
Voices laced with disbelief.
"Early???"
Their glares were fierce.
"Uh..."
Right, 6 PM is technically quitting time.
But no overtime—that's something.
"Anyone unhappy can stay longer."
Their eyes softened instantly.
"Actually, 6 PM is early, yeah."
"I thought it was still daytime."
I let out a dry chuckle and said,
"You've all worked hard these past few days. Least I can do is let you clock out on time today."
"Whoa, Central Officer is the best!"
"But."
I hardened my expression.
"Exactly three people need to stay until 11 PM tonight."
"Th-three people?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Someone has to guard this place."
The border operates day and night.
If we all leave, what about nighttime crossings?
On-duty shifts are the unavoidable fate of all civil servants.
"One from the sense officers and myself, plus two attendants."
Not everyone can be happy.
Someone has to sacrifice.
"Three people..."
"Three from us..."
"As long as it's not me, right?"
Gazes darted back and forth.
Mixed with tension, anxiety, and hope.
"How will you select them?"
Someone asked.
A fair question.
Normally, the boss just decrees it by rank.
Send out the higher-ups, leave the juniors.
But I shook my head and said,
"We'll do it by tradition."
There's one foolproof method for situations like this.
The sacred tradition of the Immigration Control Office.
Fair regardless of race, gender, age, status, or experience.
"Tra...dition?"
Only Erzena looked at me, not understanding.
"What's that?"
"You'll see."
I gave a curt reply, then slowly raised my right hand high.
"Alright, then... let's begin."
As if on cue, everyone raised their hands with solemn expressions, mimicking me.
Fists clenched tight.
"Everyone ready?"
- Nods.
Deep breaths.
And together, we shouted,
"Rock, paper, scissors!!!"
A desperate deathmatch unfolded.
Nothing could be fairer.
Thirty minutes later.
Erzena and I walked the street with opposite expressions.
I was beaming, while she looked utterly baffled.
"Hahaha."
Laughter bubbled up naturally.
I was just so happy.
"Quitting at this hour feels so novel. The whole world looks different."
Finally unable to contain her curiosity, she whipped her head around.
"...That was the tradition?"
"Pardon?"
"What we did earlier. Rock-paper-scissors. That's the tradition?"
"Yes. The time-honored tradition I established when I became Central Officer."
"..."
Erzena stared at me, her eyes screaming nonsense.
"It's fair, a one-in-three chance, and no one can predict or rig it."
"But..."
She trailed off, at a loss for words.
No room for argument.
So, softly, she murmured a name.
"...The Olfactory Officer looked really upset."
Immediately, the pitiful soul from thirty minutes ago flashed in my mind—the one defeated in rock-paper-scissors.
- Nooooooo!!!!
A werewolf tearing at his hair and rolling on the floor.
- Why'd you throw scissors there, you idiot!!!
I'd never seen him wail so desperately.
Anyone would think he'd lost his life savings.
And fatefully, the two sharing his lot were his and the Gustatory Officer's direct attendants.
'Karma from your early unauthorized quits. Be grateful it's not a full moon.'
"It was his fate."
"You're cold."
"The Olfactory Officer was the fool for throwing scissors."
"..."
The world of competition is ruthless.
A brief silence returned.
How long had we walked when I spoke again?
"Erzena."
"Yes?"
"Before heading straight home... how about dinner?"
I scratched my cheek.
"Ah, my place is still a mess... not ideal for eating there."
It was 6:30 now—dinnertime, stomach rumbling.
But serving a guest in a dusty house is poor manners.
The southern border lacked big nightlife districts, but it had plenty of historic buildings and shops.
Family-run eateries passed down generations—reliable spots.
"I know a good place. Care to join?"
Erzena pondered my offer.
"Hm... sure. Sounds good. It's been a while, and I need to learn the southern border layout anyway... wait."
She muttered to herself, then suddenly widened her eyes and yelped at me.
"W-wait, are you asking me to dinner? J-just the two of us!?"
Divine power fluctuated wildly around her.
"It's too late to call others, so just us should be fine."
She panicked even more at my calm reply.
"O-okay! Yes! Just the two of... us! Let's eat!"
With that, she strode ahead briskly.
Her sudden enthusiasm made me blink.
Working at the office is rubbing off on her.
"Not that way—this way."
"Oh."
- Creak.
Moments later, as I opened the door to a certain eatery, a lively girl's voice rang out.
"Welcome! Table for how many?"
The place I'd brought her to was a tavern near the border.
A regular haunt for the Auditory and Tactile Officers.
In the bustling crowd, I raised my voice.
"Two."
"Oh? Central Officer! Long time no see!"
"It's been a while. Had some time, so came for a meal."
"This way, then!"
The girl who recognized me nodded brightly.
Dragging out a drunk elf so often had made us familiar.
As I moved to the guided seat,
She spotted Erzena behind me and pointed to the opposite side.
"Ah, sorry! This is a couple's booth. Over here instead!"
I shook my head.
"No, it's a misunderstanding—"
"I-it's, it's ri-right! A couple! Young man and woman! Just two!"
Erzena cut me off in a fluster and plopped into the couple's booth.
"..."
As I stared silently, her slightly flushed face muttered,
"...This seat's bigger, so just go with it."
We sat in the couple's booth and ordered.
The food was excellent.
I refused the pork recommended by the server for some reason—it just felt off.
Instead, the chicken barbecue and cheese bread were the best I'd had lately.
"Haa... so full..."
Erzena sighed deeply, having cleaned her plate.
"Glad you're satisfied."
"We'll come here often. Nice place."
Relaxed now, she leaned back with a happy smile. I chuckled.
"Erzena."
"Yes?"
"Thank you. A bit late, but thanks again for helping me."
I could thank her a hundred times and it wouldn't be enough.
Not just the trial, but in so many other ways.
The Evil God Cult matter—we'd have noticed much later without her.
"Maybe your staying at my place was real luck."
Was it the full stomach, or loosened tension?
I shared my honest feelings.
Erzena bowed her head.
"...Hey."
A voice barely audible.
"If you're that grateful... can I ask one favor...?"
I nodded readily.
"Anything within my discretion."
"Can you let me... call you by name?"
"Pardon?"
"Y-you don't call me Saintess anymore, you use my name. So I should too now... right...?"
She slowly met my eyes.
"It'd be... okay... right?"
Her gaze mixed subtle expectation and inexplicable shyness.
Fair point.
Titles fit official settings, but private or at home? Awkward.
And I'd already been using her name.
No reason to refuse.
"Very well. Try it."
"H-here?"
"This is private too."
"Ugh..."
She narrowed her eyes at me.
Slowly, she parted her lips.
"Na, Nyad..."
She bit her tongue.
"Nathan. Again."
"I know! ...N-Nathan."
Erzena's cheeks burned bright red as she said my name.
And for some reason, the tavern felt a bit hot.
Must be my imagination.