Ch.268017 Investigation Record – Small, Simple, Trivial Tasks (2)

I’d have more work if an incident occurred, but today’s task… was the job of a rookie reporter who had long been accustomed to being called a big shot.

A year was longer than I expected. While time seemed to fly by, when I considered how much had happened during three-quarters of the year, it had been quite a long time.

Nevertheless, even at this small newspaper, miscellaneous tasks fell to me. I needed to get an opinion piece about the God-President’s reconfirmation vote from a renowned legal scholar who had immigrated from Germany.

I heard it was something they’d done faithfully every four years, but since I didn’t have four years of experience myself, this was my first time going. I had to visit his home to collect the political commentary that would be published in early December.

After meeting a visitor who had briefly stopped by, I examined a business card with red outlines of 48 states on both sides, then headed back up to the third floor where my desk was located. This time, the editor-in-chief was waiting for me.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to discuss Christmas with Robert. Still, since I had the excuse of having gone to meet a visitor, the editor-in-chief didn’t say much.

In truth, since acquiring the somewhat uncomfortable “big shot” label, I hadn’t had many private meetings with the editor-in-chief. Even getting my articles reviewed had become as simple as leaving them on the editor’s desk.

Yet seeing him waiting like this suggested the visitor must be quite important. Well, large newspapers could be selective about their connections, but for a small newspaper like Golden Age Press, every contact was precious.

“Ah, Rose. I wonder if your range of sources is getting too broad… but it looks good, you know? It’s much better than before when we had nothing but those inappropriate high-ranking officials. All those officials combined couldn’t match the Industrial Spirit King. Anyway, you said you’re going to meet Mr. Balder this year, right?”

“Yes! Though I’m not sure why he doesn’t just mail it and requires a visit to his home instead.”

The editor-in-chief seemed to know the reason. It didn’t appear to be a pleasant one, as he clicked his tongue once and lowered his voice.

“He was almost killed by one of his relatives before immigrating here. He lives in seclusion and refuses to leave his house, and truthfully, he’s not healthy enough to go out anyway. Still, he says he doesn’t want to die trapped inside his house, so he occasionally sends us articles. He mails other writings just fine, but for anything about the God-President, he insists we send someone in person.”

Not wanting to die trapped inside a house… Perhaps I had similar thoughts when I was in conflict with my father. I think I tried to escape alone, believing all my other family members were on the same side.

I had hoped the letters from my family would say that except for a few, they hadn’t joined the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn. If they had, I might have decided to believe them and return.

But the first letter I received rationalized that elves following the Forest’s Firstborn wasn’t establishing a criminal organization but simply following the trends of the times. That’s why I didn’t go back. I couldn’t go back.

The story of a man who nearly died at the hands of his relatives somehow overlapped with my own, so I gladly agreed to go. I nodded firmly.

“He must want to entrust his most important message to someone he can trust! I’ve become quite reliable lately, haven’t I? I’ll gladly go!”

The editor-in-chief looked at me with a somewhat incredulous expression as I clenched both fists while speaking. It wasn’t malicious… just a sense of déjà vu. Reading his expression wasn’t difficult.

“You remind me of Gerard, who stayed in France after the war and became so infatuated with a French woman that he memorized French dictionaries for weeks. You don’t need to try to match someone’s level just because you like them, Rose. You know? Looking for someone who matches your level is aristocratic. We’re not commoners, we’re citizens.”

I smiled a little at that and nodded. Apparently, I was someone whose expressions revealed everything. I sighed once and collected myself.

“I’m not trying to stand beside him! I’m very, very, very… so far ahead of him. But he’s such an impressive person that he’ll surely cover the path I’ve traveled in just a day, or even half a day, and overtake me. I want to advance as far as possible before then, so when he passes by me, I can say, ‘You’ve made it this far!'”

I was just an ordinary person who had taken on too great a responsibility, while he was perhaps a superman. Not because of double strength and double vitality. Absolutely not.

It was because even when all meaning in life collapsed and nothing remained, even when he lost the standards to distinguish between good and evil, he somehow continued to live. He was living even if only by clinging to the glimmer of a coin.

Nevertheless, he was ugly. His methods were closer to slaughter than anything else. The day before my father was arrested, New York’s air smelled of burning elves. Congressman Edward Collins didn’t commit suicide.

