I’m an Immigration Officer!

"Then I’ll take my leave first. Miss Erzena, I’ll see you tomorrow morning."

—Clack.
The sound of the door closing echoed as the Chief Inspector exited the office.
Karton and Hylin watched him go with expressions too complicated to name, until they both sighed quietly.

"Yeah… on a day like this, he’d want to talk to the Visual Inspector."
"There are always things we can’t say to the living."
Erzena stared blankly at the closed door for a moment.

Only once the sound of his footsteps had completely faded did she turn to the two in the room.
"Who… is the Visual Inspector?"
"Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t know. Have you met the border inspectors stationed at the southern line? They’re called the Five Sensory Inspectors."

She tried to recall her memories from the past.
From the time when she was with the Pilgrimage Delegation, at the border crossing.
A blood-crazed werewolf howling in the distance.

A tiny nomad girl zipping around.
An elf who set her wine glass down on the table.
And a Tactile Inspector she never saw in person, but who had reportedly sent over a cargo manifest.

‘Five Sensory Inspectors… must be titles based on the senses.’
Which meant there should be five of them.
But she only knew of four.

"I think I’ve heard of them all, one way or another. But the Visual Inspector… I’ve never—"
"That makes sense. Chief Inspector’s the only reason you’d even hear about her."
Hylin nodded, as if she understood.
And then, with a subdued voice, she said:

"The Visual Inspector died in the line of duty, several years ago."
"Died in the line of duty?"
It was such a sudden revelation that Erzena repeated it without thinking.

"An… immigration officer? Died on duty? What happened…?"
Then, a memory surfaced—something even she, normally indifferent to worldly matters, recalled seeing as a headline in the Kingdom of Maharlan years ago.
—A catastrophic mana surge at the southern border of the Kingdom of Crossroads results in dozens dead as a fairy loses control…

Mana Surge.
A terrifying phenomenon triggered when mana accumulates unnaturally inside a person’s body, erupting as uncontrollable violent energy.
Even more devastating than an enraged spirit, a surge causes energy storms to burst from within the victim, devastating everything around them.

There are only two ways to stop it.
Let the surge run its course until the victim’s life runs out—
Or kill them.

Could that have been the Visual Inspector?
Was that incident related to this?
A dreadful hunch tightened in her chest.

But she didn’t dare ask.
"…"
"…"

The looks in their eyes already gave her the answer.
So instead, Erzena asked the one question that weighed most heavily on her mind.
"Then… who was the Visual Inspector to the Chief Inspector?"

What sort of person could move him to go off alone like that?
If it were just a subordinate, the two of them wouldn’t react with such heaviness.
But both the Minister and the Director had spoken as if the Chief Inspector had lost someone precious.

And when Erzena had offered to accompany him, he had refused her instantly.
—No. I’d like to see her alone.
She’d seen it on his face.

It wasn’t just a matter of duty.
That look—tinged with longing, regret, guilt, and a faint smile—
It wasn’t the kind of emotion born from a professional relationship.

So she asked gently:
"Did they… love each other?"
Was he grieving a lost lover?

If so… what did that mean for her?
"Love?"
The two adults furrowed their brows as if searching for the right word, then ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) smiled bitterly.

"Not sure I’d call it love."
"It was… much more complicated than that. Closer than spouses, not quite as deep as lovers."
The vagueness of the answer made her stumble over her words.

"I… I don’t understand what that means."
Hylin stood up from her seat, gazing through the window toward the cemetery in the distance, and spoke quietly.
"Renee Ilia, the Visual Inspector, was Nathan Kell’s first junior… and also his direct superior. That was before he became Chief Inspector."

His first junior.
And his superior officer.
Two contradictory titles that somehow both defined her.

 
Flowers bloom, grasses rise, leaves fall, and snow comes down—
The passage of time eats away at all things, only to give birth to life again.

And yet, some places remain untouched.
Places that feel as if time itself has stopped.
Cold. Still.

I made my way toward that place.
Carrying a small bundle of white mistflowers I’d just purchased.
The inscription carved into the stone gate greeted me:

[Royal Cemetery: Remember Those Who Fell for the Nation]
My eyes lingered on the final words.
"...Remember."

I stepped inside.
Hundreds of upright gray headstones stood like a silent forest.
Each one carved with a name.

Those who died bravely. Those who sacrificed nobly. Those who served their country with honor.
I passed them by.
And passed them still.

Until I reached the farthest corner—
Where the graves of the fae were kept.
There, at the final row, I stopped before a single headstone.

