I’m an Immigration Officer!

30 Minutes Later – In Front of the Border Gate
The border that should have been bustling with noise was eerily silent that morning.

Normally, this time of day would see aides running around preparing for the gate’s opening.
The Sensory Inspectors and I would be in our respective seats, ready for the day’s assessments.
But today was different.

“…”
“…”
Everyone sat frozen in place, stiff-backed, preparing for work with visibly strained nerves.

And the reason was simple.
“Hmph.”
The King’s Proxy had not yet departed.

Like a lighthouse tower among men, he stood amidst us all with that massive frame and his very name—radiating pressure.
The Gustatory Inspector, clearly terrified, creaked forward in her chair toward the Dragonoid.
“D-D-Director Proxy, I—I—I brought a, a-a-a chair for youuu…”

She was trembling so hard it wasn’t just her legs—her voice was rattling too.
“A chair, you say.”
The 2.5-meter-tall giant turned his head and looked down at the tiny girl beneath him.

His tilted posture cast a shadow over her completely.
“…”
A silent demand for explanation.

Even through the veil, his stare was unmistakable, and the already-small Inspector shrank further under it.
“I-I just thought… it’d b-be b-better for you to s-s-sit while you observe…”
Her words stumbled out like a broken machine.
The Proxy straightened his posture.

“…Appreciated.”
And he sat down—soundlessly.
Only then did some of the suffocating pressure in the air ease.

“Phew…”
“Hah…”
Small sighs of relief escaped from all around the room.

Incansus Vermothem…
Why was he still here?
His job should have ended after reading the decree and relaying the King’s will.

I’d assumed he would return the moment he finished.
But I was wrong.
After delivering the royal decree, he had left us with one final statement:

“The process of the delegation’s entry will be observed from start to finish.”
A warning that no loophole would go unnoticed.
The King’s eyes were watching.

To confirm whether we carried out the royal command—down to the last detail.
That alone was enough to keep even the Sensory Inspectors and myself coiled like springs.
Damn it, feels like my blood’s drying up…

It felt less like being watched by a superior—and more like the King himself had personally arrived.
Like we were in the middle of an official audit.
Still… it's time.

The clock ticked over to 8:30.
I spoke in a low voice.
“Open the border.”

– Gg-g-g-gng.
The gate creaked open with a weighty, metallic groan.
And the sunlight streaming through that gap was blindingly bright—damnably so.

Then came the voices.
“The gate’s opening!”
“Everyone get ready! It’s finally open!”

In the distance, the flags of the Holy Church fluttered in the wind.
But something was off.
The plains beyond the border should have been littered with tents and encampments.

Instead, people were already gathered—packed together—fully prepared and facing us.
It wasn’t surprise on their faces. It was expectation.
The kind of expressions one could only wear if they knew—precisely—the gate would open at this very moment.

So they already knew.
A dry chuckle escaped me.
They weren’t even trying to hide it.

There was no doubt: the Queen had told the Church every detail of the royal decree.
The pilgrimage delegation began to approach the gate.
At the very front stood a familiar man.

“…Sir Mohaim Esfirence. It’s been a while.”
“Yes. It has, Chief Inspector.”
Brief, emotionless greetings were exchanged.

We locked eyes—faces blank.
Mohaim hadn’t changed.
The Church’s sharpest sword.

A living war machine. A model soldier.
Yes. You’re exactly the one who should be leading this.
He needed to see the situation firsthand to report back to the Pope—and get in as quickly as possible.

I slowly shifted my gaze behind him.
And there she was.
Another face I knew all too well.

“…Saintess. We meet again.”
“Chief Inspector Nathan Kell.”
Our eyes met.

Her expression was nothing like yesterday’s.
Gone was the soft, warm smile.
Now she looked at me with the disdain one would reserve for vermin.

In her large eyes—disgust. Contempt. Disappointment.
The moment I saw that, I knew.
It worked.

A flawless start.
 
****

Flashback – The Night Before
“S-Saintess?!”
Mohaim nearly fainted from shock.

Twice.
First—because the Saintess, who was supposed to be resting inside a tent, had suddenly appeared from the Kingdom of Crossroads.
Second—because the radiant golden divine power that should’ve surrounded her… was gone without a trace.

“What in the world is happening?!”
To him, it was enough to break his composure.
Fifteen years ago, the former Saintess disappeared the same way—and now this? Again?!

They say misfortune doesn’t repeat itself.
Once is chance, twice is an incident.
But for the exact same thing to happen again… to the Saintess… in the same circumstances?

Mohaim grasped for causality—and found a hypothesis.
The last time this happened, it had been at their border.
And now again.

There was only one possible conclusion.
Could the Kingdom of Crossroads have done something to the Saintess…?
If so, this wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

“Saintess! Please explain! What did they do to you?!”
Trying ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) to make sense of the situation, he asked.
And Erzena responded.

“I must speak with His Holiness.”
Mohaim immediately activated the crystal sphere.
This was something the Pope needed to hear personally.

When Escabaur III’s image appeared in the orb, Erzena began to explain her situation.
Or rather, the fabricated story we had prepared together.
– Erzena. Why did you go to the Kingdom of Crossroads without telling anyone?

After hearing the full tale, the Pope asked in a calm tone.
But underneath was a quiet fury.
– What were you thinking? Do you realize the timing?

The path to the Holy War had been blocked.
But only temporarily. It would have opened soon.
And yet the Saintess had almost ruined everything.

That enraged him.
– And now… your divine power is gone… This is… troubling…
Seeing his troubled expression, Erzena responded.

“I just wanted to give the Chief Inspector one last chance.”
– A chance?
“You once told me, Your Holiness—not to see the world in extremes. That if I did, there would only be enemies and allies.”

