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Chapter 29: Questions
"Chief, the investigation mission is complete..."
"Hmm?"
Glancing up at Leon as he entered, the red-haired chief noticed not only was he covered in dust, but his hands were also bandaged. Pausing mid-sip of her water, she raised an eyebrow curiously.
"What happened to you? This mission was just supposed to be a simple investigation, right? You can even peek into people's souls beforehand—shouldn’t have been any trouble. Was the anomaly dangerous?"
"The anomaly itself wasn’t dangerous—in fact, it was quite benevolent. The problem was... it didn’t exactly get along with me."
After briefly recounting his ordeal, Leon looked at the red-haired woman, who was now laughing so hard her eyes crinkled. Feeling somewhat disgruntled, he hesitated for a moment before finally asking: "Chief… Can I ask you something?"
At this, the smile on the red-haired woman’s face vanished instantly, and she instinctively clutched her nearly empty coin purse. "Leon, it’s not that I’m stingy, but as the chief of the Virgo Bureau, while my salary is slightly higher than yours, my expenses are disproportionately large. So… uh…"
"You misunderstand," Leon interrupted, exasperated. "I’m not here to borrow money. I genuinely want to ask you a question."
Slightly taken aback, the chief blinked, then gestured for him to continue.
"Before coming to report to you, I stopped by the archives department at the Department of Public Works. I reviewed records from over ninety years ago and found the file related to the Happiness Residence—the same one tied to today’s anomaly."
He paused, gathering his thoughts.
"That elderly couple built a workhouse that housed over three hundred orphans and disabled individuals at its peak. Aside from receiving a small discount on water fees due to the high number of users, they received no assistance from the kingdom. They funded everything out of their own pockets. When the wife fell gravely ill and realized she wouldn’t last much longer, she submitted thirty-something applications to the Department of Public Works, hoping to transfer the workhouse into municipal ownership. She wanted to ensure it would continue operating using her assets until all current residents passed away. But every single application was rejected."
Leon took a deep breath, clenching his fists.
"I’ve been thinking about it on the way back. It seemed like such a win-win situation. Why did they reject her request? Those without means could survive thanks to the couple’s wealth, and the Department of Public Works wouldn’t need to expend resources—they wouldn’t even need to assign staff to manage it. Yet why did the person responsible for approving these requests let those orphans and disabled individuals be evicted, left to starve or freeze to death right outside their former home, under the sign of the ‘Happiness Residence’?"
"You’re mistaken," the red-haired chief replied calmly, closing her eyes briefly. "The Department of Public Works had plenty to lose."
She leaned forward, her expression serious.
"Imagine you were the one in charge back then. Tell me: if the kingdom already has its own workhouses, why weren’t those people admitted there? Why were they instead taken in by a privately run workhouse? Wouldn’t that reflect poorly on your performance?
"And suppose you did take over this workhouse. Even if you didn’t send additional personnel to manage it, someone would still need to be held accountable. What happens if there’s a fire or some other accident resulting in casualties? Would you willingly shoulder the blame? If the fire started because of negligence within the workhouse, could you accept being dismissed for poor management?
"Finally, accepting a donated workhouse brings no credit. Once it becomes an officially recognized municipal facility, failure to sustain it—due to lack of funding—would lead directly to accountability for whoever’s in charge. Who would willingly take on such a thankless task, one guaranteed to tarnish their record?"
"..."
...
It all makes perfect sense... Sigh...
Watching Leon fall silent, his expression growing increasingly troubled, the red-haired chief sighed inwardly. Fixing him with a stern gaze, she spoke firmly:
"Leon, I understand your frustration, but don’t forget: our job at the Cleansing Bureau is to keep anomalies out of ordinary people’s lives. We aren’t authorized to meddle in anything else.
"Under the agreement between the Cleansing Bureau and the various kingdoms, unless it pertains directly to anomalies, we are forbidden from intervening using 'inhuman' powers. This rule isn’t just for our survival—it’s the line the kingdoms won’t allow us to cross.
"So listen carefully: never, ever step over that line. Think twice before acting—you don’t want to ruin yourself, do you?"
"You worry too much. I really don’t plan to do anything reckless," Leon said quietly, his voice steady despite the tension in his clenched fists.
"It’s been over ninety years since then. Everyone involved—the evicted, the officials who denied the applications—they’re all dead. What can I possibly do now?"
"..."
True, there’s nothing you can do about that case. But what about the Department of Public Work and the Waterworks Company? And the countless other injustices you’ll encounter in the future?
Glancing at the shopping bag trembling faintly in Leon’s hand, the red-haired chief sighed again, her gaze growing more complex. Though she could no longer use Soul Vision after losing the goat head, she knew the cursed creature well enough. From the moment Leon lowered his head and stopped speaking, the goat inside must have been quivering with excitement…
"Alright then… You’ve worked hard today."
Deciding not to press further, she skimmed through the report Leon handed her, suppressing the strange sense of déjà vu tugging at her chest. Softening her tone, she added:
"I see your hands are injured. Take the rest of the day off and go home to rest."
"Don’t worry—I won’t force you to ignore injustices, nor will I stop you from investigating the Waterworks Company. In fact, I’ve already arranged for another anomaly item to protect you during emergencies. It’ll arrive tomorrow. Use it wisely when trouble arises.
"But remember: whenever you decide to act, you must find a legitimate reason to intervene. Never recklessly wield ‘abnormal’ power to influence ordinary people. That’s my bottom line—and the bureau’s."
"I understand…" Leon murmured softly.
Seeing his troubled expression, the red-haired chief rubbed her temples wearily, then continued:
"Leon, I know you. Your moral compass and sense of justice are strong. I admire your resilience, how you’ve managed to hold onto your principles despite enduring so much hardship. But you must realize that even though we possess extraordinary abilities, we’re still human. We can’t exist apart from society, and we must abide by certain fundamental rules.
"Even if you were a king of a realm—or even a chief of the Cleansing Bureau—you couldn’t make the world bend entirely to your will. You can’t fix every injustice you see… I know these words might sound harsh, but I hope you’ll reflect on them."
"I will… Sorry for troubling you today."
After bidding farewell to the red-haired chief, who had repeatedly emphasized her warnings, Leon returned to his office. His gaze settled on another shopping bag sitting on his desk, but his mind kept replaying her words.
Is my morality truly noble?
Is my sense of justice really that strong?
Are my principles unshakable?
The embezzled compensation meant for war heroes, the alchemical factory that caused Anna’s lung disease yet refused to pay reparations, the hundreds of patients lying in hospital corridors poisoned by the dirty water supplied by the Waterworks Company. And those pitiful souls mercilessly evicted from the workhouse, left to perish in the bitter winter of ninety-four years ago, their names erased from history…
Though it feels oddly shameful to admit, I genuinely want to know: Is the problem with me? Or is it with this godforsaken world?
...
"Let’s go."
Standing by his desk for a moment, Leon picked up the shopping bag filled with gray cigarette boxes. He gently touched the cracked horn of the black goat, which had been chipped by the giant scissors earlier. With a thoughtful sigh, he muttered:
"Let’s find a quiet place… I’ll treat you to a smoke."
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