Smaller than the others.
Made of wood, barely reaching my waist.
Thud.

I knelt on one knee to meet it at eye level.
And read the words carved in fairy script:
[In Memory of Renee Ilia]

Today was not her death anniversary.
Not the day of the incident. Not even her commissioning date.
But no other day had made me want to see her more than this one.

"It’s been a while, Visual Inspector."
I stared for a long time before whispering softly.
No reply came.

Only rustling leaves broke the silence.
Renee Ilia.
She had silver wings.

A fairy who became my first junior back when I was just a rookie inspector.
—H-Hello! As of yesterday, I’m officially an Immigration Officer! Renee Ilia! Please take care of me, Senior!
So much energy. So much tension. The contrast had been striking.

I still remember the dozens of times I had told her:
—Now, repeat after me. An immigration officer never compromises. You must always act by principle and rule.
—A proper inspector never bends to external pressure. That’s the standard we uphold.

Those textbook lines, all because I was the “senior.”
And she had listened to every word of it for hours.
We really did start at the bottom together.

Back then, we worked under dozens of senior officers.
Always doing our best to support the state and the Office.
Then, one day, she was suddenly promoted.

—S-Senior… They’re making me the Visual Inspector. But that means you’ll…
It hadn’t been long since her commissioning.
And yet Renee became my direct superior.

It made sense, though.
Fairies are hyper-sensitive to mana, able to perceive the invisible flow of energy.
It was the logical choice. Her quick learning and aptitude sealed the deal.

I had no complaints.
Just… a little sadness.
I looked at the grave and spoke softly.

"A lot has happened lately. Things just as heavy as what you once went through."
"I was tempted, Renee. Just like Gerard tempted you. By the Pope, no less."
"I nearly gave in. Nearly stamped my seal. But I thought of you."

As Visual Inspector, Renee had seen much, learned much, endured much—
Until the day she saw what she never should have.
—W-What is this? Mr. Gerard?

Gerard Monarch.
The former Chief Inspector.
He had taken the position immediately after the previous one was executed.

She caught him smuggling illegal substances known as mana surge stimulants.
And then… she vanished.
I still remember what he said when I saw her distress signal.

—You didn’t see anything. You’re a bottom-rank inspector. Do as you’re told. Got it?
—If you report this, we’re all dead. We’ll all lose our heads. You wanna bring a bloodstorm to the southern border?!
—Ignore the distress call. Shut up! I’m the one in charge. You want to be court-martialed for insubordination too?! That dumb bitch—why the hell didn’t she just…!

That’s when I knew.
Gerard had been in bed with smugglers for years.
And that Renee’s disappearance was no coincidence.

But I—just a low-ranking inspector—I obeyed him.
Because I was afraid.
Because I had no power.

Because he said we’d all die.
The tragedy didn’t end there.
Eventually, she returned.

As a fairy in the grip of a full-blown mana surge.
Her body aflame, rampaging through the syndicate’s hideout.
I close my eyes.

And her voice comes back to me, clearer than ever.
—S-Senior… don’t cry… to me… you’re the Chief Inspector… not someone like Gerard…
Even as the mana ravaged her from within, she worried about me.

Even after outranking me, she still called me senior to the end.
—I… didn’t compromise… I did good… right? Just like you said…
She died in my arms.

The syndicate had force-fed her so many surge stimulants that her body left nothing behind.
I remember.
How could I forget?

The resolve I made that day.
Those idealistic lines I once parroted when I first became a senior—the lines I clung to in those early days—
She had thrown them back at me as she died.
How could I ever forget that feeling?

 
****
I held her burning body as it turned to ash and swore.

If the world was this twisted,
If we lived in a world where even one righteous soul couldn’t be protected,
If bowing my head to this cursed world had led us here,

Then I would never bow again.
I would never compromise again.
And I would not let a single one of those bastards who did this to you walk away.

—An Immigration Officer never compromises. One must always abide by the rules and principles.
—An inspector must not waver, no matter the external pressure.
The words I once said to you—I carved them back into myself.

[Gerard…]
I spoke the name of the man who made you this way.
[Gerard Monarch…!!!]

I remember his voice, ordering me to obey as he called himself Chief Inspector.
The voice of the one who was supposed to guard the border, to protect his own.
The voice of the man who sold you to a criminal syndicate to save himself.

[You are not a Chief Inspector.]
[You don’t deserve to be called that…!!!]
[If the entire southern border is rotten, if it’s filled with scum like you—]
[Then I’ll burn it all down and rebuild it from scratch!]
Retribution.
This is my price to pay.