She cleverly echoed his own words back to him.
“So… I thought—even someone who hindered our cause might repent if given a chance.”
– Oh, Erzena. My words seem to have left too deep a mark on you.

The Pope’s tone softened, ever so slightly.
– Still, you should have told Mohaim. And—
Suddenly, Erzena’s expression twisted in anger.

“But he refused me! He dared invoke secular law to deny the Church’s will!”
Her voice dripped with venom.
“You think the laws of the world are a reason to reject God’s mandate?!”

A masterful performance.
Not a single word in his favor.
“…The Lord no longer answers me. My divine power is gone. Just like the previous Saintess.”

She weaponized her condition.
“This…”
Her hatred. Her anger. She redirected it toward a perfect target:

“This is all the Chief Inspector’s fault!”
Her voice rose, brimming with righteous fury.
“That man stamped a denial on the entry documents…! It’s because he blocked the pilgrimage…!”

Words Erzena had once cried out in blind fanaticism—words now recalled with a hint of shame—were once again brought to the surface.
“This is a trial! A divine trial for our Church to grow even greater!”
And this—this was exactly the kind of Saintess the Pope had always wanted her to be.

“...Yes. This is a trial.”
Escabaur’s expression warmed once more.
“A divine trial from the Lord Himself—to punish the one who dares block our sacred path.”

He smiled with satisfaction.
“You’ve truly grown, Erzena. You’ve finally come to understand His will.”
As he murmured “Heaven is on our side,” Escabaur’s voice dropped an octave.

“And so, there’s something I would like you to do…”
“Something that may even allow your divine power to return—should you crush the one who stands in the way of our cause.”
The Saintess already knew what he was about to ask.

“Join me as a witness at the Chief Inspector’s trial, Erzena. Let us fulfill the will of the Lord together.”
Exactly as Nathan Kell had predicted.
And Erzena’s answer was already decided.

“Gladly.”
 
****

Back to the Present
Erzena stared daggers at me as she spoke in a low voice.
“…You were given one last chance.”

I held her gaze silently for a moment.
A final chance.
‘There was no need for her to say that line.’

The plan was to make it look like we were completely at odds—that she was furious with me. That was the ending we had agreed upon.
So there was no reason to add this line now.
Why offer anything other than contempt and scorn to a man she’s supposed to hate?

‘Unless… Ah.’
I realized what she was doing.
It was a rhetorical device.

A coded phrase—diplomatic language used to deliver a deeper message.
Right now, Erzena was updating me on the Church’s internal state in the only way she could: through loaded, veiled words.
And the moment I recognized that, her meaning became clear.

“You were given one last chance.” (= Our final attempt succeeded.)
Reading my face, Erzena continued.
“His Holiness was… most disheartened.” (= The Pope responded exactly as planned.)

Damn.
I quickly hardened my expression and gave a stiff reply.
“I was simply following protocol.”

“Hah.”
She scoffed and turned her head with exaggerated contempt.
“You heretic.”

“…Khh.”
I barely stifled a laugh.
That sounded so fake.

A word she had once shouted like a zealot now came off flat and unnatural.
It felt awkward—almost like she’d never said it before.
Maybe she’s changed too much.

Erzena, straining to maintain her angry demeanor, said:
“The holy cause was destined to be fulfilled. If not for your arrogance, you too might’ve received divine grace. (= Just as you predicted, we couldn’t stop the pilgrimage.)”
“If I must be condemned for doing my duty, then so be it. (= It was inevitable. Nothing we could do.)”

“May you at least find peace in the fires of hell. (= I hope you make it to the trial unharmed.)”
Her words were barbed—but they didn’t hurt.
In fact, I felt a strange sense of relief.

“I appreciate your concern, Saintess.”
That was the first step complete.
For just a moment, I saw warmth flicker in Erzena’s gaze.

I turned away.
Grabbing the next file with an expression of forced displeasure, I snapped it open.
“Saintess Erzena. Sir Mohaim Esfirence.”

I stamped the documents.
– THUMP.
“Welcome to the Kingdom of Crossroads.”

At last, the pilgrimage delegation crossed the border.
 
****

The royal decree’s command—“unconditional entry”—was absolute.
“Approved. Approved. Approved.”
Thump. Thump. The stamp echoed nonstop.

The entry procedure moved at an unprecedented pace.
There were no five-minute interviews, no meticulous inspections of luggage—just mechanical stamping.
We reopened the rejected manifests, and if the name matched—entry was granted.

“Next. Approved. Next. Cleared.”
We set a new record: one person every three seconds.
We used to process one every five minutes… This is about a hundred times faster.

Even I couldn’t believe it.
This speed felt… absurd.
“Ten—no, twenty at once! Step forward!”

“This line—fifteen at a time!”
The Sensory Inspectors processed files like mad.
In the end, including baggage, the entire delegation of 3,374 people completed entry in under thirty minutes.

“You may proceed.”
THUMP.
I stamped the final file.

What remained after the storm: a cleared-out courtyard—and an inkless stamp.
“I didn’t think it would end this fast.”
“Processing three thousand people in thirty minutes? That’s a new world record.”

“My wrist is gonna fall off…”
The Sensory Inspectors collapsed into their seats, exhaling in exhaustion.
As the last person crossed through, the King’s Proxy—who had silently watched from the corner the entire time—stood from his chair.

“It appears everything is complete.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Upon review, you have faithfully carried out His Majesty’s decree. I vouch for it as His Proxy.”

“I only did as I was commanded.”
“Then, Chief Inspector, only one royal order remains.”
He turned toward the exit of the office and said:

“You will now depart for the royal capital. I will escort you.”
There was no question of refusal.
“…I will comply.”

After all, to catch a lion—
—you must walk into the lion’s den.