I’m an Immigration Officer!

To be honest, the emergency call from the Taste Master didn’t really worry me.
“What kind of ‘disaster’ can a newbie with less than a month of experience possibly mean?”
A month isn't even enough time to get a taste of how bitter things can get at the border.

You’ve got to hit the six-month mark before you're likely to cause a full-blown mess.
At worst, I expected something like, “A guest’s pet dog bit me!”
“People always think the sky is falling when something unexpected happens... I get it.”

It’s only natural to panic under pressure. Even more so for a rookie.
She probably got spooked by her first unplanned incident and called for me in a panic.
And, just as I suspected, the Taste Master’s so-called emergency… wasn’t really a big deal.

…
It ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) was a complete and utter catastrophe.
[HELHANAHIN!!!]

Fwoooosh!
“Aaaaagh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’M SORRY!!”
It was a chilly late autumn evening.

So why, exactly, were fire spirits raging in front of me, spewing towering blue flames straight into the sky?
The heatwave around us was hotter than a sauna's steam room, and the newly paved stone floor was already charred black.
Thank the stars it was all happening outside, in the inspection yard.

With elemental beings like spirits, it’s always safer to handle their screening outdoors—too many flammable documents indoors.
Still, why in the blazing hell were the fire spirits, usually calm after tossing them a few logs, burning blue with rage?
“…What the hell is going on here?”
Completely dumbfounded, I turned to the assistant who’d brought us out here.

She answered, rather confidently:
“No idea. Those fireballs just suddenly went berserk.”
Fireballs?

Did she seriously just call them that? That’s racial insensitivity, and she says it so casually—as an official assistant?
My own assistant, catching my expression, quickly chimed in:
“Maybe you should speak with the Taste Master first. If this keeps up, she’s going to be roasted alive.”

The moment she finished, a girl who’d been barely dodging the wrath of the spirits spotted me and threw her hands in the air.
“C-Chief Inspectooooor!”
Her face looked exactly like a child who’d been lost in a busy marketplace for three hours and finally found her mom.

The Taste Master darted toward us like lightning, narrowly avoiding a plume of blue fire.
Then she clung to my leg and wailed like a broken puppy, dignity of an Immigration Officer be damned.
“Please save meeee! Please save me, I’m begging you!”

The air was thick with the smell of burning hair.
I looked down to see her curls—already frizzy from her nomadic background—now fully transformed into a scorched disaster zone.
“I’ve come because you requested assistance, Taste Master.”

First things first: announce the purpose of my visit. Procedure must be followed.
“If it’s within this officer’s authority, I’ll cooperate to the best of my ability. How may I assist you?”
“Everything!”

I squeezed my eyes shut.
A lifetime of never having headaches was now catching up with me all at once.
She could at least explain what went wrong. But no—just “everything”?

This one’s getting re-education. Back to hellish boot camp.
“First, let’s clean up this mess.”
Sighing, I unhooked the girl from my leg.

“You definitely look like someone who needs help. What in the world did you do?”
Her eyes shimmered.
“W-well, this officer just… um… There were guests from the northern region, so I asked the spirits to kindly tone down the heat... if they didn’t mind…”

Hmm. And they blew up over that? Doesn’t make sense.
Fire spirits are known to be some of the friendliest among the elemental races.
They’re literally nicknamed “Friends by the Hearth.”

Besides, they’re fully aware of how much heat they radiate. They usually suppress it themselves when people are nearby.
“…That’s it? You didn’t say or do anything else offensive?”
“Not that this officer is aware of…”

Didn’t look like she was lying. Maybe she did screw something up and didn’t even realize it.
“Then this seems like a cultural misunderstanding. Did you try talking it out with them?”
“Uh… um… well…”

She fidgeted, clearly avoiding the question.
“Did you, as an Immigration Officer, attempt to initiate dialogue respectfully?”
She finally muttered in a tiny voice:

“T-they didn’t speak Common... so I couldn’t…”
“…What?”
I repeated the question without thinking. It was just that absurd.

“You do know there are other languages, right? Like runes, hieroglyphs, pictograms?”
Even gestures would’ve been better than nothing.
You’re a goddamn Immigration Officer—three languages are basic requirement!

At that moment, realization hit her like a ton of bricks.
“Oh! I could’ve tried that!”
Oh sweet merciful heavens.

—Stagger.
“C-Chief Inspector!”
My assistant barely managed to catch me before I collapsed from sheer mental damage.

“You didn’t even try, and called this officer right before his shift ended—ahem, called this officer instead?!”
I gritted my words, pressing down my fury. The Taste Master recoiled.
“S-sorry! I just… couldn’t think of anyone else…”

Then, her personal assistant suddenly cut in.
“Actually, I did try something.”
“…What?”

“While the Taste Master was panicking, I tried communicating with them using gestures and rune script.”
There she goes again—calling them “fireballs.” Like it’s a reflex.
Seriously, these nomads need etiquette training before anything else.

Still, that’s not the priority.
“And?”
“All attempts failed. They didn’t understand a word. I think… they only speak Spirit-Tongue.”

My own assistant frowned.
“Spirit-Tongue… That explains the communication failure.”
“Ah, damn it.”

