After hearing the intelligence Mocha had obtained from Lolan, the atmosphere in the conference room grew heavy.
A single case… involving an Evil God and the supernatural.
That was clearly beyond the scope of a low-tier agency like the Inspection Bureau.
"I suggest we report this to the Royal Guard."
A composed-looking man spoke calmly.
"This case has already exceeded our jurisdiction. It's not something we can handle on our own."
"Hmph. What, giving up before we've even started?" another man scoffed, legs crossed. "Didn't the intel say it only elevates someone by one rank?"
"Even a first-tier mage or warrior is still supernatural!" the steady middle-aged man shot back. "And how can you be certain it's only low-tier? What if it's Silver? Or even Gold?"
He scanned the room.
"The strongest person here is only second-tier. None of us have even touched the threshold of Silver."
"Silver or Gold would never bother with such a laborious ritual."
"Exactly. You're just being overly cautious. I bet this person had zero talent for transcendence and resorted to this ritual. At most, they're Bronze—same as us."
The meeting room dissolved into argument.
Mocha tapped the table.
"Everyone's reasoning has merit," he said evenly. "But doing nothing would betray His Majesty's trust."
He leaned forward.
"How about this—we predict who the next victim might be and place them under protection in advance. If this truly exceeds the Bureau's capability, I believe His Majesty won't punish us too harshly."
The room gradually quieted.
Some of the non-candidate officers looked at Mocha with newfound approval. He might be young—but wasn't Lady Elissa even younger? Youth meant possibility.
The other candidates' expressions darkened slightly, but they couldn't refute him.
Mocha opened the report.
"According to that gentleman, the ritual requires four offerings:
—the eyes of the pure,
—the ears of the just,
—the tongue of the eloquent,
—and the nose of the keen."
He paused.
"There have already been three victims. That means only the 'ears of the just' remain."
"Have the identities of the other two victims been confirmed?" someone asked suddenly.
Silence fell.
The implication was clear—those two likely came from the slums. Not the kind of people the Bureau bothered to record carefully.
Mocha continued without hesitation.
"Their identities are irrelevant. What matters is identifying the next target—a 'just person.'"
He folded his hands.
"There are many who fit that description. I want everyone to gather information immediately and compile a list."
---
"Charlotte, Charlotte! It's just up ahead!"
Lora grabbed Charlotte's hand and pulled her toward a modest two-story house.
The building was simple, unadorned—except for one thing.
On the street-facing window of the second floor, a giant red bow had been tied in place. It clashed spectacularly with the house's otherwise plain appearance.
Lora noticed Charlotte's gaze and planted her hands on her hips proudly.
"I tied that bow myself. Looks good, right?"
Charlotte nodded seriously. "It certainly suits your personality."
"…Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"
The door creaked open.
"Little Lora, you're back?"
A gentle elderly voice drifted out.
"Mhm! Grandma, I brought Charlotte with me!"
"Oh my, little Charlotte too?"
A kind-looking old woman stepped out. Charlotte immediately lifted her skirt slightly, bowed gracefully, and performed a standard noble curtsy.
"Pleasure to meet you. I am Charlotte Bernette. Forgive the intrusion."
"Oh my, what a polite child," the old woman beamed. "I'm Lora's grandmother. Just call me Grandma Caitlin."
"Yes, Grandma Caitlin."
The old woman covered her mouth, laughing delightedly.
Lora quickly dragged Charlotte inside. "Okay okay, enough formalities! Get in already!"
"You child, always so impatient," Grandma Caitlin sighed fondly as she followed them inside.
"Old man! Stop reading and come down—Charlotte's here!"
"Coming, coming…"
An elderly man wearing reading glasses rose from his rocking chair.
"So you're Charlotte."
"Yes. It's my honor to meet you."
"Hm. Thank you for taking care of Lora at school."
"Oh no, it's Lora who takes care of me."
Lora listened to the exchange and groaned.
"Okay, that's enough! Stop with the boring polite back-and-forth!"
"Lora!" her grandfather frowned slightly. "Be more ladylike. Don't shout."
Lora puffed her cheeks. "No way. It's exhausting!"
Charlotte smiled awkwardly. Lora quickly panicked.
"I wasn't talking about you, Charlotte! I meant—I meant—"
"It's fine," Charlotte said softly. "I know you didn't mean it like that."
Grandma Caitlin clapped her hands lightly.
"All right, old man, go buy some groceries. I'm cooking properly tonight. Charlotte, you must stay for dinner."
"Then I'll accept your hospitality."
"Oh, don't say such stiff things…"
Lora's grandfather put on his coat.
"Sit tight. I'll be back shortly."
---
Back at the Inspection Bureau, it was a frenzy of activity.
Information piled onto desks. Reports were compiled and analyzed.
"There are too many candidates," someone muttered. "We can't investigate them one by one."
Mocha shook his head.
"We don't need to."
He laid out several photographs.
"Even though we don't know the identities of two previous victims, they share one common trait."
He pointed to the images.
"They were all killed in poorly monitored areas."
He slid aside another stack.
"So we can eliminate anyone living in wealthy districts."
He pulled out a final photograph.
"Based on the 'just person' requirement… the most likely candidate is this man."
He set the photo on the table.
"Former prosecutor—Lantra."
---
"By the way," Charlotte said casually, "Lora, I don't think I ever asked your grandfather's name."
"My grandpa?" Lora grinned proudly. "His name is Lantra. Before retiring, he was a prosecutor!"