The Golden Bell Rings Again
Fraudster.
Scammer.
One morning, I found myself under investigation in the Gilorian Empire for these very crimes.
Zeo Blood, first-grade prosecutor at the Capital Defense Command.
That’s me.
Fortunately, the investigation didn’t last long.
No substantial evidence was found against the report.
No video recordings. No witnesses.
All that existed was the identical testimony of thirty-two victims claiming I had skimmed the fare.
“It’s really not true.”
I showed them my asset records and activity history, recorded exactly as they would appear in a police statement.
Thankfully, Deputy Chief Prosecutor Federer was thorough. He said he would conduct a follow-up investigation.
“Sir, a mental evaluation may be necessary. I’ll request your attendance again, so please cooperate.”
I nodded and left the police station.
Originally, poking the big shots meant nothing but trouble.
Seized during a tax-evasion raid, now under internal investigation for taking bribes.
That was bearable, I thought.
But an under-the-radar bounty hunter walking around the streets skimming fares?
If I were a member of a major economic crime ring or some massive cartel, maybe.
This wasn’t ordinary trash. This was different.
The longer time passed, the more I couldn’t wait for it to resolve itself.
Time to move.
Marian and staff member Piaget were with me as we headed to the scene.
* * *
“Want to see what I can do?”
Slight smile, glass to my lips, head tilted back.
The hot sensation sliding down my throat.
“Senior! How many glasses is this?”
Marian snatched the glass from her mouth.
Behind her, a massive Barbarian laughed, lips smacking as he watched me.
“Not bad?”
“Then I’ll show you something strange this time.”
I stacked the glasses on the table into a tower and poured the liquor down.
Then I lightly flicked my finger toward the topmost glass.
Zip!
A cute, compact bolt of lightning shot from my fingertip, sliding down the tablecloth and painting the surface in vivid colors.
“Senior, you went crazy?”
“Prosecutor, this is a bit…”
The response from our table of model students was lukewarm.
“Whoa! It’s actually decent!”
“Hey human, teach me too!”
“Stack them like that… uh, human. The glass broke.”
“Customer, how many times must I tell you Barbarians aren’t allowed to touch thin glasses?”
The surrounding reactions were overwhelmingly positive.
Excited dungeon hunters slammed their beer mugs down and shouted “One more!”
A wildly excited Barbarian tore off his shirt, and Marian grimaced and leaned back.
Noise, cigarette smoke, music, shouts.
This was enough to drive anyone insane.
“Now, I’ll go.”
After chugging the three stacked glasses, I staggered toward the bartender.
Behind me, the Barbarian and the werewolf who had turned into a wolf howled at the top of their lungs as they followed.
“Hah hah hah hah!”
“This is fun!”
“Auuuu~”
It was absolute chaos.
“Sir, are you all right?”
The bartender asked with worried eyes.
“Totally!”
I grinned and answered briskly.
“Hey, where’d you get that?”
“Little bro? It’s over there.”
“No, not that. I definitely saw it somewhere here.”
My hand flailing wildly was suddenly grabbed by a firm one.
And the sensation that reached my fingertips.
“As expected, Piaget. Here it is.”
With Piaget’s help, I grabbed the thick, golden line and shook it vigorously.
Ding-ding-ding!
“The Golden Bell!”
“Who rang the Golden Bell?”
“Then everything here is free?”
In the noisy tavern, the Golden Bell rang and every magic device and order in the establishment activated simultaneously.
Sparkling magic fireworks bloomed from the ceiling, colorful mist rose from the floor, and every guest’s glass on the table began refilling automatically.
“Allow me to pour. Drink as much as you like!”
I spread my arms on the precarious bar and shouted.
“Hey! What a hot guy!”
“You know how to enjoy yourself?”
“What’s your name? We’d better do a toast!”
Someone asked my name.
Instead of answering, I grinned and stamped my seal.
“One cold lightning-shot for each of you.”
I folded my fingers in a circle and opened them again.
Blue lightning surged to the ceiling and dropped onto the glasses.
Crash!