The sin of letting you die. Of closing my eyes.
For the eyes that will never open again.
To never forget the name Visual Inspector.

For you—my first sense.
I will not compromise with this world.
On that cursed day, when the rain poured down,

The inferno inside me never went out.
From that day on, the lowly inspector Nathan Kell ceased to exist.
Only Chief Inspector Nathan Kell remained.

 
****
When I opened my eyes again, the image of Renee faded, replaced once more by the wooden headstone.

"...It’s because of you."
I spoke in a whisper.
"I remember every word you said to me that day, Renee."

"Never compromise. Never yield. Never bow."
"All of them were my words—words you gave back to me in the end."
I hesitated.

Then quietly said,
"Thank you."
A phrase with too much weight behind it.

Words I never once managed to say to her.
The words I had wanted so badly to say.
I gently laid the flowers in front of her grave.

The white mistflowers—symbols of death, promise, and sorrow.
A cruelly fitting flower for someone like Renee.
"...I miss you so much, Renee."

I let that final, buried truth fall with them.
Your place is still empty.
I haven’t had the courage to let anyone else take it.

My vision blurred.
Ah, why does this ache so badly?
Why is it so cold—this fact that I can do nothing for the one who still holds me up, even in death?

Why do the dead etch their names into the hearts of the living before they leave?
Time frozen is unbearably cold.
Even my tears… I can’t give them to you.

Everything I’ve held back breaks loose.
All the things I’ve buried come flooding out.
And so, here in this place where no one comes—
I grieve for you.

In this place where I can finally show my truth—
I cry your name aloud.
How much time had passed?

By the time my emotions had settled and the tearstains clung to my cheeks—
Rustle.
A faint movement behind me.

A woman in a luxurious dress was walking among the graves.
Not many people would visit the cemetery at this hour, with the sun setting.
I turned to see where she was headed.

In the distance, I saw a part of the cemetery that was built with grand, solemn stonework.
[Royal Tombs]
Who’s that?

A noblewoman, walking alone toward the royal family’s graves?
No guards. No escort.
If she were the daughter of someone high-ranking, there would be security.

If she weren’t, she’d have no reason to be headed to the royal tombs.
I slowly rose to my feet.
There was no need to follow her.

I didn’t even know who she was.
And the royal tombs had nothing to do with me.
But now that King Rio had awakened…

For some reason, I felt curious.
Does the wrathful king still mourn him?
The way I mourn Renee?

Slowly, I began to walk.
Maybe I’d find the answer at Prince Lassen’s grave.
Meanwhile, murmurs of anxiety stirred in the Queen’s receiving room.

"What do we do now?"
"If His Majesty resumes state affairs…"
"Has there been any word from the Church?"

The Queen’s loyal retainers were visibly shaken and bewildered.
Events had spiraled too quickly. The once-calm strategists now just repeated meaningless questions, as if to hide their own confusion.
The Pope’s sudden silence.
The King’s eruption of fury.
The annulment of the entire trial.

Three catastrophes had struck at once.
The Queen herself sat behind her fan, deep in thought.
"If this keeps up…"

She was on edge.
The Pope had promised her a blessing.
Specifically, it concerned Princess Elaine Castor’s Talent Manifestation.

Given how violently her power had surged once before, she needed a force strong enough to suppress it.
That was supposed to be the Pope’s blessing.
But now the Pope had vanished entirely.

And for reasons she couldn’t yet grasp, the King was enraged and seemed poised to act.
Her plans had fallen apart.
The Saintess had now clearly sided with the Chief Inspector. There was no longer any hope of requesting her divine power.

To admit political fault now would mean bowing her head to undo the damage.
And that was something she would rather die than do.
A royal bows to no mere inspector.

Agitated, she snapped,
"Where is Elaine? Where is my daughter?"
Unless she could vent this growing unease onto her daughter, she felt she might go mad.

The girl who killed her brother.
The girl who killed my son.
She needed to be reminded of that again.
No—she had to be.

She had to rebrand the girl with the weight of that sin.
But the reply she got was far from what she expected.
"She’s… out at the moment."

"Where!?"
"That is…"
The servant hesitated.

The Queen snapped her fan shut and spoke with venom.
"I told you, no matter where Elaine goes or what she does, you are to report it to me!"
"W-We couldn’t deliver the message during the trial, Your Majesty!"

"Then tell me now! Where is she!?"
The Queen shrieked, her voice trembling with fury.
The servant finally managed to speak.

"Sh-She went to Prince Lassen’s grave."
Helena Castor’s expression twisted.