Ch.267017 Investigation Record – Small, Simple, Trivial Tasks (1)

“Ah, when I heard someone was stealing terminals, I imagined some Robin Hood story.”

Robert, the reporter who had helped—or rather, almost helped—with my coverage of Sol Invictus last time, clicked his tongue at the photo of the Amber Room’s madam being apprehended by angels.

He was about to speak as if he naturally knew who she was, but instead placed his right hand on his chest as if swearing to tell the truth and said with a grin:

“That woman Elma… hmm, no, no. I swear truthfully that I had no idea the madam of this brothel called Amber Room was behind it. Still, the angels seem out of character. Did they not rough her up because she’s a woman?”

It seemed both of us were hiding handfuls of secrets we couldn’t speak about. Angels were physically superior to humans. They’d be similar to Michael, but angels had the advantage in both weight class and mass.

That’s why angels didn’t use operators due to lack of ability. They only used them for things that shouldn’t be discovered. Michael was incomparable in that regard.

“Isn’t it strange that she suddenly felt guilty and confessed overnight? There must be some catalyst behind this strangeness, I’m sure!”

Then, Reporter Merrick shuddered briefly before continuing. It sounded very much like someone specific came to mind.

“That shouldn’t have happened… This gives me the creeps. Rose, I received a letter around June this year. It was about this tall…”

He gestured to estimate the height. It was about the size of a young elf. I felt somewhat uncomfortable but continued listening.

“There was an actor who kicked an elf kid to death, and he sent a plea claiming he was beaten into a forced confession. Of course, there was no evidence, but I was intrigued enough to look into it. Found nothing though. His lawyer said they were together all day except for an hour when he went out to eat. The most plausible explanation was that he jumped off the desk and injured himself…”

He chuckled lightly and tapped the radio in the break room. Everyone recalled listening to a detective drama that had been popular for a while in the break room.

“I wonder if someone is really prowling through the city’s darkness like in that radio drama we all listened to. Hey, maybe I should write this up properly and submit it? Honestly, I’ll never be a journalistic heavyweight like you, Rose. A guy like me needs to find his way too. And I just had my fifth child, so I’m short on money.”

You’re becoming an urban legend, Michael. The sensation of being the only one who knows something felt precious. It might not be New York’s greatest, but it was certainly the story of New York’s most dangerous operator.

Every time that radio drama came on, if I choked and coughed, I’d definitely arouse suspicion, right? I kept my expression hidden behind a smile and naturally played along.

“Are you going to write some worn-out thirties detective novel? You’re a bit older than that, but I know an excellent detective who also advises the police… Should I introduce you?”

He waved his hand with a good-natured smile. He was a playful colleague and pleasant to talk with. I listened as he naturally diluted the conversation and continued what he originally intended to say.

“Oh, that would be nice… hmm, hmm. No, never mind. If I quit my decent reporter job and start doing that, my wife would stab me. She’s a real firecracker. When we first met, she put a pocket knife to my throat when I tried to touch her waist at a party. Anyway, she wants me to invite some people from work for Christmas dinner. Especially you, Rose…”

If it had been cheap sympathy, he would have asked outright, but because it was warm kindness, he asked after lightening the mood with other conversation when we were alone in the break room. I responded to match his warmth.

“Well… I can’t go back to Clichy Street anymore. But I’m fine! It’s a place I really want to return to but absolutely don’t want to go back to, and people I truly love but can’t love at all. Instead of longing, I’ve decided to place these words over it: ‘You’re the ones wearing masks, not me.’ Yeah.”

I thought I spoke calmly, but it seems the content of my words inevitably became too dark.

Nevertheless, it might not have sounded so dark to Robert. He wore a warm, perhaps even cozy smile.

He might have found in these words the fact that I was neither cold-blooded enough to not miss the family I lost in an instant, nor weak enough to pine for them.

So to revive the atmosphere that almost turned gloomy, there was something I needed to do. I shook my head with my usual smile.

“Besides, even I have people to spend Christmas with!”

After a three-second pause, I continued. Michael would likely work even on the God-President’s birthday, and Paulina might spend time with her family. The probability was fifty-fifty for both.

