The Rogue Prosecutor’s Survival Guide in Another World – Episode 3: The Hidden Truth
The country I once called home in Korea was a mess of extreme wealth inequality.
The middle class had vanished, leaving only a tiny handful of rich people and the rest trapped in poverty.
It happened everywhere, but capitalism couldn’t survive without all layers of society coexisting.
Expanding poverty would only bring down the whole system.
They tried every policy under the sun to fix it, yet people still found no real satisfaction.
They just loved knowing they were “better off” than someone else.
That was exactly why poverty relief always ran into fierce opposition.
Extreme wealth inequality was a social problem that refused to die—no matter how hard anyone hoped it would.
Here in the Gilorian Empire it ran even deeper. Not just money, but racial prejudice and an ancient caste system that had woven itself into every corner of life.
“Senior, are you sure you want to walk all the way?”
Sweat beaded on Marian Artisian’s forehead, catching the morning light like tiny diamonds.
“There’s a public carriage scheduled from the Capital Defense Command in fifteen minutes.”
“Ah, public carriages are fine, but… Senior, from now on I’ll handle arranging the ride.”
“The carriage fee can’t be processed through official channels.”
Piaget Dmitri’s subordinate hurried after us in quick steps.
“It’s okay. I’d rather ride an oar carriage and spend a little more.”
“Is there a problem with the public carriage?”
“It’s… not really that. It’s the oar smell, and the whole thing just feels off.”
A natural, instinctive hatred of demi-humans expressed with perfect composure.
Marian really did seem like a proper, well-raised elf.
“Hah… what kind of backward superstition is this?”
Marian shot Piaget a sharp glare, and the subordinate quickly looked away.
Apparently Marian believed that riding an oar carriage in the morning meant the whole day would be cursed in the Gilorian superstition.
If you traced the rumor back, it would probably come from some merchant who hated oars and secretly nursed a grudge.
But people loved believing the vibe someone gave off from the outside.
They were kind to species that looked beautiful and merciless to those that didn’t.
And when someone who passed the strict test actually walked at the same level, an eerie sense of crisis crept in and the internal alarm screamed without mercy.
All those little feelings accumulated and finally exploded into open discrimination.
That’s how I saw it.
“I only use public carriages for official business. If you don’t like it, walk or come separately.”
Thanks to magic stones and magic technology, the Gilorian Empire was prosperous.
Yet only a tiny elite could actually enjoy the wealth.
Still, the empire treated extreme inequality as just one more phenomenon to observe, never as a problem to solve.
“Hoo hoo. Welcome aboard, dear oar carriage. I’ve been waiting since an hour ago just in case you were late. The trip will take about twenty minutes, but oar carriages sometimes lose the way. If time is short, I’ll guide you or you can walk for forty minutes. My apologies.”
Oars had no complex about their job or species.
They could shrug off ordinary mockery or discrimination.
Here, apart from simple wealth, every species had its own unique traits to show its value.
For example, dwarves might be short, ugly, and not the cleanest, but their skill in crafting and building was unmatched.
So dwarves were proud of being dwarves and felt nothing like the obsessive attachment to money that Koreans did.
Their sense of pride was broad, so the side effects were fewer and people simply didn’t see the problem.
But even among the Gilorian people who worshipped their own inflated egos, one person kept murmuring that he envied the chairman.
Chairman Demison Erestor, the third-ranked merchant in the Gilorian Empire.
The giant hand moving the Gilorian magic-stone brokerage market.
A young leader guiding the empire with brilliant ideas and sharp charisma.
A successful businessman who married a pure-blooded high-elf wife.
Chairman Demison Erestor.
The chairman of Erestor Group, whose wealth from dozens of merchant guilds and affiliated companies was beyond imagination.
A face worthy of his genius ability.
Social success built through hard work and talent.
And a husband who had fallen deeply in love with the actress Tearel and married her after a passionate affair.
