I’m an Immigration Officer!

The searing heat—enough to incinerate everything—suddenly died down.

The two fire spirits blinked a few times and exchanged glances.
— “W-Wait... did that human just speak our language?”
— “I must’ve misheard…”
I opened my mouth again.

— “You heard correctly. Please, I hope I didn’t startle you.”
No voice came out.
Instead, faint pulses of mana flew directly toward them—straight into their minds.

What was confusion turned to surprise… and then to shock.
— “That’s… that’s impossible. You’re no fairy, no elemental. How can a human speak Spirit Tongue?”
— “Are you some kind of spirit tamer? A sorcerer?”
— “But he doesn’t even smell like mana.”
One of them leaned forward and sniffed me a few times.

And then, like he’d seen a ghost, jumped back in a panic.
— “You don’t even HAVE mana! What the hell ARE you?!”
Perfect opportunity. I took a step forward.

— “Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Nathan Kell.”
I straightened up, dusted off my slightly scorched uniform.
— “I am the Chief Inspector of the Southern Border Entry Control Office.”

Now that we could finally communicate—it was time to get to the heart of the matter.
 
****

Flashback
I first noticed something was wrong with me around age fifteen.
Normally, when werewolves speak, it sounds like:
— “Woof-woof-woof-woof.”
— “Grrr, bark-bark!”
— “Woof!”

But one day, I started hearing this:
— “Grilled meat is good, but fresh raw meat, dripping with blood? Nothing better. Humans just don’t get it.”
— “I gave a guy a slab of fresh pork yesterday. Thought he’d die on the spot. Rude. Maybe they like beef better?”
At first, I thought I was dreaming. From barking to casual cannibal foodie chat? Surely I was hallucinating.

But no. It was real.
At seventeen, I could understand Runic—the ancient language of the elves.
— “Iyaaap! Liara deniih hoshudarnia!”
— “Fearis Srumathes!”

It sounded noble, elegant… until I translated it:
— “Fire breath!”
— “Freeze wall!”
Yep. Centuries of arcane study just to cast toddler-tier phrases in Elvish. If the human mages at the Tower ever learned that, they’d bite their tongues in shame.

By nineteen, I could understand—and speak—every language in existence.
It wasn’t genius anymore. It was something else.
— “Talent manifestation,” said the priest, pulling his hand off the crystal orb.
— “Congratulations.”

A divine gift. Something only the chosen few ever awaken.
The kingdom noticed immediately and recruited me as an immigration officer through a special appointment.
From common merchant’s son to Chief Inspector of the Southern Border.

Even street novels would laugh at a setup that unrealistic.
 
****

Back to the Fire Spirits
— “Even if you can speak our language, it doesn’t change anything!”
— “Exactly! We’re still furious! Our rage burns with the fury of a thousand suns!”
They roared again, flames erupting skyward.

Of course they were pretending to keep their pride intact. But the real issue hadn’t been addressed yet.
— “I understand. That’s why I’m here. If you’ll tell me what upset you, I will sincerely do everything I can to assist.”
They didn’t even let me finish.

Both spirits pointed—no, glared—at the Taste Master.
— “That despicable little water girl insulted us. Until she pays the price, we will burn!”
— “Yes! Burn and burn again! Roar!!”
…Water?

Wait a minute.
Water. Girl. Insult.
Putting together those keywords... Oh no.

She must’ve said something about water.
To a fire spirit, that’s not a faux pas. That’s practically a death threat.
A rookie mistake.

She hadn’t even been an officer for a full month. Probably didn’t know the etiquette, the cultural taboos.
Classic case of uninformed racial insensitivity.
Like telling a werewolf to "Sit! Good boy!" in public.

Standard rookie-level disaster.
I told the other officers to keep an eye on her. And what? Friday hits and everyone bails?
No. Not now.

I swallowed my growing frustration.
No time to explode. That could wait till Monday.
For now, diplomacy.

— “I sincerely apologize on her behalf. She is still inexperienced with other races. We will retrain her properly.”
— “Inexperienced? You think such an offense is excusable as ignorance?”
One of them scoffed. A puff of fire burst from his nose. The other stomped in agreement.

