I’m an Immigration Officer!

At the same time, at the Immigration Bureau.

"You have given a consistent testimony and provided suitable information confirming your identity."
I said calmly to the final applicant seated across from me.
Their face brightened almost instantly.

"Really?"
"Yes. Only the final procedure remains."
Whatever the state of the world, whatever covert operation the Intelligence Bureau was conducting, an immigration officer must always do their job.

And that job… is receiving entrants.
Because that’s my duty.
So even when Erzena left for the White Fortress with the Intelligence Bureau agents, I wasn’t shaken in the slightest.

Because I believed—without doubt—that she would handle it well.
Who was Erzena, after all?
Wasn’t she once the Saintess who stood before thousands?

It’s pointless to worry.
If I kept performing entry inspections like usual—as if nothing had happened—she would naturally return.
Four hours had passed under that firm belief.

Everything had gone smoothly.
But if there was one thing different from usual—
—shiver shiver shiver shiver.

It would be my leg trembling like a lunatic on its own.
I subtly pressed it down with my hand, but even my hand was shaking.
Doing my best to speak as if nothing was wrong, I said:
"Thus, according to this office’s judgment, there are no disqualifying grounds for your entry."

—shiver shiver shiver shiver.
My leg trembled so badly that the documents and quill on the desk danced with it.
"Um… are you all right?"

"Excuse me?"
"I mean, you seem… very nervous…"
Even the applicant spoke with concern in their voice.

"I’m quite all right. Haha."
That was a lie.
I was anxious.

Really damn anxious.
So worried I could lose my mind.
My eyes were on the applicant before me, but my mind was miles away—locked onto the White Fortress far beyond the window.

Erzena…
I should have gone myself.
If I couldn’t protect her as someone who’d sought temporary asylum under us, the least I could’ve done was not send her into the most dangerous part of this mission.

But because of what Melanie said, I had no choice.
"No matter what happens, don’t come forward. They can’t know you’re involved in this operation."
She had stopped me, firmly, from making any appearance.

And I understood.
If Black Hand found out I’d planned this operation, things would’ve gotten disgustingly complicated.
And not just for me.

Others could’ve ended up in danger too.
Which meant Erzena was the only suitable candidate.
At the very least, I should’ve sent the Scent Officer with her.

He’d taken down the deputy master of Black Hand. He could’ve been a minimal layer of protection.
Why hadn’t I thought of that?
What’s going on over there right now…?

My head swirled with tangled thoughts and gnawing worry.
After I sat there frozen for some time, my personal aide quietly nudged me from behind.
"Um… Central Officer, you still need to stamp this."

Only then did I realize I hadn’t completed the final step of the entry process.
Right. I should at least finish this first.
I forced the corners of my mouth into a smile and spoke kindly.

"Welcome to the Cross-Line Kingdom."
Then, I stamped the paper.
THUD.

The seal pressed crisply onto the document in bold red ink.
…Red ink?
Wait—hold on.

I looked down.
And there, it read:
[ENTRY DENIED]

"Ah."
I’d lost my mind.
"I—I’ll correct that right away."

A mistake I almost never made, and now this.
I rapidly rewrote the paperwork, stamped it properly, and bowed my head deeply once again.
"…Welcome to the Cross-Line Kingdom."

Only then did the final applicant leave, shooting me a look like they'd just seen the weirdest official of their life.
My aide declared the end of processing on my behalf.
"With this, we conclude today's immigration processing. Thank you for your work, everyone."

With that, the staff all stretched and began to rise from their seats.
Only I sat slumped in my chair, looking like death warmed over.
"Haa…"

A sigh heavier than a mountain slipped from my lips, and the Sensory Officers came over to me.
"She’ll be fine. The Intelligence Bureau agents went with her."
"She used to be a Saintess. She’ll handle anything that comes her way."

Why do you all have more faith in her than I do?
"Yes, I know, but still…"
And that was when—

Creeeak.
The door opened.
A warm energy washed over us.

"I—I’m back…"
Erzena returned, flanked by two Intelligence Bureau agents, looking a bit worn but otherwise fine.
"You’re back!"

"How did it go?"
"Central Officer! Erzena’s returned!"
The Sensory Officers welcomed her joyfully.

And I—
THUD!
Vaulted clean over the desk and rushed straight to her, shouting:

"Are you all right? Are you hurt anywhere!?"
Without even waiting for an answer, I grabbed her hand tightly.
"E-Eh? C-Central Officer…?"

Erzena’s face turned bright red in an instant, her eyes going wide in shock.
Good. No wounds on her hand.
Still holding it, I gripped her shoulder firmly and locked eyes with her.

"Did they try anything? Did they hurt you in any way!?"
"N-Nathan! You can’t do this here, people are watching!"
Her flustered shout brought all movement around us to a halt.