“Waaah!”
“It’s so much fun today!”
“Lightning… isn’t that Prosecutor Zeo, the one famous for hunting in the labyrinth?”
“I don’t know. Drink up!”
“Hahaha!”
“Today I’m getting drunk!”
Someone had noticed my identity just from the lightning.
Among the people who were simply having fun, a woman glanced at me with a notebook in hand and started approaching, her eyes sparkling.
On the notebook she held was the logo of a broadcasting station.
“Let’s go.”
I gestured at Piaget and Marian.
We finished the bill quickly and left Marian’s business card.
In case the calculation was wrong, I also noted to contact us immediately if anything was amiss.
Right after that, a woman who appeared to be a reporter chased after us.
“Excuse me, just a moment—”
I pretended not to hear.
“Just a moment, are you Prosecutor Zeo Blood? A short interview, please.”
“No.”
“You’ve been under investigation for tax evasion recently, isn’t that true?”
“Wrong person.”
“Were you evading taxes to cover entertainment expenses?”
I waved my hand and kept walking without looking back.
* * *
“Eight million two hundred ninety thousand crams. That bill was huge.”
Piaget muttered while reading the receipt.
It was the bill from the shop where I rang the Golden Bell yesterday.
Wow, you really went for it.
“Staff, isn’t this a bit light for investigation expenses?”
“How am I supposed to handle this as investigation funds? That’s literally tax evasion.”
Piaget’s sharp words made Marian lower her head.
Of course, it was my money.
“So, did you verify it?”
“The tavern owner didn’t recognize your face.”
The reason I caused a stir with outrageous claims at the tavern was that one of the shops that had reported me was there.
Yet the owner who reported me for fare-skipping didn’t even know my face.
“Marian?”
In case the perpetrators of this scheme had some dirt, I searched the scene.
Even after ringing the Golden Bell.
“I ran all the detection magic but found nothing special.”
No traces.
“Then I guess we have to do it again tomorrow.”
“Haa…”
“Looks like we’ll get a hole in the sky.”
“Still, we have to keep going until we find something.”
For five days straight, I visited five restaurants and twenty-seven taverns, ringing the Golden Bell everywhere.
No one recognized me, and no special devices were hidden anywhere.
Instead, rumors were spreading across Clovan City.
If you find a table where someone’s drinking alone while performing some strange show while drunk, you must definitely eat and drink there.
The Golden Bell will ring.
That kind of rumor.
— They say he’s been ringing the Golden Bell nonstop lately?
Freida, the head of the unit, must have heard it too.
“Yes.”
— What’s the plan?
“I just want to sit when I sit and sleep when I sleep. All I have is money and time.”
— Aren’t you working?
“Not for now.”
— Just do something. It’s nothing but an old raccoon’s hoax anyway.”
“If you come to any nearby tavern, please contact me. I’ll treat you to a drink.”
— That doesn’t sound bad.
“Yes, anytime.”
— But soon I expect a report from Mr. Blood in Leopordmang.
“…What?”
— The drunken law judge, the prosecutor’s two faces, high-end tavern and hidden tax-evasion scandal.
Hah! It was a setup, but it’s pretty provocative.
“……”
— I stopped the police investigation article. Just do something moderate.
“Yes, understood.”
Seeing the freelance prosecutor from the Capital Defense Command and the keyword “fare-skipping” were removed, it looked like Freida had already taken action beforehand.
After that, we exchanged only trivial conversation and ended the call.
It seemed there was no further progress from Freida’s side either.
* * *
“Delivery.”
[Fast Delivery. Mom’s taste. Temperature-controlled delivery always available in the pocket dimension. The owner is running over kindly.]
I placed an order from one of the flyers posted in front of the office.
Of course, it was “Nova’s Kitchen,” claiming the highest fare-skipping damage.
The owner who entered waddling with wings neatly folded behind his back began pulling dishes from the pocket dimension.
“Here’s fried chicken and roasted pork vegetable stir-fry. Fire potato and Slime Noodle Fry. And… ah, you ordered everything on the menu.”
