A Shopping Spree and the Unfinished Investigation
Having left work a little early, I headed to the capital’s commercial district with Connie.
It was partly to celebrate my job change and partly to buy Anika’s upcoming birthday present.
“I’ve pretty much decided on Anika’s gift, so let’s eat first.”
After a short discussion, we picked a luxurious restaurant that was gaining popularity among the capital’s noble young ladies these days. Its standout feature was the dazzling chandeliers.
Connie stepped inside with an imperious expression, as though she were the daughter of a duke, then slyly flashed me a thumbs-up.
It meant she approved wholeheartedly.
To play along, I put on my own haughty face, but I couldn’t help snickering and had to quickly school my features again to stay in character.
Though it wasn’t particularly effective.
Connie, who had met my eyes, also burst out laughing, and our noble-young-lady role-play ended on the spot.
We followed the waiter who had come out to greet us, whispering back and forth about how ridiculous our expressions had looked.
Luck was on our side; a window table with a view of the sunset was still available.
We took our seats as directed, placed our orders, and the appetizers arrived shortly afterward.
The moment the plates touched the table, Connie lifted her cutlery and, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, gave me a playful greeting.
“Thank you for the meal.”
Enjoy your food.
I, already chewing, answered her with a glance.
True to its reputation for winning over picky noble daughters, every dish was delicious.
Connie and I finished our meal in silence, but with the fierce focus of soldiers on a mission.
After stopping at a dessert shop nearby to take care of our sweets, we made our way to a jewelry store popular with young ladies to buy Anika’s gift.
Oh, that’s the place.
On the way to the jeweler, I spotted the Miller family’s furniture shop along the street.
The chair by Heyman Miller that I had tried during the day was on an entirely different level from the rigid, ergonomics-ignoring seats at the Ministry of Finance.
I thought of the three people who spent far more time sitting than lying down, even counting sleep.
Should I get presents for Dad and the twins too?
I was now a salaried employee whose paycheck had increased fivefold.
I could afford a little luxury. Absolutely.
“Connie, hold on a second.”
Having resolved to make an impulse purchase, I called out to Connie, who had walked a few steps ahead.
“What?”
“Let’s stop in here for a bit too.”
When we entered the furniture store, a clerk approached with a troubled expression he couldn’t quite hide—probably because they were preparing to close.
“Welcome, ma’am. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
Still, his well-trained polite tone remained perfectly steady.
Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get off on time.
I smiled with the easy confidence of someone whose next bank balance would reflect my new salary.
Normally shopping for high-end furniture like this takes ages.
But that didn’t apply to me. I knew exactly what I wanted.
I ordered three sets of the same desk and chair we used in the office.
The clerk’s hand froze mid-note.
“Three complete sets?”
“Is there a problem?”
When I responded with perfect nonchalance, the previously businesslike yet courteous clerk transformed into the very spirit of customer service and explained in the gentlest voice imaginable.
“These are specially commissioned items that require collaboration with the Magic Tower, so they take some time. Production only begins after the order is placed…”
Whenever the words “Magic Tower” and “special commission” appeared together, the price tended to leap upward. I was beginning to understand the clerk’s reaction to my large order.
So they were reservation-only products?
I had assumed that even for the Inspectorate, office furniture would be reasonably graded ready-made items. I was mildly surprised.
Wait, why would something like that be in the Inspectorate’s office instead of some duke’s private study?
Misreading my expression, the clerk launched into a lament about how demanding the production process was, how limited the annual output was, and how enormously long the waiting list had grown.
For me, that was actually good news.
I asked the clerk with an appropriately disappointed look.
“In that case, could you show me the highest-grade items you have available for immediate purchase?”
Whether the massive backlog was true or not, the clerk handed over the catalog with an expression that said this was for the best.
Fortunately, the pieces in the catalog were all within the range my newly inflated wallet could handle.
“I’ll take this one.”
I signed the order form the clerk offered with a flourish.
“When you deliver them, could you pass this card along as well?”
