Playing Dirty

Yorktown Regional Church Affairs Building, Enforcement Department, Director's Office. "Trisen, how are things going with your nephew?" Seated behind the desk, Director of Enforcement Moch asked with a look of warm concern. Hearing the question, Deputy Director Trisen Norton frowned slightly and replied, "Director Moch, isn't the primary focus of our Enforcement Department right now to carry out the unified consensus of the bishops and do everything in our power to rescue Vicolai? "This has nothing to do with whether Vicolai is my nephew. Even if another Adjudicator had been arrested under these circumstances, we would still go all out to rescue him for the sake of our region's interests. "Our people can be arrested by us, and they can be judged by us, but under no circumstances can we give the Whip of Order an opportunity to use this affair to rise again." Director Moch gave a faint smile. "Yes, I know. What I meant is, I've seen the evidence gradually being released by the Whip of Order according to proper procedure. The chain of evidence is rock solid; attacking from that angle is utterly futile. "We can only apply pressure and intervene through other channels. The black marks on that nephew of yours cannot be washed clean." "I doubt there are more than a handful of high-ranking priests in our region who could ever wash their own black marks clean." "Now you're just being tedious, Trisen. The one under arrest right now is your nephew." "I understand, Director Moch. The bishops have already applied pressure successfully. Two or three bishops will attend tomorrow afternoon's trial hearing." "Will your father be among them?" "Yes." "Personally, I feel he ought to recuse himself. Otherwise, the optics won't do much good." "Yet I believe that as a bishop, he ought to have the resolve to step forward without shrinking from suspicion." "Very well, I understand. If you need any help, just say the word. As you said, this touches upon our region's interests." "I won't be shy about asking, Director Moch. Because if the Whip of Order seizes more power through this matter, the very first to suffer will be our Regional Enforcement Department. I trust our colleagues see that quite clearly." "Yes, indeed. You're right." "Then I will get back to work, Director Moch." "Go ahead. Let us hope everything gets resolved smoothly." Once Trisen left the director's office, Director Moch's face darkened instantly. "Heh. The Whip of Order's rise would harm the Enforcement Department's interests... but when you Nortons squeeze me out to clear a seat for you, where am I supposed to go? Who guarantees my interests then?" Moch rested his elbows on the desk, propping his chin in both hands. "Let's see if the great God of Order will continue to shelter you Nortons." *** "Father." "Sit." Trisen sat down on the sofa across from his father, Dolph. Dolph said, "This time, I underestimated the Whip of Order's resilience." "They came prepared with a meticulous plan this time. Furthermore, because they took the initiative to strike first, this Yorktown affair is serving as a textbook model for branches in every other region from the Whip of Order headquarters in the Dinge Region. "I even suspect the Whip-Wielder himself may have spoken." "That is inevitable. Even though those bastards find me an eyesore, they did pull some strings on my behalf this time, yet none yielded any real effect. Not a single ripple was stirred in the Dinge Region. "There is only one reason for that: the Whip-Wielder's stance is already crystal clear." "On the legal front, there is no way to break the chain of evidence," Trisen said. "Under normal circumstances, that would hardly matter," Dolph said, rubbing his brow. "Indeed. Normally, it wouldn't be an issue at all. Compared to what Qihe did back then, Vicolai could practically be called kindhearted. "The problem is that once they're determined to seize leverage and treat it with deadly seriousness, this evidence is more than enough to ensure my nephew can never get back on his feet. "What worries me most now is that they intend to put my nephew to death." "There is no need to merely worry, Trisen—they *do* want my grandson's life. Since the Whip-Wielder has already spoken, they will certainly push for the harshest possible penalty for my grandson." "Now, we can only pursue other avenues." "Other avenues?" "One is through my younger brother. I believe he should have sent you a reply by now?" "He has an idea: utilizing his connections within the Church of Thunder to designate Vicolai as an exchange delegate and dispatch him there, with the Church of Thunder even granting him qualification for trials in the Sea of Thunder." "That is quite high status." "Yes, but while such an arrangement would be highly effective for other churches—given how carefully they manage diplomatic ties—when applied to our Church of Order..." Dolph gave a wry