Investigation Launched

"Karen, are you serious?" "What else would I be?" "Isn't this being a little too disloyal as a friend?" "One is a friend, and the other is a superior. And that superior represents the will of the Church's upper echelons. So between a friend and loyalty to the Church, I choose loyalty." Mavaglio choked on his words, momentarily unable to refute it. He could hardly cast any negative judgment on political correctness, because he himself was political correctness personified. Karen sat down in an armchair across from the sofa. It would still take Ophelia some time to fetch the items, and besides, he was very curious about Mavaglio's fiancée. After all, this directly concerned the power structure of the regional Whip of Order once Susi left. "By the way, what's your fiancée's name?" "Gaspol." Karen suddenly felt a sense of absurdity. "The Presiding Judge?" Clad in a solemn black divine robe, sitting high on the tribunal bench, cracking her whip: *Silence!* Twelve years older... Mavaglio was about the same age as Karen, perhaps two or three years older at most. So adding twelve years to Mavaglio's age would place Presiding Judge Gaspol in her early thirties—hardly old at all. Yet that attire and that post made people overlook her age and instantly slap a label onto her, much like the female disciplinary head in many schools. Karen even had to search his memory carefully before he could conjure up a rough impression of Presiding Judge Gaspol's detailed appearance. "She's your fiancée?" "Didn't I already answer that?" "If she's reassigned here as Regional Chief, that's going to give me a bit of a headache." "What do you mean?" Mavaglio asked with a half-smile. Karen had no intention of hiding it from him. As a Holy Child, Mavaglio was somewhat peculiar: he craved friendship and yearned to be treated as an equal. The more casual and unfiltered you were with him, the more comfortable—even touched—he felt. In short, he was a bit of a glutton for punishment. "I had originally planned to take de facto control of this region's Whip of Order once the current Regional Chief was promoted and moved on. Now, thanks to you, an unexpected complication seems to have cropped up." Mavaglio appreciated Karen's candor. Because of it, he couldn't help chiming in to help analyze the situation: "She's a woman with a strong desire for control. She won't ever allow herself to be a decorative puppet on display, so she will definitely compete with you." "I can sense that. So as things stand, there's only one viable method." "What method?" "Go romance her. Cultivate your feelings properly. I imagine whether man or woman, when someone is swept up in love and basking in its sweetness, they won't have the time or energy to meddle in work matters." "Is that something you do to a friend?" "Aren't friends meant to be useful at times like this? Besides, it's not like I'm asking you to take risks doing something outrageous. I'm merely advising you to fulfill your duties to the Church, your family, and yourself, and take on the relevant responsibilities." "Why don't you go in my place?" Hearing that, Karen's expression turned stern. "I don't think I should answer that, and I'd ask you to take those words back." "Sorry, I was disrespectful to you," Mavaglio conceded quickly. "No, you were disrespectful to her." Mavaglio licked his lips and nodded silently. Karen stood up. "I'm not trying to lecture you, because I don't have the right. But if you truly lack the courage to say 'no' to the arrangements from above, the very least you should do is maintain appropriate courtesy toward her and toward outsiders. While you resent having her as your fiancée... is there any chance she might look down on you too?" Hearing this reprimand, Mavaglio's expression shifted slightly. His eyelids and lips gave a faint tremor. These subtle micro-expressions signaled embarrassment and anger—an effort to hold back his temper. He was a Holy Child, occupying a status of pure, unassailable nobility. Throughout the entire Church, barring the High Priest, everyone else—including the Temple Elders—had to address him respectfully as \"my lord.\" From the very first moment Karen interacted with him, Karen understood one truth: while Mavaglio constantly complained about being alienated by his family and having no friends because of his status as a Holy Child, he would never willingly give that status up. Mavaglio raised his head to look at Karen. At this moment, he briefly lost control of his expression, a streak of indignation flashing in his eyes. *You claim you aren't trying to lecture me, yet you still are! And what right does a mere priest, a mere believer like you, have to lecture me, an inheritor of a great entity's divine will?!* Karen did not apologize, meeting his gaze with utter calm. Neo had once poked fun at Karen's interactions with Leon and his circle of wealthy scions, pointing out a key fact: those privileged young masters were willing to mingle with Karen because they felt he was different from those who fawned over them, but fundamentally, it was because Karen himself was also a "privileged young master." Just like now. When Mavaglio could not stop that exalted consciousness within him from rearing its head, the confidence that allowed Karen to respond so calmly stemmed from the towering, magnificent entity standing within his own soul space. *You inherited the legacy of those 'branch deities' in the history of the Church of Order, able to glimpse fragments of their memories. Sacred and grand, is it?* *I can even read the memories of the God of Order Himself.