Otaku Translation: I! Anomaly Cleansing Agent! C68

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The policewoman glared at him, her eyes burning with anger. This was the jerk who’d made a fool of her earlier that morning—and now he was eating her lunch! She unwound her scarf and slapped it onto the table, gritting her teeth as she growled, "I’m sitting here today. If you don’t like it, you can leave."

"Very well," Leon replied, his lips curling into a tight, humorless smile. "Then I’ll find another spot. And I hope you’ll honor your promise to stay put." With that, he picked up his tray and sauntered off to a nearby seat, where he resumed his meal without missing a beat. He speared a tender piece of braised beef shoulder with his fork, savoring its rich flavor as he popped it into his mouth.

Ah, this is the life. Sure, some people in the Police Department might be insufferable, but their cafeteria food is top-notch.

Take the humble dish of stewed beef—it wasn’t anything fancy, but the chef clearly knew what they were doing.

The beef had been briefly seared before being slow-cooked, preserving its juiciness while allowing the flavors to meld perfectly. The broth-to-meat ratio was just right—not so watery that it diluted the taste, yet not so dry that the meat lacked depth. As Leon pressed down gently with his teeth, the savory juices infused with white pepper, bay leaves, and cloves burst forth, coating his tongue with layers of warmth and spice. Paired with the melt-in-your-mouth texture of the beef, it was nothing short of heavenly.

On a chilly autumn day, when hunger gnawed at your stomach and the cold bit at your fingers, indulging in such a comforting bite of tender, slightly spicy beef felt like pure bliss for someone as busy as Leon.

……

Damn it all to hell.

The policewoman looked up at Leon’s blissful expression, noticing the droplets of delicious sauce clinging to the corner of his mouth. Then she glanced down at her own plate, where her fried pork cutlet sat neglected, its batter now cold and soggy after sitting out too long. Her eyes welled up with frustration.

I’ve never met any rebels as arrogant as you.

After sneaking into the Police Department by sheer luck, instead of lying low like any sensible person would, you strut around like you own the place—eating our food, no less! And right in front of me, no less! Savoring that stewed beef like it’s yours by divine right. You’re unbelievable…

Ugh. And you’re even smacking your lips.

Clang.

The sound of metal hitting the table rang out again. Unable to bear the sight of Leon’s joyful eating any longer, the policewoman abandoned her earlier declaration to “stay put” and marched over to his new seat, slamming her tray down across from him. She glared at him with murder in her eyes.

She'd made up her mind. She’d make sure he regretted every single one of those satisfied chews. Summoning the most menacing expression she could muster, she leaned forward and hissed:

"You think no one knows about what you did four days ago?"

According to the chief, they couldn’t arrest this bastard, nor were they planning to feed him false information. The lead had already been abandoned entirely. So why not use it to scare him a little? It’d serve as both a warning to tone down his antics and a reminder that the secret police weren’t to be trifled with. Maybe it’d even prompt him to flee once he realized he’d been exposed.

...

"You—"

Before she could slam her hand on the table and deliver her threat—disciplinary consequences be damned—a sharp voice cut through her thoughts.

"Why are you wasting food?" Leon demanded, his tone icy.

"Huh?"

What do you mean, ‘huh’?

Leon stared at the shattered pudding scattered across the table. For three years, his daily food allowance hadn’t exceeded two copper coins. On desperate days, he’d scavenged stale bread crusts from trash bins alongside beggars. Seeing perfectly good food wasted like this soured his mood instantly.

But as he opened his mouth to lecture her about the value of food—how half the capital city would kill for what she’d carelessly spilled—he caught sight of her outfit. Though plain in design, the intricate embroidery on her collar and the fabric that refused to wrinkle despite her movements screamed luxury.

So… what’s the point of lecturing her?

He glanced down at his worn coat, inspecting the threadbare elbows and the frayed lining peeking through at the collar. A bitter chuckle escaped him. What was the use? He gave her one last dismissive look before returning to his meal.

"Forget it. Pretend I didn’t say anything."

Silence fell between them. Leon focused on his food, pointedly ignoring her presence. Across the table, the policewoman sat stunned, unsure how to respond.

Years of malnutrition had left Leon thin, almost gaunt, with hollow cheeks that accentuated his large, expressive eyes. As the red-haired chief had once remarked, though Leon rarely spoke or showed emotion, those eyes betrayed the depth of his feelings. They told stories words never could.

And now, those eyes reflected a chilling indifference that struck the policewoman like a slap. It wasn’t disgust, disdain, or hatred—it was pure apathy, devoid of any other sentiment.

Summer insects cannot comprehend ice.

Though she’d likely never heard the phrase, the policewoman understood its essence the moment Leon’s gaze flickered toward her. His eyes conveyed a stark realization of the gulf between them, followed by a refusal to even bother bridging it.

What… what was that look?