“Well, with a 75% probability…”

Robert burst into laughter at my words. It wasn’t a long laugh that would embarrass me, nor was it a mocking laugh. He pointed a finger at me with a grin.

“What’s that, Rose! I’ll have to use that sometime. Anyway, I need to invite everyone, but I told you first. It’ll be quite bustling, so come if you want a Christmas atmosphere. You can bring anyone you like.”

He glanced briefly at the tip of my ear before looking me directly in the eyes and concluding.

“Ah, you’re not falling for it. Honestly, I was hoping you’d declare you absolutely don’t have a boyfriend. My real target was… Paulina. She doesn’t seem to be employed since that article came out, but you two were quite close privately, right?”

I swallowed back the memory of someone I almost recalled into the depths of my consciousness. I stared at him with an expression that clearly said “that’s too much,” and he naturally averted his gaze.

“You’re really mischievous. Truly. Anyway, if I have nowhere else to go, I’ll visit and write an exposé for your wife about how Robert knew even the name of the Amber Room’s madam. You’d better hope I don’t come!”

Lunch time was coming to an end. He left the break room first, patting my shoulder lightly.

“I’ll have a lawyer with me too, so don’t worry about me. See you!”

It’s because of people like this that I can avoid hating people even when someone interferes with the deal between the Industrial Spirit King and the Idealists’ Hive Mind just to make more money. I left the break room as well.

Fortunately, I didn’t feel like my ear tips would freeze off while inside the company. It was a bit warmer than early November when it suddenly got cold, but temperatures often dropped to around 20 or 25 degrees.

As I left the break room, I saw the editor-in-chief’s secretary looking around. She spotted me and approached. I walked toward her with quick steps, and she sighed with relief.

“Where have you been, Rose! Someone from the FIIL came looking for you, and I told them you’d be right back, but I couldn’t find you anywhere! Second floor reception room!”

FIIL… the Federation of Industrial and International Labor. They were friends of the workers, but not part of the Hive Mind. Still, they weren’t exactly welcome.

They were people who endured year-round the kind of stares and reactions I received for a few days after writing an article questioning whether the Idealist uprising was really an Idealist uprising. They were trusted by the workers.

Did they come because of my recent article about the Idealist uprising? After adjusting my clothes once more, I went down to the second floor. I headed to the only open door among the partitioned reception rooms.

Inside was a human who had placed a book with a red cover on the reception table. He didn’t seem to know my face, but he stood up lightly and extended his hand as if he knew I was an elf reporter.

“Are you Reporter Rose Leafman?”

I nodded vigorously and shook his outstretched hand. His hand was quite rough. His body seemed toughened by physical labor. After shaking once, he let go.

“Yes, if you’re looking for Reporter Rose Leafman of Golden Age Press, that’s me. I assume this is about the Idealists? That’s the only recent matter I can think of that would involve the FIIL.”

It wasn’t. Seeing him pause briefly before nodding after hearing about the Idealists, it was for a different reason. Now my interest was piqued.

I glanced at the FIIL-branded flyers partially hidden under the book. They had large text saying “People from the FIIL are not like this.” He seemed to be distributing them.

I scanned the names listed under “These people are not affiliated with the FIIL.” Starting with Peter Weinberg, I didn’t recognize any of the names. He hastily organized the flyers.

“Ah, I didn’t come because of this. I can give you one if you’d like… Anyway, if you’re the only reporter who said the Idealists weren’t the culprits, I should have been more respectful. I’m in New York for union activities, and Mr. Lanshore suggested I meet you.”

Mr. Lanshore… Ah, right. The person I consulted when the Industrial Spirit King’s contractors staged an uprising using Idealist terminals. I remembered having his business card in my wallet.

This person seemed to know quite a lot. If I tried to extract information, I wouldn’t get even a handful. I entered the reception room and naturally sat across from him.

“Ah, hehe. I met Mr. Lanshore because of that Idealist incident, but he seems to have thought I wouldn’t mention it. Oh, if it’s union business, it must be related to those flyers?”