But perhaps he was also someone who deserved to encounter ugly people. The elves who burned others were burned themselves, and the congressman who stole other people’s children died after his own child was taken.

While I was lost in these thoughts, I finally met the eyes of the editor-in-chief, who had adopted a somewhat playful expression of weariness. The tips of my ears began to redden.

“You’re completely smitten. Completely smitten. Anyway, go ahead. Give my regards to his wife too.”

“Ah, yes. Yes!”

After responding twice, I received the address and left the newspaper office. Since I was going out on business this time, I properly received taxi fare beforehand. I got into a taxi and gave the address. We drove through the streets.

The winter city wore cold colors. It felt like when you take a spoonful of ice cream and your taste buds become numb from the piercing coldness and excessive sweetness.

Due to the blue-frozen air, the red of the bricks wasn’t very red. The elevated sky often had clouds, but no snow fell. I hoped it wouldn’t snow this Christmas.

Snow could be saved for a somewhat better Christmas. After driving for quite a while, the taxi dropped me off in front of a small row house connected to adjacent buildings. The taxi driver scanned my address note once more.

“This is the place. Wow, whoever the gentleman is, he’s maintained an amazing garden while living in a place like this. Are there really this many winter flowers?”

As the taxi driver said, the front yard of the row house, which would normally have just been filled with soil for formality’s sake, had been meticulously cultivated.

Winter flowers showed off colors undulled by the cold air, and flowers and small trees that hadn’t become bare despite the middle of winter were growing beautifully. Admiration circled inside my mouth before bursting out.

“Elves aren’t necessarily that knowledgeable about plants or flowers… but this is clearly beyond what any neighborhood flower shop would sell. I’m lucky to be visiting this house! I would have been sad if I were visiting the house next door.”

The taxi driver let out a light laugh. His laughter gradually subsided. After properly paying the fare and getting out, I passed through that small garden. I blocked both ears with my thumbs and pressed the doorbell with my elbow.

The piercing sound of the doorbell ringing was quite painful for elves. Only after the sound faded did I remove my hands from my ears. After waiting about a minute and thirty seconds, the door opened.

Usually, doormats inside homes had words like “Welcome” written on them, but this house had the rather intimidating message “No Entry for Liars and Traitors.”

It would make sense for someone who nearly lost their life to relatives to write such words, but… from the perspective of someone who had betrayed their family, someone trying to believe it was the right thing to do, it was a heart-piercing message.

The person who came to greet me was a fairly young human. Her blonde hair seemed as bright as sunshine, and her eyes were green like mine. It wasn’t a common color, so she smiled as she welcomed me.

“Ah, you must be from Golden Age Press? It’s the first time I’ve met someone with the exact same eye color. He’s on the third floor, so please go up comfortably. The room on the left of the third floor is where my husband is. I use the room on the right, so if you need anything, just knock on my door. He’s quite passionate but still not in good health.”

Her voice was full of affection. I could tell she had been taking care of him, dealing with the hysteria and fear-driven erratic behaviors of someone who had nearly died.

“Your heart is as beautiful as your garden! I’ll do that!”

She straightened her shoulders slightly, as if compliments about the garden were completely natural. She went up with me to the top floor of the three-story row house and entered her room. Now it was my turn.

As I was about to knock on the door of the left room, it opened naturally. It seemed someone had left it open, expecting a visitor. I was sure the door had been closed, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. Doors opening on their own was common.

And from the moment I entered the room, I felt a warm heat. The heating seemed to have been running all day. The room was filled with potted plants that put the garden outside to shame.

Flowers that had been carefully tended were everywhere—on the desk that a bedridden patient couldn’t use, on the windowsill, and by the window. Some people believed flower colors could heal a person.

Should I choose flowers as a Christmas gift? After thinking briefly, I stepped into the room. I closed the door and walked toward the man lying in bed. He was pale like a tuberculosis patient.

His hair, originally a light blonde, seemed to have turned white from emotional distress, giving him a haggard appearance with dry, brittle hair and a tired face. He even had a hot water bottle—usually used by lizardmen—hanging around his neck and resting on his chest. Overall, he was a thin man. He seemed quite handsome. He slowly opened his mouth.

“Another reporter I’m meeting for the first time. I wonder if Golden Age Press thinks of me as some kind of initiation… Still, welcome. There’s a chair beside the bed, so please sit down for a moment.”

