I’m an Immigration Officer!

No one dared to speak in the face of such an unexpected situation.
Even with his unkempt hair and beard grown wild from lack of care,

Even with his hunched back and lifeless green eyes—
He was unmistakably the king.
It was my first time seeing his face in person, but I felt it immediately.

That pressure...
It was suffocating.
Just his presence alone had shifted the entire courtroom’s atmosphere into deadly seriousness.

The reclusive king attending a trial—an anomaly by any measure.
And for me, it was the worst possible development.
On top of that, he wasn’t seated in the jury box, nor in the gallery, not even the high seat.

He sat beside the queen.
No one needed an explanation for what that meant.
“...He’s going to push this through by royal decree,”

the Minister muttered lowly.
Even in his eyes—eyes that had once admired King Rio more than anyone—there was a flicker of turmoil.
“If this is how it starts... then no matter how solid our evidence or justification is...”

The once-steady voice now trembled.
Even he couldn’t hide his shock.
Then Hylin spoke.

“...It’s not over yet.”
“What did you say?”
“He said he’s here to observe, did he not? That means he won’t interfere at the start.”
The Minister turned toward her, wide-eyed.

“You know what it means for His Majesty to sit on that side, and still—?”
“Sitting there doesn’t mean he’s made a ruling.”
Even as her hand clenched into a white-knuckled fist, Hylin nodded firmly.

“There are some things you {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} can only find out by clashing head-on, old man. Sometimes, you have to crack a boulder with an egg.”
Her words pushed me to encourage the Minister in turn.
“Director Hylin’s right. Weren’t you the one who said we can’t let ourselves be cowed from the start?”

So what if the king was here?
The trial would proceed regardless—and all we had to do was present what we’d prepared.
That was the best we could do.

“...You’re right. Can’t go in already defeated.”
The Minister regained his composure and murmured.
“Ahem.”

Meanwhile, the silence in the courtroom had stretched too long.
One of the queen’s retainers coughed—deliberately—into the awkward air.
The befuddled judge finally came to his senses and spoke.

“Th-then... let us begin the proceedings of this trial in earnest.”
The tension slowly began to thaw.
“This trial has been formally requested by Queen Helena Castor herself, regarding the punishment of the defendant, Nathan Kell.”

The first procedure in any trial: announce the charges, then allow the prosecution’s opening statement.
“The plaintiff may now present your claim, including the charges against the defendant.”
Even before he finished speaking, a sharp-featured man seated in front of the queen stood up.

“Inspector General Pierce...”
the Minister muttered under his breath.
“Nathan Kell, as an Immigration Officer, is obligated to show hospitality to all travelers, and to allow entry to anyone whose purpose is peaceful.”

Pierce pointed at me as he continued.
“However, without proper cause, he labeled the Pilgrimage Delegation a crusading army and refused them entry. This constitutes a serious diplomatic offense.”
The opening strike—cleverly interweaving truth with hidden lies.

The judge asked,
“Do you have evidence to support this claim?”
Instead of replying, Pierce pulled out a neatly folded letter and handed it to the judge.

A letter of protest from the Holy Church.
“This was written by the victim themselves.”
The judge unfolded it and read the contents aloud.

[An insult to the Pope and Holy Church. An unjust denial of entry to a peaceful Pilgrimage Delegation.]
A stream of fabricated accusations filled the courtroom.
“Defense. Do you have a rebuttal?”

“Anyone with a conscience would find it hard to speak up in this situation.”
the queen jeered.
“Not that I expect anything from a man who does not believe in God.”

“...”
A cheap provocation—but still, something boiled up inside me.
If following procedure is a crime, then what is innocence?

You’re the ones lying.
But then, a soft hand pressed gently on my shoulder.
“I’ll speak first.”

Hylin stood and shoved the box beside me under the desk.
“Heave-ho.”
– Thud! Shhhhrrrrk.

Hundreds of documents spilled out all at once.
“I’ve brought all the counter-evidence regarding the letter of protest you mentioned.”
“A-all of this is evidence?”

