I’m an Immigration Officer!

Not even two seconds passed before the regret came crashing in.
"Ah…"
I shouldn’t have asked.

I squeezed my eyes shut.
Why must the heavens bestow such trials upon me?
‘Is this because I said I don’t believe?’

Just then, the harpy courier, finally having relaxed, accepted the recipient confirmation slip and said,
"Well then, with the delivery complete, I’ll be off—"
"W-Wait! Please wait just a moment."

I couldn’t let the courier go yet.
Now that I’d identified the sender, pretending ignorance was no longer an option.
Failing to respond immediately to a letter from royalty would be an unforgivable breach of etiquette.

The moment you receive it, you must read it. The moment you read it, you must reply.
‘Why the hell did I ask that like an idiot…’
I already had a strong suspicion in my gut. That should’ve been enough.

Why did I have to go poking around?
But it was already too late.
With the look of a man resigned to death, I asked the courier,

"Could you wait just a little longer? I’ll read it quickly and write a reply."
"But I’m hungry…"
The harpy began hopping in place, clearly uneasy.
At the sight, I turned and said,

"Auditory Inspector, do you have any snacks on hand?"
The Auditory Inspector immediately opened a desk drawer and pulled something out.
"I’ve got some hardtack—kinda like bar snacks~."

Yeah. You may be a borderline alcoholic, but at least you don’t drink on duty.
"Please share a bit with the courier here."
The harpy species is, by nature, simple-minded.

They possess flight and high mobility—but in exchange, they grow hungry very quickly.
So when they eat something tasty, they get happy. And they wear their emotions on their feathers.
She was probably hoping to score a treat at the Duke of the Border’s manor after completing the delivery.

“Wow!”
Sure enough, instant reaction.
She flapped her wings excitedly and clamped one of the hardtack pieces from the Inspector’s hand in her beak.

"Om-nom-nom… Okay, then I’ll wait a little longer!"
"Excellent."
There was no time to hesitate.

I immediately tore open the envelope and began reading the contents.
[Recipient: Chief Inspector Nathan Kell]
[Sender: A Friend]
At what point did she start considering me a “friend”?

I couldn’t even begin to guess.
‘Is it because of what I said at the royal tomb that day?’
But that was under the assumption that I didn’t know she was a Princess.

And it wasn’t like we’d had a particularly friendly chat, either.
Let’s just read further.
[Hello. I’m your friend. Have you been doing well?]

Still as abrupt as ever.
It’s only been a day since the last letter, so asking how I’ve been feels a bit off.
Yet, despite that, the handwriting was surprisingly neat and precise.

‘She’s not used to writing letters, huh.’
Come to think of it, ever since the accident, there hadn’t been a single report of her attending social functions or communicating with anyone.
Which means… I might very well be the first person to receive a personal letter from her in her entire life.

‘If that’s the case…’
I guess I can understand—just a little.
Maybe I can read this with a more generous mindset.

I relaxed my expression and calmly moved to the next line—
[ActuallyIcannottellyoumyidentitybutmeetingyoubroughtmeanewjoysothat’swhyI’mtakingthecouragetosharemythoughtswithyouIhopeyoudon’tfindthisburdensomeOhbutIthinkit’llbeaseriousconversationsoifitdoesfeelheavyIunderstandAfterallYousaidyouunderstandmewhichmeansyouprobablyknowhowIfeelandifsoyoumightalreadyknowwhatI’mgoingtosayevenwithoutmewritingitButstillIreallywantedtoexpressmyselfthroughwordssoI’dliketotrysharingashortstorywithyou—]
—Thud.

I closed the letter.
My vision swam.
“…”

Shock. And terror.
What the hell did I just witness?
Even though I’d read it with my own two eyes, my brain refused to comprehend.

‘That… that’s really something written by a Princess of the realm?’
This was beyond excessive.
A normal letter exists to communicate information, feelings, or thoughts.

