Ch.251016 Investigation Record – Double Compensation (1)

Carmen disappeared. It was sudden. The editor-in-chief said he was used to her not coming home for a few days, but he was quite flustered when she completely vanished.

I thought about asking Michael for help, but the editor-in-chief said he had already entrusted it to someone reliable… but they couldn’t find her. They couldn’t find her even by the day Carmen had said she would disappear.

If someone asked whether it hurt more to lose a friend or to lose a reporter who could cut through New York’s back alleys like a fierce stream, it was definitely losing a friend that hurt more.

There weren’t exactly plenty of reporters… but I could always develop new sources. Besides, I had quite a few distinctive sources even without her. So, I hoped my friend would return.

People said similar things. “I knew that Carmen girl would do something like this.” Maybe she really was suited for New York, where everyone was busy and seriously racing toward life.

Still, losing someone who seemed like they could lie down and take a leisurely nap while everyone else was running felt like the most vibrant color had been removed from a painting.

Am I still too sensitive to loss? I had felt before that Carmen might disappear like she was blown away by the wind. Not because the wind was strong, but because she was light.

While it was such an important matter to me, Carmen didn’t seem to be that important to the world. The disappearance of a wayward twenty-year-old girl wasn’t even newsworthy.

Today’s biggest news was that one of Brooklyn’s gangs had been completely wiped out in what might have been a gang war, and that the gang leader had been found hanged in his own home.

People dragged this issue toward Prohibition in their own way. Most said that because Prohibition allowed gangsters to flourish unchecked, fights like this were happening even in places with naval shipyards.

Personally, I thought it was a good trend, but I couldn’t see anything positive about using someone’s death as a flag to wave, as if they had been waiting for bad people to die.

It was true that doing the right thing the right way took too long. Even so, there would always be things to be ashamed of. Taking down the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn was one such example.

While I was officially credited with bringing him down, it was only possible because someone handled the actual execution. Someone who knew the Followers, precisely identified their weaknesses, and could strike.

Michael was paid for that job. Privately employed by my father, he left no records and cleanly extracted himself without getting entangled with the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn.

I wouldn’t call it bad. Without him, bringing down my father would have been impossible. Still, I couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable whenever I thought about it.

The fact that the person who gave me the greatest advice when I was struggling the most, and I… well, anyway, the fact that he was that kind of person made my stomach churn. I decided to swallow my shame like Madam Gremory.

If that’s the only way, you have to take it. No matter how absurd it seems, no matter how much it diminishes what you’re trying to accomplish, you have to do it. Using any means necessary was playing fair.

I took a deep breath. I couldn’t ignore the message that someone was calling for me forever. I went to answer the phone and picked up the receiver.

There was no voice on the other end of the line. But I heard the voice of someone who had found this location by following the path of electrical current. There was only one being that powerful in New York.

“Little elf, it’s been a while since I contacted you. I hope you’ve been well, though I can’t see beyond the industrial zone unless I move my body.”

“Ah, I’ve been well! I didn’t know you could use a telephone, Spirit King. What’s the matter?”

Using any means necessary is playing fair. Using any means necessary is playing fair…. The words I had recited to myself circled in my mouth a couple of times. They seemed like my own words.

Words I had spoken to the Industrial Spirit King. Words I had whispered to the machine of the age when it was covered in irrational madness about the coming end. Words that seemed to have healed him somewhat.

But was the Industrial Spirit King really using any means necessary? He… didn’t seem to be doing anything beyond summoning reporters. That’s how it appeared.

I wouldn’t need to remind him again next time. The Industrial Spirit King, free from fear of the end, was wiser and more powerful than I had thought. He proved that when his contractors caused a disturbance.

What is this feeling? I felt like words were circling somewhere. Like water had stopped flowing because something was blocked. The Industrial Spirit King spoke with a concerned voice.

“So, do you know that since this city bled with the blood of the Idealists, no, that’s not right. Since my contractors made the city bleed, I’ve been receiving terminals, little elf?”

I could hear machines running around him. Machines whose purpose I couldn’t determine. Still, if the machine of the age was actively moving, that must be a good thing.

The Idealists had weakened considerably. News spread quickly that someone had used the Idealists’ terminals to incite riots. Rumors that the Idealists themselves had done it spread even faster.

People tried to take away their terminals, their source of power, but they couldn’t touch those with signed mental merger contracts. Even the federal government couldn’t interfere with what people had directly chosen.

Those contracts weren’t get-out-of-jail-free cards. Prosecutors hired hundreds of handwriting experts to declare as many contracts as possible to be forgeries. And they nearly succeeded.

Can you call it despicable? There were quite a few documents the Idealists had actually forged, and having seen what happened when someone took even slight control of their Hive Mind, authorities became even more aggressive.

Anyway, they lost most of their terminals… and the New York terminals they lost were placed under the control of the truly neutral Industrial Spirit King. He could manipulate the terminals.

He said it was easy to learn because it was similar to the magic used to create and manage industrial spirits. The factory district was running properly. The machine of the age, now with multiple bodies, seemed to have found more vitality.

Yes, at least my memory seems better than before. Actually, my memory wasn’t bad before. I just forgot things easily.

“Yes, I remember! You also said that running factories with those terminals feels different from running them with just industrial spirits, right? What’s the matter? And it wasn’t because of the bloodshed… it was the Industrial Spirit King’s choice that changed things. Because you humbly acknowledged it instead of protecting your contractors. Right?”

The saying that the world only changes after blood is spilled was somewhat true, but it was something I didn’t want to make true. The machine of the age chuckled with the sound of machinery. That’s how it sounded.

