I’m an Immigration Officer!

When a person is shocked —
I mean truly, viscerally shocked —
They can only say one thing.

“…Is this even real?”
My brain refused to process it.
Even though I’d seen it with my own eyes just moments ago — it made no damn sense.

Sure, a lot of crazy things had happened lately. But this?
What the hell was I looking at?
And more importantly…
Why did the Saint suddenly come to mind?

I slowly glanced down at the hand I’d used to touch the pig.
Fffffzz…
A soft, fading golden glow shimmered at my fingertips.

It was divine energy.
No mistake about it.
The same energy I’d seen just four days ago — shimmering behind the Saint like a banner in the wind.

And now… it was radiating from a pig.
So what, is this some blessed animal or something?
But no.
The Church doesn’t have “holy beasts.”

Divine energy is a gift from God granted only to people.
It’s a power restricted to humans. And strong enough to be seen with the naked eye.
And then, a hypothesis crossed my mind.

A dangerous one.
One that bordered on blasphemy.
No — one that was blasphemy.
“…No way.”
I looked at the pig again.

Just a little piglet — scarred, wide-eyed, chained up.
Cute, in a tragic way. Like the kind people adopt as novelty pets.
“…There’s no way.”

Oink oink oink oink!
The piglet nodded furiously.
As if it understood what I was saying.

Carefully — very, very carefully — I gave voice to the theory clawing its way up my throat.
“Are you… the Saint turned into a s—”
Before I could finish what would’ve gotten me executed on the spot in any holy court—

GRAB.
Someone caught me by the scruff of the neck.
“Huh?”

It was the boy — Sota.
His straw hat had fallen off, revealing purple eyes trembling with shock.
“Sota…?”

“What are you?”
The voice that came from his mouth… was not a boy’s.
It was a woman’s.

Before I could react to the dissonance, he — she — threw me backward.
CRASH!
“Gahk!”

What the hell kind of kid has that kind of strength?
I tumbled across the wagon floor, wind knocked from my lungs.
Sota — if that’s even what they were — stared at me, clearly rattled.

“How did you figure it out? Who the hell are you?”
“S-Sota… what… what is this?”
“Shit. Are you with the Church? Have they already taken the border?”

Those weren’t the words of some farm boy.
And definitely not the kind of phrasing anyone from the countryside would use.
So “Sota” isn’t just some random kid.

Which meant…
That pig…
Is the Saint.
Erzena Seraph. The infamously loudmouthed, impossible, unpredictable Saint.

No one reacts that fast unless it’s true.
To make absolutely sure, I called out one last test.
“E-Erzena? If you’re really you… give me one oink.”

From inside the wagon, the reply came immediately.
“Oink!”
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

It’s true.
The Saint.
Has become a pig.

What kind of sick, cosmic joke is this?
Even as my mind reeled in denial, my instincts — my training — locked into crisis mode.
A Saint, turned into a pig, held in chains…

And that wasn’t all.
Sota was clearly not what they appeared to be.
Female voice. Adult strength. Masquerading in a child’s body.

Someone pretending to be a boy was dragging a pigified Saint through a border checkpoint.
Too many incompatible words in one sentence.
Conclusion: this is an extreme emergency.

“…Abduction?”
My gut screamed it.
Code red.

I inhaled sharply — and shouted with everything I had, loud enough for the entire office to hear:
“EMERGENCY PROCLA—!”
WHAM!

A kick hit me square in the jaw.
From Sota — no, whoever she really was.
 

****
“Chief Inspector? Chief Inspector!”
Someone was shaking me.

“Please, sir! Wake up!”
“Ugh… Th-this officer… is fine…”
I barely managed to speak — and the shaking stopped.

“He’s conscious! Gustatory Inspector, the towel—!”
“Here! I’ve got it!”
A familiar voice, followed by a wet cloth against my face.

“Olfactory Inspector? All of you?”
I slowly opened my eyes.
I was lying in the middle of the inspection yard — flat on my back.

Surrounded by the Five Senses Inspectors and several aides, all staring down at me with anxious eyes.
“Oh heavens, what happened to you?! Did you fall?”
“What? What do you mean fall— No, wait… Ugh!”

Pain spiked through my skull.
It felt like I’d been cracked in the back of the head with a hammer.
“You… you’re supposed to be in the office…”

Olfactory Inspector took a long breath and replied:
“We smelled blood and ran straight here. And then we found you. On the ground. Out cold. What happened?”
“This officer… was unconscious?”

And then the ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) memory snapped back.
Oink!
I bolted upright.

“The wagon!”
“Whoa, sir! Don’t move so fast!”
“No time! Where is the wagon I was inspecting?!”

I whipped my head around.
Nothing. Just the empty yard and a ring of worried inspectors.
How much time had passed?

“How long was I out?”
“Uh, maybe three minutes? We ran the moment we smelled blood—”
Three minutes.

Good.
There’s still time.
I pushed Olfactory Inspector aside.

“Everyone, listen carefully! This is a full-scale emergency! The Saint— cough!”
A sharp cough burst from my throat. With it — blood.
I spat it out. Along with… a tooth.

That damn freak had kicked out my tooth.
Gustatory Inspector shrieked in horror:
“AHHH! Chief Inspector! You’re bleeding! Please, sit down! Please!”

“That’s not important right now—!”
“At least breathe, please—!”
I swatted their hands away.

