Chapter 11: Who evaluates the examiners? Part 1

The shock and fear didn’t last long.

As an immigration officer, panic was forbidden.

We’re the first line that determines the first impression of a nation.

We must remain composed in any situation.

“Ahem, khm!”

In two seconds, I fixed my expression and spoke as if I had been waiting calmly all along.

“Greetings, Saintess. It is truly an honor to see your esteemed face in person. It must have been a long journey—hopefully the fatigue hasn’t built up too much?”

Of course, my inner thoughts were different.

‘Kyaaaaaaaa!!!’

I screamed silently behind my smile.

‘Oh, dear God.’

‘What in the world is happening right now?’

‘Why is the Saintess, of all people, standing right in front of me?’

‘This isn’t standard protocol!’

When state guests or nobles visit the border, they’re given special treatment.

They don’t have to stay in the regular line—they either meet the officer directly or get processed quickly as a group, including their closest aides.

The inspection itself can’t be skipped, but everything else should be as convenient as possible.

‘At the very least, such courtesy is what defines treating them as honored guests.’

They also expect this treatment as a given, so the process usually flows very smoothly.

That’s why dignitaries often send word in advance via a delegation and arrive fashionably late.

At least an hour after the appointment, even if they’re early.

It’s a distasteful custom, but lateness by high-ranking people is a way to display authority.

Honestly, it makes things easier for us too.

The Saintess should have done the same.

She holds an even higher position than any national guest.

She’s practically the symbol of the entire church.

But instead…

“Ahaha, not at all. Our brothers and sisters in the north are waiting, so I couldn’t afford to dawdle.”

‘Why is she in front of me right now?’

“…I see. Truly, a commendable mindset.”

Still smiling, I glanced at the holy knights standing just behind the Saintess.

“Thanks to your protection of the pilgrimage party, I imagine there’s been little to worry about. I sincerely hope your journey through the Crossroads Kingdom continues in peace.”

Pleasant words of blessing and acknowledgment.

Of course, the real meaning was different.

‘You do know the protocol. So what the hell is going on here?’

I shot a smiling glance that asked: ‘How could you let her bulldoze through the procedures and march to the front like this? Didn’t you stop her?’

‘Handling things this way puts us in a tough spot, okay?’

Then, the oldest-looking knight with a scar over one eye spoke softly.

“We merely followed the will of the Lord.”

A textbook answer in a stiff tone.

But his expression said it all.

‘How could we stop her?’

It was the same face I made when the Minister of Foreign Affairs chewed me out.

Tiredness, shame, and resignation.

‘Ah.’

‘Right.’

‘They were just following orders too.’

My anger quickly faded.

Yeah, I get it.

How could you go against a superior’s decision? All they could do was pray that nothing went wrong.

Clearly, they’d tried to dissuade her, but the Saintess’s stubbornness had dragged them all to the front.

Kindred spirits.

Being stuck in the middle is always the hardest.

‘You have my sympathy.’

‘Thank you for understanding. We had no choice either.’

When I nodded gently as if to say I understood, the knight returned the gesture with a bow of apology.

And just as this inexplicable sense of camaraderie was blooming despite it being our first meeting, the Saintess spoke.

“It’s my first time being screened by Crossroads’s immigration. I’m a little nervous. What if I say something wrong?”

“Ah, th-that’s quite alright.”

Before I could even catch my breath, she jumped straight into the main topic, snapping me to attention.

The Saintess was still an applicant trying to enter our Crossroads Kingdom.

And every entrant must go through inspection.

No exceptions.

Race, status, gender, age, origin, ideology—it doesn’t matter.

The immigration office’s absolute rule must be upheld.

‘And who carries out that rule?’

‘Immigration officers.’

‘So who’s standing in front of her right now?’

‘Who else?’

‘…Me.’

Realizing the harsh truth, I spoke.

“Ah, I’m terribly sorry, but may I ask for a moment of your time?”

Let me breathe for a second.

Starting off by dealing with a top-tier figure like the Saintess is too much.

Not good for my heart.

I need to mentally prepare.

And besides, she wasn’t alone.

“Oh oh, the Saintess herself has stepped forward for us…!”

