I'm Just a Civil Servant (3)
As always, once the chaos had died down, us civil servants had to clock back in. I handled complaints like usual, pushing things forward with a bit of persuasion or the occasional verbal tussle.
"My words don't even sound human to you?!"
Our troublemaker—no, our complainant—was fuming.
"S-Sorry!"
I squeezed my eyes shut and apologized first. It wasn't my fault at all, but that didn't matter. The priority was calming them down and getting the work done somehow.
After about thirty minutes of back-and-forth, the complainant finally stormed out of City Hall, grumbling under their breath.
"Haaah..."
Mentally exhausting. I slumped back in my chair like I was collapsing into bed.
"Yufir, here—have some coffee."
Then the guy at the next desk handed me a mug filled with steaming coffee.
"Huh? Oh, uh, th-thank you."
Catching me off guard, I took it and bowed my head deeply. This was the first time someone I'd only ever glanced at had actually spoken to me directly.
"Thanks so much for what you did the other day."
"Pardon?"
"You stepped up and fought in our place."
"Oh... that time."
Truth be told, I didn't really want to dredge up those memories. Sure, the cheers and applause from everyone had felt great, but the sensation of slicing through that man's neck was still vivid in my hands.
"H-How's your thigh doing?"
"Yeah, I know a healer who works at a major hospital, so it healed right up. They said as long as I avoid overdoing it for a while, it'll be fine."
"That's such a relief..."
A world with healing magic really was something else. Crazy expensive, sure, but a stab wound from a blade could heal in days.
Why can't they use that tech on mana sickness, though?
Negative thoughts crept in immediately. Even if they had amazing tech like that, it probably cost a fortune no average person could afford. Mana sickness was a continent-wide epidemic, and there still wasn't any news of a cure. They were just developing ways to slow the symptoms bit by bit.
"Ughhh, I hope nothing scary like that ever happens again."
I gulped down the coffee.
"Tell me about it."
The guy nodded with an empathetic look.
"Oh, right—Yufir, have you been called in yet?"
"Huh? For what?"
He lowered his voice and leaned in close.
"Word is, Central Intelligence Agency agents are here at City Hall, interviewing us one by one."
"Central Intelligence Agency?"
I'd never heard of them.
He glanced around slyly before continuing. "Yeah, apparently they're the group that investigates and responds to incidents across the Empire—and the whole continent. My brother says they're super secretive. He's in the Central Knights."
"Whoa, knights!"
"One of my bragging rights."
I didn't know much about the Intelligence Agency, but knights? Those were the cool fighters from my fantasies who wielded aura. Newspapers occasionally ran stories about the Sword Saint slaying demons or driving off monsters. Reading that stuff made you admire them, want to be like them... but nah, that life was way too far from someone like me.
Clack, clack.
Then came the sound of dress shoes. A tall man strode past our desks. He had a cigarette dangling casually from his lips, dark stubble on his jaw, and he was wearing a familiar suit.
Isn't that one from our shop?
Dad ran a tailor shop, so I could spot our signature lining and patterns. He scanned us coolly, then doubled back and stopped right in front of me.
Why does he keep stopping in front of me!
PTSD hit out of nowhere.
"Your name, miss?"
"M-Me?"
"Yes. I'm speaking to you."
He was staring right at me.
"Yufir Seijina..."
"Seijina, Seijina. Rings a bell."
"That suit... You had it tailored at Seijina's Suits, right?"
His eyes widened at that.
"Yes, that's right."
"My dad's the owner."
"Ahh... I see."
He nodded, then fixed me with a long stare.
"Even so... a person like this?"
I could hear his mutter perfectly.
"Anyway, could you come with me? We're interviewing City Hall staff one by one."
"O-Okay..."
It was a small meeting room tucked away inside. Hardly used these days, so it felt more like a storage closet.
"Yufir Seijina."
"Y-Yes!"
I snapped to attention, clasping my tiny hands tightly on my lap.
"Pfft, why so tense?"
"J-Just... feeling uneasy..."
"Relax. I'm not here to pin any crimes on you."
He showed me a metal badge with a relaxed tone. It even had his name and title: Team Leader, Edwin Urbanite.
"I'm Edwin from the Central Intelligence Agency. We're tracking the terrorists from that incident, but something caught my interest, so I stuck around. Just a few questions—nothing to stress over."
"Ah..."
Good, just an interview. I scratched my cheek with an awkward smile, feeling silly for getting worked up.
Edwin chuckled along, then suddenly plunked a bloodstained machete on the table.
"Did you use this?"
"Huh?"