* It was no exaggeration to say that not a single Holy Child in the Church of Order possessed the ability to force Karen into submission, for Karen's godhead stood higher than theirs. The rupture in friendship and the sharp retaliation never came. Mavaglio blinked, then nodded. "Your reprimand was right. She is such a capable person; marrying a Holy Child like me, she probably feels more aggrieved than I do. I shouldn't harbor such disrespect toward her in my thoughts." Mavaglio stood up, walked over to Karen, and thumped him twice on the shoulder. "My grandfather once said that true friends are the ones willing to point out your mistakes, because for most people, watching someone slide down the wrong track straight into the abyss is a rather entertaining sight." Karen replied honestly, "I've interacted with Presiding Judge Gaspol before. I had a very good impression of her, and I respect her deeply." This was an instinct to defend an elder and superior... well, though using the term 'elder' felt a bit awkward now. "Alright, alright, I get it, I get it," Mavaglio sighed. "So what do you need me to do if she really becomes the Regional Chief here? For instance, should I set something up so we can all have a meal together and discuss work arrangements?" Karen responded, "I suspect I might be slightly more familiar with her than you are." "Drop the 'might.' You definitely are. I've only ever seen her once, at a banquet where we were both wearing ceremonial robes. After that, everything I know about her came from materials I dug up." Karen said, "Then once she actually arrives, I'll set something up so we can have a meal together, and you two can get to know each other." Mavaglio slapped his own forehead. "Hahahaha!" *** Leaving the office, Karen headed upstairs first to Susi's office, where Alfred was currently discussing personnel adjustments with Susi. When Karen stepped inside, Susi put on a mock frown. "Honestly, you even have your secretary-general handle personnel matters with me. Being your superior really is terribly dull." "My apologies, Regional Chief. As you can probably tell, I'm not well-versed in administrative matters. And sometimes, I feel the exact same way as you." Karen gestured to Alfred standing nearby. "Sometimes, I find being his superior terribly dull as well." "Hahaha!" Susi chuckled, then asked, "Something on your mind?" "I heard a rumor that the next Regional Chief might very well be Presiding Judge Gaspol." "Her?" Susi frowned. "If it's her, things won't be so easy for you moving forward. Her personal capabilities are exceptional—better than mine—and she's a total workaholic. Most importantly, the faction behind her..." "Faction?" "Our Whip-Wielder once held office as the vice principal of the Church University, directly overseeing an entire department. Starting from there, he rallied a core group of members, many of whom are now superiors within our branch. That tradition has persisted ever since. They don't belong to family or regional factions; they're generally known as the Academic Faction. "Gaspol belongs to that faction, and they carry tremendous influence within our branch. "You won't have a chance to join them unless you go to the school for advanced studies. But after all, you're already a department head, and your age... wait..." Susi suddenly realized something. "You're very young! You could completely go to the school for advanced studies for a while!" "I probably don't have the time to go back to school..." Rasma was raring to go on Mink Street, and he was supposed to run off to school now? "It's an on-the-job training program! You just take two days each month to head to the Church University in the Dinge Region and pick up a diploma. It's quite simple—the final exam is a bit tough, but that shouldn't pose any problem for you. "You'll just need to participate in their activities more often. Supposedly there's an exclusive society; only by entering that society can you be acknowledged as one of their own." "Regional Chief, why are you explaining this to me in such detail?" "Because if Gaspol really comes down to take my place, I believe that alongside your competition, you two will actually be able to get along quite well. Who knows, while you're tearing each other's hair out over office power at headquarters, she might turn around and actively arrange your advanced studies and write recommendation letters for you. "You have that kind of ability. I believe in you, Karen." "Thank you for the compliment." "No, it isn't a compliment. I think this shouldn't wait. If I recall correctly, a new round of the on-the-job training program should be starting soon. There are age limits, and the spots are usually reserved for outstanding young priests. Have the nominations from our headquarters been submitted yet?" Alfred answered immediately, "The deadline hasn't passed yet. The current provisional list includes five priests who performed outstandingly in recent missions, two clerks, and three members of Whip of Order squads. All of them are under eighteen." "Hahaha!" Susi burst out laughing again. "Then add our Law Enforcement Department Head's name to the list! It's not favoritism, since he contributed the greatest merits. But just imagining you going to study alongside a bunch of church servants makes me want to laugh. Haha, wait, let me laugh a bit longer..." "Regional Chief, your meaning is..." "My meaning is, didn't you want to preemptively resolve the power struggle that is bound to arise between you two? What better solution is there than becoming a member of her own faction? "Once you belong to the same faction, where would any power struggle come from? You might even end up on better terms with her than you are with me." "Thank you." This expression of gratitude came from the heart. With Susi on the verge of transferring away, he was genuinely offering Karen help out of pure goodwill. Moreover, due to constraints of perspective and exposure, some matters were beyond Alfred's ability to arrange or anticipate; he likely wouldn't have even thought of it. Alfred spoke up, "I'll see to the arrangements shortly." "Mm." Susi nodded. "As for this matter, I'll discuss it with Bern. If