Something’s off.
Even for an insult, this was too much.
Fire spirits are emotional—but they don’t go this far over mere words.

Unless…
Unless she actually… oh gods.
— “If it’s not too much to ask… would you be willing to explain what exactly she did?”

— “So you apologized without even knowing?!”
— “I believe in hearing both sides. I wanted to understand your perspective directly.”
— “That insolent brat DOUSED US WITH WATER! A WHOLE BUCKET!”

…
She really did it.
My fury surged higher than their flame pillars.

I slowly turned to the girl, who’d been listening blankly all this time.
— “TASTE. MAS. TEEEEERRRR!!!”
— “Y-Y-Y-YES?!”

She jumped like she’d been struck by lightning and dashed to my side.
— “Wh-what’s wrong…?”
— “YOU POURED WATER ON FIRE SPIRITS?! ARE YOU INSANE?!”

— “W-wait, how did you…?”
Oh, come on.
— “Tell me it’s not true. Please tell me you didn’t actually do that.”

I glared at her, every syllable weighted with rage.
And then, in the tiniest voice, she gave me a reply straight out of hell:
— “W-well, I-I thought, if you pour water on fire, it cools down, so I… just wanted to help them calm down…”

…
— “When you’re thirsty, do you drink the ocean? When it’s cold, do you set your house on fire?!”
Simple logic.

What do you think happens when you pour water on a creature MADE OF FIRE?
That’s not a mistake—it’s attempted murder.
— “Who in this world doesn’t know fire and water are mortal enemies?!”

— “S-sorry sorry sorry!!”
— “Let’s just… talk about this later. Much later.”
Oh god, my blood pressure.

Stay calm. Not now.
I can chew her out all I want on Monday. Right now, the priority is soothing the spirits.
— “We humbly apologize. This was clearly our mistake.”

— “It’s too late. We gave her plenty of chances to apologize. She refused. We demand punishment!”
The flames surged again, hotter than ever. They were serious now.
— “What kind of punishment…?”

— “She tried to kill us. So she must offer her life. We will purify her body with fire.”
…
This is bad.

— "Um… Chief Inspector? What did they say…?"
— °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° "They say they'll only be satisfied if you're burned alive."
— "HIIIIIIIK!!"

As I relayed the message verbatim, the Taste Master let out a shriek and hid behind me.
— "P-please, spare me! Spare meee!"
— "Once spirits make up their minds, it’s very hard to change them."

Sorry, but I didn’t expect them to be this furious either.
— “Would you perhaps be willing to forgive her… out of generosity and grace?”
— “Not a chance! Hand over the girl!”

They weren’t budging an inch.
Well, then. If it comes to that, I’ll have no choice but to call the Border Patrol.
Even if we can communicate, if they refuse to accept an apology, we’ll have to use force.

I was just about to signal the aide to summon them—when one of the spirits suddenly added:
— “Don’t think you can insult us on a peaceful homecoming journey and simply walk away, human!”
…Wait. Homecoming?

That word struck me like lightning.
Homecoming…?
That meant something.

Bingo. A solution.
— “May I ask—how long are you planning to stay in the Kingdom of Crossroads?”
— “Hm? Well… it’s been a long journey, so we plan to rest here for three days. Then we’ll head to the western volcanic belt. I hear a Red Dragon egg is about to hatch.”

Three days.
That’s quite a bit of time.
Meaning… they’ll need lodging. Food. Fuel. All of it costs money.

— “Have you already secured a place to stay?”
— “Not yet. We’ll look around. But who’d take in fire spirits like us…”
The other spirit nodded, visibly concerned.

Good. I see the crack.
Now, I just need to wedge it open.
Time to negotiate.

— “If you’d allow it, we’d be honored to provide high-class accommodations and a generous supply of firewood during your stay—as a gesture of sincere apology.”
— “...Come again?”
The Merchant Secret Art I learned as a merchant’s eldest son.

Preemptive overcompensation.
Fire spirits eat anything flammable—but they love firewood.
And right now it’s late autumn. Firewood prices are sky-high.

And lodging?
They’d burn through a regular bed in seconds. Only stone inns would take them—and those charge double the price.
So staying here for three days will cost them a fortune.

But what if I handled both lodging and firewood upfront?
— “The Kingdom of Crossroads welcomes all peaceful visitors. However, in light of the grave insult committed, please allow us the honor of tending to your needs during your stay.”
— “Hmph… and yet, no punishment for the insult…?”

The flames on their bodies began to shift from blue to red.
A sign: the rage was cooling.
Gotcha.

Fire spirits are wonderfully easy to read. Their emotions color them literally.
Now for the finishing blow.
— “If you wish, I’ll arrange a private room with its own fireplace.”

— “A—A fireplace? Are you serious?!”
— “And four charcoal logs a day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and midnight snack!”
— “Seriously?!”

Charcoal was more precious than firewood. Burned longer, burned hotter, burned cleaner. Absolutely delicious for them.
At this point, I wasn’t offering a deal—I was giving them a festival.
Even the stingiest grudge-holding spirit would go “Tch, fine” after this.

Their flames turned fully red.
One step away from warm, friendly orange.
Let’s finish it.

I raised four fingers.
— “Premium-grade charcoal. Lump hardwood.”
Checkmate.

Before me, two warm orange flame-women nodded in satisfaction.
Gone were the furious blue fire spirits. In their place—two radiant ladies, smiling gently.
— “We will forgive the young inspector. It was a mistake born of ignorance. Let her reflect and learn.”
— “Thank you, noble children of flame. Your generosity honors your race.”

Look at those benevolent smiles. Beautiful.
I grabbed the back of the dazed Taste Master’s collar and forced her into a bow.
— “Whuh? Chief Inspector?”

— “The crisis is resolved. Bow.”
From there, everything moved smoothly.
I stamped their entry papers, handed them flame-proofed Ministry vouchers (courtesy of my very perceptive aide), and finally, the fire spirits crossed into the Kingdom.

— “Welcome to the Kingdom of Crossroads. Please enjoy your stay.”
— “You did well, human who speaks the Spirit Tongue.”
Once they’d vanished over the ridge, Taste Master let out a breath.

— “I-Is it… over?”
— “Yes. It’s been resolved.”
— “Phew! Thank you so much, Chief Inspector! You saved my life!”

— “You did well too, Taste Master. It’s late, but you stayed until the job was done.”
— “Hehe. Then… can we go home now?”
She scratched her cheek sheepishly, the aides’ eyes sparkling at her words.

I saw “GET” and “OFF” practically glowing in their pupils.
I nodded.
— “Yes. You’re all free to go.”

— “Woohoo!!”
— “Except for you.”
— “Eh?”

Before she could blink, the two aides vanished with a cheerful “Thank you, sir!”
That left just the two of us.
— “C-Chief Inspector…?”

— “Taste Master.”
— “Y-Yes…?”
The crisis was over. Everything was back to normal.

All except one thing.
— “You’ll be staying with me for re-education.”
— “WHAAAAAAAAAT?!”

She turned pale as a ghost.
About as pale-blue as the fire spirits had been earlier.
— “I’ll be canceling my weekend. You’ll be coming in tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that. I will personally re-train you.”

This wasn’t about weekends.
A border officer who didn’t understand basic racial etiquette wasn’t an officer. Period.
I would teach her until it was carved into her skull.

— “T-This is abuse of authority! You’re breaking labor laws!”
Oh? Quoting legal codes now? Clever.
But useless.

— “If I pay weekend overtime and holiday bonus, it’s legal.”
I’ll pay. You stay.
— “N-No! I refuse! I’m not doing this!”

— “Yes, you are.”
— Grab.
I seized her by the scruff of her neck.

And—
— Drag.
I pulled her, kicking and flailing, into the Entry Office.

— “I wanna go hoooome!!”
Her desperate cries, like a lamb dragged to slaughter, never escaped the sealed doors.
Thus, for the entire weekend, the Taste Master had to memorize and recite all 12 volumes of The Encyclopedia of Continental Racial Traits.

Next up: the Smell Master, Hearing Master, and Touch Master.
You're all next.