Chapter Twenty-One: Private Marseille

The operatives of the Sixth Countermeasure Division, always fighting on the front lines against the arcane, had access to a vast array of abyssal artifacts. Most of these objects could corrupt the mind in strange and unpredictable ways, sometimes even attracting the dangerous attention of malevolent entities. Thus, they could only be handed over to the Public Security Bureau for containment and processing.

However, there existed a rare class of artifacts which, once sealed, had their negative effects suppressed and could become invaluable tools for survival—these were known as “Sealed Items.”

For example, the Mandrake Sword in Chen Zi’ang’s possession was a particularly useful Sealed Item.

The Bureau had strict protocols for the use and management of Sealed Items; anyone wishing to use one had to submit extensive documentation, undergo layer upon layer of review, and even then, the allotted time for use was strictly limited. In the face of a true emergency, by the time the Sealed Item was actually distributed, the threat would likely have already claimed its victims.

Thus, the operatives of the Sixth Division adopted a simple strategy: handle things themselves. When they acquired something, they would refrain from handing it over, instead finding ways to seal it on their own, thereby keeping it off the Bureau’s official asset roster.

Yet, it seemed that loophole was about to be closed.

At nine in the morning, notified to attend a meeting, the members of the Sixth Division gradually assembled in the conference room.

Tsukimi Suzuna took a seat beside Chen Zi’ang and immediately became absorbed in her phone.

[Stubborn Jade Rabbit]: Senior, senior! They say Bajō is going to confiscate our Sealed Items? Why?!

[Any Urban Legends?]: ………………

[Stubborn Jade Rabbit]: Don’t just send me an ellipsis! /angry

[Any Urban Legends?]: I don’t know either. Let’s hear what the Director has to say.

Everyone sat in the conference room, anxiety churning beneath their impassive expressions, when suddenly a woman entered from outside—the head of the Oversight Division, Majima Ayami.

At the sight of her, a single thought sprang up in the minds of the Sixth Division operatives:

Here comes the fool.

Majima Ayami entered but didn’t immediately sit. Instead, she beamed and exchanged pleasantries with someone outside the door.

A moment later, a lean, middle-aged man walked in—the Director of the Public Security Bureau, Bajō Eiken.

At the sight of him, another collective thought arose:

Here comes the chief fool.

Majima Ayami took her place beside the head seat at the table, holding the chair for Bajō Eiken. After he sat, she settled on his left, placing her laptop on the table, her expression shifting from warm smile to stern severity.

Takahashi Kensuke sat on the right, staring down at his documents, his face drained of energy.

Bajō Eiken swept the room with an imposing gaze; wherever his eyes landed, heads lowered, everyone avoiding his stare.

“I’ve called you all here today mainly to tighten up our internal regulations,” Bajō Eiken announced. “Majima, please continue.”

“We at the Oversight Division have called this departmental meeting because we discovered that, during past field operations, several operatives had privately retained Sealed Items they recovered,” Majima Ayami said, tapping away at her laptop without looking up. “That is a serious breach of protocol.”

A breach of protocol… The assembled operatives could barely restrain their derision.

Only Tsukimi Suzuna, confused, quietly messaged Chen Zi’ang for clarification. This time, she got a prompt reply.

Many of the Sixth Division’s complicated rules had been learned through bitter experience, and everyone complied without need of Oversight’s reminders. But in recent years, the new regulations were little more than the byproducts of bureaucratic power struggles.

Take, for example, the rules for requesting Sealed Items. Originally, a field agent would submit a request to the Intelligence Unit, which would be approved by Intelligence Officer Sui Kazari.

The logic was sound: Sealed Items were dangerous, so Intelligence needed to assess the risk, confirming the item wouldn’t kill the applicant before releasing it for use.

But once Bajō Eiken became Director, he insisted that all approved requests be forwarded to him for final approval. Only with his personal sign-off would the item be issued.

In most departments, this was a typical power play by the big boss. But Bajō Eiken understood nothing about Sealed Items, so he further demanded that the Oversight Division co-sign, helping to review applications.

Majima Ayami, like Takahashi Kensuke, had been one of Bajō’s right-hand aides before his promotion. She was equally ignorant of the Sixth Division’s work, but excelled at feigning expertise. Soon, she devised a five-part application process, requiring agents to submit five separate documents for Oversight’s review:

First, an item description: What does this Sealed Item do? Why do you need it?

Second, a necessity statement: Why is this Sealed Item indispensable? What would happen if you didn’t use it?

Third, a hazard assessment: What dangers does the Sealed Item pose?

Fourth, a mitigation plan: How will you prevent those dangers from manifesting?

Fifth, a contingency plan: If something goes wrong, how will you remedy it?

The moment these requirements were announced, an uproar swept through the Sixth Division.

Just imagine: a sudden anomaly erupts in Heian-Kyō District, hordes of monsters rampage through the streets, citizens are being slaughtered, and operatives urgently need Sealed Items to contain the threat.

Instead, everyone rushes to a meeting room, frantically drafting documents. The paperwork and requests are submitted; Intelligence Officer Sui Kazari glances at them and approves instantly, but Oversight finds an issue on one item, sends it back for revision, demanding clarification in bold…

Just the thought of it was enough to make one’s blood pressure spike.

That very day, Takahashi Kensuke took the five-part application to Director Bajō to protest. It was said he erupted at Majima Ayami in the office, shouting, “I can fill out every damn form for you, and as soon as you approve them, I’ll go to the Intelligence Unit and have my memory wiped—do you dare?”

Majima Ayami, well versed in the unspoken rule of “never admit fault unless absolutely necessary” in island workplace culture, retorted with a cold smile, “As long as it’s compliant, you can wipe me into an idiot for all I care.”

In the end, it was the chief fool Bajō who hammered down the decision: process is process, and must be followed. In an actual emergency, agents could temporarily bypass Oversight and come directly to him; materials could be submitted afterward.

Afterward, Takahashi Kensuke gathered everyone at a local bar. The consensus was clear: keep survival tools hidden, and don’t let the Bureau know.

For the Sixth Division, the lives of its operatives were paramount. If you couldn’t get a Sealed Item when you needed one, and an urgent anomaly had to be dealt with, you’d be forced to go in unprepared… and that would mean real casualties.

Takahashi Kensuke understood well that Bajō Eiken was playing a game of checks and balances.

Because of the Sixth Division’s expertise and secrecy, Intelligence handled nearly all finances and equipment, beyond the reach of other departments. And since Intelligence fell under the Sixth Division’s jurisdiction, if Takahashi Kensuke ever rebelled, he could turn the division into his own independent kingdom, making Bajō’s directives completely ineffective.

That was why Bajō wanted Oversight involved, to limit Takahashi’s control… But the Sixth Division’s enemies were too formidable; there was no room for internal sabotage.

If a disaster struck, it couldn’t be solved with a private apology on television, you damn fool of a Director.

…

While Chen Zi’ang was quietly explaining all this to Tsukimi Suzuna, the tedious speeches in the meeting were finally drawing to a close.

“In summary,” Majima Ayami concluded, “all Sealed Items not previously reported and registered with the Intelligence Unit must be submitted, documented, and warehoused in the system by the end of this week.”

“And don’t think you can get away with anything. I can tell you now, our law enforcement recorders have captured most of you using those items in the field. Oversight is far from ignorant.”

“Is there anything else to add?” Bajō Eiken looked around. “If not, this matter is settled.”

“One moment,” Chen Zi’ang suddenly raised his hand. “Excuse me, I have a question.”