Otaku Translation: I! Anomaly Cleansing Agent! C71

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Amid the deafening roar of gunfire, Leon, rifle in hand, strode purposefully into the Police Department's shooting range. Weapon regulations in the capital were strict; most cases could be handled with batons or whips, and firearms were rarely needed. As a result, few officers practiced their marksmanship regularly.

Today being a rest day, the vast range was nearly deserted, with only three or four occupied positions among dozens of empty ones.

Perfect. No line for air tanks today.

After exchanging greetings with the attendant responsible for checking weapons and handing out earmuffs, Leon grabbed two large boxes of nails and settled into a spot close to the air supply area. Though his visits to the range were infrequent due to his busy schedule, Leon never slacked off when it came to advancing his badge progress. Whenever he had time after work, he’d come here and stay until sunset.

Thanks to his diligent practice, he’d already completed over half of the 5,000 live rounds required for the next tier of his shooting badge. With just over 2,000 shots left—averaging about 2-3 shots per minute—it would take roughly thirteen or fourteen more hours of shooting to finish.

Quickly calculating his remaining workload, Leon paused to glance at the sky. The weather looked clear, so he figured he could shoot for seven or eight hours today. Afterward, he’d head home to help Anna pack, hire a carriage tomorrow morning to move their belongings to Happiness Residence, and then return to the range for another four or five hours. It seemed doable.

Hmm… Now that he thought about it, the Witch’s Broom malfunctioning had actually worked out perfectly. Without an anomaly for protection, he couldn’t go on missions, which gave him the freedom to practice during work hours. He could even justify arriving late in the morning to finish moving house. Everything aligned perfectly.

Pleased with his good fortune, Leon wasted no more time. He raised the small yellow flag indicating a 500-meter target and waved it toward the manager's booth.

"Sigh…"

Upon seeing the familiar yellow flag, the two managers exchanged glances and simultaneously sighed.

"Stop staring. Let’s get the targets ready."

The older manager squinted at the figure on the sniper lane, confirming it was indeed that troublesome guy. Rubbing his temples, he muttered wearily, "Better bring the handcart. Grab them by the bundle. Ugh… 'Rolling Bullet' always shoots until sunset. He’s here early today, so this might take even longer."

"I was thinking the same thing… sigh… You hold down the fort while I go grab the targets."

The younger manager gazed at Leon, who was already adjusting his rifle with earmuffs securely in place, and let out a heartfelt sigh. His luck truly was terrible.

---

"Rolling Bullet" was the nickname the range managers had given Leon behind his back. Once he’d mastered the range and significantly improved his accuracy, he began exclusively targeting the 500-meter ultra-range targets.

When nail guns fired beyond their maximum stable range, the nails would tumble uncontrollably through the air. Hence, Leon, who specialized in these "rolling bullets," earned the affectionate nickname from the managers—along with their fervent hope that he’d leave sooner rather than later.

Why? Because normal shots left relatively small holes in the targets, requiring replacements every forty or fifty rounds. But rolling bullets, once they hit, created fist-sized craters—or worse, shattered entire wooden targets with just two or three shots. This meant constant target changes, compounded by Leon’s impressive hit rate, making him ten times more trouble than any other officer combined.

Ugh… Just when they thought their Sunday shift would be relaxing, it turned into a nightmare.

Pushing a cart loaded with fresh targets back to the control booth, the younger manager groaned, "So, how’s ‘Rolling Bullet’ doing today?"

"Shockingly well," the older manager replied, massaging his furrowed brow. "He’s already shattered nearly fifty targets, but that’s not even the worst part."

"I managed to check with the ammo team. ‘Rolling Bullet’ picked up two full boxes of nails today—over a thousand rounds total."

"What? A thousand rounds? You mean he plans to shoot all day?"

Hearing this staggering number, the younger manager gasped sharply, feeling a headache coming on. Clenching his teeth, he muttered, "Shooting for eight straight hours… The recoil alone could break bones. Doesn’t he care if he dies of pain?"

"I don’t know if he’ll die of pain, but if he really intends to shoot all day, you and I are definitely going to drop dead here."

"…"

"No way. We can’t let him shoot here all day."

Glancing at the heavy custom wooden targets piled on the cart, the younger manager’s shoulders ached just imagining replacing them hundreds of times today. Suddenly energized, he slammed his hand on the counter and declared fiercely, "Let’s go. We’re begging him to move somewhere else."

"…"

You’re seriously going to beg? Why are you acting so aggressive about it?

The older manager rolled his eyes but didn’t object. Instead, he stood up, ready to join in and plead their case, hoping to redirect this disaster elsewhere and save his brittle old bones.

But before they could step out of the control room, something unexpected happened. A familiar figure approached Leon’s shooting lane—a person they recognized immediately.

Wasn’t that… Isha from the Secret Investigation Bureau?

Seeing the female officer standing behind Leon, her expression conflicted as though she wanted to speak but hesitated, the two managers exchanged knowing looks. They instantly recalled the rumors they’d heard yesterday.

At lunchtime yesterday, the bureau’s renowned beauty had carried her tray and boldly sat across from a man. But instead of accepting this unsolicited favor, the man moved to another seat. Even more shocking, Isha—whose surname matched one of the military’s top brass and whose background was anything but simple—had shamelessly followed him, looking like a lovesick stalker. It had left many jaws dropped.

Though they eventually argued and parted ways angrily, with Isha even flipping her tray in frustration, witnesses reported seeing her return later, lingering by the cafeteria entrance and gazing wistfully at him…

Hiss… So that man… was "Rolling Bullet"?

Sensing a juicy scandal about to unfold right before their eyes, the younger manager felt his fatigue vanish. Energized, he eagerly turned to his equally gleeful colleague.

"Should we… wait a bit longer?"

"Agreed."

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