I’m an Immigration Officer!

“Urgh…!”
The nausea surged all the way up to my throat.

“Uuuuurrgh…!”
I quickly turned my head and slammed it against the corner of the cell.
“Chief Inspector! Are you all right?”
“Are you hurt!?”

The Tactile Inspector and Olfactory Inspector rushed over in alarm at the sight.
I barely managed to raise a hand to them, trying to steady my voice.
“It… it’s nothing. I was just startled, that’s all.”

There was no way I was fine.
This was the second time.
The second time someone had died right in front of my eyes.

The warmth of blood splattered on my cheek was slowly fading, mingling with the metallic stench in the air.
That gut-wrenching feeling—I could never get used to it.
The situation was entirely different from what happened with the Visual Inspector, but the result was the same.

A grotesquely mutilated corpse lying lifeless on the floor.
My gaze slowly turned toward the changeling.
The nausea came again.

Get a grip. Stay sharp, Nathan Kell.
I shook my head and took a deep breath.
To steer my thoughts elsewhere, I addressed the werewolf beside me.

“Olfactory Inspector. P-please go inform the Count.”
Right now, what mattered most was reporting this situation to the Border Count who had delegated the interrogation authority to me.
“We can’t risk any misunderstandings. Escort him here in person.”
The changeling died while I—who had been granted the interrogation rights—was questioning her.

It could easily be misconstrued.
He needed to see this with his own eyes before any of the evidence vanished.
The Olfactory Inspector nodded, recognizing the gravity of the situation.

“I’ll be back immediately. Tactile Inspector, I leave the Chief Inspector to you.”
And with that, he dashed out of the prison at alarming speed.
The Tactile Inspector gently patted my back, speaking softly.

“Take deep breaths. You’re okay. You’ve got me, so it’ll all be fine.”
“Huff... huff...”
I tried to control my emotions.

As an immigration officer, I’ve seen more than my share of horrors—but watching someone die right in front of me is something I can never bear.
I fought to suppress the recurring image of Renee’s final moments when Lacrisa cautiously offered a suggestion.
“Should we step outside for a moment? Some fresh air might help...”

“No. We need to preserve the scene.”
If the two of us left, who knew who might enter?
Until we know who’s behind this, we can’t leave this spot unattended.

Everyone except the Count, the Sensory Inspectors, and myself was a suspect.
“Tactile Inspector. Are you absolutely sure there was nothing inside her body? Aside from the fur—any magical traces or anything?”
She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

“Nothing. It was clean.”
Lacrisa wouldn’t lie.
That meant the spell hadn’t originated from inside her body.

Someone cast it from the outside.
But that led to a contradiction.
Normally, magic requires the caster to be nearby.

And this was a subterranean prison.
In this confined, sealed space, it was just the three of us—and her.
So how had someone formed a magic circle in this underground space?

“Besides… that blackish-red aura…”
I had never seen anything like it.
The energy felt alien—deeply unnatural.

It might be a curse.
If it was a curse, that would make sense.
If it were a conditional ritual spell triggered by violating a constraint, it’d check out.

But who did it?
That’s where everything hit a wall.
Then, the hurried sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor.

Moments later, Count Reyes appeared with several guards, his face etched with shock.
“Chief Inspector!”
“Count.”

He froze too, eyes locked on the shredded corpse and the magic circle beneath it.
“What in the world is this…”
Supported by the Tactile Inspector, I rose slowly and opened my mouth.

“This is an act of terrorism.”
It was terror.
A different form from what occurred at the border.

But terror all the same—an extreme act that conveyed a single, unmistakable message.
And that message was:
Stay silent.

“Someone placed a curse on her to silence her.”
“Who did it?”
“…”

That, even I couldn’t answer.
 
****

Six hours later. Late night. Southern Border Immigration Office.
The meeting with the Border Count had concluded without issue.
Having witnessed the scene with his own eyes, there was no room for misunderstanding.

That wasn’t the problem.
The problem was that we had no intel.
“Bring me the departure logs and any books we have on changelings.”

I muttered as I tore through documents like a madman. The Gustatory Inspector heaved the full set of [Encyclopedia of Continental Species Characteristics] onto my desk.
A mountain of books and papers now buried the surface.
After digging through them for what felt like forever, I stared blankly at the desk with bloodshot eyes.

In the depths of exhaustion, I muttered under my breath.
“Terror at the border, a kidnapping, and now a whistleblower silenced.”
No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find a lead.

Who the hell is behind this?
What kind of lunatic goes this far?
I replayed the changeling’s final words in my head.

—M-my employer is Hattenshi—
“Hattenshila.”
My hand shot toward the immigration records.

As I combed through the entries, a list of matching names came up.
Hattensil: Human, from the Western Desert
Hattensilia: Arachne, from the Northern Great Forest

Hattenshila: Human, from the Northern Scadi Empire
Hattensilyur: Merfolk, from the Southern Coast
Hattensilphi: Centaur, from the Eastern Nomadic Plains

“Goddamn it.”
I spat out a curse and shoved the register to the corner of the desk.
Too many.

More than fifteen names contained the word “Hattensil.”
And their times of entry, origins, destinations—none of them matched.
Tracking all of them down was impossible.

“Gustatory Inspector. The departure records, please. Starting three years back.”
At the very least, I could narrow the list down.
But the reply came from the Olfactory Inspector instead.

“Chief Inspector. It’s late. You should call it a night.”
I looked up.
The werewolf towered over me, frowning.

“Not yet. We’re just getting started—how can I leave now?”
“All the aides have already gone home. Look at the time.”
I glanced around.

The Immigration Office was quiet.
No one remained except me and the Sensory Inspectors. The sky outside had long since gone black.
“…You go on ahead. I’ll stay a while longer.”