My brain short-circuited for a second, and I shook my head wildly on reflex.
"N-Nooo! I didn't use that one!"
My face twitched like crazy. I tried to play it cool, but failed miserably, brushing my hair aside to avoid his gaze.
"Ahaha..."
"Ahaha!"
Edwin laughed and nodded.
"Got it. Not this one, huh?"
He echoed my exact words, emphasizing them. That's when it hit me—I'd slipped up big time. What he really wanted to know wasn't the tool, but the act itself.
"...Uh."
I hung my head in despair. Was I done for?
"Ahaha, no need for that face. I already heard from your colleagues—you took down the serial killer Pogus."
"Am I... g-getting arrested?!"
Emotions surged, tears spilling out unbidden. I didn't want to cry, but my body reacted on its own.
Edwin shot to his feet, waving his hands in a panic.
"No, no! Far from it—we should be praising you. What are you talking about? Come on, stop, stop! Yufir, you're no criminal."
Thank goodness he soothed me.
"P-Praise...?"
"Yeah. Those guys were marked for summary execution the moment they broke out. No crime in killing them."
"So... you're not taking me in...?"
Edwin paused at that, then flashed a grin.
"Why won't you just say yes?!"
"There's a reason I asked."
He placed a knife on the table—this time, it was my folding knife, the one I'd actually used.
"Did you decapitate Pogus with this?"
"...Yes."
I sniffled and answered. No point hiding it now. Honestly, I was more curious why he was digging into the details.
"How'd you do it?"
"Well—"
Would he even believe what really happened? The grayscale world, the red lines. Time frozen while I alone could think and move. And that it came from a game mod installed alongside the game itself... Yeah, way too unnecessary to mention.
After a moment's thought, I decided to share just enough—only what he seemed to want to know.
"My body moved on its own."
"On its... own?"
"Yeah, I get why you'd doubt it."
"Fascinating. Tell me more?"
Surprisingly, Edwin didn't dismiss it.
Is this kind of thing common?
I gathered my thoughts and spoke calmly. "How should I put it? The second that pervert got right in my face—zap! It was like electricity surged through me. I dodged the attack without thinking... whoosh! And then... slice! He just dropped."
No lies there. Saying it out loud, it didn't even feel like I was hiding much. My description was vague, sure, but everything was true.
"What happened after?"
"After?"
"Yeah, any pain or anything?"
"Oh... I got this massive wave of exhaustion. My legs gave out completely—couldn't even stand. My coworkers had to carry me back to my place."
Edwin's expression softened, nodding repeatedly.
"Mana depletion."
"Mana? Me?"
"Yep. Classic aftereffects of overusing mana. And it was from your actions."
He spoke like he'd been right there, piecing it together from my words alone.
"When did you start handling knives?"
"Never... not once."
His eyes went wide.
"For real?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"That's impossible—"
Edwin rubbed his chin, glancing between the knife and me. He tilted his head a few times, deep in thought. Then, as if he'd reached a conclusion, he leaned forward, staring straight through me.
"You know how sometimes, very rarely, people are born blessed? They call it a Gift."
He was implying it was me.
"I was sure when I saw Pogus's severed neck. If someone who's never touched a blade their whole life can do that in one swing... imagine what you'd achieve with proper training."
Saying that, he stood and offered a handshake.
"Ever thought about joining the Agency? You'd make an excellent agent, Yufir. You're blessed, after all."
For a split second, a halo seemed to glow behind Edwin. So damn cool. Like some hotshot pulling up in a sports car, drifting to a stop, popping the door, and going, "Hop in! I'll explain later!"
This was the first time I felt like the protagonist in this dark fantasy world.
"Haha... ahaha!"
"Hahaha!"
"Ow, nooo!"
I burst out of the meeting room, slamming the door.
"Yufir! Just think it over one more—"
"I-I'm too much of a coward for that!"
"You'll get used to it in time—"
"I once passed out on a field trip after hearing that! I sleep with all the lights on, got insomnia for a month after one horror movie, and I use plastic knives for cooking 'cause real ones scare me!"
I'd have to lose my mind before becoming an Agency agent. Just hearing they track escapees screamed danger—and putting someone like me on a team? That'd be a tragedy for everyone involved!
For my sake and anyone I'd meet in the future, I had to refuse.
"But your talent might even surpass the Sword Saint—"
Edwin was mid-sentence when—
Riiiing!
The rotary phone among the staff blared loudly. The coworker who answered glanced at me after a brief talk.
"Yufir..."
"Yes?"
"Call from the hospital."
Mom was in critical condition.