Chapter 12: Who evaluates the examiners? Part 2

This is bewildering.

First the Saintess suddenly jumps to her feet, and now that holy knight is staring at me like he’s lost his entire country.

‘Did I say something weird?’

No matter how many times I go over it, I can’t think of anything that would’ve caused a diplomatic incident.

“Is there some kind of issue—?”

“Are you really, truly the Central Officer? That Central Officer?”

The Saintess cut me off mid-sentence and leaned in close.

Her golden eyes sparkled with an intensity that was borderline overwhelming.

I instinctively leaned back as far as I could and answered, “Ah, yes. Th-that’s right. My official title, in the capacity of my duties, is Central Officer.”

“Are you saying that with absolute honesty? Swearing by the Lord?”

This time, she leaned in so close her face was barely a handspan away from mine.

A warm, sunlit scent faintly tickled the tip of my nose.

‘What is with this woman?’

I subtly turned my eyes toward the holy knight behind her, silently begging for help.

But he only shook his head with a sigh, still looking utterly shaken.

“Haah… Good heavens. What are the chances…”

‘And what’s his problem now?’

Realizing no one was going to help me, I maintained my smile as best I could and addressed the Saintess.

“Ah, the review process isn’t over yet, so I’d appreciate it if you could please return to your seat—”

“Swear it. Swear it by the Lord????”

Oh, for the love of—

She stared at me, unwavering, as if she absolutely would not back down without an answer.

And I couldn’t push her away.

Laying hands on the Saintess’s sacred body would mean losing a hand, possibly on the spot.

But if I said, “You’re too close, please step back,” that would be a major diplomatic misstep.

I had no choice.

I had to give her the answer she wanted.

“Yes. That’s correct.”

Dropping my smile, I looked directly into the golden eyes right in front of me.

“I am Nathan Kell, the current Director and Chief Immigration Officer of the Southern Border Entry Office—Central Officer.”

‘Attendant, please, bring me the damn stamp already.’

‘I’m going to die of anxiety at this rate.’

Ecstasy.

That was the first emotion Erjena felt.

She was now absolutely certain this was fate.

Out of all the immigration officers, the very first person she met—and the one reviewing her entry—was the Central Officer himself.

What an incredible twist of fate.

‘The Lord must have guided me here.’

He always worked like this.

Weaving coincidence, accidents, and the unexpected into a grand tapestry called destiny.

And this time, He had done it again.

‘Without me even needing to search or ask around, He led me straight to Central Officer…’

Overwhelmed by the perfection of it all, Erjena trembled.

“Haahng… My Lord…”

Ah, His love knows no bounds.

Even while fulfilling the Church’s long-cherished wish of the Northern Expedition, He still found time to show His omnipotent hand.

The rapture she had only ever experienced on the altar now swept through her entire body.

‘Ah, my Lord… my Lordmylordmylordmylordmylordmylord—’

“Ahem, ahem! Um, Saintess?”

“Ahuhng… My Lor—Huh?”

At the sound of Mohaim’s forced cough, Erjena snapped out of her near-trance just in time.

He looked around nervously, clearly flustered.

“There are a lot of eyes on us… You might want to, uh, maintain your dignity…”

“Dignity? What are you talking—”

Only then did Erjena realize the situation she was in.

She was practically sprawled across the desk, leaning over toward Central Officer, their faces barely a handspan apart.

Close enough to feel his breath.

“…”

“…”

All eyes in the room were on the two of them.

Mouths agape.

“Ot.”

Her golden eyes met the man’s black ones.

The events of the past minute flashed before her eyes like a life review.

The strange moan.

Her trembling body.

That euphoric sigh she had let out in ecstasy.

Ahaang, my Lord…

Her posture, her tone—altogether far too… sensual for a public setting.

***

“Ugh…!!!!!!!”

Erjena’s face instantly turned bright red.

“A-ahaha. Deep faith is certainly admirable,” Central Officer said with an awkward laugh.

But both of his eyes were trembling uncontrollably.

And he was leaning so far back in his chair to avoid physical contact that he looked like he might fall over.