“Yes.”
She picked up several bundles, carried them to the judge, and continued,
“According to the Kingdom’s Immigration Statutes, there is indeed a duty to be courteous to all applicants. However—”

“That duty applies only to those who cooperate with the inspection process. Furthermore, if a traveler’s purpose is uncertain or deliberately obscured, the inspector is expected to respond firmly.”
“Therefore, regardless of status or identity, raising suspicion about a traveler’s stated purpose is an appropriate judgment by an Immigration Officer.”
“Especially in the case of a group as unprecedented in size as the Pilgrimage Delegation, it is the inspector’s duty not only to evaluate the organization’s stated goal—but also to assess any potential hidden agendas among its members.”

Her words flowed smoothly—measured, authoritative.
Standing dead center in the courtroom, Hylin raised her voice.
“If fulfilling one’s duty is a crime, then who in their right mind would pledge loyalty to this country!?”

A righteous argument, leaving no room for rebuttal.
The queen’s expression twisted in frustration.
“And finally, I believe the phrase ‘peaceful purpose’ written at the end of the protest letter lacks credibility.”

“What nonsense is that!”
Pierce burst out, indignant.
But the judge cut in before he could continue.

“What do you mean by ‘lacks credibility’?”
“To explain that, I request permission for Minister of Foreign Affairs Karton Grayson to speak.”
“Granted.”

All eyes turned toward the Minister.
Karton rose slowly, his voice steady and deliberate.
“Honorable Judge. Before I served as Foreign Minister, I devoted myself to national service as Director of Intelligence.”

A brief introduction—to add weight to his next words.
He reached into his inner pocket and handed a document to Hylin.
“Shortly after the Pilgrimage Delegation departed, the Intelligence Bureau received a dispatch. It reported signs of the Evil God Cult’s resurgence, and evidence that war supplies were gathering in the northern continent.”

Hylin passed the document to the judge.
“In light of this, I believe the Chief Inspector’s suspicion regarding the Pilgrimage Delegation was not irrational, but a reasonable deduction.”
A statement grounded in principle. A rational suspicion.

And now, material evidence to support it.
So this is what the two of them prepared!
Perfect.

A flawless defense.
“Indeed... it’s reasonable to think so.”
The judge nodded, having read the urgent report.

“Plaintiff. Do you have a rebuttal, or would you like to raise additional charges?”
“Well...”
Perhaps because the argument had landed harder than expected, Pierce faltered and looked to the queen.

Helena glanced sideways at the king.
“...”
But King Rio wore no expression at all, as if completely uninterested.

Clicking her tongue in irritation, Helena responded.
“...Then we call our witnesses.”
“Very well. Who will testify?”

The names that followed were painfully familiar.
“The Holy Church’s Pope, Escabaur III.”
“First Captain of the Holy Knights, Mohaim Espirense.”

“And the Saintess, Erzena Seraff.”
The courtroom stirred.
“Th-the Pope!?”

“He’s actually attending the trial?”
Each of them was a towering figure—politically and religiously.
The queen concluded with pride.

“That makes three.”
“They will be admitted. Participation is granted.”
No sooner had those words left the judge’s mouth—

– Creeeak.
The courtroom door opened.
And in stepped two familiar faces.

“Gasp...!”
“They’re really here—the Captain and the Saintess!”
Mohaim and Erzena walked in.

Even Hylin and Karton looked shaken.
“H-how did they get here so fast?”
“They must’ve set out for the capital the moment the delegation crossed the border.”

I was the only one not surprised.
They took their place at the queen’s side, and Mohaim promptly activated a scrying crystal.
– Whrrrrr.

At that moment, the Pope’s benevolent face appeared within the activated scrying crystal.
—Greetings, distinguished figures of the Kingdom of Crossroads.
The man I never wished to see again spoke in that same leisurely voice.

“Y-Your Holiness—no, Witness. Are you aware of the reason you’ve been summoned to this trial?”
—Ah, Judge, is it? Of course. Then if you’ll permit this old man a few words...
He cleared his throat and began his statement.

—This pilgrimage was ordained by God Himself.
His solemn voice seized the entire courtroom.
—Yet this inspector, consumed by baseless suspicion, denied us entry. As a result, the Lord’s wrath was incurred.