My face twisted too.
Spirit-Tongue.
The oldest language in existence—spoken not with a voice, but with mana. No human tongue can imitate it.

I recalled what one of the spirits shouted earlier:
[HELHANAHIN!!!]
It wasn’t a sound. It was like the word had slammed straight into my mind.

Of course. Spirits don’t even have vocal cords. They’re elemental forces taking human-like shapes.
Normally, they understand rune script—since it’s an elvish language close to mana.
“If even runes didn’t work, these must be ancient spirits.”

Ancient beings who only speak Spirit-Tongue. The hardest kind to deal with.
There was no way the Taste Master could’ve known that.
No wonder she had no idea what triggered their rage.

“At least calling me was the smartest thing she could’ve done.”
With that thought, my anger finally began to subside.
No point in chewing her out anymore. She was already trembling like a wet rat.

“Anyway… best to hear it directly from the source.”
I relaxed my expression at last.
“Very well. This officer will handle the matter personally.”

“W-what? Are you sure? They look really angry…”
“Yes. That much is obvious.”
I turned my gaze to the two spirits still blazing with fury in the distance.

“Alright… now what?”
Normally, fire spirits appear as graceful young women wreathed in soft orange flame. A gentle warmth and a kind smile are part of the package.
But these two?

Right now, I was facing two towering male-shaped fire spirits, blazing blue from head to toe.
And not only were they not cooling down, they were actively erupting massive fire pillars from the tops of their heads.
“Yeah, they’re really pissed.”

I’ve only seen this once before in my entire career. Never thought I’d see it again. What a throwback.
It’s the kind of posture that screams, “Push us any further, and we’ll burn this place to ash.”
I had to calm them down. Fast.

Otherwise, those fire pillars might turn into a full-blown inferno engulfing the entire yard.
Spirits are brutally honest with their emotions.
Then my assistant whispered behind me:

— “Should we call Border Patrol? If they don’t stand down, this could escalate.”
— “No need.”
What am I, insane? Calling those blockheads?

If they show up, it will turn into violence. Arson, even. There goes our clean incident record.
— “I’ll handle it. If nothing else, we can at least try talking.”
— “Huh? Then this officer will go too! If I offended them, I should at least—”

— “No. Stay here.”
— “Mmm…”
She pouted up at me.

— “That look won’t work. And let’s be honest—you’d only slow me down.”
— “You’re mean…”
Ignoring her whimpering, I walked toward the raging spirits.

They noticed me approaching and immediately flared up, flames shooting even higher.
[HIRAHA HELHANAHIN HITA!]
Fwoooosh!

A clear display of fury. Their howling voices sent even more heat roaring around us.
— “Gghk!”
— “Chief Inspector!”

— “Do not come closer! That’s an order!”
The heat was unreal. But backing down wasn’t an option.
Proper hospitality is the foundation of our role. That’s Immigration Officer 101.

Instead, I stepped in closer—straight toward them.
The spirits responded in kind, approaching me with blazing aggression, like they might roast me alive on the spot.
We stopped face to face, a single step apart.

The uncontrolled heat was so intense I began to sweat, even in the cool of late autumn.
But I didn’t wipe it away. Showing discomfort in front of a fire spirit? Poor manners.
Instead, I straightened my uniform and slowly cleared my throat.

— Ahem… A-hem.
I focused my mind and slowed my breathing.
— Huuu…

Energy began to gather at my throat—specifically, my vocal cords.
That familiar sensation.
Like something foreign scratching at my voice box—not painful, but deeply strange.

— Ssshh…
A deep inhale.
And then...

Between the two roaring towers of blue fire, I opened my mouth.
 
****

Meanwhile…
Left behind, the Taste Master was practically in tears.
— “W-what do we do!? The Chief Inspector’s in danger!”

Fire spirits are usually calm and gentle—but when they snap, they become catastrophically dangerous.
They’re made of pure elemental force, and their anger hits like a natural disaster.
And now, because of her inexperience and incompetence, her direct superior was confronting them alone.

She wanted to run in, fall to her knees, and scream, “Be mad at me instead!” But the Chief Inspector’s assistant calmly held her back.
— “Excellent view from here.”
— “How’s he going to persuade creatures that don’t even speak our language?! We need Border Patrol!”

— “Ah, you must be new. Don’t worry—he’ll handle it.”
— “You’re not even worried?! What if he gets grilled?! What about his funeral?!”
— “The state would cover that. But it won’t come to that.”

— “But still…!”
Seeing her panic, the assistant gently shook his head.
— “Taste Master, do you know how the Chief Inspector became the Head of the Southern Border in just four years?”

— “W-well… because he’s amazing at his job?”
— “That too. But there’s more. He has a unique ability. Something only he can do.”
— “A unique ability?”

The assistant smiled faintly.
— “He’s one of only ten people on the entire continent with an Awakened Talent. He can speak every language in existence.”
— “Whaaat?!”

The Taste Master turned wide eyes toward the Chief Inspector.
— “Even those languages that no human mouth can replicate.”
And at that moment, the Chief Inspector opened his mouth:

[Ihala, haiho henha harahin Nathan Kell!]
(“Greetings. This officer is Immigration Inspector Nathan Kell!”)
The air rippled as waves of mana—not sound—echoed across the courtyard, a resonance no human could possibly produce.