“We disagree sometimes, little elf. Though it’s not really that different. It’s all the same in the end. Anyway… lately the number of terminals doesn’t add up. I’m calling to report this.”

Saying the numbers didn’t add up wasn’t enough. At times like this… I needed to find out exactly how they didn’t add up. Now I wouldn’t have to hear that I lacked detective qualities from Willem anymore. I gathered my thoughts.

This was actually Michael’s method. Stirring up my mind with idle talk made thinking easier. It was like turning the page on a book filled with important and heavy stories.

“Could you tell me exactly how the numbers don’t add up? Whether there are fewer terminals being handed over by the Idealists than expected, or more than expected… that’s the issue.”

If they were handing over fewer terminals, it was probably out of resentment. The punishment imposed on the Idealists, who had committed no crime and were only attacked, seemed somehow both too harsh and too lenient.

Too harsh for them not to harbor grudges, yet too lenient to completely cut off their limbs. They might be trying to learn from the contractors’ failure. I considered the worst possibilities first.

Thinking of the worst first made other options seem more hopeful when I considered them. That was enough to make things digestible.

“The number of terminals they handed over is accurate, and the number actually deployed to factories is also accurate. But the problem is… when I look around at the terminals gathered before being deployed to factories, there are more than recorded.”

The number of terminals is accurate. Whether the Idealists were acknowledging their responsibility or had decided they could sacrifice an arm to survive, they were keeping their promise.

Someone else wasn’t keeping their promise. I decided to offer the most likely possibility first.

“Maybe… there are people involved in between? Even though they’re terminals, they still need food and basic cleanliness to maintain their bodies. Perhaps people managing those things?”

The sound of metals satisfyingly stacking in their proper places rang out, followed by the sound of something much more precise running than the press sounds that had been ringing until now.

“No, no. Those workers are naturally excluded from the calculation. Just deactivating the terminals as they did allows the terminals themselves to eat and stay alive, so not that many are needed. Besides, the number of additional terminals wasn’t that many. Just about twenty. Could you investigate this for me?”

Creating terminals was a dangerous technology. A technology that turned people into something that wasn’t human. Something completely inhuman… I’m not sure if I should say this, but it was practically sorcery.

If it was being abused, even twenty people was too many. Ten people, five people… or even just one person would be too many. It was definitely worth investigating.

Besides, completing this task might alleviate some of the guilt I felt for not publishing the Industrial Spirit King’s words last time. I happily agreed.

“Who else but a reporter would look into such things! I’ll check it out. Oh, could you tell me what process these terminals go through when they’re transferred?”

If my guess was correct, people were probably so focused on taking terminals from the Idealists that they paid little attention when the terminals were going to the Industrial Spirit King, whom they considered trustworthy.

Hating something is natural, but when that hatred becomes excessive, it ruins things. Guiltily, I thought of Uncle Leonard. I wanted to visit him in prison, but… I still lacked the courage.

He wasn’t the type to blame me. In the end, he suddenly came to his senses as if cold water had been poured on his head, and confessed everything out of his last remaining sense of responsibility.

Still, I couldn’t shake the ominous and irrational expectation that all kinds of contemptuous words would pour out if I visited him. I dare say I could somewhat empathize with the Industrial Spirit King’s pain.

“It’s not that complicated a process. It’s a simple transfer of ownership. Under the supervision of angels, the Idealists’ Hive Mind brings the terminals to one of my warehouses. Those supervising angels do a simple inspection, and if there are no problems, I receive ownership and then deploy them where needed… but the number of terminals increased when I received ownership.”

Then perhaps I should find those angels in charge? I could also try talking to the Idealists’ Hive Mind. I didn’t know if he would trust the newspaper, though.

After Paulina, who always protected me with her shield, disappeared, I had Carmen who I could meet whenever necessary. After Carmen disappeared, I was alone, but I felt less lonely than when I could no longer employ Paulina. I must have grown up a bit.

There were many turning points, but I didn’t change like flipping my palm, or if I may express it this way… in a fairy-tale manner. I just felt like I was growing up a little, but only at times like this.

I think too much and act too little. Now was a time when action was more urgent than thought, so I naturally ended the conversation.

“But, Spirit King, you could have just used spiritual communication… it feels a bit awkward that you called by phone. Is there a specific reason?”

Again, the sounds of machinery clicking and steam hissing rang out like laughter. Things that weren’t laughter precisely combined to create the sound of laughter.

“Since Michael actually sent me money, I decided to act a bit more human-like. If one is human, one doesn’t use magic and a huge body and size, but goes through proper procedures, right? In other words, things like calling a newspaper, little elf. Not just you, but the person you brought also helped me grow.”

I could only respond to those words with a pleased laugh. Just moments ago I had been feeling gloomy remembering that Michael had been my father’s enforcer, but compliments about him were pleasant.

“What are you saying! Still… it feels good to hear praise for Michael. I’ll definitely tell him! I’ll say the Industrial Spirit King became human thanks to Michael.”

When pleasant farewells should have followed, the sound of machinery roaring powerfully was heard once more. The Industrial Spirit King spoke leisurely. Yet his voice was serious.

“But you told me, didn’t you? That using any means necessary is playing fair. If becoming human is a means and method, could willingly giving up humanity also be a method?”

It was a test question. It seemed contradictory at first glance, and at first glance it seemed like something I should affirm, but I didn’t.

“It would certainly be a method, but a wrong one. You might be able to reach the place you dreamed of when you were human even after giving up tools, intelligence, and everything else, but at the entrance to that dream, it would say ‘humans only.'”

Only then did the Industrial Spirit King speak in a cheerful voice again and say goodbye. The test result sheet probably said “pass.”