Ch.256016 Investigation Record – Double Compensation (6)

I returned home and sat in front of the telephone, still unsure what to say. The Industrial Spirit was busily moving around the house, though it wasn’t large enough to warrant such busy movement.

Still, I needed to check if he was available, and perhaps by starting with some casual conversation to ease the atmosphere, I might be able to speak more naturally than expected. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

No matter how hard I tried to focus on the positive aspects, I failed again. But how could I pass this off as a proper request? Numerous interjections formed in my mind, but the words trying to escape my lips faded away.

Nevertheless, I finally dialed. Finding the twenty missing terminals for the Industrial Spirit King was more important than my immediate embarrassment.

The phone rang. He was the type who answered almost immediately if he was home. This time too, I didn’t even need to count to three, or even two, before the call connected.

“Husband Detective Agency. Who’s calling?”

He had a talent for starting every conversation with the same phrase. Even when he could guess who was on the other end, he always maintained his distance. That’s what made him a professional.

Feeling more necessity than pleasure, I answered. Or at least I tried to convince myself of that.

“Ah, it’s me! Rose Leafman, reporter from Golden Age Press. I’m not calling for small talk—I have a case I’d like you to take…”

Now was the time to demonstrate my journalistic abilities. I just needed to explain why I was asking for this favor and why it mattered, and then I wouldn’t need to feel embarrassed.

This was about finding twenty missing terminals for the Industrial Spirit King and for this love-hate city. But ultimately, what I was asking was simply to visit a brothel.

Could I even make that a proper request? It felt like asking a detective to drink coffee at some café. This was far more embarrassing than that.

My determination to showcase my journalistic skills lasted exactly eleven seconds. By the twelfth second, I had no choice but to ramble. I had the ability to speak, but… I lacked the confidence to speak to him.

“Um, well, I’d like you to go somewhere for me… to the Amber Room. You see, what’s happening is…”

“The Amber Room has been doing well lately. All those women sitting like wooden dolls in a room decorated with fake amber, acting like real nobility. Why are you interested in the Amber Room? From your introduction earlier, it doesn’t sound like you’ve suddenly changed jobs from Golden Age Press to the IRS.”

Rather than me, it was he who spilled everything he knew at the mere mention of the Amber Room. Feeling exposed, I sighed deeply… and confessed as if I were making an admission.

“The reason the Amber Room is thriving seems to be that they’ve stolen terminals that were supposed to be transferred from the Idealists’ Hive Mind to the Industrial Spirit King. I’d like you to confirm this.”

“Are you working as the Industrial Spirit King’s personal fixer while at Golden Age Press? Usually, such tasks are assigned to fixers, not journalists. How much confirmation do you need?”

The words “confirmation” and “how much” were quite ordinary on their own, but together, and coming from someone who could make them sound threatening, they became less ordinary.

“Well… first, whether they’re actually using terminals, how many they’re using, how they obtained them… everything you can find out, and I’d appreciate if you could do it quietly. And if you have any advice, that would be even better! You always know how to find answers. Honestly, hiring you without seeing your face feels like I’m hiring a phenomenon rather than a person.”

He was as skilled in deception as he was in violence and intimidation. If asked to handle something quietly, he would obviously avoid any violence that might become publicly visible.

To be honest, he had already helped me halfway, and now that I’d managed to say the uncomfortable things, I felt somewhat relieved and words began to flow. I continued more leisurely.

“It feels like hiring the wind to push a sailboat. That’s how good you are, Mr. New York. You understand why I’m rambling like this, don’t you?”

“You want me to understand how difficult it was for a typical Southern lady to ask someone to visit a brothel. Isn’t that right?”

Strangely, his caustic remark was reassuring. This was also amusing. The reason I couldn’t visit Leonard was because I feared such caustic remarks.

In the end, what I feared wasn’t the caustic remarks but the guilt. Since this had nothing to do with Michael, I smirked back at him.

“I didn’t realize it would be nothing special for a typical New York lower-class detective. Oh, how much is a night’s reservation at the Amber Room… no, never mind. Please bill me later for expenses at the Amber Room! If the Amber Room is running a cheap business as I suspect, it’ll cost less than I’m worrying about now, right?”

I didn’t want to feel that financial burden again, like I did with that bottle of Eden’s Tree of Life liquor. Honestly… I wasn’t living a financially healthy life.

“Considering your current financial situation, you’d probably look like you were choking if I told you the price. Anyway, my fee remains 20 dollars per day, with expenses billed separately. I trust you won’t ask me to reduce it as much as possible. You need at least that much trust to hire a detective.”

“I was just about to ask if there was a collaborator’s discount! I guess I’ll miss that golden opportunity! But you should be able to estimate roughly from what you’ve heard. How long do you think it will take?”

I already knew what answer he would give to such a question, but I asked anyway. He sold trust, and he was good at demonstrating the trust he sold.

“Just don’t oversleep tomorrow morning.”

With that, the call ended, but it was a very satisfying conversation. The Industrial Spirit, who had been sitting right in front of me during the call, looked up at me as I put down the phone and said:

“Still irrational. You trust people too easily. Someone might betray you. Someone you trusted might fail or lack ability. What will you do then?”

This Industrial Spirit’s purpose was to figure out how to control human irrationality. This must have been part of that research, so I didn’t take it offensively.

Rather, it was a good opportunity to reflect. This matter seemed more important than the conspiracy between the Amber Room and the trucking company drivers. It felt more precious to have the opportunity to convey a message to him than to fulfill the Industrial Spirit King’s request.

Of course, I would resolve both. That’s why I hired Michael. It was something I couldn’t solve on my own, but it also wouldn’t be solved without me. Both were true.

Self-justification? Perhaps. If so, I should save the rest of my self-praise for after the job is done. Returning to reality, I answered the Industrial Spirit.