And shouted for all to hear:
“The Saint has turned into a pig!”
Silence.

Dead. Complete. Uncomfortable silence.
“…”
“…”
“…”
My voice echoed across the open inspection yard.

— A pig... a pi-i-iig...
For the first time, I saw something unfamiliar on the faces of the Five Senses Inspectors:
Disgust.
Shock.
And deep, genuine confusion — all at once.

Expressions they had never shown me before… all now aimed directly at me.
After a long, heavy silence, the first to speak was the Olfactory Inspector.
“…Hey, Gustatory Inspector. Go unfold a blanket in the briefing room. The Chief clearly needs some rest. He’s babbling.”

That cracked the dam.
Voices poured in.
“He must still be in pain.”

“He has been under a lot of stress lately…”
“Poor Chief Inspector…”
Pitying, patronizing tones.

They were talking about me like I was… mentally unwell.
Shocked, I raised my voice.
“No, I’m serious! I swear I’m telling the truth! Erzena — that woman — she turned into a pig! She oinked!”

“You can’t say things like that nowadays, even as a joke, sir…”
“Wait, is this workplace harassment? Am I being harassed right now?!”
“Wow. And I used to respect you, too…”

Next came disgust. And disappointment.
No one believed me.
Frustrated beyond words, I yelled:

“YOU IDIOTS, I’M TELLING YOU THE TRUTH!!!”
Even I can’t believe it — but it’s true!
And then—

“…Wait a second.”
The Olfactory Inspector suddenly lifted his head and started sniffing the air.
“…This smell… I know this one.”

He walked behind me and inhaled near the back of my neck.
Then tilted his head, frowning.
“William Kafka?”

A name I’d never heard.
“Who’s that?”
“A man we processed for departure yesterday. You haven’t met him?”

“No. What did he look like?”
The Olfactory Inspector thought for a moment, then replied:
“Wore a neat jacket. Had a dagger on his belt. An older man — ex-mercenary type. But what I remember most…”

He paused — and then said:
“…His eyes were purple.”
The moment I heard that, Sota came to mind.

Purple eyes. Extremely rare. You might go your whole life and never see them once.
And naturally occurring? Almost unheard of.
There’s no way two people with purple eyes crossed the southern border in the same 24 hours.

And Sota clearly wasn’t a real boy. The voice. The strength. The deception.
The puzzle pieces began to click into place.
Physical transformation akin to shapeshifting… a Saint turned into a pig… choosing the exact day the Immigration Office is overwhelmed…

This wasn’t random.
And this wasn’t a simple kidnapping for ransom.
If that were the case, the culprit would’ve surrendered the moment they were discovered. And they wouldn’t have picked such a precise moment to act.

No — this was something bigger. Something deliberate.
With absolute certainty, I spoke to the Five Senses Inspectors.
“Everyone. I believe the Saint has been abducted by an unknown force.”

I laid it all out for them.
The chained pig. The holy energy. The boy with violet eyes.
When I finished, everyone stood silent — stunned.

“…Holy shit. You’re serious? Then that Kafka guy…”
“The Saint’s really…”
“Wait, you’re saying the Saint’s a pig now?!”

Finally. They were starting to believe me.
I’ve never lied to you idiots — and this is when you question me?!
Then, the Tactile Inspector raised her hand.

“…But why should we help her?”
“…What?”
“The Saint. She tried to have you executed, remember? Why should we risk anything for someone like that?”

Her tone was sharp. Bitter.
The room was silent. No one disagreed with her.
Apparently, the resentment toward the Holy Order had grown stronger than I realized.

“I think we should report it to the border patrol and the higher-ups,” she added. “We need to focus on the trial. Not chase pigs.”
“It sounds cruel, but… we’re stretched thin, Chief Inspector,” said the Olfactory Inspector. “We don’t have the resources.”
They meant well — defending me, even.

But now wasn’t the time.
I shook my head.
“You all know as well as I do — what we’ve got in the [Evidence Locker] isn’t enough to win this trial.”

“…”
“They’ll bring power. Prestige. People who can sway the court with presence alone. Without a game-changer, we’ll be crushed.”
No one argued.

Because I was right.
Faces turned grim.
“But now… I think I’ve found it. The trump card I needed.”

The Inspectors immediately caught on.
They stared at me like I’d lost my mind.
“Chief Inspector… y-you’re not saying…”

The Tactile Inspector’s voice trembled.
“I am.”
I nodded.

“We rescue the Saint — and in return, we get her to testify on our behalf.”
My father used to say something:
A merchant doesn’t have crises — only safe bets and bold opportunities.

And this… this was a gamble.
A gamble big enough to flip the board.
Uneasy glances passed between my subordinates.

But among the fear… a spark of hope flickered.
A quiet little what if…?
I struck while it lasted.

“As of this moment, all Immigration Office activities are suspended. I am declaring a full-scale emergency. All Inspectors and Aides will operate under my direct command.”
My voice hardened.
If there’s a sliver of hope — and a chance to turn this around —

“A kidnapping has occurred at the border. The inspector who identified it was physically assaulted. Therefore, by law, this incident falls within the jurisdiction of the Immigration Office. We are initiating an apprehension operation.”
We are not letting this go.
“Codename—”

“Operation Pig Hunt.”
If we stay idle — or we fail — we lose the trial anyway.
But if we succeed, we win.

If we bring the Saint over to our side, the court won’t matter anymore.
This gamble… might just be worth the risk.