The Rogue Prosecutor’s Survival Guide in Another World
“Time we caught up face to face, don’t you think?”
The summons came from Frida, Director of the 1st Battalion.
When I reached the building, I offered the standard Gilorian salute to the statue instead of showing identification.
Left hand over my right chest, I called out.
“For the prosperity and eternity of the Gilorian Empire!”
The statue’s gaze turned toward me.
It commemorated the hero who had built the empire we now lived in.
A colossal dragon lay beneath his feet; one hand gripped a sword, the other held the legal codex that upheld the realm.
An invisible force swept over me as the hero’s eyes scanned my form.
“Freelance Prosecutor Zeo Blood. Loyal warrior, may you always stand with the empire’s prosperity and eternity!”
The statue finished its line and the tedious security check was over.
The doors opened onto a lobby of polished marble stairs and crystal windows.
Golden statues of Gilorian heroes lined both walls, ostentatious to the point of nausea.
‘Tsk. Still can’t get used to this.’
It was luxury fit for the guillotine.
Nothing like the world I had known on Earth.
The sheer power behind the monopoly on magic-stone trading was obvious.
Employees of the Capital Defense Command carried the same inflated sense of self-importance.
More arrogance than pride, really.
Still, the institution had ranked first among job-seekers for ten straight years and third among desirable marriage partners, so their puffed-up shoulders made a certain sense.
“Prosecutor, it’s been a while.”
One of the headquarters staff stopped and bowed.
The Capital Defense Command existed to protect Clovan City, the imperial capital, and answered directly to the Third Prince.
Direct service under a possible future emperor meant a fast track to power—if you played your cards right.
Beneath it sat the Labyrinth Management Bureau, the Magic-Stone Planning Division, the Guild Welfare Bureau, the Corrections Headquarters, and the Counter-Terrorism Command.
In short, it controlled the capital’s finances, monster suppression, and the guilds through the magic-stone monopoly.
It could mobilize aura-clad knights and deploy armies at will.
Every artery of power and money ran through the Third Prince’s grip, wearing the name of the Capital Defense Command.
And the woman who had summoned me was the living embodiment of that power—the rumored next Commander.
“Mr. Blood, it’s been too long. You’re avoiding me.”
Frida Keilak rose, her heels striking the marble like punctuation.
“Mr. Blood. When are you finally going to join my staff? I’d like to see that handsome face every day.”
Frida approached in her signature red suit, cut to flaunt every curve.
Rumors about her identity ran wild—hidden imperial mistress, rogue black mage, even the reincarnation of a red dragon.
I had no way to confirm any of them yet.
What I did know was that every major incident in Clovan City eventually traced back to Frida Keilak.
“Come on. We practically lived together on cases. Remember the Elf Queen adultery-murder investigation? Fifty days straight.”
“Yes. And the goblin-organ trafficking case lasted a hundred.”
“That’s right. Your memory is as sharp as your looks, Mr. Blood.”
I had worked with her long enough to uncover several of her secrets.
That only made her more dangerous.
Neither her indifference nor her intense interest was something I could afford.
“Your heretic arrest record has been impressive lately.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t a question.
“Thanks to your generous support, Director.”
I accepted the tea she offered and settled into a relaxed posture.
“Too much modesty starts sounding like flattery… Did you get your hands on a hidden heretic-detection item? Or maybe a talented informant?”
I had to read the intent behind the question.
To Frida, everyone was a suspect—even me.
“No. I’ve simply been lucky.”
“Hmm… luck, is it? That kind of luck doesn’t last forever.”
Her smile never wavered, but her eyes beneath those long lashes were ice-cold.
“You can tell me, at least.”
She placed a pale hand on my shoulder.
“If you find a lucky bird, I expect to hear about it first.”
I had no intention of playing along with the friendly act.
“I don’t share my catches.”
I removed her hand from my shoulder.
“Of course, if the price is right, I might reconsider.”
I offered her a polite smile.
“Haha. This is why I like you, Zeo. I appreciate people who are honest about their desires.”
Frida’s face lit up with genuine satisfaction.
“Actions over words. Results over plans. That’s always been your style. I’ll be counting on you.”
She tilted her head and glanced toward the window, her vibrant red hair swaying.
Her meteoric rise had been fueled by an uncanny ability to sniff out heretics.
Staying completely off her radar—or too deep inside it—was equally unwise.
Knock. Knock.
Someone rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
A heavily muscled man entered, gave a crisp salute, and handed Frida a document.
“Hmm.”
Her displeased hum followed.
A deep crease formed between her brows.
“Mr. Blood, you can go. Ah—and take this. Try training a new recruit.”
She held out a personnel file.
Marian Artisian.
Top graduate of the Imperial Magic Tower.
My eyes, however, were drawn to the document the man had delivered.
The title read: [Urban Monster Terrorism Response Plan].
Photographs showed corpses twisted into grotesque shapes.
[Casualties from monster terrorism: 24.]
[Cause unknown.]
[Countermeasures under review.]
“Mr. Blood, see you again soon. Hopefully as one of my subordinates next time.”
She offered the usual line along with a ring.
A portal dial that would grant direct access to her office.
“A token of my regard.”
A shackle, more accurately—one that let her monitor my every move and summon me at will.
“Then.”
I slipped the ring into my pocket and bowed deeply.
Outside the door, a taxidermied monster head—only the skull remained—stared at me with empty sockets.
Frida’s trophy.
I returned to the office carrying the new recruit’s file.
The space was modest but practical.
“Prosecutor, thank you for everything these past months.”
Piaget Dmitri, immaculate in his pressed white shirt, bowed.
“Bring me the B58-256 case files.”
“I’ll prepare the handover documents. I’ve already calculated today’s work and my severance.”
He muttered under his breath while mechanically obeying.
He handed over a thick stack of documents and a neatly summarized report.
The B58-256 file detailed an old serial disappearance case involving elves that had once gripped Clovan City.
Even after closure, several suspicious points had lingered in my memory.
“Prosecutor, I cannot continue working under these conditions.”
“Conditions…”
I repeated the word and stared at him.
He hesitated, then burst out.
“You expect a dwarf to serve under an elf? I refuse to work with such a lowly race.”
Piaget’s neatly groomed beard trembled with indignation.
Elves and dwarves were natural enemies.
The one-sided hatred had long since become mutual.
“Pale skin, that boxy little face, those ridiculous pointed ears… How am I supposed to work with such savages—”
“Piaget, this is Director Frida’s direct order.”
I held up the personnel file she had given me.
“And calling someone a savage to their face is hardly polite.”
Piaget spun around.
A slender high elf with porcelain skin stood in the doorway.
“Hello. I’m Marian Artisian, the new trainee prosecutor. I graduated at the top of the Imperial Magic Tower and have just joined the Capital Defense Command. I won’t let my credentials make me arrogant—I’ll work hard and learn from everyone. Please guide me well.”
She bowed politely.
Someone who openly called her own résumé “flashy” had just walked in.
“……”
“This is exactly why I call elves savages. Social savages.”
Piaget grabbed his marble desk and dragged it to the farthest corner from Marian.
“Well… Marian, you can sit over there.”
I pointed at the newly created space.
“Yes, sunbae!”
She answered brightly and set down her belongings.
One detail still needed clarification.
“I’m not a mage, nor did I attend the Imperial Magic Tower, so I’m not your senior in that sense.”
Piaget’s reaction was excessive, but I agreed on principle.
Getting entangled with an elf was rarely beneficial.
Clear boundaries were necessary.
Half-hearted friendliness would only cause problems later.
“Ah! My apologies. Then how should I address you?”
“Whatever’s convenient.”
Marian’s eyes sparkled.
“Then… Master?”
“……”
This elf required extra distance.
Something was clearly loose in her head.
“Just call me Zeo.”
“No, I could never use a senior’s name so casually—”
“Then Prosecutor Zeo.”
“Understood. And please speak casually with me, sunbae!”
“……”
Marian beamed with innocent delight.
Frida’s earlier words drifted through my mind.
‘Mr. Blood, which is better—a nice but incompetent rookie, or a competent but unpleasant one?’
I had hesitated then.
Since this was strictly business, the latter seemed preferable.
But Frida had answered for me.
‘Nice is better. Rookies are useless at the job anyway.’
I didn’t know why her words resurfaced now.
Looking at Marian’s guileless smile, they simply appeared.
And then another line followed.
‘A 1st-grade prosecutor is also expected to perform community service diligently, you know?’
Right.
The only reason I had accepted this bright-eyed rookie was because 1st-grade prosecutors were obligated to do social contribution work.
Turn her into a useful asset quickly, send her back where she belonged, and maybe gain a little help along the way.
The magic-stone transmitter on my wrist flashed.
Demison Chairman’s Wife Missing Case
▶ Advance: 20,000,000 Cram
▶ Success Fee: 80,000,000 Cram
One hundred million cram total… generous for a simple missing-person case.
Given that the victim was married to a major player in the magic-stone market, the Capital Defense Command had clearly taken an interest.
Perhaps the chairman had even dipped into his own pockets.
Either way, it was good news for me.
The details followed.
A former elf beauty-pageant winner who had retired after marriage had vanished from her home, leaving behind traces of blue blood.