smile, continuing, "Because our Church of Order is somewhat excessively powerful, the higher-ups might acknowledge the gesture, but they won't take it truly seriously." "What about the panel of judges?" "I will attend. Though everyone thinks it inappropriate for me to go, I must. Only if I attend will Wolflen attend as well. Under circumstances already this dire, whether I recuse myself is entirely meaningless. Do you understand?" "I understand, Father." "Tell me your second method." "The second method is... to pour oil on the Whip of Order's fire. The main problem right now is that they didn't make an arrest without evidence; their case is meticulously documented, which ties our region's hands. "My brother's arrangement is one bargaining chip, and your personal attendance at the trial hearing is another. Together, they can steer the verdict away from a death sentence for Vicolai." "Merely avoiding the death penalty..." "And even that isn't guaranteed." Trisen touched the tip of his nose. "So we pour more fuel on the Whip of Order's fire. Within their headquarters, we have our people—or more precisely, many regions have their people placed there due to historical reasons. "I want to engineer a targeted attack." "Tear off all pretense and strike right now?" "Our person will step forward, find an opportunity, and stage an attack. On the surface, it will leave behind evidence suggesting our region orchestrated it—even pointing directly at our Norton family. "We will fan the flames higher for the Whip of Order, letting them believe they've caught an even greater opportunity, an even bigger handle against us. "Behind the scenes, the true evidence will be framed to show that the Whip of Order directed and staged the entire attack themselves. "Once the situation is reversed, "it will incite even greater aversion and wariness from the Regional Administration toward the Whip of Order's resurgence. The fallout could escalate further, pulling other factions in the Dinge Region into the fray. "If we pull this off, my nephew's life will truly be saved. Perhaps... he might even walk out a free man." "Do you have enough personnel? For an operation like this, at most one or two of our own people can be sacrificed to serve as surface evidence, but fundamentally, we cannot deploy our own core strength." "Indeed. Because this is an urgent situation, I am already calling in favors to assemble an outside crew." "Make it quick." "Does that mean you agree, Father?" "I cannot allow Vicolai to die, nor can I allow him to be ruined. Trisen, my good son..." Dolph rose, placing a hand firmly on his eldest son's shoulder, and said with solemn gravity, "You are not merely protecting your nephew; you are protecting your own brother." *** *Snap.* Karen lit a cigarette without smoking it, resting it across the edge of the ashtray. He watched the wisps of smoke curl upward until the green leaves growing along the fissures in the wall began to spread outward, swiftly absorbing the fumes. It felt like running an air purifier with automatic sensors. Karen rather enjoyed the crisp, rustling clicks of the plants as they grew and retracted. Sometimes, just to acknowledge their presence, he would deliberately light a cigarette to "feed" them—after all, incorporating them into the office renovations hadn't come cheap. Once the cigarette burned down, Karen picked up the cup beside him and took a sip of iced water. This was the third day since Vicolai's arrest. The interrogation was proceeding as routine. Vicolai's mental state was no longer as arrogant as at the start—not just because Karen had delivered a genuine threat, but primarily because he had realized the people interrogating him here were truly just going through the motions. Whether he cooperated, hurled curses, mocked, pleaded, or inquired made no difference to the outcome whatsoever. Various pieces of evidence had already been submitted in batches and approved one after another. The higher-ups' efficiency had become uncharacteristically swift; everyone shared an unspoken understanding. Now that the fish was hooked, some scaled it, some heated the oil, and some boiled the water—all working toward a bowl of savory fish soup. Over the past few days, Karen hadn't gone home, eating and sleeping in his office, which was fully equipped with living amenities anyway. A bigger reason was that his superiors—namely Neo and Bernie—were far too capable. Karen didn't have to shoulder the political pressure; they smoothed over channels and opened doors swiftly and smoothly. Meanwhile, his subordinates, centered around Alfred and Vic, organized personnel for investigations and pushed through procedural work in impeccable order. With superiors who bore the responsibility and subordinates who handled the legwork, Karen, stuck in the middle, found himself with almost nothing to do. Lately, he discovered he had turned into Richard. So he couldn't go