It should allow the reader to grasp what the sender wants and what they’re trying to say.
But this? All it conveyed to me was chaos.
Not confusion, not anger, not sorrow—just chaos.

It felt like reading a cursed tome.
“Hoo… It’s okay. I’ve handled more convoluted administrative reports than this.”
I steadied myself.

If I backed down now, replying would become impossible.
“…Let’s do this.”
I refocused and began reading again.

[HonestlywhenIwenttoseemybrotherthatdayitdidn’treallyhaveanybigmeaningImeanitwasn’tmeaninglessbutstillmeetingyou—]
Thump.
My forehead hit the desk.

"What the hell is she even saying…"
Something utterly beyond comprehension.
‘Is this code?’

I focused every ounce of my mental faculties and looked at the letter again.
[AnywayssowhenmymotherImeanthatwomanalwayssaysI’mwrongShe’sprobablyrightButstilljustonceIwantedmymothertojusthugm—]
It was written in the common tongue.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The groan escaped before I could stop it.
Even with my Talent, this was beyond salvaging.

At this point, I’d rather someone just hand me a language from a different world—or better yet, a different dimension.
That’d be easier.
But as with all things, even this cursed letter had an end—thank the stars.

[I’d love to say more, but I’m out of stationery. I’ll send another one tomorrow. From your friend.]
Why does she only get the spelling and grammar right at the very end?
Only the first and last lines were clean.

This was clearly someone who dumped everything she wanted to say onto the page, then only regained composure after the fact.
“Haa…”
Your Highness.

What kind of life have you been living?
And what do you mean you’ll send another one tomorrow?
“What did I ever do to deserve this…”

Barely five minutes had passed, yet I felt the fatigue of a three-day overtime shift.
I shoved the letter deep into the furthest recesses of my drawer, and immediately began composing my reply.
[Sender: Southern Border’s Chief Inspector, Nathan Kell]
[Recipient: My Friend]

I couldn’t use her name.
Since she chose anonymity, I had to respect that.
[I’ve received your letter. It’s been quite some time since I received a letter from a friend, so I was surprised, and oddly delighted. I’m happy to have discovered this new connection.]

I wrote with lighthearted politeness, conveying how enjoyable the letter was.
It was absolutely essential to write as if I had no idea she was royalty.
No sign of discontent was allowed to show.

[However, perhaps because work has been overwhelming lately, I found it difficult to process such a large volume of information. I’d be grateful if you could consider dividing it up next time, and thank you in advance for your generosity.]
And then, carefully—oh so very carefully—I inserted a subtle request that she at least use some paragraph breaks.
[I look forward to your reply. From your friend.]

A clean ending. A blatant lie, of course.
“Hoo…”
It looked passable enough. Time to send it off.

"Courier—would you please deliver this as a reply?"
The harpy, having finished devouring the Auditory Inspector’s snacks, perked up with a jolt.
"Um… I don’t know who the recipient is, though…?"

Liar.
Those big harpy eyes avoided mine.
I shook my head and said,

"It’s fine. She’ll know right away."
If I just placed the reply into the very same envelope she used, she’d understand instantly.
I shoved the letter deep into the courier’s mailbag.

"In return, I’ll prepare plenty of snacks next time for the harpies."
At the same time, I offered a sweet bribe.
The courier beamed and flapped her wings furiously.

"Yay, snacks! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!"
Then she clutched the bag with her talons and shot out through the second-story window.
‘Please don’t reply. Please don’t reply…’

The desperate prayer I whispered afterward—that was my secret.
 
****

Once a storm I never wished for had finally passed, only then did my eyes catch sight of the other documents.
Specifically, the cipher book sent from the Intelligence Division—and the attached reward.
"Let’s see here…"

I opened the stack of documents stamped with a snake insignia.
[Miras Redeira Zdrahin.]
A sentence written in the convoluted language of the Lamia came into view.

