Ch.139010 Investigation Record – At a New Corner of Life (7)

I wake up exhausted to greet a new morning. Today, I don’t have time to stay buried in bed. Somehow, I feel like I’m becoming more like Michael. While getting up, that thought suddenly struck me.

I’m not just becoming like him alone. I’m quite voracious by nature. It would be more accurate to say I’m becoming like everyone I meet. The more I resemble them, the more I can see their world.

If I hadn’t met the detective, I wouldn’t have known about the underworld. If I hadn’t met the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn, I wouldn’t have been able to properly see this Roaring Twenties. I need to see everything. I want to see it all, even if it hurts my eyes.

I prepared to go out. Would that orc still be in front of Philip’s house today? Worried my hands might tremble, I briefly held the Cowboy’s hat against my chest. Though I couldn’t feel its warmth, it was reassuring.

People endlessly need something to lean on. There’s no shame in that. No one can keep moving forward forever. Rather, it’s shameful to pretend you can move forward your entire life.

Before leaving, I called my editor to explain the situation. I had to endure some embarrassing comments about how I always manage to find such stories, but I was proud nonetheless.

Today again, I left home and headed to Philip’s house. No one was there today. The window was still broken, but at least it was quiet outside. When I knocked, the same caretaker from before opened the door.

“Looks like no one’s come by today?”

The caretaker looked around outside once and nodded. He seemed uncomfortable too.

“That’s right. Probably thanks to how well you persuaded them to leave last time, miss reporter. But I heard you’re helping that elf—won’t the orcs dislike that?”

His concerned words were one of the best rewards I could receive. I naturally waved my hand and joked a little.

“I already get a pile of threatening letters every day anyway. One more envelope won’t make much difference. When winter comes, we’ll use them as fuel for the office heating—having two envelopes instead of one will definitely save on heating costs.”

He chuckled briefly before bursting into laughter. After smiling back, I waved goodbye and headed to Philip’s house. I knocked on the door. Footsteps approached, and the door opened.

Inside was a private space. Like how the inside of an interviewee’s unopened mouth is an extremely private space. Until now, the doorstep had been my limit, but now I was gladly invited inside.

Philip looked at my face with an expression full of apology. He seemed to feel guilty about not being able to come with us last time due to fear, but I shook my head as if to say there was no need for that.

“There’s no need for that expression. You did your part just by calling us, Philip. We’re the reporters here. It’s our job to make appointments in the name of the press, meet people, write articles, and directly refute what that newspaper wrote. It’s right that we handle the work.”

I learned about responsibility and professionalism from Paulina. I saw professionalism in how she stood as a reliable guardian, and I learned about responsibility when she overcame all hesitation to stand by my side.

Entering the house, I saw James the reporter, dressed impeccably as always. Even the handle of his coffee cup seemed positioned exactly the same as last time, but today there was a typewriter.

Portable and light enough to carry around, it was likely one of those devices with magic-powered mechanics. Magic was always useful. Even when revealing the truth.

I sat next to James. Philip naturally sat across from us. He seemed to understand why we were gathered here.

He wanted to speak. And I was ready to listen. He was a fragile person. Yet, not so weak in the sense that he knew how to live despite his fragility.

No matter how much honor or incentive I might gain from this article, Philip would be the real winner. He would be able to live tomorrow… no, the coming today, just like always.

As if unsure how to begin, he opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking without being prompted. Perhaps questions weren’t necessary.

“First of all, I… I have no intention of defending or sheltering the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn. The same goes for myself. I was a follower too. I…”

He paused, as if overwhelmed by the fact that he had started speaking on his own. He was moved by finally being able to open his mouth after longing for the opportunity to speak.

“I joined that cult because of my greed. Honestly, even after joining, it seemed strange. Everyone believed that one old elf would give them a future. Still, when I saw the owner of the logistics company that supplied my store… or the elf actors and politicians, I became greedy. I wanted to be close to those people.”