home... Returning home would expose that whether he was present or not made no difference at all. Of course, that wasn't the main reason. The real reason was that this case was the maiden voyage of his career. He was like an expectant father in the delivery room, waiting for the birth of a newborn. Even if the mark of this birth was not an infant's first cry, but Vicolai's desperate shriek upon receiving his sentence, both were equally moving. Neo knocked and entered. Karen had always admired the section chief's boundless energy; whether buried in work or immersed in gambling, Neo was always brimming with vigor, and Karen had never once seen him look tired. In Neo's own words, after being conditioned by a chorus of voices squabbling inside his head every day, he no longer knew what fatigue felt like. What saddened Neo most nowadays was that perhaps due to his body undergoing the process of "illumination" by the Light, the bloodthirsty aberrant demon ancestor in his head had grown increasingly inactive. His words grew fewer, and their conversations grew shorter, leaving Neo, long accustomed to a bustling "household," feeling hollow, describing himself as an empty-nester. Neo sat down before Karen's desk. Without a word, he reached for the pack of cigarettes Karen had left on the desk, pulled out three, lit them, set them on the ashtray, and watched the greenery on the wall unfurl to purify the air. "Sigh..." Neo let out a mournful sigh. This office had originally been furnished for himself. He had thought he would be grinding away here for several years, so to accommodate his work and lifestyle, he had spared no expense on renovations. Yet, no sooner had he settled in than he received an inexplicable assist from Karen that bumped him up another rank. He knew full well that his promotion was purely because Karen needed to advance, and he was being shoved upward to clear a spot for Karen. This would have been a marvelous thing—if only he hadn't renovated the place first. Pulling a cube of ice from the insulated container in front of Karen and crunching on it, Neo said, "Things are moving along very smoothly. We could have the verdict in hand by tomorrow evening at the earliest." "Good." In the past, such efficiency would have been unthinkable. The mid-to-lower echelons of the Whip of Order used to rely on relevant departments of the Regional Administration to process everything. This time, they had completely bypassed the region, digging out the original protocol from beneath piles of dust, blowing off the grit, and rubbing it clean to reveal the provisions inscribed within: Below the regional Chief Bishop, including all non-chief bishops, the Whip of Order possessed the authority to conduct an internal judicial process without notifying local authorities, requiring only that investigative reports be submitted upward for review and approval. One could say that at the founding of the Church, Lord Tyrannus had granted extraordinary authority to the Whip of Order. As for why that power had subsequently been trimmed, amended, and suppressed time after time, it was easy enough to understand—any collective develops an instinct for self-preservation. "Tomorrow evening," Karen asked. "Once the verdict is delivered, what will the method of execution be?" "That's yet to be decided. There will be a trial hearing tomorrow afternoon. The region has exerted immense pressure, and three bishops from the Regional Administration will be present at the hearing." "They cannot overturn the conviction," Karen said. "No, because our evidence is comprehensive. Bernie and I believe they are aiming to avoid the death penalty, or at least secure a suspended death sentence. To them, that would count as a defensive victory, keeping the political fallout of our operation to a minimum. "So at tomorrow's hearing, as our presenter, you need to do your best. "Even though this is a contest between two factions, as long as we execute our details to perfection, we have a chance to achieve our true objective within that small arena. "Let the higher-ups fight their battles; we handle ours." "Understood." "Oh, right. There's another piece of news, which is why I came to see you. Bertha informed me that someone in Yorktown is covertly mobilizing personnel." "Did they go call on the Light remnants again?" At the mention of mobilizing personnel, one naturally thought of "borrowing a blade"; and at the mention of borrowing a blade, one naturally thought of the Light remnants, that tireless bunch of scapegoats. "Don't worry, the blade is already rusted through. Word I received is that they have nobody available—at least on the Light remnants' side. After being used as pawns over and over, they ran out of ammunition long ago. "From what Bertha gathered, senior figures in one faction of the Light remnants wanted Bertha's backer—which is to say, me—to participate and stir the waters. What a