"…Nathan?"
"Did she just call the Central Officer by name?"
"Did I hear that right?"

Snapping back to her senses, Erzena quickly slapped her hands over her mouth.
"Ah—! No, I mean… Central Officer Nathan Kell… sir…"
But no one looked convinced.

Everyone’s eyes turned to the Hearing Officer.
The elf with the best ears among us pointed to his own and said:
"I heard it clearly. She said Nathan."

All the Sensory Officers and aides squinted at us.
“Hmmmm~~~~~.”
Suspicious hums filled the room.

Especially the Scent Officer and Taste Officer, who grinned like total creeps.
"This is conclusive, wouldn’t you say, Taste Officer?"
"Yesss. We’ve gone from suspicion to full-on confession."

Tch. Look at these bastards with their eyes gleaming like that again.
Only after confirming that she hadn’t even lost a strand of hair did I speak to them.
"Don’t get the wrong idea. Erzena and I speak casually when we’re off duty."

"But you told us never to use your name."
"That’s because I’m your superior. Erzena is a protected subject."
Try calling me by name in the workplace and watch the chain of command crumble in real time.

And it’d be weird to use titles at home, too.
"…I mean, that does make sense."
After that logical explanation, the suspicion in their eyes finally began to fade.

The only one not interested in this nonsense, the Touch Officer, stepped up to Erzena and asked:
"So, how did it go?"
The answer came from one of the agents who’d accompanied her.

"The operation was a success. Though… it went a little differently than planned."
"Differently?"
"You had to see it to believe it."

His expression was one of genuine admiration.
He gave a brief summary of everything Erzena had done in the underground prison.
With each word, shock deepened on both my face and the Sensory Officers’.

And when we got to the part where she called the Raven Harpy a Bird of Ill Omen and made her proposal—even the Touch Officer looked startled.
"My god, Erzena. You argued with the guild master of the Assassins’ Guild?"
"Well… ahaha… I got kind of mad…"

She chuckled sheepishly and shrugged.
"You’ve got serious spirit. Going head-to-head with a Raven Harpy?"
The Scent Officer muttered with awe.

The agent continued:
"Since their master personally accepted Erzena’s offer, a collision between Black Hand and the Evil God Cult is now inevitable."
He declared it:

"The operation was a success."
Operation successful.
Everyone let out a sigh of relief at those two short words.

At the very least, we’d taken the first step safely.
"Then, we’ll be returning now. We have to report back to the Director."
"You’ve done well. Ah—before you go, please take this with you."

I handed them Melanie’s codebook and its deciphered copy.
"…This is the one we spent a year trying to crack."
No surprise. It had been written in the language of a long-extinct race.

"Now that it’s all translated into the common tongue, you won’t have any issues."
"Central Officer…"
The two agents looked at me with clear admiration.

"I hope we can continue working together as partner organizations."
"Of course."
I shook his hand.

"Ah—and please tell the Director thank you for her cooperation."
Melanie deserved a lot of credit for this.
If not for her, this mission might have turned out far more dangerously.

I definitely wanted to pass on my thanks.
But the agent tilted his head and said:
"Well… I think the Director would prefer to hear from you directly."

"Excuse me?"
What the hell does that mean?
"Oh, you didn’t know? On days the Director talks to you, she spends the whole day staring into her crystal ba—"

His colleague quickly clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Hey, hey, hey! That’s a secret!"
He gave me a sheepish grin.

"Anyway, just give the Director a call. That’s all she needs. She’s been… really having a hard time lately."
That last part caught me off guard.
Melanie’s having a hard time?

I’d seen her annoyed or amused often enough, but never burdened. Never like this.
"Did something happen to Melanie?"
The smile vanished from the agent’s face.

In its place, a serious expression surfaced.
"…The Yongin have been visiting the Intelligence Bureau."
Yongin.

The moment I heard the race’s name, two figures came to mind in a flash.
Drehin Askurin and Incanthus Vermotem.
It can’t be Inspector Drehin Askurin. She’s stationed at the northern border—she wouldn’t have time to come to the Bureau.

Besides, Melanie outranked her, so there’d be no reason for her to feel pressured.
Which meant… the visitor outranked Melanie.
And of all the Yongin I knew, only one could put pressure on the Director of the Intelligence Bureau.

Incanthus Vermotem.
The King’s Proxy.
"…"

I didn’t say the name out loud.
Why would the King’s Proxy be making visits to the Intelligence Bureau?
And more importantly, why would this agent be telling me about it?

This wasn’t just a casual gesture.
I slowly nodded.
"…Understood. I’ll keep that in mind."

"Take care then. You know the phrase—'No exceptions at the border.'"
A farewell used only within the Immigration Bureau.
With that, the agents left, and only the Sensory Officers, Erzena, and I remained in the office.