I left a simple note explaining the situation so my family wouldn’t be startled by the sudden arrival of large furniture.
It was lightning-fast shopping—less than ten minutes from entry to completed order.
Spending money is way too fun.
It felt as if the frugal little consumer fairy inside me had awakened as a generous big spender.
I linked arms with Connie, who had been waiting a step behind, and headed for the jewelry store to continue my spree.
I can’t show favoritism among family.
Now that I had bought gifts for Dad and the twins, it was time for Anika and Mom.
The version of me who used to carefully choose hairpins while painstakingly considering a picky child’s tastes no longer existed.
Surely at least one of these will catch your eye.
I scanned every accessory for young ladies in the shop and bought anything that caught my attention.
But there aren’t many pieces with a taste suited to Mom’s age.
Still, it was already too late to visit another jeweler.
As a compromise, I purchased a classic pearl necklace.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
Connie, who had been watching my excessive spending from the side, finally spoke up in a small voice, unable to stay silent any longer.
“I’m fine.”
I smiled comfortably and handed her one of the shopping bags as well.
“A gift.”
It was the bracelet Connie had been unable to take her eyes off while I was choosing Anika’s present.
After checking the contents, Connie looked troubled and tried to hand the bag back.
“Does the Inspectorate give performance points for accepting bribes now?”
It was a joke. Even though the shop catered to young noble ladies, the price was a little high for an ordinary gift.
“Yep. So just accept it nicely.”
I returned her joke with another and pushed the bag back into her hands.
I’ve been thinking for a while that I needed to express something.
Honestly, the fact that Connie had willingly taken risks for me had moved me quite deeply.
But I was too jaded to express that emotion in honest words.
Gratitude is best shown through material things.
That was why I was silently pressing this gift on her, even if it was belated.
When I refused her refusal with a determined face, Connie finally accepted the bag with an awkward smile.
“Ugh, my birthday this year is today. Consider this my birthday present.”
“Sure.”
Connie had drifted into the temple as a child, so her exact age was unknown.
Like the orphanage children in similar situations, she had taken the day she entered the temple as her birthday.
Connie had never particularly liked that arrangement.
So every year she would pick a different day as her birthday, saying that since it was uncertain anyway, she might as well choose whatever date I wanted.
Incidentally, she had already celebrated it in February this year, claiming she somehow felt drawn to winter.
Anyway, I had given her the gift. That was what mattered.
The next day at work.
Thanks to the craftsman’s chair, I received a massive concentration buff and plowed through documents without pause until lunchtime.
The most prominent case was the western incident.
It was a continuation of the events that had begun when Donovan framed Connie, which ultimately led me to seek out Kyle.
This still hasn’t been wrapped up. I thought it concluded when Duke Camelot had part of his territory confiscated and paid a fine.
Whether it had merely been for appearances, the Blue Hawk was still tracking the whereabouts of the iron ore that had been siphoned off through manipulated accounting records.
Well, if it’s anything, it’s iron ore—the raw material for weapons.
It was far more likely to cause trouble than gold bars or jewelry.
Left alone, it could become a weapon in the hands of dangerous elements or provide a pretext for diplomatic conflict with another country.
Therefore, it was necessary to follow the diverted iron ore to its final destination.
The circumstances do seem suspicious.
Since it was a strategic resource, not many merchants handled iron ore. Yet the volume of smuggled ore that had reached them appeared to be far smaller than the amount Duke Camelot had diverted.
The duke’s side claimed the officially routed sales had been entered in duplicate, but in reality the quantity of Camelot’s iron ore purchased by military merchants through official channels nearly matched the amount whose whereabouts remained unknown.
No other smuggling routes were discovered, and since Duke Camelot insisted so strongly, they must have initially dismissed it as a simple clerical error in the documents.
Who would believe that someone had made an absurd mistake while preparing critical records?
So, on the grounds that the territory reports submitted by Duke Camelot lacked credibility, they had conducted a direct inspection of the Camelot lands and discovered that the number of employed mine workers was strangely, suspiciously high.