I’m an Immigration Officer!

– Flap.

As her black wings moved with measured precision, a sharp gust of wind brushed past her ears.
A massive raven shot across the sky at breakneck speed.
Breaking through the clouds, Eliza's expression held a faint trace of tension.

“It can’t be real.”
Just two hours ago—
When she arrived at the northern border of the Kingdom of Crossroads, she saw two public announcements posted.

[Breaking News: A shapeshifter recently caused a terror incident at the southern border and was arrested. Execution pending…]
[The interrogation of the shapeshifter who disrupted border order has concluded. The execution ceremony will be held Wednesday evening in the plaza before Leyes Castle.]
It was news concerning the shapeshifter.
Shahal.

When she first read it, Eliza let out a sigh of relief.
Changelings were such a rare race that they were often mistaken for shapeshifters.
And mages, by nature, rarely committed crimes.

Let alone in a place as sensitive as a border crossing.
Which meant this “shapeshifter” was clearly a name given by those who hadn’t identified Shahal’s true nature.
So there really was a lead.

That her younger sister had been arrested meant, conversely, that she was no longer on the move—she was in one place now.
That girl’s not weak enough to get beaten or killed just anywhere.
More likely, she was toying with the guards in some prison somewhere.

And when the time came, she’d just transform into an animal and escape.
A changeling who could take the form of any fur-bearing animal—let alone one as highly trained as her sister—wasn’t going down that easily.
But something else was gnawing at her.
The fact that the execution date… had been yesterday.

And that there was no word—none—about Shahal having escaped.
That kind of news should’ve made headlines.
The sentencing of a major criminal was always cause for public fanfare.

So no matter how it played out, something should’ve been reported by now.
But oddly, there wasn’t a single word.
She’d sent out ravens, conducted extra sweeps—but nothing more could be found.

As if someone were deliberately controlling the information.
The furious beat of her wings grew louder and more erratic.
A bird of ill omen.

A bearer of misfortune, a cursed existence, a harbinger of tragedy.
Eliza muttered to herself under her breath.
“South. I’ll confirm it at the southern border.”

She knew it in her head.
That the report could be false.
Even if Shahal had been arrested, she’d slip out right away.

And perhaps the Border Margrave wanted to keep that fact hidden—so he chose silence.
There were many possibilities.
But her heart, as always, tightened around her.

There is no such thing as luck for a bird of ill omen.
That was the truth Eliza had lived with her entire life.
Just this once.

Praying that an exception existed in the world, she picked up speed and flew for the southern border.
 
****

About two hours later—
– Fwoosh.
Eliza descended softly into the corner of the southern plaza, her black wings fluttering as she landed.

As she landed soundlessly and slowly wrapped her wings around herself, they transformed into the graceful silhouette of a feathered gown.
But something felt off.
Despite the fact that a massive harpy had just dropped out of the sky, the people’s reactions were bizarrely indifferent.

“Huh? Where’s this wind coming from?”
“Oh my! Where are you looking!?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault the wind lifted your skirt!”

Ignoring the confused chatter around her, Eliza calmly brushed her fingers over the artifact around her neck.
– Hummmm...
A strange resonance buzzed from the magical device.

It was an artifact that suppressed presence—an artifact of recognition inhibition.
Coupled with concealment in the shadows, it made it virtually impossible for anyone to perceive her.
No—impossible even to sense her existence.

Thanks to this, Eliza could walk outside without needing to disguise herself or hide.
Raven Harpies were met with hostile stares no matter where they went.
“Unlucky creatures bring unlucky news! Get lost!”

Because of that wretched superstition, how many beatings—how many near-tortures—had she endured since childhood?
That was why Shahal had gone and retrieved this gift for her one day.
No time to sink into memories.

Snapping herself back to focus, Eliza slipped into a narrow alley away from the crowd and whispered in the harpy tongue:
“Kilika Kasillia. (= Lend me the wisdom of birds.)”
– Flutter flutter.

Immediately, crows came flying in from all directions and landed nearby.
– Caw, caw.
– Caw!
It was as though every crow in the vicinity had gathered.

Eliza looked over them and spoke:
“I need information about yesterday’s execution. Relay to me everything you’ve seen and heard.”
She closed her eyes and concentrated.

In the next instant, fragments of memory and sensation from hundreds of crows surged into her mind like a flood.
[The execution… was canceled…]
[…was held in private instead.]
[The terrorist tried smuggling…]
[Immigration… Chief Inspector…]
A torrent of conversations, scents, and scenes rushed past her.