—rustle rustle.

As soon as she came to her senses, the Saintess darted back into her seat at lightning speed.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “My apologies. It’s just… I’ve never heard that title before.”

“Not at all. It is a rather unique title. I understand completely.”

“No, truly. I think it’s a wonderful name, Central Officer.”

With a soft smile and narrowed eyes, she continued, “Truly… a magnificent name.”

As she spoke, she subtly slipped her left hand behind her and made a signal to Mohaim.

‘Remember our deal, Mohaim? Since this meeting happened by coincidence, no interfering.’

The reply came immediately.

‘You can’t be serious. This isn’t why we came! And besides, you haven’t even gotten your entry stamp yet, so just—’

‘Oh? Is a holy knight breaking a promise? A promise made to the Saintess? Should I tell the Lord?’

No matter how minor, a knight’s vow must never be broken.

She had found his weakness—and he had no choice but to stay silent.

‘Don’t worry. I won’t be too obvious about it.’

Meanwhile, unaware of the silent back-and-forth behind the scenes, Nathan clapped his hands loudly to break the awkward atmosphere.

“Alright, everyone! That’s enough staring. Let’s get back to work!”

He casually tidied up the documents in front of him and straightened his posture as if nothing had happened.

“My attendant will be here with the stamp shortly. Sorry for the delay in your entry approval.”

“It’s fine. The sand in the hourglass hasn’t even run out yet. If you don’t mind, would you care for a little small talk?”

“It would be a great honor.”

Setting aside her earlier religious rapture and mortification, Erjena had fully regained her composure.

After reaching her “peak,” the initial rush had subsided, replaced by a cool clarity.

‘So, he is the Central Officer. But there are still some things I need to confirm.’

Guided by the Lord’s will, she had found the man she was searching for.

‘But is he truly a Manifested Talent?’

That was a different issue altogether.

They still didn’t know if this Nathan Kell fellow was really a manifested talent.

“A manifested talent our Order didn’t know about… Could that really be true?”

They couldn’t ask him directly.

To ask would be to reveal that they hadn’t known of his existence.

And for the Order to have missed someone blessed by the Lord—nothing could be more disgraceful.

“I need to find out other things first. Approach slowly.”

First, confirm the truth behind the rumors.

“I’ve heard rumors that you, Director, are quite capable. Is that true?”

At the Saintess’s question, the Director glanced at the hourglass, sand still flowing, then offered a pleasant smile.

“You flatter me. Rumors tend to exaggerate. I’m just a public servant doing his best.”

A thoroughly humble reply.

A smile worn by a young man who looked weary yet earnest in his efforts.

To anyone watching, he looked like a model youth of the times, working with responsibility and purpose.

“Diligence is a virtue the Lord cherishes. Your dedication is quite—huh?”

But just as she tried to continue, a strange sense of dissonance hit her.

“Saintess? Are you alright?”

“Ah, yes. It’s nothing. I just stumbled over my words.”

His clean attire, restrained movements, and eloquent speech formed a perfect picture—but something felt off.

Like a hole ripped through an otherwise beautiful painting.

‘What is this?’

Perplexed by an unfamiliar sensation, she tilted her head slightly.

‘Was he hiding something?’

“Then I should ask more questions and see.”

***

With a bright expression, Erjena changed her tone as if surprised.

“I heard you recently subdued a furious fire spirit with your bare hands. Goodness, even our holy knights struggle with such a feat!”

—Flinch.

“There was merely a small cultural misunderstanding. Thankfully, those involved were generous and let it pass. It was well resolved, haha…”

“You’re quick with words. How embarrassing.”

Once again, the Director responded smoothly.

Neither confirming nor denying, yet seemingly answering.

But even in that fleeting moment, less than two seconds, the Saintess saw it.

A flicker of discomfort.

Quivering brows.

Eyes turning away.

“…I see.”

With a soft hum, Erjena narrowed her eyes.

It was only after hearing his answer that she realized what the dissonance was.

He’s lying.

And he’s uncomfortable around me.