The desire to stand shoulder to shoulder with people who lived in a different world was hard to resist. He probably felt less guilty since he hadn’t actually participated in any criminal activities.

He might have made excuses like, “It’s just a normal social gathering for me.” I wrote down what he said in my notebook. I had a sense of what tone the article should take.

I shouldn’t write it full of humanity as if I’m removing all his burdens. I needed to relieve him of responsibilities that others had forced on him while leaving what was rightfully his.

Philip seemed to understand that he wasn’t innocent. He continued speaking.

“Honestly, I did agree with what the orcs, goblins, and… those paranoid elves were saying. Just because I wanted to look good to them. But I never participated in any actions. If I were the type of person with that kind of courage, I wouldn’t have been trembling until these reporters came to find me. Hurting people is a frightening thing.”

It’s abnormal for people to become accustomed to hurting others. I had seen throughout this city how terrifying it is when people become numb to harming others.

It was frightening to be swept away by that current. I recalled how I couldn’t properly point a gun at the Forest’s Firstborn. I empathized.

“Actually, I think I somewhat deserve what I’ve been through. I just thought, you know, I could go to the followers and say, ‘I’m not a follower anymore from today. This is the end of it.’ And that it would really be over.”

After acknowledging his attempt to escape, he finally spoke with tears in his eyes. A tear he wouldn’t have shed if not for The Reveal’s false and sadistic accusations.

While it couldn’t be called a good thing, it had led to his repentance. It was a contradiction that almost made me laugh, but I didn’t.

“So, I just… want to apologize to everyone who was hurt by the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn. And… I also want to tell other nameless, voiceless followers like me, who believed they could just naturally disappear and return to being someone’s ordinary elf neighbor—it won’t end like that. It won’t end unless you apologize and repent.”

He stopped there, but it was enough for the article. James Palmer wasn’t the type to offer a handkerchief, so I handed one to Philip.

It’s fortunate to end things with regret and sadness when possible. Beyond this stage, wounds begin to fester. Anger that doesn’t discriminate begins to blaze like wildfire. It starts to smell of ashes.

James, who had been writing down the content like a stenographer, pulled the paper from his typewriter and handed it to me. As if he didn’t need it himself.

“Our Reasonable Insight has decided to focus on condemning The Reveal. If we take an emotional approach, we’ll just be laughed at. Golden Age Press can publish both condemnations and interviews. So, let’s each do what we do best.”

“Ah, yes! Of course. Above all else, we need to succeed. So, for the article title…”

An interview with a follower who wasn’t truly evil, a portrait of a sinner who doesn’t deserve to be hanged in the square. That should do. I had already determined the direction of the article while listening to the interview, so the writing would go well.

I should let Philip read the article before publishing it. This article was for him in many ways. Both in terms of clearing away falsehoods and giving him a chance to atone.

By now, The Reveal must know how things are going. Since I couldn’t predict what they might do, I needed to act quickly. I stood up with the interview content.

“Well, I’ll go write the article right away! When it’s done, I’ll bring the draft, so please be sure to answer your phone!”

James also got up with his portable typewriter, and I headed straight home. I’ll write the article immediately. Even if I finish now, it won’t make the evening edition today, but the plan was for tomorrow’s morning edition.

Newspapers sell better in the morning. Even special editions are better released in the morning. The major newspapers that would be displayed prominently at newsstands would report alongside us, so we agreed to aim for the morning. To be read, it needed to sell.

If The Reveal were to issue a statement, they would have to do it in today’s evening edition. Since it wasn’t a widely sold newspaper to begin with, if they waited until tomorrow’s morning edition, no one would see their explanation.

With that thought in mind, as I pushed open my apartment door, I approached a goblin boy who had parked his bicycle, apparently making deliveries today. He was somewhat friendly to me because I tipped well.

“Jamie! Could you buy me a copy of today’s evening newspaper? The Reveal, I mean.”

I gave him a 10-cent coin. Since newspapers only cost 2 cents, it was clearly a profitable deal for the goblin boy, who smiled, showing his fangs.