During holidays, the chairman’s life story was always turned into a documentary.
The family would gather on the sofa, eyes shining, watching the successful man and whispering that he had to become like that.
It was no different from watching the same show back on Earth.
But today I was the victim.
Sometimes the person I interviewed, sometimes the suspect.
I was here to see him.
* * *
The lobby buzzed.
“I’m entering.”
The chairman’s mansion was already surrounded by police tape.
They were controlling the scene and combing every inch for clues, just in case.
Showing my badge, the officers split left and right.
The massive gate swung open, revealing a meticulously kept garden that looked as if it could belong to a king.
“Wow. This is something else.”
The sight of the oar driver cracking his whip of rage had lit a spark in Marian’s eyes.
Even for an elf who had grown up in wealth, the mansion’s splendor was impressive.
At that moment a goblin passed by, chattering.
“G-guest. Ga… ga… please wait a moment. Ga.”
Carrying a small saw as tall as its body, the goblin expertly began pruning the branches.
Beyond it, a serious-looking dwarf was carefully tending a garden sculpture.
The chairman’s mansion, lavishly managed through the combined efforts of every species.
“Officer.”
“Yes, Prosecutor.”
A short-limbed dwarf officer hurried over from the front gate.
“Please ask everyone working here to leave. We need to preserve the scene.”
It was a disappearance case for now, but we had to keep everything as intact as possible in case things changed.
The dwarf officer’s gaze swept the garden, lingered on the dwarf gardener, then turned to Piaget and me.
But just for a second.
The officer returned to his post, and I stepped inside the mansion entrance.
Piaget followed with the officer for administrative reasons.
“First-grade prosecutor Zeo Blood. I’m here under Director Frida Keilak’s orders.”
I introduced myself.
The man at the front desk looked tired as he glanced up.
“I received your message from Director Frida. Please sit. And over there?”
Politeness flowed naturally even amid exhaustion.
“A prosecutor from the Capital Defense Command, Marian Artisian.”
Marian sat beside me with a stiff face, merely stating her rank.
“An elf working…”
The chairman’s words lingered in the air and stopped.
His eyes were red-rimmed, making Marian keep twirling her hair with nervous fingers.
It was probably a habit that surfaced when she was tense.
The chairman’s tightly closed lips seemed to be waiting for silence.
I lifted my eyes to the wall.
A huge portrait hung there.
Chairman Demison Erestor, medals gleaming on his chest, looked down arrogantly.
Beside him stood a stunning high-elf woman.
The two photos weren’t just hanging on the wall—they radiated the feeling that they ruled the place.
Everywhere in the living room, collections from the chairman and his wife filled the shelves.
The most striking was a massive mural depicting the blood battles of the Red Dragon in the early days of the Gilorian Empire.
Over ten meters long, it showed the Red Dragon coldly watching people die, then the same dragon standing over broken monsters while humans cheered.
At important moments, statues of the chairman and his wife stood solemnly.
It was pure self-adulation.
The chairman’s deep voice suddenly cut through the quiet.
“Find my wife.”
The chairman’s eyes were bloodshot.
* * *
At that moment, Piaget was interviewing the mansion staff separately.
“So, you rarely saw Mrs. Tearel?”
The yellow-eyed staff member nodded, expression blank.
Behind him in a crisp black suit, a bushy red tail kept flicking left and right.
The butler was a red-fox demi-human man.
Red-fox demi-humans nodded when agreeing and wagged their tails side to side.
They shook their heads and tails up and down when disagreeing.
Piaget leaned forward to get a better view of the butler’s back.
The tail continued flicking.
“Um… so that’s it. Who manages the protective barrier around the mansion?”
Piaget pointed at the faint magical shield glowing around the estate.
“The company hired by the chairman performs and manages the barrier magic personally.”
The chairman’s mansion was protected by a magic barrier; unauthorized entry was impossible.
“That’s why there are no video recording devices?”
