The Dreamer Who Scatters Red Blood - 2
Having subordinates instead of working alone has its advantages. Naturally, I don't have to move myself—I can simply wait for the reports. It feels rather like setting auto-hunt and then sitting down to eat; comfortable enough.
That comfortable advantage, however, can flip into a fatal drawback. Sit still long enough and something will blow up that makes you mutter, "No way, a Cthulhu over there?" Doing it yourself is a hassle, yet the urge to give advice surges all the same.
"I can't do it."
"What?"
Caught in that dilemma, the former Section Chief of Division Two—now Mr. Charles—arrived at a miraculous solution. If the boss finds the report frustrating, simply show him nothing at all.
No cause, no effect. Truly an answer I never imagined. This guy's actually insane.
"What the hell have you been doing until now?"
Section Chief Two had evolved into Charles, and looking at the state he was in now, it had been three days since the regression. Not that long a stretch, yet given his usual drive he should already have started something and more.
Moreover, with the Red Wave liable to crash down at any moment, the faster we moved the better. And he had wasted three whole days for nothing?
Disguising himself as a graduate student…
Had his actual substance also dropped to graduate-student level? How far have you fallen, Mr. Charles.
The moment that thought grew serious, Section Chief Two's expression turned subtle. He seemed well aware of how embarrassing the situation was.
"Miss Christina simply will not let me go."
At those unexpected words my thoughts stopped cold.
"That bad?"
"Yes."
The firm answer left me the embarrassed one instead. I knew Christina cherished her long-awaited junior, yet I never imagined she would hold Section Chief Two back this thoroughly.
He's not even a real junior.
Section Chief Two was neither Charles nor an assistant teacher, nor someone who would remain permanently in the laboratory.
In fact he was older than Christina. When they forged the identity they had casually knocked a few years off his age as well…
"What am I supposed to do? Once I think of her as the Minister's niece, I can't exactly force my way out."
At the oddly enlightened complaint I found myself rubbing my chin for no reason. It was a relief he wasn't doing anything foolish with Christina, yet the situation had gone so far that he was doing nothing whatsoever.
"I'll pull you out myself, so move then."
After a moment's thought I offered the simple solution. If the fellow couldn't free himself under his own power, I would have to extract him.
Even so, when an auditor came looking Christina would hardly pull a "Hehe, you can't leave!" Having to go through the process was annoying, but there was no help for it.
"Understood."
Seeming reassured by my words, his subtle expression softened a little.
Interesting.
I was so used to seeing only his sly, dog-like antics that this was a novel sight. Even if she was the Minister's niece, to be cornered like that?
It wasn't merely a difference in bloodline; there might be a compatibility issue as well. Truly curious.
The moment the communication cut off I headed straight for the laboratory and collected Section Chief Two. Making the department head move in person—what an insolent little section chief.
"I'm sorry. I have something I need to discuss with him briefly."
"Haha, it's quite all right. Don't feel burdened—take him whenever you like."
Fortunately Gerhardt handed Section Chief Two over without the slightest protest. Since the man had been placed there at my request, Gerhardt apparently saw no issue with me borrowing him for a short while.
Christina, however, stared after Section Chief Two with eyes full of regret; I deliberately ignored it. If she looked for all the world like a mother bird watching her egg stolen right in front of her, that was surely just my imagination.
"Phew…"
The instant we put distance between ourselves and the laboratory, Section Chief Two exhaled a deep sigh.
"Was it that rough?"
"Just sitting still was torture."
The way he shuddered as he answered my casual question left quite an impression.
"If she'd dumped work on me or acted annoying I could at least have pushed back, but she was so full of goodwill I had no way to handle it."
Three days of mental suffering must have been severe; once Section Chief Two's mouth opened it refused to close again.
If there had been plenty of work he would at least have had a legitimate reason to finish and leave. If she had behaved like a dog he was confident he could have returned it in kind.
But the moment he so much as twitched a finger she would rush over and firmly reseat him—something he simply could not get used to. For a while he had half-believed he was a sugar-glass human whose body would shatter at the slightest movement.
Overprotection.
Listening to Section Chief Two's heartfelt testimony, the word rose unbidden. No matter how I looked at it, it was overprotection—the sort one might show a child born late in life.
…A junior met late in life; roughly the same category, I supposed.
"I specially extracted you, so work hard."
I tidied away the thoughts that had begun to wander in a strange direction and gave Section Chief Two a couple of solid pats on the back. The boss had put in the effort; the subordinate ought to repay it.
"Anyway, if I weren't here the department head would have had to run around himse—"
"Shut it."
Don't you dare win with facts like a coward.
Whether from the sheer joy of breathing outside air after three days, Section Chief Two dove into the job at once.
Is it even work?