By the time she snapped out of her daze, whispers filled the room as curious glances turned their way. Mortified, her face flushed crimson as she processed Leon’s calm demeanor and the mess she’d caused.

"You bastard."

Eat this, then.

With a screech of chair legs against the floor, she shot to her feet, grabbed her tray, and dumped its contents onto Leon’s. Ignoring the gasps of onlookers, she fled the cafeteria, head bowed and lips trembling.

…..

Seriously… What's wrong with her?

Unaware of the psychological blow his indifferent stare had dealt the proud policewoman, Leon stared at the ruined remains of his meal. His temper flared—but alas, she was already gone. Despite her questionable mental state, the woman was undeniably fit. By the time Leon recovered from his shock and stood to chase after her, she’d vanished, leaving only echoes of her footsteps behind.

Sighing deeply, Leon repeated a mantra in his head: Don’t stoop to a fool’s level. After several repetitions, he forced himself to sit back down and resume eating, carefully picking out the salvageable bits. Even the spilled rice pudding caught his attention; he scooped up a spoonful and tasted it.

To be fair, it really was delicious. Popular among female officers, the dessert required considerable effort to prepare. Rice, eggs, milk, sugar, raisins—all meticulously combined and steamed until the grains softened into a custard-like consistency. Despite cooling slightly, it remained creamy and sweet, its fragrance soothing and indulgent.

Curious, Leon sampled the fried pork cutlet and apple pie as well. Both were excellent. Satisfied, his anger ebbed away, replaced by contentment. Not bad, he thought. That policewoman may have issues, but her taste in food is impeccable. Next time, I’ll order the same.

What Leon failed to notice, however, was the hand-knitted scarf embroidered with “Isha” still resting on the table where their confrontation began.

Meanwhile, the policewoman who’d stormed out returned to the doorway, watching silently as Leon scooped up the spilled pudding. His careful movements, the reverence with which he handled the utensils, struck a chord within her.

…..

Burrp.

Laden with cat food and toys purchased from the department store, Leon hurried home, arriving just before three o’clock. Between the cafeteria staff’s generous portions and the policewoman’s unexpected double serving, he’d barely managed to finish his meal thanks to sheer willpower.

Collapsing onto a chair, he clutched his bloated stomach and caught his breath. Glancing at the clock, he noted there was still time before 3:30 PM. Relieved, he slowly rose to prepare.

According to the [Materialist Soul], a witch’s cat would arrive at exactly 3:30 PM. While it seemed harmless, given its connection to the anomaly, Leon decided caution was warranted. He sent his younger siblings away under the pretense of needing privacy and set about preparing the house.

Toy mice, scratching posts, plush fish, feather wands, balls containing bells—he arranged everything neatly, adding two bowls: one filled with water, the other brimming with cat food. Surveying his work, he nodded approvingly—until he realized he’d forgotten a litter box.

After searching the house unsuccessfully, he resorted to using his washbasin, filling it with sand from outside.

Perfect. As long as it’s actually a cat knocking on my door—and not some oversized feline predator—it should appreciate the hospitality.

At precisely 3:30 PM, a soft knock sounded.

Knock, knock-knock.

"Coming."

Leon took a deep breath, steadied himself, and opened the door. To his relief, it wasn’t a massive wildcat but a tiny, short-legged creature with fluffy gray-and-white fur.

"Meow~"

The kitten greeted him with a soft, chirpy meow, nodding politely before reaching into a small pouch strapped to its back. It pulled out a card and held it up.

[Hello, I am Mango, the pet of the witch who has an agreement with your Cleansing Bureau.]

Leon read the message, meeting the cat’s expectant gaze. Before he could respond, Mango produced another card.

[Please don’t ask why I’m not a black cat. Other witches keep black cats because their dark clothes hide stray hairs.]

Uh... well, I was just going to say hello, but I admit, I did kind of want to ask about that too… After nodding to acknowledge the cat's explanation, Leon offered a warm smile and said: "So, does your master prefer gray or white clothing?"

The kitten shook its head and handed over a third card.

[My master enjoys playing flying ball games. Any stray hairs get blown off, so color doesn’t matter.]

"Oh, I see..."

As the conversation continued via cards, Leon grew increasingly uneasy. This wasn’t just any ordinary cat—it was intelligent, discerning. Would it even approve of his preparations?

Clearing his throat nervously, he asked, "Um… how should I entertain you?"

Mango adjusted a pink scarf embroidered with rabbits, then rummaged in its pouch for another card.

[My requirements are simple. Just as they were before.]

Relieved, Leon relaxed slightly—until the next card appeared.

[For appetizers, softened carrots and peas, followed by tuna salad. For the main course, half a serving of raw herring sashimi and cucumber rolls...]

"...”

[And also, I’ve traveled quite far. Could you show me to the restroom first?]

"...”

[Are you feeling alright, human? You seem pale.]

"..."

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