Otaku Translation: I! Anomaly Cleansing Agent! C87

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Though there were conditions to meet before claiming the reward, Leon knew better than to complain. Resources from the Cleansing Bureau almost always involved materials tied to anomalies—or even an anomaly itself. According to Emma, a senior agent, it usually took three missions and several months of effort just to acquire one usable anomaly—and even then, there was no guarantee it’d be useful.

If this resource turned out to be an anomaly, and if the conditions weren’t too steep, this exchange could prove downright lucrative.

…

“Hoooot…”

Before Leon could decide whether or not to turn back and investigate what exactly the “resource” might be, a sharp whistle pierced the air. Four towering draft horses pulled a massive carriage into view, their hooves clattering against the cobblestones as they eased toward the platform.

Forget it, Leon thought. The carriage is here now. Besides, who knows how long it’ll take to fulfill whatever condition they’ve set? And investigating Lion’s place has already dragged on long enough. I’ll deal with the resource later.

Resolute, Leon stepped forward. As soon as the steam-powered carriage came to a halt, he ducked through the door and slid into a seat near the rear of the compartment, which held around twenty spots total. Though closer proximity to the boiler at the back made these seats noisier—and brutally hot during summer—they offered warmth now, mere days before winter settled in. With his coat worn thin and threadbare, Leon couldn’t resist leaning back against the heated wall, letting the comforting warmth seep into his bones.

But just as he began to relax, enjoying the sensation, hurried footsteps echoed outside, followed by a familiar voice calling out in agitation.

“Wait! We’re getting on too!”

You’ve got to be kidding me, Leon groaned inwardly. Recognizing the voice immediately, he instinctively slouched lower, debating whether he should bolt off the carriage right then and there.

Too late. Within seconds, the source of the voice—a tall, athletic woman—bounded past the carriage’s rear and leapt aboard with practiced ease. It was none other than the female officer from the Secret Investigation Bureau.

“What do you think you’re doing?! Trying to get yourself killed?” snapped the ticketing matron as the carriage lurched slightly away from the station. Though still close enough for boarding, the jump had been risky. The older woman glared daggers at the uniform-less policewoman. “If you don’t value your life, go find another carriage to endanger!”

“Oh, sorry about that! Really, I’m so sorry!” The policewoman quickly apologized, her hands raised placatingly. “We’re in a rush, and this route only runs once every hour. I was afraid you’d leave without us. Won’t happen again, promise… Could you maybe pull up a bit more? There are others waiting…”

“Tsk, kids these days, always rushing around like headless chickens…” Grumbling under her breath but visibly softening at the repeated apologies, the matron signaled the driver to stop again, allowing two additional passengers to board.

However, when the trio—a man and two women—climbed inside and straightened up, intending to move further back, the matron barked sharply, cutting them off mid-step.

“There are only two seats left. One of you needs to get off.”

“What?”

All three newcomers froze, exchanging startled glances. After a brief hesitation, the policewoman spoke up. “Then let them sit. I can stand in the aisle…”

“You trying to cause trouble?” The matron cut her off, slamming her palm against a sign nailed to the carriage wall. “This is a high-speed, four-horse express carriage. No standing allowed.”

“But—”

“No ‘buts’! Young lady, you’re pretty enough; stop talking nonsense.” The matron crossed her arms, exasperation etched across her face. “Let me spell it out for you: This is an express carriage. No handles for standing passengers. If we hit a bump and brake suddenly, someone standing in the aisle will go flying from the very last row all the way to the front. You’ll lose half your skin sliding along the floor. So make it quick—one of you gets off. We’re already running late!”

The male officer glanced at the policewoman, silently asking if they should wait for the next ride—or perhaps hail a bureau vehicle instead.

The policewoman shook her head firmly. Waiting over an hour for the next carriage wasn’t an option, especially in this part of town where freelance carriages rarely ventured. Missing their appointment with Lion’s household would jeopardize the entire investigation.

“You get off,” she said, giving him a meaningful look. Placing a reassuring hand on the shoulder of the third passenger—a frail-looking woman—the policewoman added, “Don’t worry. Even though protocol says we need two escorts, I’ve got this under control.”

“Alright… if you say so.” Recalling her reputation for handling difficult situations solo, the officer hesitated only briefly before nodding. He handed her something discreetly, then climbed off the carriage. The policewoman gently guided the pale-faced woman toward the back of the compartment.

---

As the matron had warned, the carriage was packed. Only the last row remained vacant, its seats closest to the noisy boiler. On the right sat a young couple whispering quietly to each other, while on the left, a young man bundled in a tattered coat slept soundly, his head resting against the wall.

Perhaps… ask someone to switch seats? The policewoman hesitated, eyeing the restrained woman beside her. Her concern wasn’t the noise but the possibility of the detainee causing harm. She wanted to position the prisoner against the wall, minimizing risk.

Though the woman had been compliant thus far, losing one escort increased the potential for trouble. While confident in her ability to subdue any escape attempt, the policewoman preferred avoiding injury altogether.

“Excuse me…” she began.

“What are you two doing back there? Sit down or get out!” The matron’s shrill voice interrupted her thoughts. “Either take a seat or hop off my carriage! Don’t waste my time!”

Flustered, the policewoman quickly ushered the detainee onto the nearest available seats.

“Hoooot…”

With a piercing whistle and the snorts of the horses, the steam carriage departed the station, picking up speed. As the boiler roared louder, the policewoman tapped the shoulder of the sleeping figure wrapped in the old coat.

“Sir, excuse me. Sorry to disturb you, but could I trouble you to swap seats with my friend?”

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