“Who’s that man standing stiffly in front of our Saintess?”

“Why’s he blocking us at the border? Is he a nonbeliever or something?”

“A nonbeliever? A heretic? Where!?”

Behind the Saintess stood dozens of fanatics staring at me with eyes not of devotion but of sheer madness.

One wrong word and I wouldn’t just cause a diplomatic incident—I’d be dragged off by the hair.

In such a moment, as the Southern Border Director, there was only one move to make.

“Inspector of Sensei. I have some urgent business—would you take over here?”

Offering a sacrifice.

I’m sorry, Inspector of Sensei.

‘But wouldn’t my survival benefit immigration more in the long run?’

Please, lay down your life for me.

My left arm, my most trusted subordinate.

But the reliable werewolf who should’ve been to my left was nowhere to be seen.

“…Inspector?”

Instead, a familiar voice echoed from afar.

“Alrighty, this way, please! Line up here for fast processing!”

That damn mutt had already started screening people off in the distance.

The gate had barely opened, and he’d already formed a new line.

“Wait, Inspector, can I talk to you for a—”

“Pilgrims to the right! General entrants to the left! Two lines, please! The fastest processing comes from Inspector of Sensei!”

That bastard was deliberately avoiding eye contact.

Doing everything he could to avoid getting involved with me.

‘Damn it. So quick to read the room.’

But immigration screening isn’t a one-man job.

‘I knew this might happen, so I deployed one more person.’

My secret weapon remained.

Veteran, experienced, unshakable in any situation.

The pride of our southern border, my trustworthy right arm!

A stunningly beautiful elf of sublime grace!

“Inspector of Sound. I trust you to handle thi—”

“Oh my, you’re from the Kingdom of Mahalan? Their flour-based bread is just delightful.”

That 500-year-old alcoholic elf had already started gathering people on the opposite side from the werewolf, stamping entries with eerie precision.

Gone.

***

The pain of both my arms being ripped off.

She, who was usually so leisurely, had turned her back to me, now looking terribly busy.

“…I can hear you, you know. Don’t ignore me.”

“Oh, absolutely. Elves love bread too, hohoho.”

“Hey, pointy ears.”

“Next!”

To think someone who can hear the flap of a bird’s wings beyond the horizon could pretend not to hear me speaking right next to her.

‘So it’s true—there’s no one in this world you can truly trust…’

After all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?

My father was right.

In this field—no, in this world—there are no eternal allies or enemies.

“Looks like the others have already started…”

As I gritted my teeth in silence, the Saintess looked around and spoke.

—Ssssssssssk.

Even before her death sentence of a sentence was finished, her attendants began moving like cockroaches—

“Phew, good. We’re almost done now.”

At the man’s words, Erjena turned her gaze to the hourglass sitting on the table.

The sand hadn’t even reached halfway yet.

“You have five minutes. Please state your name, origin, and reason for entering the country.”

The questions were extremely formal—tediously so.

There were no additional inquiries or suspicions.

‘Of course not.’

All the necessary information had likely already been delivered through the envoy in writing.

They were probably just comparing the paperwork with her testimony, and if there were no discrepancies, they’d run a quick inspection of her belongings and let her through.

After all, she was a Saintess.

The very idea of doubting her made no sense.

‘Still, it was a pretty entertaining spectacle.’

Erjena tapped the table lightly with her fingertip and shifted her gaze to the man reviewing the registry.

“Let’s see… Er… Erje… Ah, here it is.”

His dark circles hung low with fatigue.

His black eyes scanned the text left and right like a machine.

His hands were smooth, without a single callus—clearly someone who had never trained in martial arts.

He had a decently handsome face, probably around the same age as her.

The look on his face when the gates had first opened had been quite a sight.

In just two seconds, he had flashed through the stages of shock, horror, despair, resignation, and acceptance at lightning speed.

She had laughed without realizing it.

It had been a long time since she’d seen such raw, honest emotion on someone’s face.

‘He looked at me like he’d just seen a ghost.’

Not awe or jealousy, nor discomfort—just pure, unfiltered emotion.

That had put Erjena in an unexpectedly good mood.