“The editor-in-chief said he was sending a reliable reporter! And no matter how small our newspaper is, there can’t be that few new employees!”

Smiling, I went over and sat beside him. A stack of white papers from the small desk connected to the sickbed was handed to me. The handwriting was neat. It was so good that I would want to use it if I were making a cursive print.

Before I could read it, he began speaking. Perhaps this was why his wife had called him passionate. That must be it.

“It’s a golden age, just like Golden Age Press’s name. The vote of no confidence decreased by 4.3%, dropping back to single digits after four years. It seems the Great War heals quite easily for those without wounds. It should have been even lower, but in places where the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn have strong support, they cast many no-confidence votes because no action was taken when the Followers were half-disbanded.”

Another story about my homeland. Why would they cast no-confidence votes claiming God wasn’t on their side after committing evil acts and receiving appropriate punishment? The distance keeps growing.

Other people who cast no-confidence votes had their own valid reasons. The reason the anti-deity faction cast no-confidence votes was simple: this is the world of humans, not gods.

I could also understand why Michael cast a no-confidence vote. For someone who runs on his own feet to change his life rather than praying to God, perhaps God was unnecessary.

It seemed I could no longer view my fellow elves as compatriots, and I clicked my tongue once. Sitting deeply in the cushioned chair, I skimmed the first page of the analysis and said:

“I’m also part of the 93.8% who voted for reconfirmation. I voted for reconfirmation because I’m not sure if there’s anyone who can give as much hope as the God-President, and I think the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn probably receive that much hope from the Forest’s Firstborn, which is why they voted no confidence.”

He rolled his eyes once. His expression suggested he quite liked what I said. It was the face of a patient whose spirit was still burning despite becoming weak and emaciated, making bedsores even more painful.

“A clean interpretation. That’s right. It’s a matter of expectation and hope. Why do you think that hope persists even though Charles Clichy is dead?”

Somehow this miscellaneous task had turned into an interview… Still, even after just skimming through and listening a little, I could see it was a quite thoughtfully written piece, so I decided to answer sincerely.

Someone’s sincerity deserved an appropriate response. I had returned forgiveness for Walter Moss’s sincere letter of apology, and for this writing, I would return sincerity.

“Well, what matters is the fantasy shown by the first Forest’s Firstborn, not who becomes the second. Hope is something that doesn’t exist in the first place, so there can’t be true or false hope. Hope is hope. It’s like light. Depending on how and in which direction it shines, it can make you forget the cliff at your feet and illuminate the distance, or help you walk safely at night.”

It was a mixture of so many people’s words that I could no longer recall the original source. Perhaps now I could call these words my own. He heavily raised both arms and clapped a couple of times.

“They really did send a reliable reporter. I wonder how your articles sell well when you think like that. Still, I’m satisfied. But you mentioned light? Before I immigrated, I was quite renowned as a jeweler…”

He opened the small drawer by his bedside and took out a faded stone. It was an ordinary quartz fragment, cut into a diamond shape, though the effort seemed almost meaningless given how common it was.

A very faint smell of ozone emanated from his hand holding the diamond-shaped quartz. It was such a weak smell that only an elf could detect it. That much mana had been infused.

And regardless of the amount of mana infused, the quartz began to glow. Because it was a colorless stone without even luster, the light spread purely as light. It wasn’t bright enough to hurt the eyes, but it was as bright as a light bulb.

“This was my work from those days. I would enchant ordinary stones to make them glow. Would you like to hold it?”

I took the quartz fragment he offered. The magic engraved on the surface of the quartz was quite intricate. It emitted clear light without generating heat or damaging the quartz.

When I absorbed a little mana with my fingertips, the light went out, indicating its efficiency was as good as it looked. It could be used instead of a lantern wick. He shook his head briefly, as if to say I shouldn’t return it.

“Keep it. It’s just a stone that will only shine in a drawer if it stays here. I usually give reporters who handle these trivial tasks a small fee… but I don’t have cash today.”

Ah… instead of money. Although his last comment was a bit deflating, I could let it pass with a small laugh. For someone with such a sharp and cold impression, he was quite human with many gaps.

Anyway, doing work related to enchanted stones and receiving an item as payment was somewhat like the detective in my fantasies. So… receiving payment meant the job was done! I decided to say: