I’m an Immigration Officer!

The march of 3,373.
— Step, step.

They moved forward in utter silence.
The Pilgrimage Delegation no longer marched toward the North.
Instead, they were returning to the South.

Where once there should have been songs of praise and ceaseless prayers, laughter and joy—
“…”
“…”

Not a single one dared open their mouth. They simply walked.
In place of joy, their faces were etched with confusion and a faint, creeping fear.
There was only one truth echoing in their minds.

The Great Mission had failed.
And not at the hands of the Evil God Cult—but by the very deity they worshipped.
Their faces brimmed with grief, with doubt, with broken belief.

Why?
Doubt.
It is the path to disbelief—yet also the shortcut to conviction.

That is why Mohaim Espirence had been trapped in unending turmoil for days.
O God…
It had never happened before.

A sword must never doubt.
A blade does not question right and wrong.
And yet, in this very moment, that faith wavered.
And so, silently, Mohaim recited the oath he had sworn all his life:

“I am the blade of the Lord, the weapon that strikes down evil.”
A blade does not think. It only cuts.
To fell evil, to protect the righteous—that was who they were.

But then, who was evil?
Doubt once again pushed through the cracks in his conviction.
“I will annihilate all who serve the Evil God.”

But then why—why did the Lord take the Saintess’s side?
Was there some mission even greater than holy war against the Cult?
Or had they misunderstood the Lord’s will entirely?

As if fleeing from his own blasphemous thoughts, he recited another line.
“We follow the Lord. We follow the will of His emissary.”
And who was the emissary?

Pope Escabar III.
The one closest to God.
But his divine power had shattered. Even the relic he’d used to fake it had been exposed.

By the Lord’s direct intervention, no less.
Then… who was the emissary now?
“...Saintess…”

But Erzena Seraff had stripped herself of the title.
She had renounced everything she’d done, left the Church—and once again, was chosen by the divine.
Why?

Everything shook.
His faith, his sword, his gaze.
They trembled, helpless.

He needed an answer.
An answer he could no longer find within himself.
He needed someone to tell him everything.

And just then, a Holy Knight beside him spoke.
“Commander. We’ve arrived.”
At his words, Mohaim slowly lifted his head.

A city wall, towering high as if to pierce the heavens.
Statues standing motionless atop it, like silent sentinels.
“…”

Mohaim looked up at the familiar sight with a hollow expression.
Back then, when we passed through this place, I thought—there was no one in the world who could stop us.
But here he stood again.

Not as a crusader, but a defeated man who hadn’t even begun to fight.
And then, his gaze lowered.
A man stood before the gates.

“Welcome to the Southern Border, Holy Crusaders.”
A young man—his face unmistakably familiar.
Mohaim spoke his name.

“…Chief Inspector.”
“Noble Sir Mohaim Espirence.”
The man who had stood at the origin of all this.

The man who had seeded all his doubts.
And, perhaps, the only one who could give him an answer.
Nathan Kell spoke.

“Would you like to proceed with your exit processing?”
 
****

Mohaim Espirence.
Our eyes met.
A short but deeply tangled connection.

“Would you like to proceed with your exit processing?”
“…Yes.”
He answered weakly.

Instead of replying, I turned around and looked at the Gustatory Inspector.
She’d just hidden Erzena in the Immigration Office’s conference room—and now she gave me a subtle thumbs-up.
They must not find out Erzena is here.

One glance at their expressions told me all I needed to know.
They were desperately seeking someone to believe in.
If they laid eyes on a woman touched by the divine after having their own faith denied, that lost devotion would ignite once again into fanaticism.

And as a temporary asylum seeker, she’s legally forbidden from contact anyway.
Besides, Mohaim’s face was nothing like I remembered.
Gone was the noble, righteous Holy Knight.

In his place stood a worn-out veteran, his face crowded with questions and doubt, staring at me with a lost gaze.
He must’ve been through hell.
But that wasn’t my concern.

I’d been through hell too.
You think I haven’t suffered these past few days?
And this exile—this was a royal decree. It needed to be enforced immediately.

I didn’t want to see them lingering here for even one more second.
So without hesitation, I told them:
“I’ll proceed with your exit processing. Please divide into five lines and stand before each inspector. No one is to be left out.”

The Senses Inspectors stood at my side with stern expressions.
We’d process them faster than we ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) had when they first arrived—these zealots.
 

****
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
Only the sound of seals stamping echoed through the room at terrifying speed.

Thirty minutes.
Maybe it was the pent-up resentment—but we processed them several times faster than when they entered.
“Those who are finished, move to the left. Those still waiting, please line up to the right!”

“No, not groups of ten—bring thirty at a time!”
“We’ll process family units together!”
The Senses Inspectors, fully fired up, were clearing one name every two seconds.

Thirty minutes.
In just thirty minutes, the Delegation’s roster was down to its final pages.
“Good. And last but not least… Sir Mohaim Espirence. Identity confirmed.”

I stamped the second-to-last document.
BANG.
[EXIT PROCESSED]

The red letters blazed across the Holy Knight Commander’s paperwork.
The mountain of documents was gone, reduced to just one sheet.
Mohaim and I stared down at it together.

It bore the face of a woman we both knew all too well.
[Saintess Erzena Seraff]
“…”

“…”
Mohaim’s expression twisted in quiet dismay.
— Swip.

I quietly slid the sheet with Erzena’s profile off to the side and addressed the Delegation.
“At this moment, the exit processing of all 3,373 of you is complete. You are now required to exit through the city gates without delay. Does anyone object?”
“…”

Silence.
“Then this concludes your exit processing. Thank you for visiting the Kingdom of Crossroads. Farewell.”
It was finally over.

Never again.
— Step, step.
Like defeated soldiers, the Crusaders began walking toward the border—without resistance, without response.

They looked pitiful enough to inspire sympathy.
They’ll probably be branded as failures now. Labeled as those who failed the Great Mission.
Their future was easy to predict.

Failures, or worse—traitors to the divine will.
But at the same time, they were now ticking time bombs for the Church.
Erzena’s renunciation, the divine intervention, and the Pope’s false power being exposed…

If they carried all of that back South—
The rumors would explode beyond control. The Pope wouldn’t be able to contain it.
And the moment his authority wavers—Erzena’s asylum ends, and she’ll return to the South.

At that point, the Church will be overturned completely.
With the one truly chosen by God at its center.
Finishing that train of thought, I turned and spoke.

“Sir Espirence. Your comrades are waiting.”
“…”
Only Mohaim remained, standing alone in the now-empty field.

But instead of moving, he looked at me and said,
“There’s one thing… I’d like to ask before I go.”
“If it’s about Miss Erzena’s whereabouts, I can’t answer.”

I’d never tell.
Who knew what the Pope might do?
I wasn’t even going to admit she’d sought asylum.

But the question he asked was something else entirely.
“…Were we truly… mistaken?”
“…”

The hell is this now?
Caught off guard, I stayed silent for a moment. Then he continued.
“I’ve lived my life as a sword for the Lord. I believed this crusade, too, was part of His will.”

His expression twisted, like a knight confessing before a priest.
“But if it wasn’t… then I fear everything I’ve lived for has been a lie. What was divine will, and what was just… delusion?”
His scarred eyes locked onto mine.

They were asking—
Was I wrong?
Give me an answer.

Tell me the truth of our faith.
That face, overflowing with doubt.
For the first time, a man who had lived his life by divine purpose stood before me—asking.

“You’re a known Talent Manifestor. A man said to be blessed by the divine. Can you answer me?”
He asked it of me.
“Were we wrong? Did the Church misread His will?”

As if I held all the truths of the world.
“…”
For a moment, I couldn’t say a single word.

I was furious.
It felt like my blood was rising backward through my veins.
I was nauseated by the arrogance in that old man’s voice.

He’s the one who tried so hard to kill me.
All because I didn’t align with his binary worldview—where anything outside their dogma was heresy.
And now he’s asking me for an answer?

Even his reasoning was pathetic.
He assumed I could give him divine truth just because I was a Talent Manifestor, because he’d decided I was beloved by God.
The height of ignorance. The peak of arrogance. The very definition of self-serving faith.

I clenched my fist so tightly it went pale.
And yet… a part of me felt sorry for him.
That must be the only world Mohaim has ever known.

Right and wrong. Truth and lies.
Such things don’t matter to a soldier.
A soldier simply follows orders.

Swings his sword in the direction he’s told, cuts down whomever he’s told is evil.
Which is why, now that his convictions had crumbled for the first time… he looked completely lost.
“…This Chief Inspector…”

So, I spoke honestly.
“This Chief Inspector does not believe in God.”
“…What?”

“I don’t want to rely on something like that either.”
Hearing me reject the divine to his face, he panicked and shouted.
“Your very existence is proof of the divine!”

The old knight’s voice rang out.
“You’ve seen it! Through the Saintess, we’ve all seen it—how the Lord protected you! I heard everything. You’re a Talent Manifestor! And God Himself confirmed it!”
“…”

“And yet you say you don’t believe—!”
“Did I ever ask for that?”
I cut him off.

That persistent attempt to force the world into his own framework—utterly repulsive.
“I never requested it. Never desired it. It was simply dumped into my life.”
“B-but it was a gift from the Lord for our—”

“And who the hell is our?!”
I shouted.
“Don’t you dare lump me in with you people.”

It was the first time I’d ever broken formal speech in public.
Even the Senses Inspectors beside me looked at me, stunned.
My breathing roughened.

I glared at Mohaim.
Even if God exists, I will not thank Him.
Even if He helps me, I will not lean on Him.

And no matter how unfair this world becomes—I will never blame Him.
That’s the most dangerous path of all.
I won’t chalk up the Visual Inspector’s death, or anything else I’ve suffered, to divine will.

I will never hand over my joy, my pain, or my life to something like that.
If my Talent Manifestation is a divine blessing, then I’ll use it.
But I won’t drown in it.

I’m not some pawn on God’s chessboard.
That was the only difference between Mohaim and me.
I spat the words.

“I don’t resent the power I’ve gained. But I don’t intend to thank some higher being for it either.”
“…”
“If this Chief Inspector had revealed from the beginning that he was a Talent Manifestor—would you have labeled me a heretic?”

You were the ones who tried to kill me for following proper procedure.
“If I had refused the Delegation’s entry despite being a Talent Manifestor… rejected the Pope’s request… would you still have called me one blessed by the divine?”
I hit the mark.

“You people violated the laws of the Kingdom of Crossroads, and the treaties of the world, all in the name of a Great Mission. You spread the embers of war.”
I stabbed him with every word.
“Was that divine will? Is that the ‘good’ will of your God you screamed about? Is that what your Church does?”

No.
That was clearly the will of man. The ambition of Pope Escabar.
“In what way are you any different from the Evil God Cult?”

The Evil God Cult, which treats human lives as disposable—spreading terror and atrocity without remorse.
And the Holy Church, which drives people to blind zeal in the name of God, and tries to kill those who resist.
In my eyes, they’re the same.

I’m sick of it.
Even after seeing divine intervention firsthand—even though he knows it in his heart—he refuses to accept it with his mind.
I wasn’t just angry. I pitied him.

So I added, one last thing:
“That’s why Erzena stripped herself of the title.”
Mohaim couldn’t say a word.

“Go home, Sir Espirence.”
If you came to me seeking answers—this is all I’ll give you.
“You already know the answer.”

What’s right, what’s wrong—it was all made clear at the trial.
You just refuse to accept it.
A blind sword.

That’s what you are.
Mohaim looked at me like he’d just been struck with a hammer.
A long silence.

“…”
“…”
In the empty field, our eyes remained locked for what felt like forever.

Then finally, he opened his mouth.
“…Is the Saintess here?”
“I can’t tell you.”

“Then please, deliver a message to her.”
His gaze changed.
No longer full of doubt—but with the eyes of someone who had realized something.

“Tell her… it was an honor to serve her. And that I will find the truth.”
For the first time, he bowed his head to me.
“…Until then, may you remain safe, Chief Inspector.”

Even his tone had shifted—polite, respectful.
Seeing that, I replied:
“The Kingdom of Crossroads will always be here. Go in peace.”

Whether you change or not—
This nation will remain.
I will remain to protect it.

And with that, Mohaim left the border behind.
 
****

As the border gate closed behind him, Mohaim silently joined the rear of the Delegation.
They began their slow journey back to the southern branch of the Holy Church.
— In what way are you different from the Evil God Cult?

Nathan’s words echoed in his mind.
— You already know the answer.
A cold condemnation—but an honest answer nonetheless.

“…Already know it, huh.”
He murmured the words again to himself.
The countless doubts he’d carried for so long…

One by one, they began to settle.
Instead, he recalled the trial.
The Lord’s will was clear.

He now understood.
Chief Inspector Nathan did not believe in God. In fact, he actively tried to push God out of his life.
And yet, he lived more in line with the divine will than anyone else.

He stood on his own two feet.
Even if shaken, even if broken—he endured, and walked forward with integrity.
The scriptures had said it:

Heaven helps those who help themselves.
And that must be why God had chosen him.
At the same time, Mohaim now gave himself an answer.

He had seen it with his own eyes—and still refused to believe.
Nathan had struck at that truth, and told him he already knew.
“…Your Holiness.”

Then the next step—was to hear the Pope’s answer.
Not through a silent crystal orb, but in person.
He would ask him the same question.

And once I hear that answer… I’ll make my decision myself.
That would be his final show of respect to the man he had trusted and followed his entire life.
The Church’s blind blade—

was finally beginning to open its eyes.
And the time was coming when he would choose, on his own, who to strike.