Ch.216014 Investigation Record – Enemy, Slanderer, and Adversary (1)

Sol Invictus was dead. The culprit knew, but people didn’t seem to know. Perhaps he couldn’t even be called a culprit.

He truly was a god who sought worship. Thinking back, even when we first met, he was helping people in his own self-righteous way, and he didn’t stop me from spreading his name.

Was it a lie from the beginning that he was traveling for a chance to change his life? I shuddered at the thought that he might have been manipulating me with such lies just to increase opportunities to make his name known.

Still, he met the right reaper. Not the ancient battlefield of conquest and advancement he spoke of, but a man who returned alive from the wars of our time—where people only die, kill, and get killed.

It was probably… just a personal matter. The detective wouldn’t have tried to change the world, nor would he have tried to kill and seize a god.

He simply mocked and killed a god who said things he couldn’t possibly understand or tolerate. He probably didn’t even listen to his last words. I wasn’t there, but I knew what kind of person he was.

No, in that moment, he wasn’t a detective but simply a man named Michael Husband. It wasn’t the detective defeating the undefeated sun, but just Mr. Michael killing Misra.

The important question was why he wanted to kill a god, but the newspapers simply dismissed the story with a single line about a god seeking worship dying, focusing only on his identity.

I clicked my tongue when I saw that an article by a reporter who had the honor of directly interviewing the Industrial Spirit King had been pushed to the middle of page two. The Industrial Spirit King had tried hard to make his voice heard but was unlucky.

It would be nice if I could visit him again, but the promissory note from the Economic Spirit King had already expired. I should find a way… no, no. I need to focus on my own work first.

I gathered my thoughts. At least I was fortunate to be the one writing about the incident for Golden Age Press.

Having interviewed Sol Invictus directly, writing the article wasn’t difficult. If his core intention had been to regain his divinity, then most of what he showed me was probably deception.

If not, perhaps he was using all his instincts solely to regain his divinity. Even at the cost of accommodating me, he wanted to make his name more known. To regain divinity, he needed worship.

While I had no intention of praising the God-President in my article, I had to mention him as the opposite of Sol Invictus. I write about a god who desires worship, and a god who made humans hunt that god.

I sometimes laughed when I looked at the imperial certified badge I bought for fifty cents as a souvenir from the San Francisco Emperor’s Realm. I could remember His Imperial Majesty, who was unlike an emperor yet more emperor-like than anyone.

The human heart is fragile and needs countless ways to strengthen itself. I finished the article thinking that providing such methods might have been His Imperial Majesty’s vision.

Since there was no theological discussion, I probably wouldn’t need expert consultation. Still, to double-check, I knocked on the editor-in-chief’s door with my completed article.

“Come in. Ah, Miss Rose. Is this the article about the subjugation of Sol Invictus? Everyone must be waiting eagerly for news about the death of a god our newspaper covered…”

“Today might be the first time the evening edition sells better than the morning one. Oh, there’s something I wanted to ask…”

I handed him the article first. I could probably remove my rookie reporter label by now, but I still preferred keeping it. I tended to mess things up when I became overconfident.

Making eye contact with the editor-in-chief after he finished reading the article, I said:

“I was thinking it might be good to include an expert opinion in the section about worship. Unfortunately, I don’t have connections with political theologians…”

I didn’t want to rely on Ysil. She was someone I knew well, not just a source.

The editor-in-chief stroked his chin thoughtfully, then nodded as if just remembering something.

“For political theology… New York University is the most famous. I think we have a reporter who graduated from NYU, who once got an opinion when covering the God-President’s reconfirmation vote. It should be Robert Merrick. He’s a political reporter, but we’re not really big enough to have strict divisions.”

As the editor-in-chief said, the area marked “Politics Department” was on the same third floor where I sat. While I had no connection to the Politics Department, Robert was someone I exchanged greetings with once or twice a day.

Should I be thankful we’re a small newspaper? After thanking the editor-in-chief, I left his office and headed toward Robert. Seeing me approach, he lightly raised his head to look at me.

He was quite tall for a human. He seemed to be a few inches over 6 feet, and while I remember him being in his thirties, his short hair and cleanly shaved chin made him look like he was in his twenties.

He was quite sociable. He casually threw a joke at me as I approached him.

