Ch.176012 Investigation Record – Tail Catching (2)

First, there were two crime scenes. One was a tailor shop where an ogre from the Old Gourmet Society had been working, and where they had been selecting people for others to eat.

I had received a brief briefing about the place, but I couldn’t discover anything useful. All I heard was that there seemed to have been a brief confrontation, as a submachine gun magazine was found on the floor.

But why would someone remove a full magazine from a gun and drop it on the floor? Even when carrying a pistol, one rarely removes just the magazine.

With a faint hope that Mr. Willem might explain the reason, I got into a taxi. Taxi fares seemed to be taking up an increasingly large portion of my monthly expenses, but I still couldn’t afford to buy a car.

I headed straight to the New York Ogre Association building. Though I had received a sunflower gift once before, this was my first time visiting in person. Yet the scene was all too familiar.

It was so familiar that I almost laughed. The hateful words being spewed—”man-eaters,” “cannibals,” and the like—were remarkably similar to the treatment that the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn had endured.

If anything, it was worse than what the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn had faced, not less.

What the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn had done—setting fires and killing people—were terrible acts of evil, but they were familiar crimes to people. However, the kidnapping, murder, and cannibalism committed by the Old Gourmet Society were so shocking they were called grotesque. Why do I always seem to end up in places like this? I ignored the thought and made my way through the gathered crowd.

They hadn’t managed to damage the building itself, and I walked among people who weren’t throwing anything at the windows, which had been covered with thick blankets to prevent them from being broken.

The murmuring was familiar to me now. Once you get used to threatening letters, you can somewhat stomach threats delivered with spittle flying in your face, murmurs, and baseless condemnations.

Besides, even if everyone here rushed at me in anger, they would be less threatening than that detective who had somehow climbed up the hotel wall and grabbed my neck after jumping through the window. That thought made me feel more at ease. It was just a temporary measure, though. Even without the detective, this city was full of people who could harm an elf.

Fortunately, if you show that you’re not afraid, people usually back off out of fear themselves. After all, they’re just people living in this city, not monsters.

I stood at the door of the New York Ogre Association and knocked. The door opened slightly, and a gaze looking down from above spoke with a resigned expression.

“I’m sorry. The New York Ogre Association isn’t taking interviews right now. Given the situation, a proper interview wouldn’t be possible anyway. Please go away…”

Before the door could close, I wedged my foot in the gap. The ogre probably didn’t want to be interviewed, but he would dislike injuring an elf reporter’s foot even more. Acting childish would only cost me the story.

“I just met with a reporter from the ogre ethnic newspaper. I’ve just come from meeting with the police, so you don’t need to ask where I met them. You must have something you want published in an article. Are you still going to turn me away?”

If they were from the Association, they would want their story told in the ogre newspaper, which would surely say things favorable to them, or at most, in an orc newspaper from the Old Empire, a fairly close race.

But that wouldn’t provide any real explanation. For people to consider their explanation sincere, it would be better if it appeared in a newspaper of an unrelated race, and ideally in a newspaper like Golden Age Press that hired people regardless of race.

Still, borrowing that name was better for gaining access. The ogre, who seemed a bit taken aback by the reporter suddenly wedging her foot in the door, nodded.

“We’re still preparing materials to send to the press… but since our fellow ogre wouldn’t have told just anyone about this, please come in. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

It wouldn’t be bad to see what kind of materials they had. Elves had no rallying point besides the Forest’s Firstborn. Everyone had to deal with things on their own, scattered about, and in that process, people like Mr. Philip emerged.

Ogres, on the other hand, had a clearly organized association like this, so they could handle things a bit better. At the very least, no innocent ogre would be falsely labeled a cannibal.

I entered through the slightly wider door gap. It was strange for a building to be dark in the middle of a summer day. I followed that unnatural darkness into a grand banquet hall decorated in the traditional ogre style.

Ogres held their meetings at dining tables. I remembered Paulina telling me that since the dining table was where they handled something as important as food, it was also appropriate to discuss equally important matters there.

The current topic was, naturally, how to respond to the situation. The New York Ogre Association seemed completely uninvolved with the incident, as most people appeared shocked or at a loss, holding their heads in their hands.

I didn’t insert myself into their discussion. The ogre who had opened the door for me brought over a press release that had been placed on the banquet table, so I just needed to check that.

However, the content of the materials… didn’t seem usable as is. It mostly focused on how the Old Gourmet Society was a minority compared to the New York Ogre Association.

It stated that while they were indeed ogres, most ogres were only interested in cooking ingredients, not in cannibalism.

If people believed this at face value… No, even if they did believe it, what would change? It was essentially confirming that they were ogres affiliated with the Association.

Human communication was fundamentally inefficient. If you wanted to tell someone something, you had to say it three times larger than what you actually wanted to convey.

After reading the materials I’d been handed, I faced the ogre who seemed to be waiting for my assessment. Though I wasn’t yet a veteran reporter, I could say this with certainty:

“This might not be enough, don’t you think? You can’t just say, ‘A few of us had some strange ideas. It has nothing to do with the Ogre Association’s intentions,’ and move on.”

The ogre asked with confusion:

“Are you suggesting we should apologize on their behalf?”

“No, you don’t need to apologize. But all the ogres gathered here must know how disgusting the acts committed by the Old Gourmet Society were. And you must hate it. So I think the tone could be stronger than this. You should take the same side as the people who are criticizing the Old Gourmet Society and the New York Ogre Association.”

Since the incident had occurred recently, and no one had yet criticized the New York Ogre Association for not making any statement, it would be better to tell people from the start that the Association was not their enemy. The method wasn’t particularly difficult.