“Because people can’t live alone, and because what we gain by trusting each other far outweighs what we lose by being betrayed, it’s a rational choice. If someone could accomplish everything alone, they could choose to betray or cooperate as they pleased… but even the most exceptional person I know isn’t like that. Even the Industrial Spirit King cooperates with people, right?”

The Industrial Spirit shook its head. Looking somewhat anxious, it approached my leg, leaned against it, and spoke. It seemed to know something more.

“The Machine of the Age is growing tired. The Machine of the Age was created to create. You all made it. But the Machine of the Age is seeing a future it cannot create. The scale is different, but both I and the Machine of the Age are just machines. Purpose is important to machines. Purpose is supreme to machines.”

It sounded like it was trying to expose something going wrong. I pulled the trembling Industrial Spirit into my arms and stroked it. In this moment, its grinder didn’t look so sharp.

“That’s why both the Machine of the Age and we are making efforts, right? Won’t things get at least a little better? No one expects the situation to improve like in a fairy tale. We just need things to get a little better. Like when I told the Industrial Spirit King, who was going mad with fear last time, that communication might solve things.”

The small Industrial Spirit seemed somewhat reassured by these words. Still, its anxiety hadn’t completely disappeared, and it complained a little in my arms. It looked like nothing more than a frightened puppy.

“That might be good then. Gradual change is good. Changing in an instant is irrational and ominous. But don’t trust too much in the solutions the Machine of the Age will produce. You are people woven of flesh, but we are machines cast in steel. The solutions the Machine of the Age will produce will be machine solutions, not human solutions.”

Despite saying this, the Industrial Spirit King was quite human. No matter how much he was a machine made of steel, he was someone born from humans and who thought like humans.

He was someone who had been driven to bear a duty too great for one person’s mind to endure, along with too great a loneliness. The apocalyptic visions he had could only be described as hallucinations because of this.

This was the bad side of the Golden Age. You could see the glitter of gold, but not the effort of the gilder who gilded every part of the road. So it was a problem that could be embraced.

“Only people can have their own opinions about how we should live, how the world should change, or even about trivial things. I think you’re a person too. The same goes for the Machine of the Age. Do you understand what I mean? As long as the Machine of the Age tries to communicate, you don’t need to worry.”

The prospect of the Industrial Spirit King completely giving up on communication was… frightening. The enormous responsibility he carried also gave him enormous power.

That’s why more dialogue was necessary. The idea that we should reject him because he’s too powerful and might think differently from us is exactly what would turn the Machine of the Age into a mad machine god.

The Machine of the Age had good intentions. His fear of the apocalypse that would come with his death wasn’t because of his own death. It was because of the endless darkness that would follow. He needed help.

And this matter was an opportunity to help him. Finding the terminals would alleviate his anxiety, and conveying messages through this small Industrial Spirit would show him the beautiful palette I had seen. Like the small elf who had given him so much help, as he said, I wanted to help him a little more.

To do that, I couldn’t just sit at home until Michael called in the morning. I spoke to the Industrial Spirit, whose engine sounds had begun to draw peaceful lines.

“Then… shall we go out instead of staying put? There’s a place where we can get information after evening. If we speak well, we might get some good information.”

I don’t know how many times I’ve said I didn’t know much about alcohol, but alcohol was quite useful. People who had been drinking talked easily. Especially when criticizing others.

The drivers tasked with transporting terminals for the Industrial Spirit King were quite tight-knit and arrogant in proportion to their unity. The security guard at the transport company had said so.

If I could find a bar frequented by people from that company, I might easily obtain quality information. I could confirm to Michael, who would tell me tomorrow after visiting the Amber Room, “Yes, there are terminals. How many and who’s backing them?” with “Ah, so it was those people backing them, right?”

I put on my coat that I had taken off earlier and left the house. This time, I took a taxi toward the factory district. If the taxi driver was an elf, I had to be suspicious, but if not, I could trust them.

This taxi driver was a troll. They were a contradictory race who drank hard liquor for health reasons. I naturally asked the taxi driver with his round, broad, hooked nose.

“Well, my destination is over there… but if you know a bar that transport company people might frequent, could you take me there instead? It’s late enough that no one should be left at the company.”

The taxi driver also joked around. If he nodded too easily to such a request, the moment he introduced a bar, a human or angel from the prohibition unit might pull out their badge.

“Come on, with Prohibition in effect and the God-President keeping his eyes wide open, how could there be bars these days? Oh, are you a French tourist? We don’t serve wine here…”

I had stopped believing such statements long ago. I took out invitations to Two Face, Button de Rose, and Dis from my pocket and showed them to the driver. Not knowing how to make a husky voice, I said:

“You’re quite skilled at talking like those dried-up people, aren’t you? Trolls especially need alcohol. You’re a race that can recover from severe winter injuries with just a bottle of Old Empire’s elixir, so how could you refuse alcohol? I’m the same. So, will you drive me there?”

“Whoa, seeing that you have an invitation to Bar Dis, you must have… yes, either connections or abilities. I heard it’s not easy to get an invitation there. Anyway, I’ll take you right away.”

Only then did the taxi driver stop treating me like a naive Southern elf lady. He sat up properly and started driving toward the factory district. Soon we arrived at a place that wasn’t the transport company entrance.

Unlike other bars with their distinctive names, we could get off at Bar Franklin, named quite ordinarily after its owner. It was quite crowded inside, but there were no familiar sounds.

Moreover, the smell of cigarettes was leaking from inside. Still, I had no intention of stopping. The Bar Dis invitation was useful even to the doorkeepers here.

I walked into the acrid cigarette smoke that an elf would normally flee from until their legs gave out. Interviews with other transport company employees would likely be accompanied by incessant coughing.