“Ah, Miss Rose. What brings you here with such intensity in your eyes? If a woman looked at me like that and approached me outside, I might have shrunk back and said something like ‘I’m a married man.’ Has our Golden Age Press’s scoop-finding machine found another exclusive?”

Was there intensity in my eyes? I quickly raised my hand to touch around my eyes at his words, but of course I couldn’t tell by touching. Seeing him chuckling leisurely, it seemed to be another joke.

“Your jokes! I’m writing a supplementary article about Sol Invictus and thought I might need expert consultation. I heard you once received advice when covering the God-President.”

He sighed uncharacteristically at my words. He quietly nodded.

“I asked my college professor, but unfortunately, I can’t ask him this time. I received word last night that he passed away. He was a healthy man…”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I feel bad for coming with such a request and making you remember…”

The sparkle returned to his blue eyes. He waved his hand as if to say there was no need to worry. He was a good person.

“No, no. It’s not something you should blame yourself for, Miss Rose. He was a devout man too. If anything, I’m sorry I can’t help.”

It was indeed saddening to hear about the death of someone who was good enough to make someone who studied under him over ten years ago still feel this way.

Still, I managed to finish the article well. Tonight, I had to meet Carmen. I had reserved a restaurant in Hell’s Kitchen, so I was relying on my wallet’s strength.

Carmen was an unpredictable person to me, but she was unpredictable to everyone else too. She could go anywhere and hear every story.

With her short hair and flowing dresses, always appearing as if drunk, few people would suspect someone like her wherever she went.

Even those cold-headed enough to be suspicious could be appeased by her ability to warm their hearts. If I were attracted to the opposite sex, I would surely have fallen for her.

Carmen was beautiful and didn’t care about others’ gazes. Yet she could make someone willing to take a bullet for her within five minutes of eye contact.

Beyond all that, she was a good friend. The only close person I had in New York was Paulina, who was eight years older than me, but Carmen was the same age as me. Twenty-year-olds were most comfortable with other twenty-year-olds.

As for Michael… are we close? We occasionally worked together, and even when we weren’t working together, we sometimes met to discuss personal matters and have meals… Let’s say we’re close. For now, I decided to go with that.

Saying I was going to meet a source, I left the newspaper building earlier than usual. There weren’t many reasons for a reporter to sit in the newspaper building. If you’re not pounding the pavement, a photocopier would be more useful than a reporter.

I headed straight for Hell’s Kitchen. It used to be a dangerous area, but not anymore. The demons couldn’t stand a place with “hell” in its name being in such a state.

So they completely overhauled Hell’s Kitchen themselves. With business acumen and large-bodied workers, they drove out all the thugs in the area and practically rebuilt the streets from scratch, purely as an investment for vanity.

But, amusingly, doing so made the people living there happier. The thugs disappeared, and since it had to look like charity, the demons spared no expense in buying residents’ homes at fair prices. It wasn’t entirely rational, but… it was still a good thing. The invisible hand was mostly the hand of demons.

Carmen was already waiting in front of the restaurant. With an expression suggesting she was more interested in the back of her hand than anything around her, she waved when she saw me approaching.

“Rose, you’re late. Did Carmen arrive too early?”

Surprised by her words, I checked my watch, but it was still fifteen minutes before our appointment. Carmen watched me look down with amusement and giggled.

“You did arrive on time, but you didn’t even know when you were coming. I’m a little disappointed. But since I’m more pleased than disappointed, let’s say there’s no disappointment. Anyway, what news do you want from Carmen to call me to a place like this? Carmen prefers chop suey that’s easy to grab over a proper meal at a proper restaurant.”

It seemed she didn’t like coming to a proper restaurant rather than preferring cheap and convenient Chinese food. While I was hesitating, Carmen continued.

“Well, men who bring Carmen to places like this usually end up with me pulling out a gun. Like, ‘Oh, Charlie. Please. I carry a gun in my handbag because of men like you.’ Something like that. But you’re the first woman to bring me to such a place, so I hope you’ll create a good memory. I really do.”

What kind of love life does Carmen have? Back in her hometown, she was the daughter of the Clichy Corporation president by day and the daughter of the Forest’s Firstborn by night… she wasn’t close enough to others to date.

“Ah, well, Carmen works in Little Eire, right? So I was wondering if you knew anything about Madam The Morrígan. With all the noise about Sol Invictus these days, I thought an article about another god might be good. I’m a bit worried because when someone of the same kind causes trouble, others often get lumped together and criticized…”

Carmen giggled, showing her snow-white teeth. She reached out her hand as if wanting me to take it, but when I reached out, she quickly pulled her hand back and hid it behind her back.