joke!" "Indeed." A case Neo himself had investigated and spearheaded had come full circle, with the opposition trying to recruit him to sabotage his own work. It truly was comical, but such were the perks of Neo's dual identity. "So which faction is actually gathering people?" Karen asked. "No idea." Neo shook his head. "They're being quite secretive. This wasn't some deliberate leak, considering it reached all the way to me." "Since we don't know who it is, let's just treat it as the Norton family's doing." "Haha! Sometimes, that logic actually hits the mark. When everyone thinks it couldn't possibly be them, they might just seize the opportunity to do it. "When Bertha notified me, she relayed the rough scope of their request: a feint, an appearance, showing my face—nothing requiring actual heavy lifting." "What's the appearance fee?" "Not a copper for me. Through Bertha, my identity was affiliated with the Altar of Light faction so I could acquire intelligence more easily. "On top of that, I framed the incident on Dark Moon Island as my own accomplishment—or rather, it *was* my accomplishment—along with several other deeds that seemed convenient to pin to my name. "As a result, the Altar of Light faction lets me maintain secrecy regarding my real-world identity while placing considerable trust in me. But any payment will definitely go straight into the Altar's pockets. They only approached me with a polite, inquiring tone to ask if I'd be willing to take part in this operation." "In other words, your title of 'Light Elder' isn't worth a dime, and at the end of the day, you're still just a grunt?" "Exactly. The title of elder has long been handed out like candy among the Light remnants. Anyone with the strength of an Inquisitor or above who's on the older side can be called an elder." "What is their goal, then? Under normal circumstances, pulling any stunt that burns bridges right now is tantamount to handing us ammunition." Karen took on a contemplative look. "Unless... they intend to hand us a bomb." "Bernie and I think so as well." *Knock, knock...* Fanny knocked and walked in, handing over a thick stack of dossiers. "Section Chief, everything is here. All of it." "Go open the files. Backdate the timestamps to before we arrested Vicolai. Any issues with that?" "As of now, no problem. Our staffing shortage is severe, but the lack of oversight is even more severe, so it's very easy to manipulate." "Mm, make it quick then." "Yes, Chief." "What are those?" Karen asked. "Incriminating evidence on all the department heads and the two deputy regional directors at our headquarters. Most of it is real; for the small portion where nothing could be found, we had to fabricate a bit." "You compiled this?" "Bernie did. It's been quite some time since he transferred here from the Dinge Region. Aside from signing off on orders for ink and paper, he was probably bored out of his mind and spent his time investigating his colleagues. "Even though he is technically our boss, he's currently managing logistics, so these dossiers and evidence could only be handed to me. I'll have Fanny register them under our office's name to formally open the investigation." "You and Bernie suspect there's a mole among us." "It would be strange if there weren't. You know what this place used to be like. Anyone with a shred of ambition would probably have become a mole, hahaha!" "Fair point." "So now we just wait to see who coordinates with them. We'll set up the investigation in advance, backdating the files. Once the incident happens, we can step out ahead, pull out his file, and declare that we've had our eye on him all along and had already launched a secret investigation. "After that, we don't rush to gather ammunition; we defuse the bomb first. "Once the bomb is disarmed, we throw it right back at them. "Political struggles are always like this: whoever loses their patience first and starts playing outside the rules is bound to reveal a fatal flaw. They've grown desperate." Just then, the phone on Karen's desk rang. He picked up the receiver, and Purr's indignant voice came through: "Karen, that damn Snowball came to our house!" "Huh?" "The symbiotic contracted creature belonging to Anita, that woman from the Gravedigger clan! That fluffy ball of fur! Back off! Get away from me, I'm allergic to fur!" "What did it come for?" "It came to tell me that its big sister received a commission to strike at personnel from the Whip of Order. Its sister told it to pass the word along to us." "Alright, I've got it." "I'm hanging up then! Get off me! If you cling to me one more time, I'll burn all your fur off—the kind that never grows back!" *Woof!