His words and posture were composed, but his body language betrayed him.

Trying hard to appear unaffected while hiding the truth within a polished exterior.

But that wasn’t what the dissonance was.

What she felt was something of a different nature.

This man… gives off nothing.

Everyone has mana—or something akin to it.

Even newborns are born with the faintest trace of it.

Those blessed by the gods have divine power; those beloved by the world have elemental or magical energy.

It’s a law of this world.

An unchanging truth.

But from the Director, Erjena felt nothing of the Lord’s presence.

Not even mana.

Absolutely nothing.

‘What is he…?’

Faced with something that shouldn’t exist, Erjena was briefly at a loss for words.

She focused harder to examine him—but the result was the same.

Nothing.

Not even a speck.

Every person should emit at least some kind of aura.

But this man had none.

As if he was severed from the world itself.

Like a hole punched through the center of a well-drawn painting.

At last, Erjena realized what she was seeing.

My god…

A pitch-black void sat before her in the shape of a man.

Emptiness.

That was the presence she felt from the Director.

‘Could something like this… be possible?’

An impossible phenomenon.

A grotesque anomaly she had never seen before.

Amid the confusion, one undeniable fact rose clearly in her mind.

This man is not a manifested talent.

He can never be that.

Everything touched by the Lord carries divine power.

Especially those truly blessed—manifested talents most of all.

There’s no way the Saintess wouldn’t sense it.

That dazzling, warm golden aura like sunlight couldn’t possibly go unnoticed.

And yet, all she saw was black.

Darker than the night sky.

Terrifyingly empty.

This goes against the laws of the world.

A being of pure nothingness cannot exist!

‘Then… was he a nonbeliever? A fraud pretending to be a manifested talent?’

No. Not even that.

Even unbelievers possess mana.

Heretical, perhaps, but factually true.

Just look at mages and elves.

They deny the gods but still use the world’s power.

He doesn’t seem the type to lie just to boast.

The Director didn’t strike her as stupid enough to lie so blatantly.

And even if he had, it would’ve been obvious.

He had shown no signs of arrogance so far.

He didn’t seem the type to brag.

Then, a single phrase flashed through Erjena’s mind:

A puppet of the Evil God’s cult.

That would explain everything.

His internal scream the moment he saw her.

His discomfort sitting in the same space.

The complete absence of any detectable energy.

It all made sense if he was a repulsive heretic.

One who not only denied the Lord, but sought the ruin of the world itself.

They were never meant to exist to begin with.

Erjena quietly recited a verse, inaudible to all.

“Doubt leads to distrust, but also to the path of certainty.”

And she felt as if she had finally found that path.

Her eyes sharpened.

It was no coincidence the Lord guided us here.

The Lord hadn’t brought them here to confirm a blessing.

He had led them here to root out one who dared claim the Lord’s love falsely.

And I rejoiced like a child, unaware…

Shame filled her.

Not only had she misunderstood the Lord’s will—

She had shown warmth to a puppet of the Evil One.

The affection she had felt just moments ago turned into cold fury.

Into contempt.

Now, Erjena knew what she had to do.

Turn doubt into certainty.

Ssssshh.

***

The hourglass neared its end.

“There’s one last thing I’d like to ask.”

Only one final question remained.

The heretic glanced briefly behind him, then gave a shallow smile as he noticed his attendant approaching from afar.

“The seal is finally arriving. It seems our time is nearly up, so one last question should be fine.”

That detestable smile sickened her.

“How generous of you. Then I won’t hold back.”

She responded with a cold smile of her own, matching his.

“It’s a very simple question. Please answer only with yes or no.”

In that instant, Mohaim instinctively realized what she was about to ask.

“S-Saintess! You pro—”

“Don’t interfere, Mohaim. That’s an order.”

Overwhelmed by anxiety, the Knight Commander tried to cut in—ignoring all decorum—but was stopped by Erjena’s raised hand.

“Mohaim? Don’t tell me… Mohaim Espirence, Commander of the First Holy Knights?”

A flicker of shock passed over the Director’s expression…