Memories Become Thorns (1)

A few hours later, inside a conference room at the Immigration Management Bureau.

Though the sun was slowly sinking toward evening, unlike the dimly lit offices, the conference room shimmered with a resplendent golden aura.

On the plaque by the door hung a newly minted name, one that looked like it had been hastily produced.

It was a department newly established when Erzena began reporting for duty at the Immigration Management Bureau — a place where anyone worn in body and mind, anyone crushed beneath overwork and job stress, could come to receive the golden light of her divine power.

The Central Officer had insisted, again and again, that it wasn't necessary, but under Erzena's determined lobbying he had finally conceded, and she now occupied the post openly and proudly.

Thanks to her, sick-leave requests at the Bureau had dropped to a tenth of what they'd been — the results were that dramatic. By now, if she were absent, everyone struggled simply to begin their day.

It was in front of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this Recovery Room that Erzena stood, wearing an expression of rare bewilderment.

"Oh..."

Because Elaine had come to visit.

"I-I didn't expect you to come here."

She stammered, uncharacteristically flustered.

Elaine now lived under the same roof as her, but she had never imagined a visit from the one person she still hadn't managed to close any distance with.

It wasn't unwelcome. But it wasn't something she could entirely welcome either — the distance between them remained. And a few hours ago, things had grown a touch awkward between them, to boot.

She was definitely with Nathan just a little while ago.

She had seen it through the window while tending to the aides who had collapsed from overwork — Nathan leading her out of the Bureau.

At the time, she'd assumed he was simply taking her out for a stroll.

And yet the young woman before her now seemed even more despondent and cowed than when Erzena had first met her.

What on earth did they do out there...?

A faint, sour feeling stirred in her stomach.

It's not as though he went off alone with her without saying a word to me. Not that it matters. It doesn't. At all.

"What brings you here?"

Recovering her composure as best she could, Erzena asked the question while swiftly scanning the girl's condition with her eyes.

No wounds, as far as I can tell.

Thankfully, it didn't appear to be an injury — if it had been, the entire border would already have been in an uproar. All there was to see was a bit of dust clinging to her deeply drawn hood.

Elaine slowly parted her lips.

"...Uuh."

A tone that sounded almost apologetic. But no words followed — only a faint mumbling.

Erzena's face flashed with alarm.

"Oh — forgive me. You can't speak, can you."

She had forgotten for a moment: that a tragic accident had left the girl with aphasia.

It was then that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Gustatory Officer, who had accompanied Elaine, spoke up.

"The Central Officer instructed us to bring her to you."

"Nathan did?"

At this wholly unexpected message, Erzena tilted her head. Why would the Central Officer bring the girl to her — to someone with whom they had barely exchanged a proper word?

"Did he truly tell you to bring her to me?"

The Gustatory Officer nodded.

"Yes. He said that if anyone could be trusted with her, it was you, Lady Erzena. He asked that you stay by her side for a little while..."

At those words, the corners of Erzena's mouth curled upward of their own accord.

Nathan said he trusted me.

It had been a brief sentence, but within it she felt the weight of profound confidence.

In all the time she had known him, Nathan had said the word trust only twice.

The first was when he promised to testify before the court and stand against the Pope himself.

The second was when he came face to face with the Black Hand's master during the Using-Barbarians-to-Fight-Barbarians operation.

And this would be the third.

When a man entrusts something to a woman — places his faith in her — that is never a light thing. It is the kind of words exchanged only between those truly close, truly deep in one another's confidence. For the Central Officer to entrust a princess he cared for that much was, in effect, a declaration that she already dwelt entirely within his heart.

"That man, honestly..."

Her voice softened in an instant. The tension melted from Erzena's face, and a faint flush of red rose to her cheeks.

"Come in."

Elaine peered up at her through the gap in her hood. Golden eyes met green. The girl gave a small nod.

There were two prisons in the Margrave of Reyes's domain.

One was the underground cell within the Count's castle, where those who committed crimes within the territory were held. The other was the tower prison, where those arrested directly by the Border Defense Force were taken.

The place I was heading for now was the latter.

Thud. Thud.

Small golems, each the size of a grown man, guarded the entrance. Upon seeing me, they crossed their spears to bar the door.

"Guardians, thank you for your service. I am Nathan Kell, Central Officer."

The guard golems took a moment to verify me and those behind me.

The golems withdrew their spears and opened the gate. We passed through and climbed to the third floor.

Cell 24, at the very end of the corridor, was sealed shut behind a heavy iron door that looked solid at a glance.

"Here we are, Central Officer."

"Let's go straight in."

Creeeak.

As the Olfactory Officer pulled open the iron door, six mercenaries sitting slumped on the cell floor, hands bound, squinted against the light.

"Damn it, what now?"

"We keep telling you, we don't know anything!"

"Hey, it's that bastard from earlier!"

"What? Where? Oh, for the love of..."

A chorus of curses greeted me. I offered my greeting to the largest of them — Crain.

"We meet again, Mr. Crain."

"Get lost. I've got nothing to say to you."

The reply was curt and surly. But the moment he saw the two figures filing in behind me, his eyes went wide and he shouted in disbelief.