Shameless to the extreme.
Queen Helena nodded in approval.
The Pope gestured to the Saintess at his side.

—The disappearance of the Saintess’s divine power is also the fruit of that wrath. The journey of God was not to be obstructed—and yet it was.
As he said, the usual shimmering gold aura that surrounded Erzena was still gone.
Only now did the onlookers notice the missing halo and begin murmuring.

—Thus, we issue a formal protest. The man who forgot the duty of neutrality and barred a peaceful Pilgrimage Delegation must be punished.
He ended his statement crisply, then turned his gaze to the Queen’s side.
—Isn’t that right, King Rio Castor?

Being called out so directly, for the first time, King Rio’s eyes shifted.
He stared into the crystal, meeting the Pope’s image.
A man who sought to cross the border with war in mind—and the one who risked everything to stop him.

A twisted symmetry, two old enemies from fifteen years ago now seated on the same side.
Beside me, the Minister looked toward the king with desperate hope.
“Your Majesty... Please wake up...”

But the king’s reply crushed Karton’s fragile wish into dust.
“...Indeed.”
—As I understand, the standard punishment for an Immigration Officer is execution. We would like this case to serve as precedent.

There it was—their true goal.
My death.
—If there are doubts, I will present a portion of the conversation. This was spoken directly by the Chief Inspector himself and should serve as conclusive evidence.

The Pope touched the scrying crystal again.
My own agitated voice echoed across the courtroom.
[Their intention to rationalize acts of war under the name of ‘Holy War’ is clear, and poses a direct threat to the peace of the continent!]

In the recording, I clearly declared that their purpose was a crusade.
—That is all. Once again, to call a peaceful Pilgrimage Delegation a crusading army is a grave insult.
Cruelly confident, with conviction that allowed no dispute.

—And I take it as a direct insult and denigration of our Holy Church.
The most feared line had finally been said.
The Pope personally naming the accusation.

Director Hylin couldn’t bear it anymore and shouted,
“But we have material evidence, dammit! More weapons than there are people! The presence of the First Captain of the Holy Knights! And the unprecedented accompaniment of the Saintess—!”
Even that was silenced by the judge’s interjection.

“His Holiness’s testimony is also valid. And there is indeed room to interpret these events as an insult.”
“Judge!”
“Even if it's a matter of perception, it constitutes a possible diplomatic breach.”

Gradually, the courtroom began to align with the Pope’s narrative.
“Then lastly—does the defense wish to make a final statement?”
Final plea.

It meant the judge had already made up his mind.
We were being driven into an overwhelmingly unfavorable position.
Nearly no way to win.

All eyes turned to me.
“...Yes.”
I rose slowly from my seat.

And looked directly at the judge.
“I would like to call one last witness.”
“What is the subject of the testimony?”

“To prove the true purpose of the Pilgrimage Delegation—and to confirm my innocence.”
“Permission granted. Who is the witness?”
I raised my hand and pointed.

Every gaze followed my finger.
To one woman seated on the Queen’s side.
“Erzena Seraff.”

My final trump card.
The ultimate weapon, one that could only be used when the enemy believed they had already won.
“I call the Saintess of the Holy Church as a witness.”

An uproar erupted across the courtroom.
“The—The Saintess!? As his witness?”
“He’s lost it.”

“He knows it’s over.”
The Pope laughed, incredulous.
—I’m not sure what game you’re playing, Chief Inspector. Why would Erzena testify for you?

But his laughter didn’t last long.
“I accept the request.”
—...What?

The courtroom rippled with even greater shock.
“Saintess! What do you think you’re—?!”
The Queen screamed, her voice nearing a shriek.

But Erzena’s voice cleanly cut through it.
“I swear upon the Lord to speak only the truth from this moment on.”
Erzena walked forward and stood at my side.

She placed her hand atop mine on the desk.
A faint golden warmth pulsed between our palms.
Her eyes met mine.

I gave her a silent nod.
She turned her gaze back to the courtroom.
Took a deep breath—and spoke loud enough for all to hear.

“This pilgrimage was a lie.”
She had struck the kingdom’s most sacred nerve.