Since he said he could give me one if I wanted, it meant this was information he could share. Now that he knew I was connected to Mr. Lanshore, he no longer seemed wary of me.

He pulled out a flyer and placed it in front of me. Most had photos and names attached, but only Peter Weinberg had no face. He clicked his tongue and said:

“There are quite a few impostors. If it was just for personal gain, that would be one thing, but it seems like someone decided to crush us along with the Idealists—we’re facing some pretty organized pressure… Ah, except for this Peter Weinberg. He assassinated a union leader while working for a company nine months ago, but apparently no one has even seen his face…”

Walking in a city where assassins roam… it was a bit unsettling but not something to be too afraid of. They generally only work when paid.

If someone regularly exposed their methods, they would have been thrown into the waters off Long Island long ago. He continued with a voice tinged with a sigh:

“Of all things, he killed a union leader who was on strike at a place where a renowned entrepreneur hadn’t even hired contractors, so public opinion is on their side. Seeing how cleanly that ended, other entrepreneurs started hiring proper operators instead of contractors, so from our standpoint, we absolutely need to catch this guy, if only to save face.”

This city had terrifyingly capable people. I cleared away the silence he had created.

“I should be careful of such a person too! Oh, are you asking me to cover this organized pressure…?”

I pretended to be a bit more naive. He extended both hands and waved them. His voice suggested that under no circumstances should I get involved.

“Why would a reporter like you do such dangerous work? Why would you? We know who’s behind it, but we have no way to address it. So, we’re trying to strengthen our internal solidarity…”

Now it was time for me to hear what he had to say. Somehow, there had been a lot of talk about the Industrial Spirit King lately, and he would be the person closest to the Industrial Spirits.

The Industrial Spirit who visited me had said that the Machine of the Age was growing tired. It would have been nice if we could alleviate that fatigue with kind words and human communication. I couldn’t know the outcome.

“There’s a strange rumor spreading among factory workers. They say the terminals sent by the Machine of the Age are different from the usual ones. They find the way they move unsettling and asked if someone could look into it, so I came to find a reporter. You understand why we… can’t use other people, right?”

I already knew why they couldn’t use detectives. Michael specialized in breaking strikes. He was someone who could storm in alone, beat down all the strike leaders, and come back out. From their perspective, having their entire strike line broken through and suppressed by one person must have been close to a nightmare.

Michael wasn’t the only one who did such work. Blingkerton was practically an expert in that field. If they couldn’t use such private investigators, reporters were the only people they could turn to.

Mr. Lanshore had found the right person. I knew the reason too. It felt like I was becoming someone people could come to with questions, and someone who could answer if asked.

There was something I should recall now. No matter how dark the night, you can move forward with just one torch and one torch-bearer. Was I getting closer to that dream-like word? I couldn’t tell.

But it was a different kind of reservation than usual. This time, it was a reservation made to avoid becoming arrogant. My smiling face seemed unlikely to fade anytime soon.

“I communicate quite frequently with the Industrial Spirit King… The Industrial Spirit King isn’t used to people, you know. The fact that they move more like machines than people is probably because they’re still not accustomed to those bodies. It wasn’t long ago that they took over the terminals, so we can consider this an adjustment period, right?”

It was an easy conclusion to reach, but they wanted to hear it from someone trustworthy. Am I a trustworthy person? I pleasantly reconsidered the thought I had just had.

He looked at me with an expression of increased trust, as I had guessed even what he hadn’t said. After briefly adjusting his neatly combed hair, he nodded firmly.

“The factory workers said the same thing. They move like machines, apparently. Since you could understand with just one word, it seems there’s no major problem. Ah, could I have one of your business cards?”

The sensation of handing over a business card like this is quite thrilling. The moment when someone acknowledges me and takes my card because they think they’ll definitely need me in the future. I took a card from my wallet and handed it to him.

Now I need to take care of the remaining minor tasks and think about Christmas, which is just three weeks away.

Should I call in advance to make sure I don’t have to work that day, or would that be rude…? There were so many things to handle in Rose Leafman’s life outside of being a reporter.