I hadn’t even scratched the surface. How could I go home?
I couldn’t.
No—I wouldn’t.

Not until I found out who did this.
“You witnessed something horrible today. Your mind and body must be shaken. Get some rest and continue tomorrow.”
“I told you. I’m fine.”

The sharpness in my voice escaped before I realized it.
Still, the Olfactory Inspector responded calmly.
“If you keep pushing like this, it’ll affect your work tomorrow.”

“Olfactory Inspector. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Rushing won’t get you results—”
“How can I rest when this is happening?!”

My patience snapped.
“I’m telling you, it was terrorism! Terrorism! Some deranged bastard murdered her to keep her quiet! And in such a horrific way!”
It was revolting.

“Goddamn underground syndicate bastards.”
Something only a criminal organization would pull.
It was the first time in four years—since the death of the Visual Inspector, since I wiped out every single underworld faction operating in the south—that anything like this had happened.

Seeing me angry for the first time in ages, the Olfactory Inspector replied in a low voice.
“She would’ve been executed anyway, even if she told us everything.”
“Yes, executed—properly. Not in some grotesque, filthy way like that!”

He was right. She deserved to be executed.
Regardless of intent or circumstance, she had committed a capital crime.
But not like that.

She should’ve died lawfully. By proper procedure.
“What if this means the criminal underworld is back in business? What if someone with backing is embedding criminals into our kingdom?”
The Border Count’s words came to mind.

—Letting a criminal like that live too long could send the wrong message to our citizens and visitors.
Now the situation had reversed.
This too could become a message.

A dangerous one—that the south had once again become fertile ground for criminal organizations to thrive.
“What do you think happens when people find out a terrorist at the border died in a cover-up… and we couldn’t even identify the organization behind it?”
The border must be flawless.

Incidents may occur, but the response must always be absolute. The suspect must always be found.
Only then can safety and credibility be assured going forward.
The border is the nation’s first impression—our public face to the world.

Even if we’re shaken on the inside, we must appear unshakable on the outside.
But right now, we know nothing.
And that... that gnaws at me.

“That’s exactly why you need rest.”
The Olfactory Inspector handed me a file that had fallen to the floor.
“This isn’t something that’ll be resolved tonight. I get that you’re on edge. I know this is the second time you’ve watched someone die in front of you.”

“…”
“But tonight isn’t the night. You’ve been at this for six hours with nothing to show. Take a break and start again tomorrow. I’m saying this because I’m worried.”
Only then did I see the other Sensory Inspectors clearly.

“Chief Inspector…”
Blaszek and Lacrisa looked just as drained as I was.
They’d worked overtime, just like me. And they’d witnessed something horrendous. They weren’t just physically exhausted—they were emotionally shaken.

Even the Auditory and Gustatory Inspectors were watching me with worried eyes.
“…I’m sorry. I spoke too harshly.”
I let out a long, slow sigh.

I really had pushed myself into a corner.
He was right.
Nothing would change by pushing tonight.

And I had no reason to keep my subordinates trapped here just because I was uneasy.
Quietly, I muttered:
“…Let’s call it a night.”

Let’s stop here. For today.
 
****

“Hm, hmm~”
Meanwhile, cheerful humming echoed throughout Nathan Kell’s house.
Erzena lay sprawled on the bed, swinging her legs playfully.

She still remembered the conversation from that morning.
‘W-well then… I’ll be back, Erzena.’
‘Take care, Chief Inspector.’
He was such a diligent, earnest, and intelligent man.

And she… was the woman who saw him off.
Just like a devoted couple might do.
The thought brought her heart to a flutter—and her divine power buzzed with a nervous tremble.

“…What are you thinking, you idiot.”
She buried her face in a pillow.
But even so, her thoughts were already racing ahead to what she’d say when Nathan /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ returned home.

“You’re home?”
The kind of greeting a proper housewife might say.
And his response would be:

“I’m home.”
The warm, reliable words of someone returning from the outside world.
“You’re crazy. You’ve lost it. You’re insane!”

She flailed and kicked her bed furiously.
Then, with her face still buried in the pillow, she let out a muffled scream of embarrassment.
Her divine power reacted, radiating wild bursts of light in tune with her flustered energy.

“B-but… I mean, we do live together—well, I’m under his care… So something like that shouldn’t be too weird, right…?”
Her lips subconsciously moved to practice the line.
But just then—

Clack. Creak…
The front door opened.
“Ah!”

Erzena’s eyes flew open. She scrambled out of bed and ran downstairs toward the entryway.
There stood a man, shoulders slumped, staggering through the door in exhaustion.
His face was drawn, eyes sunken with deep, gnawing thoughts.

Looking at him, she opened her mouth with a nervous tremble.
“Y-you’re home?”
Nathan Kell gave a tired smile and nodded faintly.

“I’m home.”
The perfect reply made Erzena’s lips twitch.
He continued, voice hoarse.

“Sorry I’m late. I didn’t mean to work overtime without saying anything. I was chasing some leads…”
“It’s okay. You always work so hard. But… did you eat din—”
Her words trailed off.

And then, eyes wide with shock, she stared at the Chief Inspector.
It wasn’t the exhaustion on his face that troubled her.
It was something else entirely.

Erzena could feel it.
A sickening aura—one that was the exact opposite of divine power—clung to him like residue.
Not the black aura that surrounded Nathan’s usual energy.

This was something else.
A dark, crimson-red stench. The color of dried blood.
She murmured in alarm.

“D-did you meet someone from the Evil God Cult?”
Nathan, who had been about to collapse, suddenly snapped his head up.
“…What did you just say?”

The clue Nathan Kell had been so desperately searching for…
…was far closer than he ever expected.