"So… what happens now?" the Taste Officer asked nervously.
"What else? It’s out of our hands now. That strategy—it’s a textbook divide and conquer."
The werewolf dropped into his chair with a heavy thud.

"We just sit back and watch the fire across the river. Let them tear each other apart."
He smacked his lips like he was enjoying it already.
"A full-on war between the Assassins’ Guild and the Evil God Cult? That’s evil versus evil. Who could’ve predicted that?"

Hearing those words, Erzena fell into deep thought and murmured quietly.
"Divide and conquer… fighting evil with evil… unimaginable…"
Her brow furrowed.

While the Sensory Officers chattered among themselves, she flinched, as if something had just clicked in her mind.
"Don’t tell me… the reason He stopped the Crusade was…?"
Holy energy shimmered faintly around her.

Only I and the Hearing Officer caught her words.
 
****

Late at night.
In a deserted village somewhere in the northern continent.
"Haaah… haaaah…!"

A man ran, torch in hand, being pursued by something unseen.
"Shit, shit!"
His lungs burned.

His frantic eyes darted wildly, legs pushing harder than they ever had.
With every swing of his arms, the torch in his hand danced madly.
—FWOOSH, FWOOSH.

Beyond the flickering firelight, dozens of crows perched silently on branches and stone walls, watching him.
I didn’t even feel it. They were just… gone!
Kol Mannov.

A mid-tier operative of the Evil God Cult, sent here for one mission:
To disrupt the flow of mana and corrupt the land.
The Cult’s power thrives where mana and divine energy are driven out.

A tainted land like this—a place no one dares visit—was perfect for establishing a new foothold.
He’d come here with two others to prepare a blasphemous ritual.
But while his attention had wandered for just a moment—

—SPLUT.
A brief wet crack, and his comrades vanished.
Only dried bloodstains remained.

He knew it instantly.
We’re being hunted.
And now, the hunter had fixed their sights on him.

"Fuck! Who the hell are you!?"
The answer came from just ahead.
—THUD.

Something massive, birdlike, dropped from the sky and landed directly in front of him.
"…"
A form cloaked entirely in °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° black wings.

Enormous talons gleamed in the torchlight.
"Shit!"
Kol hastily smashed a vial filled with blood and shouted:

"Zirah Venatria! (Pierce with blood, stab through!)"
Thick, viscous blood surged into the shape of a spear and shot toward the monster like a bolt of lightning.
—SHREEEEE!!

The Cult’s power draws from blood and sacrifice.
They don’t use mana, but something more twisted—more violent.
Their magic is often far more destructive than standard spells.

But—
—CLANG! Sssshhh…
The blood spear was effortlessly swept aside by a single casual wingbeat, dissolving into a fine mist.

"W-what…?"
That spell could tear through steel.
And it had just been nullified?

A thought surged through Kol’s mind.
Very few substances in the world can nullify magic.
Mithril. Deepsea gems. Dragon scales.

And…
Raven Harpy feathers and talons.
But unlike the others—treasured as rare artifacts—the reason Raven Harpies were called Birds of Ill Omen had nothing to do with rarity.

While the others nullified only magic, the talons and feathers of a Raven Harpy shattered all forms of energy.
Mana. Earth’s power. Blood sorcery. Dark energy. Even divine force.
They are born with the power to reject the very laws of the world.

That’s why Raven Harpies were seen as cursed beings.
Creatures that should not exist—and yet were hunted as valuable research specimens all the same.
And Kol knew of only one Raven Harpy.

"N-no way… Black Ha—"
He never finished.
—SPLUT!

A razor-sharp talon slammed into his body.
"Kh…guh!"
Kol wheezed, pinned to the ground.

Oddly, the pain wasn’t severe.
He’d been branded with protection and pain-suppression spells by the Cult’s Saintess.
All he felt was the crushing weight pressing down on him.

A counterattack…
His hand fumbled inside his coat, searching for another vial.
At this range, even if it was blocked, the blow would still land.

But he had forgotten something.
It wasn’t just the wings that nullified energy.
The Raven Harpy dug her talon deeper.

—CRRK-CRRK-CRK.
The defensive spell carved into his body twisted, warped, and began to unravel grotesquely.
"I’ll ask only once."

A voice, low and cold, accompanied the slow digging of razor talons into his flesh.
"AaaAAGHHHHH!!! GAAAAAH!!!"
Kol screamed—true, bone-deep agony surging through him for the first time in years.

When the talon finally tore through muscle and scraped his ribs, Eliza asked:
"Where is Hattensilla?"
The moment he heard that name, Kol knew.

Hattensilla’s mission had failed.
And more than that—a force just as terrifying as the Church had become their enemy.
The Bird of Ill Omen spoke:

"Where is the one who killed my sister?"
Kol saw them.
Eliza Corvus, Master of Black Hand—

—and dozens more Black Hand operatives emerging from the darkness behind her.
The night of vengeance had only just begun.