Watching him desperately try to avoid her had even been amusing.

It was as if he were handling a deadly poison—one touch, and you die.

After spending so much time around the ever-serious Mohaim, the overly courteous Holy Knights, and the devout believers who considered even speaking to her a once-in-a-lifetime honor, this kind of reaction was not just refreshing—it was thrilling.

Maybe that’s why Erjena now gazed at Nathan with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

‘Is this man the Central Officer?’

She couldn’t be certain.

According to Mohaim, the Central Officer had become the highest-ranking examiner at the youngest age ever, but the young girl who had gone off earlier to inspect some cargo had looked far younger.

‘If they meant youngest ever, then that girl—who people called the Taste Officer—must be the one.’

But then again, something didn’t quite fit.

Someone tasked with inspecting a Saintess should, at the very least, be a top-ranking examiner.

That was standard protocol for honoring a distinguished guest.

Which meant this man before her must be the highest-ranking official here at the southern border.

Or at the very least, the highest-ranked among the currently available examiners.

But if that were true, then he couldn’t be the youngest ever.

Faced with this contradiction, Erjena furrowed her brows.

‘Should I just ask him directly?’

There was still time.

And he had already finished asking his questions.

Now would be a reasonable moment to exchange a few casual words.

The words “Are you the Central Officer?” danced on the tip of her tongue.

But then, she suddenly recalled the promise she had made with Mohaim the day before.

‘Lady Saintess. Please remember that our purpose in visiting the Crossroads Kingdom is not related to the Awakened.’

‘Can’t we just check on him since we’re passing by?’

‘If you truly wish to verify the rumors about him, you can do that later. For now, please focus on the Northern Expedition.’

‘What if I just happen to run into him and ask?’

‘This isn’t the time for you to push things.’

‘Aaah! B-but what if, just maybe, maybe, maaaaybe, we accidentally meet the Central Officer? Then can I ask? Please? Huh? Yes?’

‘Fine. If—and only if—that really happens, then I suppose it would be acceptable… once.’

***

The goal of the pilgrimage was the Northern Expedition.

Confirming the rumors about the Central Officer being an Awakened was nothing more than her personal curiosity.

If she started prying and raised suspicion, the real objective—cleansing the Evil God Cult—might be exposed.

That would be a disaster.

‘Yes. Mohaim’s right. I’ll ask later, after the expedition is over. It won’t be too late then.’

It was a bit disappointing, but the time would come eventually.

So Erjena made up her mind to wait—for now.

Once their holy work was done, no one would be able to stop her.

At that moment, the examiner finally spoke, having finished checking the documents.

“Lady Seraph Erjena.”

“Yes?”

“Your testimony and identity have been confirmed. Therefore, I, in my official capacity, certify that there are no grounds for restricting your entry.”

The process was nearing its end.

He smiled faintly.

A subtle sense of relief showed on his face—finally, he was free of her.

Erjena chuckled to herself again.

‘Cute.’

He was trying to hide it, but it was written all over his face.

Then, stamping the document with a firm hand, he spoke.

“Welcome to the Crossroads Kingdom.”

Thump.

Something was off.

Despite the stamp, the words [Entry Approved] did not appear on the document.

“Huh?”

The examiner tilted his head and checked the stamp.

“Oh—my apologies. The ink for the entry stamp has completely dried out.”

“It’s fine. There’s still time left.”

She spoke casually and turned to glance at Mohaim.

‘I kept the promise.’

‘Good. Well done holding back. Let’s keep it that way.’

They both gave a thumbs-up at the same time.

Everything had gone smoothly.

No problems at all.

“Thank you for your understanding. I’ll handle it immediately. Attendant?”

At his call, the attendant quickly stepped forward.

“Yes, I’ll bring a fresh one right away, Central Officer.”

Central Officer.

Erjena’s head snapped around.

At the same time, Mohaim also jumped in shock and stepped forward.

“Central Officer?”

“You’re the Central Officer?!”

For the first time, the Saintess raised her voice.

Her lips trembled as she barely contained a grin.

She screamed inwardly.

‘Found him!’

Meanwhile, Mohaim could only think:

‘Oh no…’

The sky was falling.