I had spoken of auto-hunting and giving advice, yet Section Chief Two's actual duties were, at a glance, impossible to distinguish. So I simply trusted that he would handle it well.
On the surface it looked as though he were merely wandering here and there, yet he always brought back exactly the information we needed. That, I supposed, was what a true informant looked like.
"Division Two really ought to be in the Intelligence Department, not Audit."
"Then you'd have to go there too. You think Division One is any different?"
Besides, Audit needed its own information network if we were to move freely. It was a pain to beg Intelligence for cooperation every single time.
I casually batted back Section Chief One's remark and drained the water in front of me. The cold liquid going down seemed to settle me a little.
Why does this one always show up at this hour?
Suppressing the sigh that tried to escape, I glanced sideways at Section Chief One. Coming to the dormitory every single night—what was this about?
Contrary to my earlier fears, she had never once come to hang around the clubroom. I had even been touched, thinking she had no intention of bothering me.
"Department Head! I'm here!"
Not a chance. Not the clubroom—the dormitory. This kid seemed to take genuine pleasure in defying my expectations.
"Go back."
"Eeeing, that's so mean! I came all this way to hang out!"
"Enough. Go back."
What kind of subordinate turns up at her superior's dormitory in the middle of the night just to play? Even if a boss did that to a subordinate it would be horrific. Was this reverse harassment or something?
Yet I could not defeat Section Chief One's whining and ended up letting her inside. My lot in life was something else.
Maybe this is better.
I forced myself to think positively. Section Chief One's face was relatively well-known, so it was preferable that no one even knew she had come.
Better this than having her barge into the clubroom and stir everything up. Yes… this was better…
"Eat more of this."
"Wow! Thank you!"
While my happiness circuit burned at full throttle I pushed the bread I had set aside toward Section Chief One.
Originally Luise had baked it for her, but since Section Chief One never so much as showed her face at the clubroom, I had ended up with it.
She eats well.
I watched blankly as Section Chief One worked her way through the bread. Was "om-nyom-nyom" the onomatopoeia one used at moments like this?
At the sight of the department head nonchalantly pushing the bread over, the corners of my mouth lifted. Exactly the reaction I had expected.
He's the type who says no if he truly doesn't like something.
Of course, merely grumbling "I don't want it" out of formality was the exception. He would do that a few times and then accept everything in the end. If he genuinely disliked something, he showed it with actions rather than words.
A unique personality. Pushing people away first even though he was going to accept them eventually was hardly ordinary.
Good for me, though.
That side of him was cute, like a younger sibling going through puberty. If not for moments like these I would never even remember that the department head was younger than me.
Still, because I could roughly guess the origin of that unique personality, I could not simply be happy. It was almost certainly a trait born from the affair of the 6 Swords.
Everyone he had held precious had left him, so he no longer wanted to form new bonds; yet he could not bring himself to ignore others completely, because the memories of those days still ached.
I don't need to know this.
The nature of my work had uselessly sharpened my ability to read hearts. I had no desire to peek into the department head's, of all people's.
"What is it?"
I must have been staring too hard; the department head spoke gruffly.
"You should eat some too, Department Head. Here!"
I forcibly hauled up the mood that had been sinking little by little. I could not allow myself to look gloomy in front of him. Showing the face of a cheerful colleague was always best.
"I gave it to you, so why are you giving it ba—"
"Here!"
I shoved the bread into the mouth of the department head who was about to make a useless refusal; he cursed me with his eyes, then obediently opened his mouth.
"It's good, right?"
Somehow it felt as though I were feeding a lover, and that made me quietly proud.
Even the princess hadn't managed to feed him like this yet, had she? The department head disliked having others do things he was perfectly capable of doing himself.
You needed a relationship like mine—two years of laughing and crying together—before you could play around like this. Yes.
"Bread is bread no matter wher—"
"Have one more!"
I sealed the mouth of this unromantic department head with another piece of bread before he could finish the dry remark.
So good…
I was simply so happy that laughter kept slipping out. This time alone with the department head.
Of course there had been plenty of occasions when the two of us were alone because of work—inside the Audit Department office, during the last Third Glory incident as well.
But sharing bread like this felt like enjoying a cozy little date.
I should make it as painless as possible.
The Red Wave aiming at the Academy, the spies already nested inside. Without them, this opportunity would never have existed.
Letting them go was of course impossible. Doing so would only earn the department head's hatred.
So I would send them off as gently as I could, without unnecessary pain. I had packed the anesthetic carefully; it should be fine.
The moment I tried to open my mouth, Section Chief One shoved more bread in. If I closed it she simply pressed until I opened again.
This was food torture. What the hell was she doing to her superior?
Does it not taste good?
Watching her keep dumping it on me even raised a reasonable suspicion. No—if it was her bread I usually ate pretty much anything…
…Well, maybe she was just full.