"Th-the Olfactory Officer!? And the Auditory Officer too...?"

At that, the two officers took their places at my side and spoke.

"Hm. It seems we've grown rather famous, Auditory Officer — even these stray mercenary riffraff know our faces."

"Apparently. Though perhaps it's less that we're famous and more that they know us well — not as mere mercenaries, but as professional smugglers."

The Olfactory Officer, master of raw strength. The Auditory Officer, mistress of magic.

If this were a simple interrogation, I could have come alone. After all, these men were bound hand and foot, and the golem guards would be watching them throughout. But there was a reason I had brought these two with me.

Intimidation.

To mercenaries, the presence of a two-meter werewolf and an elf fluent in magic was a burden in and of itself.

Scrape.

I dragged a chair from the corner, sat down in front of the men, and spoke.

"It appears you've had time to cool your heads, so I'd like to ask a few questions now."

I put the first question to them.

"Did you know that Elaine was here?"

"...Elaine? Who's that?"

Crain shot the question back at me as though he'd never heard the name in his life.

"Is she your girlfriend or something?"

"...If she were, you'd be in very serious trouble."

It was then that Matthew, in the back, furrowed his brow and muttered.

"I've heard that name somewhere before... Elaine... MacBeth? No wait, Elaine Cas... Casto..."

About five seconds later.

"N-no way... Princess Elaine Castor!?"

A scream of pure shock reverberated through the cell.

"What!? What the hell did you just say!?"

Crain froze, jolted upright by the outburst.

"Hey, is that true? A princess was actually here!?"

"..."

I held my silence. It didn't merit an answer.

They had tried to activate an unapproved artifact in the presence of the princess. This was no longer mere terrorism. It was terror with the intent to assassinate a princess.

And so this interrogation would be handled with the utmost gravity.

Reading the truth in my unresponsive face, Crain shook his head violently.

"W-we didn't know! I swear we didn't! That idiot Matthew went berserk all on his own—"

"This officer swore a single oath, four years ago."

Cutting through the pathetic excuse, I murmured quietly.

"That though I lacked power, though I held low station, though I was young in years, never again would I close my eyes. That no criminal organization, no matter what it was, would be permitted to operate in the South."

I gestured toward the door, and the Auditory Officer drew a rune glyph on the wall, reciting quietly as she traced it.

At once, a muffled pressure settled over everyone's eardrums — that thick, blocked feeling, as though we had climbed to a high mountain altitude.

Complete soundproofing magic. From this moment on, no one outside would hear a single word exchanged in this cell.

Not even the screams.

"And yet you came here to break that very oath."

Memories lodge themselves as thorns. And they are never, ever pulled out. You dug into them all over again.

"Smuggling. Attempted terror. And on top of that — you went so far as to try to murder the princess."

I lowered my voice.

"You crossed the line."

The line that must never be crossed — and they had crossed it right in front of us.

They dug up the past, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clawed open the present, and very nearly erased the future. They reignited the princess's trauma. Even my plan — to show her the bright side of the world, to a girl who had seen nothing but its cruelty — had been thrown into disarray.

They would pay for that.

"Th-the princess — you're the one who said her name first!"

One of the mercenaries shouted desperately.

"We didn't know! We didn't, I swear! Why the hell would a princess be here and not in the castle!?"

"That is irrelevant. What matters is that the princess was here."

It made no difference whether they had known of Elaine's existence or not. Attempting to trigger an unapproved artifact in her presence was a grave crime in itself. These men would never be forgiven.

"And one more thing."

But the charges were not yet exhausted.

"The fact that the princess is in the South is a secret that only a handful of people are permitted to know."

A royal decree must be upheld. And now you had learned of it. Another justification had been built — a justification why you could not be allowed to live.

"Y-you're insane... you came here planning to kill us from the start..."

One of the mercenaries muttered, his will utterly broken. I didn't deny it.

"Y-you're an Immigration Officer! You don't have the authority to do this!"

Crain cried out, voice cracking with desperation.

"I know how it works — you civil servants have to act within your posts! What you're doing right now is an abuse of power!"

He wasn't wrong. Interrogations accompanied by force were not sanctioned for Immigration Officers. They were meant to be conducted verbally, and only in a non-adversarial setting.

Well, well. He'd clearly done a bit of homework.

"Watch your mouth, before I rip it off your face."

The Olfactory Officer bared his claws and flashed his fangs. I raised a hand to restrain him, then spoke.

"You are correct. This officer has no such authority. However, I do know of a department that does. Auditory Officer?"

"Yes. One moment, please."

The Auditory Officer brought in someone who had been standing outside the cell.

"Allow me to introduce Agent R."

It was the Intelligence Department agent who had worked alongside us on the Using-Barbarians-to-Fight-Barbarians operation. I had heard he was still active in the South, so I'd asked him to come.

"An a-agent? Don't tell me — an agent of a state agency?"

At the trembling question, Agent R looked down on the men with a face carved from stone.

"So these are the scum who tried to assassinate Her Highness the Princess."

"Yes."