The ability of the Raven Harpy.
A spiritual communion with her kind—other birds.
With this power, she could fully absorb the memories and senses of crows, as if they were her own.

It was Black Hand’s unique intelligence network.
It let Eliza always act faster than other assassination guilds.
Birds were everywhere—and no one ever paid them any mind.

And after a brief moment—
Eliza pieced together the fragments from hundreds of minds into a single conclusion:
[The execution of the shapeshifter was conducted in secret for safety reasons, and took place in the underground prison.]

It came in the form of a sentence so dry it felt inhuman.
“…”
Silence.

She focused again and tried to recompile the information.
But the result was the same.
[It was conducted in secret.]
[It was carried out in the underground prison.]

Past tense.
It was telling her the execution had already taken place.
“…Ha.”

A hollow laugh escaped her lips.
She reached up and touched the artifact around her neck again.
The gift from her younger sister—the one she had never once taken off.

“Sis, don’t think about anything else. As long as we’re happy, who gives a damn about the rest.”
She gripped it until it nearly shattered in her hands.
“…Shahal.”

This is a lie.
It has to be a lie.
Who in their right mind announces that something is “secret” and then openly gives the location?

Too sloppy.
It was like someone wanted her to come. Like they were politely tossing the bait right in her face.
She knew it in her head.

This is a trap.
Only a fool would walk right into it.
She should just scoff and walk away.

But her heart—
It boiled with fury.
Even if it was a lie, this had crossed the line.

– Caw! Cawwww!!!
The crows, feeding off her emotion, began shrieking like mad.
As though anticipating what was about to unfold.

Her obsidian eyes turned toward Leyes Castle in the distance.
“They said it was the underground prison.”
The bird of ill omen did not hesitate.

Whoever dared play games with Black Hand would pay the price.
 
– CRASH, thud!

With a heavy crash, Eliza slammed down directly in front of the underground prison entrance.
“Ugh…!”
“Gah—Wh-what the hell!?”

Panicked voices rang out as the guards posted in front of the prison stumbled backward in alarm.
Then, catching sight of the two-meter-tall Raven Harpy, their eyes widened in shock.
She hadn’t activated the artifact.

Without hesitation, she spoke:
“Out of my way.”
No—in truth, she was hoping the guards would try to stop her.

Because anyone who blocked her path was going to have their heart ripped out.
That was why Eliza had deliberately made a loud entrance and exposed herself.
But something was off.

Normally, a commotion like this would trigger an immediate alarm or suppression attempt.
Yet the men guarding the entrance, after their initial shock, made no further move.
They just stood there, staring at her in silence.

“…”
“…”
An awkward silence hung in the air.

Her eyes met those of the eight men standing guard.
And then Eliza realized what had felt so off.
“You’re not guards.”

They weren’t wearing heavy armor. Their weapons were light.
In fact, they were dressed oddly well—immaculate suits, of all things.
One of them spoke.

“Eliza Corvus. We’ve been waiting for you.”
An unexpected response.
Eliza remained silent for a beat.

“So you knew I was coming.”
“We scattered information to make sure of it.”
“Information?”

“We’re special operatives assigned a specific mission. Our orders were to receive you.”
Then, stepping aside, they opened a path toward the entrance.
“The one you’re looking for is in the innermost cell.”

“…”
Another response she hadn’t anticipated.
They knew.

They knew who she was—and why she had come.
 
Eliza's brow furrowed.

“What exactly is this supposed to be?”
“We’re showing you the truth.”
“…Ha. The truth, huh.”

A hollow laugh escaped her.
Anyone could see this was an obvious trap.
A trap that wanted her to walk straight into it, no less.

But she couldn’t back down.
Not when her sister was involved. Not after hearing that she was here.
She had to see it with her own eyes.

In a voice dripping with killing intent, she spoke.
“Lead the way.”
And so, folding her wings herself, she stepped into the trap.

About five minutes later—
After walking down for quite a while, they arrived at the lowest level of the prison.
The final cell.

The agent gestured toward the barred door.
“This is the place. Go on in.”
“…”

She opened the door.
– Creeeak.
The first thing she saw—

A coffin.
An ornate coffin, neatly placed in the center of the cell.
Something that had no business being in a dungeon.

This was a place to imprison the living, not the dead.
Turning her head slightly, she addressed the ones who had followed behind her.
“…What’s in here?”

