Ch.258016 Investigation Record – Double Compensation (8)

“Unusually, things are wrapping up neatly, Mr. Michael! Do you think we have enough to report to the police?”

Though I was confident I lived as a more law-abiding citizen compared to him, perhaps for that very reason, he was more skilled at dealing with the police.

Besides, all I had were a handful of witnesses. While this information would certainly be valuable for writing an article, it wasn’t as strong as evidence as the confession he had obtained.

He spoke in a leisurely, mocking tone. He probably wasn’t calling from home. I could hear a woman sobbing nearby.

“I heard you’re going to make a confession, Elma. Answer me, will you? Yes… yes. Since you’re going to confess, let’s meet in front of the police station. I expect you’ve prepared some witness statements.”

Whether I imagined him going to the Amber Room at dawn, causing a scene, tying up the proprietress so she couldn’t escape, and then sleeping, or staying up all night before making this call—either way, it gave me chills.

I hoped no one would ever target me and hire him. Though I might fit neatly into the role of collaborator now, he had a talent for intimidating people.

Once you get to know him as a person, you might not be so frightened. He was a decent person in his own way. I had as much to say to him as I did to the Industrial Spirit King.

Of course… I might just have flowers in my head to speak so calmly about someone who once tried to take my life. It’s a thought I recall now like taking out insurance.

“That’s… right, but are you at the Amber Room right now?”

I didn’t need to hear his answer to know he was there. The proprietress of the Amber Room had too easily spilled information to Carmen last time. As soon as she made money through dishonest means, she probably forgot what she needed to do.

If you make money that way, you should at least ensure no one holds a knife to your throat. That’s what my father did. Whether good or bad, when I follow the thread back, I always end up facing his image.

“I’m not the kind of detective who keeps a secretary or assistant. I do everything myself. And don’t worry if the information is a bit lacking. I’ll leave it to someone who’s good at fabricating things like this.”

It was the best option available. As I reached out to the Industrial Spirit, who had awakened earlier than me and was warming up his engine, he approached and gently placed his back against my palm.

Seeing him lean against me, I smiled and replied. While winter outings weren’t particularly welcome for elves, this time I was willing to go out.

“That’ll work then. See you in front of the police station!”

There were a few callous sounds like someone kicking not a person but a package with their shoe, and then the call ended. I was curious about how he had managed to break into the Amber Room.

The Industrial Spirit only raised his head after the call ended. Looking at me, he slowly rolled his shredder rollers and spoke. It seemed like mild curiosity.

“The person on the other end of the phone line is efficient. Mechanical and clean. I’m purely curious, without malice, why the Machine of the Age assigned me to your side rather than to that person. Though the answer isn’t difficult.”

“I know that if you had malice toward me, you wouldn’t be rubbing against me like this. Hmm, hmm. Actually, I’m not sure either! I think Mr. Michael would look quite fitting walking a dog, though. You’re not a dog, but that’s how you were designed, right?”

I answered half-jokingly. The reason was obvious anyway. The Industrial Spirit, uncharacteristically, seemed to accept the joke and rotated his shredder rollers irregularly. That might have been his version of a chuckle.

His response suggested it wasn’t such an unpleasant comment. Since he usually didn’t talk much in crowded places, he might be trying to converse now.

“The structure based on canine skeletons is correct. But the reason is the same as always. Simply because it’s convenient and efficient to move. And, do you really not know why the Machine of the Age chose you? You’re terribly irrational. When scenes are viewed in isolation, that’s how it appears, but you produce rational and clean results. I think that’s what it’s curious about.”

It seems we’ve reached the point of exchanging words of acknowledgment. As I left the house bundled up warmly, the Industrial Spirit put a little strain on his engine. While heat might just be a byproduct for the engine, he was emitting warm heat.

Irrational temperament is easily contagious. Bad things spread more easily than good ones, but sometimes good things spread too. Thanks to that, this time I was able to take a taxi without feeling like my legs would freeze.

The taxi driver looked over the Industrial Spirit once but drove us to the police station without much comment. This time, I got out in front of the police station after giving a generous tip.

The Industrial Spirit was still silently standing by my side, and there was a familiar face in front of the police station. A man wearing a newsboy cap pressed down firmly, seemingly unaffected by the cold with no redness in his cheeks or nose.