Sloppily scrawled, as if a child had doodled across the page—I focused my mind and began to read it.
And as I did, the tangled shapes slowly transformed, revealing legible text beneath.
[List of High Command – Evil God Cult (Ongoing Identification)]

Elder (de facto leader): ??? (status unknown)
Saintess (spiritual figurehead): Hatenchilla (alive)
Torture Specialist: Haktas (alive)

Sacrificial Courier: Driaki (deceased)
High Shaman: Baben (alive)
Slave Commander: Pyuhatas (status unknown)

There were still blank spots, but over half the cult's top brass had their names and roles listed.
And then—one familiar name caught my eye.
“Hatenchilla.”

The very name the Changeling had mentioned.
—My employer’s name is… Hatenchil…
I immediately opened the entry-exit manifest.

And among the countless “Hatenchil” entries I’d skimmed through yesterday, one in particular stood out.
—Hatenchilla. Human. From the Northern Skadi Empire.
Jet-black, waist-length hair. Eyes gleaming with a sinister shade of crimson.

A woman smiling ominously. Her portrait wore that smile.
Her origins matched the Evil God Cult’s region of activity. Her name matched, too.
Staring at the woman in the picture, I said aloud:

“…Found you.”
So you were the true mastermind behind this terrorist attack.
*****
15 minutes later. In the meeting room.

“This woman is the true mastermind behind the attack—and the one who ordered Erzena’s abduction.”
The expressions of the Senses Inspectors and Erzena darkened as they finished hearing the full explanation.
She looked down at the image of Hatenchilla on the table and murmured:

“…I didn’t know. The Evil God Cult had a Saintess, too…”
A perfect contrast to Erzena herself.
It was like someone had inverted the colors—her hair, her eyes, everything about her was the polar opposite.

“She stands directly opposed to the Holy Church… perhaps she should be called the Evil Lady.”
This was new even to us.
We’d assumed she was just some madwoman—but no. She was the Saintess of the Evil God Cult.

“If she’s of that rank, then there’s a high chance she’ll orchestrate something even bolder next time.”
The Auditory Inspector offered a sharp, persuasive opinion.
“With the Elder’s status unknown, it’s likely the Evil Lady currently holds command.”

“What could be bigger than this?” asked the Olfactory Inspector.
The Auditory Inspector narrowed her eyes.
“Well… a full-scale border infiltration, maybe. Or political interference in other nations like the Holy Church does. Or even targeted assassinations.”

She laid out these spine-chilling possibilities as casually as reading a grocery list.
No one argued.
If she’d already attempted to kidnap a Saintess, it stood to reason she’d do worse without hesitation.

The kind of person who doesn’t flinch at bloodshed—that’s the kind of person we need to fear most.
“We have to stop that from happening.”
My voice came out firm.

Trying to sound cheerful, the Gustatory Inspector forced a smile and chimed in:
“Y-Yeah! But at least now we know who the bad people are, so we can come up with a proper defense!”
The Tactile Inspector nodded in agreement.

“If we issue an immediate ban on entry and exit for all Evil God Cult members and put out a wanted bulletin, that might help.”
A perfectly rational proposal.
They likely don’t realize we have this intel. If we use that to our advantage, we could disrupt their future plans.

But I shook my head.
“No. That’s not how we’re going to use this information.”
“…Huh?”

Up until now, we’d always been reacting to crises.
The border is a place where unexpected incidents happen—and so do expected ones.
From the standpoint of the Immigration Authority—and especially for immigration officers—completely blocking out all threats is impossible.

Rules and protocols exist. We must abide by them to the letter.
We’re always stuck in a defensive, reactive stance.
No matter how careful we are, all we can do is clean up after the fact and try to prevent the next disaster.

“But just this once—I’m thinking of changing our approach.”
That way of doing things, that’s all been until now.
Now that we’ve identified them—this time—we can handle things differently.

I addressed everyone clearly:
“We’re going to strike the /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ Evil God Cult first.”
We’re not going to just sit around getting hit forever.

At least once—we have to strike back.
“And not with our own hands… but with someone else’s.”