The New York Ogre Association could step forward and clearly state that those cannibals were not affiliated with the Association and explain how horrific their actions were by ogre cultural standards.

If they branded those who committed such acts as not even being ogres and cast them out, people would stop treating normal ogres as cannibals.

Besides, the Old Gourmet Society had already been slaughtered by someone, so no one would try to publish a rebuttal. That is, if there truly was no connection.

Nearby ogres turned their heads toward me. Was my suggestion worth listening to? I straightened my posture a bit and continued.

“Those people gathered outside aren’t angry at ogres. They’re angry at cannibals who eat people. From what’s known, all those cannibals were ogres. And almost all ogres in New York belong to this Association. It’s natural that people would come here, isn’t it?”

My voice began to echo slightly in the banquet hall. I didn’t clench my hands nervously because my voice was too loud.

“But if you say, ‘They’re a minority among us, they’re just a small part of us, so don’t judge us all by them,’ it won’t work. If the words ‘ogre,’ ‘cannibalism,’ and ‘association’ keep appearing together, what will people remember?”

All elves being treated as Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn happened for a similar reason. Everyone kept talking only about elves and the Followers, so people naturally connected the two.

“You need to remove the rotten apples completely. Ogres enjoy fine cuisine because they’re a race that settled in fertile black soil. Various ingredients grow there, and anything grown there tastes good, so you researched how to make delicious things even more delicious—not to eat people like those ogres did. So, surely…”

By now, all the ogres in the banquet hall were looking at me. One of them continued my unfinished thought:

“We could say they’re not ogres at all. They don’t share any cultural values with us. They only share our blood.”

They didn’t seem to have considered completely denying the connection, but this was already enough for a decent press release. I nodded emphatically to that ogre.

And soon, the conversation expanded in directions I hadn’t thought of. There are few joys like encountering words that exceed your imagination in a positive way.

“If you put it that way… Yes, that’s it. Those who aren’t even ogres misinterpreted ogre culture and twisted it in a strange direction. Wouldn’t it be better to completely deny them and explain what ogre culinary culture is really like? Not only would we sever the connection entirely, but newspaper readers could judge for themselves. If we do that, more newspapers would accept our story.”

Could I be happy about scoring another win today? I certainly could. Paulina wouldn’t be troubled, and that ogre reporter I met at the police briefing would be less troubled too.

Still, I shouldn’t be too confident yet. Though it might dampen the mood, I wanted to make things clear. I was tired of good intentions leading to terrible results.

“Ah, well, I’m not someone who can say my advice is 100% correct! I mean, no person can give 100% correct advice anyway…”

But I knew by now that such awkwardness had no impact. It just showed a more human side. The opinion I had pushed was already sailing smoothly.

It was no longer my idea but the ogres’ opinion. So there was nothing more for me to add. I was glad I had come here after hearing that ogre reporter’s words.

The ogre who had brought me here made a sound of slight disbelief. Looking down at me sitting in a regular ogre dining chair as if it were a sofa, he said:

“Well, didn’t you say you came to get our press release? I’m not sure why you’re helping us create one instead, but it seems to have been helpful.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. It seemed I wouldn’t be getting anything from the New York Ogre Association today after all.

“Well, I’m quite friendly with ogres. The first article I received praise for as a reporter was about an ogre entrepreneur… And one of the lawyers I hired was a human with ogre blood. If I can help such people, I should, by all means!”

The ogre who had greeted me also seemed to relax a bit more. It doesn’t take much time or effort for prejudice to disappear. This time, I properly received a business card from a New York Ogre Association member.

It felt like my collection of business cards was growing. Instead of connections introduced by my father saying, “You should meet this person,” or “This person would be good,” I was finally building my own network of contacts.

And now that the New York Ogre Association matter was tentatively resolved… I finally had time to properly think about the humans who died at the Old Gourmet Society.

I walked out of the building. The scene outside hadn’t changed in that short time. People still thought of ogres as cannibals, and now a few insults were directed at me too.

But even the strongest words were less scathing and threatening than the silent detective. From among the crowd, one human shouted at me:

“Hey! How much are those fucking cannibal bastards paying you for an article that you rushed in and out so quickly?”

Is this… street language? I often borrowed the language of detectives and bartenders, but I probably wouldn’t need to borrow these street expressions. I smiled and replied:

“I know, right! I went in hoping to make a quick buck, but there was nothing to sink my teeth into! I would have written about them covering for their own kind, but it seems they’re trying to say those Old Gourmet Society guys aren’t even their kind!”

The person who had shouted seemed a bit taken aback, perhaps expecting me to run away or be embarrassed. But it wasn’t that kind of situation.

Since the front of the building was still crowded with people, I crossed the street and got into a taxi. As I gave my home address, the orc taxi driver glanced at the back seat and said:

“You’re a reporter who’s confident in strange ways. If someone said things like that to me, I’d cover my face and run away.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Knowing that just a few months ago, I could only hide behind Paulina, it seemed three times funnier to me than it did to the orc taxi driver. Still, I could respond with pleasant words:

“The camera is in my hands, so why should I be afraid of my face being recognized? Besides, elves look silly when they run. To other races, our legs look short, so it seems like we’re taking tiny steps.”

“Ah, I was quite shocked when I realized that was you running as fast as you could.”

The taxi departed. After a few dozen seconds, the people gathered in front of the Ogre Association building were no longer visible or audible… and only the usual New York came into view.

Still, today had more romance than other days. There was a mystery waiting to be solved, so I dare say it was so.