But the agent gave no reply.
He simply gestured toward the coffin with his eyes.
And Eliza could sense immediately what that meant.

Ominous.
“Bird of ill omen. You’re a cursed sign.”
The words of others echoed relentlessly in her head.

And at the same time—
“Sis, just tell ‘em all to go to hell. As long as we’re okay, that’s all that matters. Just Black Hand. The rest can all die.”
Her little sister’s voice rang out, as if blowing those words away in an instant.

Who could possibly be in here for them to be acting «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» like this?
Who were they to treat her this way?
All the answers lay inside that coffin.

Slowly—very slowly—
She opened it.
– Creeeak…

Please.
If there’s such a thing as luck in this world—if it could grant itself to me, even once in my entire life—
Let it be now.

Let it not be what I think.
– Thud.
With a heavy sound, the coffin opened completely.

Eliza’s gaze lowered.
And she saw it.
“…Ah.”

So familiar. Unforgettable eyes.
There were violet eyes.
Dried and wide open, filled with pain and fear—her sister’s eyes, unable even to close in death.

 
****
Silence.

Eliza said nothing.
Because she had no words.
“…”

Instead, she quietly reached out and held Shahal’s twisted hand.
Cold.
That chill conveyed just one fact.

The Black Hand’s Submaster was dead.
Bird of ill omen.
Once again, there was no such thing as luck.

Only tragedy.
Her chest felt as if it had been ripped apart.
From deep in her throat came the hideous cry of a monstrous bird.

It was a scream.
A shriek loud enough to shake the entire prison.
Her feathers trembled violently, her talons gouging into the stone floor.

“Ghh…! Nghhh!!”
“M-my ears…!”
The agents staggered, clutching their ears.

A harpy’s cry carried power.
And the more emotion behind it—the more desperate the grief—the more violently it twisted the world around it.
It also reshaped the body, in accordance with the emotion.

Amid the echoing screams, the Raven Harpy spoke:
“In return for guiding me to my sister, I’ll ask just one question.”
– CRACK, CRUNCH.

With a disturbing noise, her wings began to grow.
Her legs, once vaguely human in form, twisted into something grotesque, and her already two-meter-tall frame stretched even taller.
Smooth, silky feathers turned into razor-like blades—sharp as knives, hard as steel.

“G-God…”
One of the agents gaped at the sight.
Even with years in the Intelligence Division, he’d never seen anything like this.

The true form of the Black Hand’s Master.
No longer the ominous, graceful beauty of a black bird—before them now was a colossal, twisted omen of death, letting out a mournful sigh before the coffin.
Her blade-feathers quivered madly, thirsting for blood.

Blood for vengeance.
“Who did this to Shahal?”
“Th-the shapeshifter’s death wasn’t our fault!”

One agent finally managed to speak, barely holding himself together.
“During the interrogation, she tried to tell the truth, but the curse—”
“And how do I know that’s the truth?”

Her voice sliced through him.
“What proof is there that you didn’t do this, and blame someone else?”
Her bloodshot eyes locked onto the agent.

At the same time, every feather on her wings bristled upward, aimed directly at him.
As if they’d slice him apart the moment he so much as twitched.
She’d heard it through the crows.

“Someone blocked Shahal’s mission—right to her face.”
She had to know who.
There was every chance these people weren’t telling the truth.

There was no one she could trust in this situation.
Eliza spat the words like venom.
“You didn’t even figure out who my sister really was…”

If anyone had even a sliver of connection to this—she would rip out every last heart with her own hands.
She swore that silently as she slowly unfurled her wings.
That vow would begin here.

If she spilled blood—then the truth would follow.
And then—
“She’s a Changeling. That woman was a Changeling.”

A woman’s tense voice rang out from behind her.
– Fshhk!
Eliza immediately turned her head toward the only person who’d spoken the truth.

And the moment her eyes confirmed who it was—they widened.
For the first time, Eliza sounded shaken.
“Th-the Saintess…?”

Golden eyes.
Erzena stepped slowly forward.
“…Why are you here?”

The pilgrimage delegation should’ve been denied entry.
So why was this woman here?
Grief and fury now mixed with confusion.

The Saintess spoke in a tense voice.
“Everything I’m about to say is the truth—I’ll stake my name on it.”
And the Raven Harpy understood.

This wasn’t a trap.
It was something even more dangerous.
Far more dangerous.

Erzena opened her mouth.
“Hatenchilla, the Saintess of the Evil God Cult, killed your sister.”