“Of course! I’ll buy it fresh and bring it to you!”

With preparations complete, I finished the article. Naturally, it turned out well. Though I hated to admit it, nothing made work go as smoothly as having a deep hatred for something.

I took it straight to the newspaper office to show my editor the draft. After hearing there was nothing to revise, I showed it to Philip as well.

Since it was an article exposing his own flaws, I didn’t receive any great praise. He simply nodded briefly and said, “This is fine.” To me, it sounded like, “This is as it should be.”

My job was almost done. Usually, I didn’t get to see the printing process, but this time I wanted to visit the printing house to watch this article being printed. Getting permission wasn’t difficult.

So, after leaving the article with my editor and returning home, I was finally able to rest briefly on the sofa. The blanket I used as a pillow pleasantly emanated a sweet scent that wasn’t mine.

City dwellers haven’t yet discovered a way to part with fatigue. I seemed to have slept for only a couple of hours when knocking at the door woke me up. Going to the door, I heard goblin Jamie’s voice.

“I brought the newspaper! If you’re not in, I’ll leave it out front!”

I hurriedly tried to fix my hair with my hands, but despite having just slept, my hair wasn’t sticking up today. I quickly opened the door and took the newspaper he had bought. I spoke in a cheerful voice.

“Thanks, Jamie!”

Instead of answering, the goblin boy jingled the 8 cents remaining in his hand. He seemed doubly pleased since it was money earned for doing almost nothing.

“If I become a reporter’s assistant, can I just buy newspapers and get 8 cents each time? Well, I’ll talk to my dad and bring a contract or something!”

I pressed down on his newsboy cap as he spoke with such natural greed. I shook my head, chuckling.

“Don’t be greedy. But if you help out occasionally, I’ll make sure you’re well compensated!”

Only then did Jamie leave satisfied. I immediately closed the door and searched through The Reveal. I expected to find some kind of rebuttal… but there was nothing.

As usual, it was full of articles spewing hatred while claiming to expose the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn. I shouldn’t say bad things, but… ah, damn it! This is why I love this trash newspaper.

The reaction, exactly as expected, gave me a certain thrill that made me clench my fist. Now, as long as nothing goes wrong at the printing house, the article should be published as usual.

What I can think of, anyone in this city can think of. If The Reveal plans to use dirty tactics, they’ll do it at the printing house.

That dawn, as I headed to the printing house where the morning newspapers were printed, I brought my gun. Following the detective’s instructions, I loaded one bullet into the chamber first and filled the six-round magazine completely.

It was my trusty traitor. Just as I was the daughter of the Forest’s Firstborn who betrayed him, this gun—originally piled in the Followers’ warehouse but now in my hand—was also an excellent traitor.

After taking a deep breath of the dawn air, I got into my editor’s car waiting in front of the apartment and headed to the printing house. Bersetti Printing House—not a large one, but I heard it was reliable.

At the printing house… honestly, nothing happened. The Reveal didn’t send hired thugs, no one burst in wielding clubs, and the printing house didn’t catch fire.

The newspapers were printed neatly, and the person who appeared to be the printing house owner merely remarked, “These Reveal or whatever they’re called are getting cursed from all directions.”

Is this what success feels like? The previous article condemning the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn was a success too, but this was the first time I had accomplished something with my own hands, without help from people I knew.

My legs felt weak, and I staggered, leaning against the wall. If nothing else, one thing was certain… tomorrow morning, I would be able to call Paulina with pride.

That morning, all the newspaper stands in New York spewed similar headlines. “The Reveal Fabricates an Elf as a Vicious Follower to Revive Itself.” “The Reveal? The Veil Would Be More Fitting…” There were condemnations, criticisms, mockery, and plenty of satire.

It felt like being compensated for all the fatigue of the past few days. The only bad thing was that I could no longer make excuses about my journalism career being full of failures and needing just one more chance to prove myself.