The owner introduced himself as Nova and clasped his hands while waiting for the bill.
He blinked his eyes.
“How much?”
“Forty-three thousand crams in total. But are you eating all this in three minutes?”
“No, more customers are coming.”
I handed him my card, and the owner spread his wings and calculated with expert skill.
Observing him closely, he said with familiarity.
“There’s an extra arm at the tip of each wing. One, two, three, four, five, six.”
He lifted all his arms and grinned.
People asked about that a lot.
But my interest wasn’t in his Nova-like arms.
It was his slowly blinking pupils.
“Enjoy your meal. Please leave the dishes in front of the door.”
With fluid grace, he hid his arms and left.
“How am I supposed to eat all this?”
Piaget looked at the endless stack of delivery food and asked.
“Customers will come.”
“Customers?”
“Haa… Looks like reporters have swarmed.”
Marian sighed while watching the noisy people gathering outside the window.
* * *
“You’re constantly throwing parties, is that true?”
“Please make a statement regarding the tax-evasion controversy.”
“There’s a rumor that the elite prosecutor is holding a luxurious party. Could you say something?”
I stood in front of the reporters.
The sharp rods poked at my nose.
Magic wands that could collect long-distance voices, similar in principle to Earth microphones.
“It’s already eleven fifty, so why don’t you eat first?”
“Huh?”
“Aren’t you saying to eat and live? While eating, if you have any questions, I’ll answer everything.”
I led the bewildered reporters up to the office.
“Hee, so much.”
“Nova’s Kitchen is famous as a gourmet spot, but…”
“Still, the office is surprisingly simple.”
The reporters commented one by one while staring at the bowls of food that easily exceeded forty portions on the empty floor.
“Well, though humble, enjoy.”
We sat on the floor and started eating.
Of course, we didn’t just eat.
The journalists’ professionalism was as sharp as on Earth.
“By the way, Prosecutor, is it true you’ve been ringing the Golden Bell all over?”
“It was just a small thank-you to hunters struggling in the labyrinth.”
“I heard it was a high-end tavern.”
“Do you know one-legged Arsi in the three streets ahead? That’s where I rang the Golden Bell.”
“Ah…”
One-legged Arsi was one of the cheap taverns known for generous portions.
“Then, what do you think about the tax-evasion charge?”
“How many times has there been a tax-evasion investigation? I haven’t counted, but every time it ended with no charges.”
“There’s a tip that you received a huge amount from President Demison as a reward for resolving the case. Is that true?”
“Yes, that’s true. It was support for building equipment to capture the murderer in the labyrinth.”
“Ah…”
I answered the reporters’ questions one by one.
As the saying goes, a full stomach changes sharp nerves slightly to round ones.
“We’ll go home satisfied.”
“Prosecutor, hang in there.”
“It’ll be resolved.”
The reporters left with glossy lips.
“Will the article soften tomorrow?”
To Marian’s question, I raised the corner of my mouth.
Maybe…
Would journalists be that easy?
* * *
The next day, the reporters who had gorged on my cooking published articles with the following headlines.
[Leopardo in Hunter Street: Elite Prosecutor’s Monetary Distribution to Hunters.]
[Tax-Evasion Investigation, Not Afraid of Any Number.]
[Won’t Participate in the Investigation Without Offering the Best Weapon.]
As expected.
“Eek!”
Marian was twisting her hair like she was pulling it out while reading the headline.
That was her habit.
When annoyed or tense, she attacked her own hair like an enemy and twisted it madly.
“You need to understand journalists’ habits too. Sometimes you have to wage public opinion wars.”
It didn’t seem like Marian understood my words.
Well, she’d figure it out slowly.
“By the way, it’s about time to show my face again…”
I had been staring out the window since earlier.
It felt long and boring, like a dog waiting for its owner to return from a walk.
But the reward arrived.
A familiar silhouette appeared outside the window.
A man with a large build, long golden hair swaying, walking with steady strides.
“Senior, I hear you’ve been working hard lately.”
Lecas, my two-year junior prosecutor, had come to the office.