"Nothing much to look at. Let's begin at once, Central Officer."

"Very good."

A brief exchange. I rose from my seat and cleared my throat.

"As of this moment, with an Intelligence Department agent in attendance, the interrogation shall commence. Before we begin — does the Intelligence Department consent to all actions taken under the interrogation procedures of the Immigration Management Bureau?"

The agent nodded without a flicker of hesitation.

"I consent."

"Authority has been delegated."

The Intelligence Department had approved. What that meant was simple: everything done from this point forward would be regarded as interrogation, and recognized as legitimate procedure.

There was no shield left to protect you now.

The moment the mercenaries grasped that fact, their faces drained bone-white.

"Olfactory Officer."

"Yes."

The werewolf had been waiting for this very moment.

"Begin the interrogation. Let's wring every last thing out of them — not one detail spared."

A low growl rolled through the cell. The Auditory Officer closed the door.

Creeeak.

"N-no! No! Nooooo!!!"

"I'll talk! I'll tell you everything, just—!!!"

Just before the door shut, terrified screams burst out alongside a wolf's roar.

SLAM.

But the instant the door closed, only silence remained in the underground prison. No one would hear what happened here. No one would see it.

For these men — who sought to pile tragedy atop tragedy — no mercy would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be shown.

No seed of unease could be allowed to take root at the border. By any means necessary.

Thirty minutes later, in a park outside the prison.

The interrogation had concluded, and concluded splendidly. The bodies would be handled by the golems and the Intelligence Department. Whatever the interrogation had yielded would be dealt with jointly alongside them, and no record would remain.

Our work here was done.

Shhhhh.

At the water fountain, the Olfactory Officer washed his hands in silence. The blood and flecks of flesh dried beneath his claws finally came loose and slipped away from him.

"..."

Ever since the interrogation ended, he had been unnaturally quiet.

"Thank you for your work, Blaszek Winterfang."

For the first time in a long while, I spoke the werewolf's name aloud.

"Head inside and rest now. You may clock out early."

It was an unprecedented courtesy, and I offered it first.

After drying his hands completely, the Olfactory Officer burst into hearty laughter, without a trace of surprise.

"Hahaha, no need. I'll just stay put and head out with everyone else."

"..."

At that, the Auditory Officer and I exchanged looks of deepening concern.

To a werewolf, violence was second nature. Blood excited them, and bursts of wild instinct that bordered on the uncontrollable were a perfectly natural phenomenon. But what he had shown us just now was somehow different.

Somehow... crueler. Threatening to the point of excess.

The blood that had splattered all the way to the ceiling was still vivid in my eyes. I had held out and kept watching, but in the end I couldn't bear it and left the cell first.

I know why he did it.

Smuggling was not a sore spot that belonged to me alone.

You — you could show a different path than Gerard did.

I could have stopped it. I could have stopped it... and yet, I...

...Give me a chance to make things right. No — please, give me one!

For him as well, smuggling was bound up with his own past sins. The mistakes he had committed in the old days must have flashed before his eyes. He was a man who could never forgive the years he spent serving under Gerard — and so he had dealt with the mercenaries more savagely than usual.

"At the very least, something like this should be done by this officer's own hands."

The Olfactory Officer murmured in a low voice.

"That's what I promised, after all."

Pat, pat.

Without a word, the Auditory Officer patted him on the shoulder.

"It's all right. You've already paid more than your share. Rene forgave you too, remember?"

"...Thank you, Sen."

These two, who had guarded the Immigration Management Bureau even longer than I had, stared down at the water from the fountain for a long while and said nothing. I simply watched them quietly.

Everyone carries painful memories. For these two as well, the tragedy of four years ago remained lodged like a thorn.

Before long, the Olfactory Officer's voice returned to its usual brightness, and he changed the subject.

"What will you do now?"

At his question, I recalled the scream Crain had let out.

A d-dragon — they said they were going to catch a dragon! That they needed artifacts to do it! That's all I know!

That terrified scream had been no lie. And yet even so, he had never answered who had said it.

I don't know... please, spare me...

Words spat out because he truly didn't know.

"Catching a dragon, hm..."

It gnawed at me. Who on earth would attempt such madness?

Dragons were a race wrought of time, magic, and might — the apex of all species, beings who lived a thousand years.

Hunting such a creature is next to impossible.

Just as no one could defeat time itself, there was no way to kill a dragon save time itself — at least, as far as I knew.

And yet someone had been willing to go so far as to smuggle contraband to make it happen. They had shown a commitment thorough enough to prepare unapproved artifacts in bulk. This was not a matter that could be waved aside — and it was far beyond what our Bureau alone had the power to resolve.

Then I should report the artifact business while I'm at it, and speak with someone who knows dragons well.

Besides, I still needed to request the proper handling of the Blood Diamond the dwarf had brought in. I recalled the department best suited to all of this and spoke.

"Connect me with the Royal Magic Academy."

While I was at it, there were a few things I wanted to ask about the princess's abilities as well.

"I should have a word with the Academy Head."

The Auditory Officer's eyes sparkled instantly.

"Ahh. With our dear junior, you mean?"