* Hanging up the receiver, Karen said to Neo, "Anita sent word. She received a commission targeting personnel from the Whip of Order." Neo blinked, then chuckled. "How amusing. Someone wants to strike at us, and they end up hiring our own people. Seems our intelligence network is functioning splendidly." "Yes. We're both the police and the thieves." "Hahaha!" Neo was thoroughly amused. "Now this is getting interesting. Well, since they want to play this game, let's play along with their script." "You want to add more fuel, Chief?" "Didn't I just say? If they couldn't keep their cool and chose to step outside the political rules of engagement, they have only themselves to blame when it backfires. We were just fretting over finding a legitimate angle to launch our next offensive." *Knock, knock...* Old Coya walked in. Without standing on ceremony, he pulled up a chair and sat down right between Karen and Neo. "Section Chief, Captain. Enzo, our Director of Enforcement, intends to personally visit the Order Prison to interrogate an inmate, and he specifically requested an escort from our Security Section." Neo said, "Old Coya, you did well." "It's nothing. Our headquarters used to be idle all the time, and inmates were practically mythical beasts; they were all handed over to the Enforcement Department under the Regional Administration. Now that we're laser-focused on Vicolai's case, why on earth would he suddenly run off to interrogate a prisoner?" "You can head out, Old Coya. We've got it." "Um, about that staffing quota..." Karen spoke up, "I only have one slot left, and it's already reserved by the Chief Bishop for his grandson." "Ah..." Neo offered, "My office still has a slot for a secretary." "To be honest, Director Enzo promised to arrange a position as his office secretary for my grandniece," Old Coya said. Neo spread his hands. "So, what's your choice?" "Is that even a question? The position of Enforcement Director will belong to Lord Bernie before long. Putting my grandniece there now would be signing her up for early retirement. "Departure is at eight tonight. I'll lead the escort team personally." Having said his piece, Old Coya stood and left. Neo grinned. "I'll go tell Bernie in a bit. He's going to be thrilled to death." If the mole was the Enforcement Director, that meant the position was practically vacated. Once Bernie transferred over from Logistics, their entire chain of command would consist of their own people. "Should I go with you?" Karen nodded. "All right." "Don't bring too many subordinates; we don't want to arouse suspicion." "Understood." "Let's make sure we seize this opportunity." "Their hands are bound to be clean. Aside from an insider meant to serve as planted evidence, the rest are likely mercenaries." "Since he dared to do it, the choice is no longer his. If they want to frame us and play dirty, then we'll show them how dirty things can really get." "We'll see how things develop on the ground." "Right. Get ready, and we'll head out together when the time comes. I've wrapped up everything on my end, and since you don't really have anything to..." Karen glared at Neo. Neo amended himself, "Since your side works with tremendous efficiency and everything is wrapped up as well." "Heh." "I'll head back to take a bath and change clothes. You know, when I was stuck on the Mipos Archipelago with that idiot Richard, I really missed how the two of us used to operate at night." "Thank you." "Don't mention it." After Neo left the office, Karen sat for a short while longer before standing up and walking out into the corridor. On a bench in the hallway, Philomena was listening to Richard recount the tale of his "pinnacle battle" for the twelfth time. It wasn't that Richard was out of his mind and obsessed with repeating the exact same story; rather, sitting together in silence felt awkward and made him look useless, while chatting about other topics in a public setting felt even less appropriate and might easily invite misunderstandings. Consequently, Richard had no choice but to pick this story, telling and embellishing it over and over, until the narrative warped further with every retelling. Karen suspected that by the twentieth version, Richard would probably be recounting how he traded forbidden curses with Vicolai. "Philomena." "Captain." Philomena stood up. Karen asked an unnecessary question: "Are you free right now?" "Yes." "Good. Sit here and stand by. I'll call for you shortly." "Understood, Captain." Philomena sat back down, her expression instantly growing completely natural. She was no longer idling with nothing to do; she had a mission, giving her whole demeanor an immediate sense of purpose. Richard pointed to himself and said to Karen, "Um, Captain, I'm actually not that busy either." "Mm. Go notify Muri for me and have him come stand by as well." "Right away... Captain." Having received his assignment, Richard gave Philomena a helpless shrug. Just as Philomena expected him to grumble to her, Richard said instead, "Stay safe. After all, I'm still counting on attending your grandmother's funeral." Philomena paused for a moment, then replied: "Thank you."