Chapter 65: Conversations on Two Fronts

The Chaos Altar had many virtues: it could exchange authorities, grant promotions, and facilitate communication with deities. Yet it had one notable flaw—it never explained what those authorities actually did.

Of course, from a rational perspective, Chen Zi’ang considered that perhaps the Chaos Altar’s understanding of authorities was too deep, and that if such forbidden knowledge were simply poured into his human mind, not only would he fail to comprehend it, he might plunge straight into madness. As Nico had once said, gods, lesser races, and humans all stood at different depths within the Abyss, with different spiritual visions and limits to what knowledge they could grasp.

Given that the Chaos Altar needed to motivate him to collect fireseeds, Chen Zi’ang leaned toward the idea that this was a protective measure.

Thus, the function of the “Touch of the Corpulent” would have to be discovered on his own, in due time and with careful experimentation.

Of course, there was another option: he could tell Nico what authorities he possessed and seek her advice as a Nightmare Priestess.

However, despite her kind demeanor, she was still of a lesser race. “Those who are not of our kind must harbor different intentions”—in the realm of the arcane, this was an unquestionable truth, and vigilance was always required.

Chen Zi’ang was about to leave when he heard Nico’s voice once more:

“Mr. Ask, you seem troubled by something.

“Remember this: in this universe, only weakness is the true original sin.

“Beyond that, there is no guilt.”

Chen Zi’ang was silent for a moment, then nodded in acknowledgment.

Returning from the world of dreams to reality, Chen Zi’ang changed into his pajamas and began his nightly ritual of checking messages on his phone, where he found his work group chat nearly exploding with activity.

As expected, all his colleagues were venting about that blasted fool’s “killing the donkey after the millstone is worn”—fortunately, the manager wasn’t in this group, so everyone spoke their minds freely.

Those in the civil service rarely worried about layoffs, but there were plenty of ways to make life miserable. For instance, Miyajima Asami’s Inspection Division had a subgroup called the “Internet Surveillance Unit,” which was nothing short of a cesspit.

Why call it a cesspit? Because the unit’s daily routine consisted of reviewing and handling “unlawful content reports” submitted by bored netizens.

To give an example: someone browsing an e-commerce site sees a product image of a yellow rubber duck. He deems the image inappropriate—why? Because it’s yellow, a “duck,” and it’s “little.” So he reports the image to the Public Security Bureau for processing.

Reports first pass through a machine review for sensitive words; if the algorithm can’t classify it, the Internet Surveillance Unit handles it manually.

Thus, the staff of the unit spent their days wearing thick glasses, staring at screens full of junk messages, making mechanical judgments over and over.

Combined with Chief Miyajima Asami’s caustic personality, Internet Surveillance was considered the most detested post within the Public Security Bureau, with an annual turnover rate consistently above fifty percent.

If Nagaba Eikens didn’t like someone, he’d suspend them for reflection. If during that suspension you failed to write a self-criticism and beg the manager for forgiveness, once your suspension ended, you’d be transferred to the Internet Surveillance Unit… and then they’d wait for you to resign of your own accord. Legend had it the most stubborn soul lasted only seven years.

Chen Zi’ang read their endless chatter with growing unease. He thought, The real trouble hasn’t even started, and you lot are already scaring yourselves to death. He quickly closed the work chat and found messages from two other people.

[Unyielding Jade Rabbit]: Senior, are you free tomorrow? I happened to get two tickets to the Thousand Islands Aquarium.

“That happened to get” was a bit of a stretch, but since tomorrow was Sunday and he had no work, Chen Zi’ang replied:

“I’ll ask Xiaozhu and let you know tomorrow.”

Family comes first—he’d been running around these past days and hadn’t spent much time with his sister. If he left her home alone again on Sunday, Xiaozhu would certainly be upset.

[Unyielding Jade Rabbit]: You can bring your little sister along, of course.

[Is There an Urban Legend?]: But aren’t there only two tickets?

[Unyielding Jade Rabbit]: No worries, I have an annual membership—free entry all year.

If she had a membership, why buy two tickets…

Chen Zi’ang found her story full of holes; it was obvious she was inviting him on a date.

Honestly, he had little desire to go.

Not that he disliked spending time with Suzuna Tsukimiya—she was lively, sweet-talking, always smiling, and even if they did nothing together, her presence was still a pleasure.

But with his department’s reshuffling imminent and his own future uncertain, he wasn’t in the mood for outings; besides, he’d just redeemed the “Touch of the Corpulent” and wanted to ask Ashiya Yuu if he could borrow his agency’s underground training room to study this new tentacle and see how it differed from the Touch of the Abyss.

Forget it, he’d decide tomorrow.

“Xiaozhu’s already asleep. I’ll ask her in the morning if she wants to visit the aquarium,” Chen Zi’ang replied. “I’ll let you know then.”

[Unyielding Jade Rabbit]: Okay! I’ll wait for your good news. [heart emoji]

Chen Zi’ang closed the chat window and turned to the next unread message.

[Sings Well]: You left halfway through my concert tonight—was there something you weren’t satisfied with?

Chen Zi’ang: …………

A superstar personally asking for his “concert impressions” was a bit overwhelming.

[Is There an Urban Legend?]: No, you sang beautifully. I just had an emergency at work and had to leave early. Sorry.

A moment later, she replied.

[Sings Well]: No need to apologize—work comes first, of course. It must be tough running a detective agency.

[Is There an Urban Legend?]: Actually, I’m a Public Security officer.

[Sings Well]: Really? That’s amazing! I once considered becoming an officer or maybe a prosecutor. Upholding justice just seemed so cool.

[Is There an Urban Legend?]: It’s all right. Anyway, if you ever run into trouble again, feel free to report it to me—I won’t charge you.

[Sings Well]: Mm-hmm.

Chen Zi’ang was about to set his phone aside when another message popped up.

[Sings Well]: By the way, has something happened lately? A lot of people are saying they’ve seen monsters in the streets.

[Is There an Urban Legend?]: Where exactly?

[Sings Well]: I’m not sure. All sorts of places, apparently. But blogs can’t post about this now, so people just message me privately.

Chen Zi’ang pondered. Summer Violet lived in a penthouse at a luxury riverside apartment—she was about as far removed from ghouls as one could get.

Still, had things outside deteriorated this much?

Rationally, he knew Nagaba Eikens had outsourced all such work: ordinary ghouls would be handled by the army’s special suppression squads, and the rest by various agencies, monks, and shrine maidens—none of it would involve him anymore.

But even if he put aside the need to harvest fireseeds, he found it strange to be hiding behind the lines, receiving protection, instead of standing at the front against the arcane.

Best to get some rest.

Elsewhere, at the Tsukimiya residence.

Because her senior had questioned the ticket issue, Suzuna Tsukimiya had improvised the “annual membership” story. But she quickly realized the flaw: while a third ticket was easy to buy, if she pulled out a ticket at the aquarium entrance in front of her senior, her earlier excuse would fall apart.

Without hesitation, Suzuna messaged Goro Emmon:

“Uncle Emmon, I need an annual membership to the Thousand Islands Aquarium.”

“Miss,” Goro replied, “the aquarium doesn’t offer annual memberships—just monthly passes with discounts.”

“Then have them make one!”