The cold wasn’t cold enough for him to feel. The warmth emitted by the Industrial Spirit wasn’t warm enough for him to feel either. In front of him stood a woman dressed like a lady.

She didn’t appear to have been physically assaulted from the outside. But he was a professional. If I could hear sounds like someone kicking something inhumanely over the phone line before he called, it was obvious what might have happened before the call.

While my legs were warm thanks to the Industrial Spirit, I couldn’t help the freezing tips of my ears. He nodded once toward the inside of the police station.

“Let’s go in. The officer I called should be waiting.”

“Y-yes! This winter is too harsh for an elf…”

We entered the police station together. The lady-like woman was limping slightly. Fear was evident in her eyes. Perhaps she had discovered the truth about the tooth fairy who had attacked the red-light district.

There was still no one at the reception, and only the sound of newly arrived angels busily walking around could be heard. Despite having so many angels, New York was always full of crime, and this time was no exception.

An angel wearing a coat neatly over a black uniform, with the flame in his left eye slightly weaker than in his right, extended his hand to Mr. Michael. He spoke in a calm and reassuring voice.

“Ah, it’s shameful that we have to rely on civilian collaborators for the city’s security. Still, I’d like to express my gratitude for your cooperation. You could have just made a simple report.”

Mr. Michael also spoke with considerable politeness, suggesting they had only an official relationship. Or perhaps it was a relationship better kept that way. The latter was probably correct.

“You know I prefer to bring them in personally. Ah, this is a reporter who was collecting evidence separately… and this is an Industrial Spirit whom the Industrial Spirit King personally assigned to accompany the reporter for the credibility of the evidence. There are more witnesses, he says. Oh, and I’ve also spoken with the angels who came to the Amber Room after receiving the report.”

The terminals would have taken pictures there, so the evidence would undoubtedly be solid. He led us into the police station as if urging us to follow quickly. He guided us to an interrogation room without any evidence.

Once you cross the soundproof walls, you can see people’s true faces. The angel seated the proprietress of the Amber Room in the interrogation room chair. She seemed to think this angel wasn’t a fallen angel.

Though he spoke cleanly like ordinary angels, ordinary angels don’t keep civilian collaborators. The woman’s voice echoed futilely within the soundproof interrogation room.

“That, that, I wasn’t going to confess, but that person suddenly came in the middle of the night and…”

The angel with the flame in his left eye slightly weaker than his right burst into laughter at her words. With a smiling expression, he grabbed her chin and turned it left and right twice before speaking.

“Ah… kid, your work is so clean. And they say she tried to mess with the Industrial Spirit King and the Hive Mind? This could be quite a significant achievement. But, are the terminal photos from the Amber Room not enough?”

Only then did the proprietress of the Amber Room seem to realize that he had a… rather unfavorable collaborative relationship with the detective, as her expression turned to despair. Judging by her expression alone, she looked quite pitiful.

“Huh. If I just show that, they’ll hardly believe that this madam and five truck drivers messed with those big shots. If you don’t want to do more work, interview the witnesses with the reporter and call them in one by one to confirm. Your esteemed superiors might not need on-site verification, but you’ll need to put in at least that much effort to convince your bosses.”

Though it was a normal process, the angel writhed as if disgusted. He seemed to have been born with a temperament unsuited for police work.

“This is such a pain. Ah, did any of the six ever do anything with those Hive Mind commies? Or maybe they once partied with anarchists? Then we could just say, ‘That’s why they did it!’ and frame them without all this hassle. Ah… fine, fine. If it gets exposed later, a written apology won’t be enough.”

Despite being consistently rude to the captured proprietress of the Amber Room, he lightly bent one knee to match my eye level. He even pretended to salute with a smile.

“Thank you for working with this prickly guy. From here on, you can hand it over to Officer Yehoel of the New York Police Department, to me. Ah, you’ll need to write an article too, so I’ll just take the names of the witnesses.”

He was a friendly angel who knew how to deal with people. His way of speaking as if he was subtly accommodating me was a kind of skill in itself. I felt like I’d seen him somewhere before… Ah, yes. I saw him at Two Face.

At that time, he was completely drunk and sprawled out at the bar. It was amusing to see an angel created directly by the God-President with a lower alcohol tolerance than Mr. Michael. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

“I almost didn’t recognize you since I only saw you drunk at Two Face. You were one of Mr. Michael’s few friends, weren’t you?”