The red tail kept flicking, confirming it.
Piaget finished the interview with a grateful nod.
The security here was tighter than most palace facilities.
Slimes couldn’t even get close.
“By the way, Mr. Bradil!”
Piaget called.
The red-fox demi-human turned.
His lush red tail wagged enthusiastically.
“I heard Mrs. Tearel has a personal driver. Where can I meet him?”
The face stayed expressionless, but the red fur beneath the black suit stood on end and couldn’t be hidden.
‘Something’s hidden.’
Piaget’s eyes gleamed.
He scribbled a note, slipped it into his pocket, and walked toward me, the prosecutor who was already interviewing the chairman.
* * *
Through the living-room window, Piaget walked in.
I watched him quietly.
Marian’s voice whispered beside me, drawing closer then farther.
“Senior… Senior?”
Marian poked my knee with her fingers.
The room was strangely noisy despite the silence.
I turned my head.
“Mrs. Tearel is a high elf, right?”
I asked casually, studying the chairman’s face.
I wanted to see the expression, the muscle movement.
It was a habit from long years as a prosecutor.
“Yes.”
The chairman’s face looked exhausted, muscles slack.
“Even so, you still think she’s missing?”
“Because there’s no other trace, we treat it as a disappearance.”
“There’s blood evidence in the room.”
Blue bloodstains dotted the carpet in Tearel’s room.
Yet the chairman still assumed disappearance.
“She probably didn’t put up much resistance.”
I nodded honestly.
High elves were considered the purest and noblest of elves.
Their magic using nature was far superior, so they were hard to target.
Killing one person who blended into nature was no small matter.
A few drops of blood would be nothing to a high elf.
“Was anything missing?”
“I searched everywhere. Nothing.”
“I heard you daughter attends boarding school. Did you visit her?”
The noise never stopped.
When I lightly shook my head, the chairman spoke.
“Tearel is the type who calls too much. She says she’s going out, coming home, wherever. Doesn’t matter if I’m on a business trip or in a meeting.”
The chairman’s chin had turned a faint blue.
“Did you ask your in-law’s elf for a location search?”
Marian asked.
Adult elves could summon spirits, and spirits were excellent trackers.
Plus, since all spirits came from the World Tree, finding missing people through the spirit network was easy.
Considering the family’s internal connections, it should be almost as simple as pressing a button.
“That’s why I’m going crazy. They said they couldn’t find anything.”
A shadow of despair crossed the chairman’s eyes, and his lips trembled faintly.
“Excuse me?”
As an elf myself, Marian found it hard to understand.
“Spirits can’t find anyone? That doesn’t make sense.”
It was illogical.
The chairman’s expression gave no reason to lie.
I thought back to every disappearance case I had ever handled, but spirits had never failed to find them.
“Which family did the spirit the wife contracted belong to?”
Marian asked.
Which of the four elements?
“Salamander.”
A fire spirit…
It would definitely connect to alchemical masters, so the wife’s family probably never worried about making a living across generations.
Marian summoned the spirit with a fingertip.
A small blue-winged spirit flew to her lips, laughed like it was enjoying a story, and vanished.
That was the conversation between elf and spirit.
“Senior. I asked Sylph to look for other traces too. … Senior, are you listening?”
Marian poked my knee again.
Her face was full of surprise.
I looked around.
There was something else besides the spirit.
“Chairman, who manages the interior decoration?”
The golden wall mural over ten meters long, the statues and photos of the chairman and his wife, all the luxurious items flashed by.
“Probably my wife. Tearel.”
I looked up.
From the ceiling, a cool stream of water flowed down the wall and pooled in the middle of the cool marble.
An artificial waterfall.
Swoosh.
The stream suddenly became a torrent, hammering the marble floor roughly.
“A high elf who controls fire spirits installed an artificial waterfall inside the house?”
The stream calmed again. Water on the floor flowed in a circle around the living room.
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