Bern has a better idea, I'll let you know." "Understood, Regional Chief." "Anything else?" "Nothing else. I'll be taking two days off." "You really have it easy," Susi remarked with a hint of envy. "Go relax. After a major mission, you have to give yourself a reward." *** Leaving the Regional Chief's office, Karen headed straight downstairs to the parking lot and found Ophelia. "Sorry to keep you waiting. A few things came up that needed handling." "Not at all, I just arrived as well." "Get in." Karen started the car. He knew Purr was back in the dormitory, but he didn't go ask if Purr wanted to return to the manor together. With Ophelia present, adding Purr would turn the manor into utter chaos, and he didn't want that. Before the car had even exited the city, it became stuck in heavy traffic, backed up for miles. At first, Karen thought he had encountered another parade, since parades in Wien were more like parties—you could even buy the most authentic Wien hot dogs and bean-paste pancakes amidst the marchers. After a moment, he realized it wasn't a parade, but a gambling company holding a celebration event. They were handing out free gifts, which had caused a massive gridlock. The gambling industry had always flourished in Wien. Odds were offered on everything from soccer match results to the king's life expectancy. Watching the lottery tickets fluttering endlessly through the air ahead, Ophelia commented, "Dark Moon Island is still too small. We don't have industries like this." Karen smiled faintly. "Dark Moon Island has the Mermaid Theater." Hearing that, Ophelia couldn't help turning her head toward the window to hide the smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Back when Karen and the others first arrived on Dark Moon Island and went to the Mermaid Theater, she had observed him from afar with a telescope. She had even handpicked a mermaid to send to his private box, reasoning that since his companions all had one, she couldn't allow him to go without. That incident clearly hadn't happened all that long ago, yet it felt as if ages had passed. Ophelia shook her head and asked, "Do you buy lottery tickets?" "I don't have that habit." "I know they sell lottery tickets in the black market here too." "I detest gambling. It's a game where the rules are predetermined by someone else. In that kind of game, the more you play, the more impossible it is to truly walk away with money or point coupons. Instead, you only pull yourself in deeper." "But sometimes, playing a little for fun is fine, as long as you keep a level head." "Many people think that way, believing themselves to be special and capable of self-control. But out of dozens or hundreds of times, if you lose control just once and step over the line, you drown. "They think they are playing a game of wagering against probability. In reality, they themselves are the probability in the eyes of the house." "So, Karen, do you think everyone gets addicted to gambling?" Karen shook his head. "People who don't get addicted simply never touch it in the first place." To clear the congested road sooner, Karen activated the car's isolation formation. Even so, it took considerable effort before he finally maneuvered out of the gridlock. Shortly after getting clear, Karen spotted a truck parked ahead. A few men wearing the uniforms of that gambling company were loading lottery boxes onto the flatbed. The driver was sitting in the cab, puffing on a cigarette. Karen slowed the car down and rolled down his window. The isolation formation prevented the other party from noticing a car driving past, and the driver kept smoking while barking curses at the workers in the back to hurry up. Once they drove a safe distance away, Karen deactivated the isolation formation. Holding the steering wheel with his left hand, he retrieved a talisman paper from his pocket with his right. With a light flick of his fingers, a black crow took shape on its own. The black crow flew before Karen, who addressed it: "Leon, investigate the gambling company currently running an event on Black Sheep Street." With that, the black crow flew out the window. "Something wrong?" Ophelia asked. "The cigarette that driver was smoking can only be bought with point coupons." "You're remarkably observant." "It's my profession." So, if Mavaglio and Gaspol truly ended up together, he would likely taste this kind of torment. His wife would only need to sweep a single glance over him to see through every detail of his life. Then again, that seemed to be precisely what the upper echelons wanted to see. A Holy Child... wasn't supposed to have secrets. *** The black crow landed in Leon's hand. He held it to his ear, and Karen's voice emerged from within: *"Leon, investigate the gambling company currently running an event on Black Sheep Street."* Leon reached out and tugged at Neo, who was beside him chugging from a massive beer mug. With the music blaring and the crowd roaring around them, Leon had no choice but to yell at the top of his lungs: "Head! Head! Department Head!" "What?! What are you saying?!" "Department Head Karen just sent me a message!" "Oh, Karen? What does he want?!" "He ordered me to investigate a gambling company!" "Investigate what?!" "A gambling company!" "Oh, then go investigate it!" Neo leaned forward, staring down at the two puppets locked in a bloody melee inside a small arena, and roared, "Kill him! Kill him! I have an eight-leg parlay riding on you! You're my last leg!" *Crack!* The blue puppet Neo had bet on was struck down, its control core shattered and billowing smoke. A few spectators in the surrounding crowd cheered, but most fell quiet. Several people rose unsteadily to their feet and began staggering toward the stairs. "Fuck! Goddammit!" Neo slumped into his seat, took a heavy swig of beer, and asked, "Where did he say to investigate?" "Uh... right where we're sitting right now."