“You don’t need to worry about Madam The Morrígan. She’s different from those Italian mafia who glare at each other while saying they’ll become the boss of bosses. Madam The Morrígan is a god when it’s advantageous to be a god, and a mafia boss when it’s advantageous to be the boss of the Fianna. Carmen isn’t even a member, so I don’t know much. Still, I do have some information to give.”

As I withdrew my hand, Carmen reached out again and grabbed it. Though it wasn’t yet our reservation time, she pulled me toward the entrance of the lobster restaurant.

As the place operated on a strict reservation system, Carmen smiled at the receptionist standing at the door. It didn’t take even a second for the man’s expression to soften.

“It should be reserved under the name Rose Leafman. It’s not really a place for two women, but Carmen’s friend is quite capable. That’s good, right, Rose?”

She was truly unpredictable. Trying to follow her words, I awkwardly nodded.

“Um… as a reporter who can reserve such a restaurant for a source! That’s good capability, right. What on earth are you saying, Carmen?!”

“Carmen always talks a lot. I’m just acting as usual, Rose.”

Fortunately, it seemed there was a table available, as the receptionist stood straight like a toy soldier in front of Carmen before guiding us inside. There was a delicious food smell, but it was too much for an elf.

The smell of delicious food was a bit… no, quite a bit too strong, making my head spin, so I pinched the bridge of my nose to deliberately fatigue my sense of smell. This dulled my sense of smell for a while.

I didn’t particularly like lobster because it was sweet, but among crustaceans, it had less of a meaty smell, making it comfortable for elves to eat. Foods with umami in the meat make my head spin when I eat them.

The food was as expected. Carmen had butter-topped lobster with sauce, while I had simply seasoned lobster. It seemed focused on removing the characteristic sweetness of the meat.

Carmen shared many stories, but they were all fragmentary. Things like how a black-haired female agent who looked like a Divine Protection Service agent had visited Madam The Morrígan several times, or how The Morrígan, who had seemed in a bad mood for a while, had been gradually regaining her strength since the day Sol Invictus died. Nothing particularly nutritious.

Nevertheless… although it might sound very materialistic, it felt good to leave work earlier than quitting time and have a comfortable meal and conversation with Carmen.

I didn’t dislike Golden Age Press, but I did like the feeling of leaving the company building. Though I knew she wouldn’t be there, I looked around once to see if Ms. Mircala was nearby.

Carmen didn’t know who I was looking for, and without caring, she smiled brightly.

“It might be rude, but sometimes I think elvish food is like baby food. Don’t you think? Clearly…”

I was about to respond to her mischievous comment, which she wouldn’t make to someone she wasn’t close with, when a demon who had approached our table intercepted the response.

“You might think that adapting elvish cuisine to make baby food would be a good idea. It is quite a successful method. Companies that make canned food for elves are making such products too. Are you the reporter who wrote the article about Sol Invictus?”

He was a demon with red skin and two thick horns growing in front of his hair, which was slicked back with the wax demons favor. Just seeing his perfectly neat three-piece suit was enough to tell he was a demon.

Was he an employee of the restaurant? I nodded, and he handed me a folded piece of paper. It was black paper. The writing was in white.

‘It’s amusing to use a fellow demon’s business for my own purposes, but you were the only one among those who met and talked with Sol Invictus who knew he was Sol Invictus. To catch someone like that, one must sometimes play above the rules. I wish to meet you regarding content I want to publish in the newspaper about him. From his long-time enemy, slanderer, and adversary.’

At the bottom of the fold was a phone number. Probably the number of the person who left this letter.

Judging by the reference to “fellow demon,” the writer must be a demon. Carmen had already gotten up from her chair and come to my side to read the contents of the paper.

Although I had made the reservation two days ago, I couldn’t understand which demon knew all the restaurants in Hell’s Kitchen so well that they even knew I had reserved this place. So I blurted out:

“This is…”

Having read the contents together, we both spoke almost simultaneously, but said completely opposite things.

“This looks like fun.”

“This is scary…”

Realizing our words were completely opposite, Carmen shrugged her shoulders. Her expression suggested there was nothing to be afraid of.

“It looked like fun to Carmen. If you’re really worried, should I go with you, Rose?”