This comment seemed to immediately place me within the category of ‘people he knows.’ He burst into laughter in response.

“Few friends? Hey, Michael. Have you made more friends besides me?”

“Of course. I’ve made quite a few friends with better abilities than someone like you. If you don’t want to be fired from the last seat of friendship, live diligently, kid.”

At those words, the angel stood up and grabbed the head of the Amber Room proprietress with his right hand, which was gold-crafted to resemble the mighty right hand of the God-President, and shook her like an object. It seemed like he could crush her right there.

“I’m satisfied with just these crumbs. Is that enough? If not, cherish your state’s servant. Anyway, if you’re an acquaintance, I can be a bit more casual. Could I copy the interviews you’ve written down?”

While he was quite a good person, it also made me somewhat uneasy that our daily safety was entrusted to such an angel. I could have handed over the entire interview record, but I only gave him the names.

He didn’t seem particularly displeased. Bending his angel body, which was perfect like a statue, forward, he spoke in a deflated voice.

“There’s no way this will just pass… Thank you for the contact information. Ah, I’ll have to call and confirm again. Yes, yes. Great cases come with fucking great annoyances. Anyway, I’ll handle it well. Two Face?”

“Not bad. But not today. The reporter here wants to say, ‘I’ll treat you today,’ but is hesitating, not knowing when to speak up.”

My ear tips fluttered involuntarily. I couldn’t help it since I was really thinking about saying something like that. I had been diligently following him, but it still felt like I could only see his back.

Like Carmen smiling, or Ms. Sarah treating him kindly… somehow everyone else seemed to stand on the same level as Mr. Michael or could pull him up to their level, but I alone felt inadequate. That feeling overwhelmed me again.

I shook my body once to shake off that feeling. Sometimes I have dark thoughts. I was exactly the kind of person who deserved to be called a traitor, so there were bound to be shadowy parts of me.

Instead of being dominated by those dark emotions, I decided to be brazen. This too was something he had taught me. Of course, he had taught me to act this way in front of the Great Mother, but still.

“If you already know all that, I guess there’s no need for me to say it! Should I tell you how much Mr. Michael embarrassed Sarah? She’s the only person in this city who can scold Mr. Michael, you know.”

After a brief pause, I continued. He was a person who kept his distance, someone who was bound by most things yet detached from most things, so he would probably answer like this.

“‘Do as you please,’ you’ll say. Mr. Michael is a bit predictable too, you know.”

In response to my uncharacteristic outpouring of words, he also let out an uncharacteristic chuckle and said:

“Yeah, do as you please. You need to finish the article that will make headlines tomorrow morning, and you need to call the Industrial Spirit King who calls you a little elf… How about evening? Is eight o’clock enough?”

Almost twelve hours later should be fine. Since Carmen had disappeared, my life consisted of meeting only Paulina and colleagues from Golden Age Press, so such invitations were always welcome.

Is this really his invitation? If it’s an invitation, I should be the one inviting. Somehow I easily lost the initiative. But it wasn’t a bad feeling.

“That should be enough time… but you know the article takes priority over drinks. If the article is delayed, the drinks will be delayed accordingly, so hope it gets completed well! I’ll contact you then. Should I call your office?”

No matter how pleasant the invitation, the words I needed to put on paper took precedence. I could drink tomorrow evening too, but to get words on paper, now was the only time. Words that come to mind tomorrow would be meaningless.

I’ve never been careless with an article because of alcohol, but I stated it like a declaration. Now that we were collaborators with matching eye levels, or at least pretending to be with such words, he nodded briefly.

“For someone who was skinny until twenty and then fell into the alcohol barrel, your self-control seems pretty good. Yes, I’ll be at the office, so feel free to contact me. My drink expenses will be saved for a few days.”

The “drink expenses” were the compensation we paid. And Mr. Michael talking about compensation meant that this case was finally over. I looked up at him for a moment.

I briefly thought it would be nice if he had similar standards. Like knowing that when I start talking nonsense, it means there’s no need to be tense anymore.

Since we can only know our own minds, and in fact, we can’t even fully grasp our own minds, it was like groping in the dark. That’s why the feeling of fingertips touching was always pleasant.