“You scamming little bastards!”
Sirin shrieked at the top of her lungs.
“You dare pull this filthy con right in front of Decurion Klaus, newly appointed officer of the Imperial Security Forces?!”
“…!!”
Sirin spun around, shoved the obliviously standing Klaus in the back, and sent him stumbling straight into the middle of the floor.
The moment Klaus staggered out into the open, bewildered and off-balance, Sirin ducked behind his back and screamed again.
“Make way for the esteemed newly appointed Decurion Klaus! Everyone on the ground! You’re all under arrest!”
A frigid silence fell over the gambling den.
Every eye in the room locked onto the flustered, blond officer blinking in confusion — then slid downward, from his face to his uniform, to the officer’s sword at his hip.
“…”
“Oh, hell — that’s actually Security Forces!”
“Run!”
“Flip it! Flip the table!”
Chaos erupted.
The moment word spread that Security Forces had arrived, every thug, lowlife, and bottom-tier adventurer in the gambling den upended their tables and scattered in a blind panic.
“…”
They’d bolted, but most of them probably hadn’t done anything particularly wrong.
In a grey zone like this, though, survival trumped innocence.
When authority showed up, the first one out the door was the last one to end up in a cell.
Nobody wanted to find out what charge might stick.
And what did Sirin do, having created this beautiful disaster?
“Oh…”
She let out a soft, appreciative murmur and bent down fast.
Klaus blinked.
He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
‘…She’s out of her mind.’
Sirin had started sweeping up the coins scattered across the floor.
“……”
Klaus was speechless.
This woman — not for a single moment did she stay within the bounds of anything he considered normal.
She’d used him as a uniformed scarecrow for *this*?
For picking up loose change off a gambling den floor?
Sirin straightened up after one thorough sweep of the room, the corners of her eyes curved in satisfaction at the weight of her newly stuffed pockets.
“This trick’s got legs. Better haul than I expected.”
“……”
Catching Klaus’s look of pure disbelief, Sirin glanced away and muttered under her breath.
“…Abandoned money belongs to whoever claims it first. That’s just how it works.”
*Is she insane?
Or just a beggar?*
Without even realizing it, Klaus had cut straight to the core of who Sirin was.
Sirin pointedly ignored his stare and called out brightly.
“Right, next stop.”
*She’s going to do this again?*
She did it again.
Next: another gambling den.
“By order of the Imperial Security Forces’ rising star, newly appointed Decurion Klaus! Freeze, you illegal gambling scum!”
“Damn it, Security Forces! Everyone run!”
Next: a black market exchange.
“Under the leadership of Klaus, top graduate of the 1557th class of the Imperial Academy and newly appointed Decurion of the Imperial Security Forces, we hereby conduct an emergency search and seizure of this illegal arms trading operation!”
“W-we’re just dealing in scrap metal— *gyaah!*”
Next: some random back-alley street corner.
“Behold the procession of His Excellency Klaus, the greatest genius in Imperial Academy history, future Supreme Commander of the Imperial Military, and current newly appointed Decurion of the Security Forces! Is there anyone here breathing without a permit?!”
“Wait, why would you need a permit to brea—”
“…”
Sirin tore through back alleys and grey zones, screaming like she was having some kind of episode.
“Security Forces! Newly appointed Decurion! Klaus! Security Forces! Newly appointed Decurion! Klaus!”
She didn’t seem interested in actually catching any of the back-alley thugs.
Money didn’t seem to be the point either.
She’d picked up a bit of ownerless coin at the gambling den, but that was it.
She hadn’t touched a single item the black market dealers left behind when they fled.
Sirin just kept repeating Klaus’s name, over and over.
As if the real goal was to make sure there wasn’t a single soul in the back alleys who didn’t know the name of newly appointed Decurion Klaus.
Klaus felt as though he’d been stripped naked in public.
#
After reducing a few more back-alley spots to rubble, Sirin finally stepped into a run-down inn.
It looked like she’d booked the room in advance.
—*Slam.*
“Bounty hunter.”
The door shut, and Klaus couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“What in the world is the point of all this?”
He was beyond baffled.
This woman had said she’d taken him on to search for missing children.
But what in the hell did any of what they’d just done have to do with missing children?
Sirin’s expression showed not a trace of guilt.
She dropped into a chair in the room, crossed her legs, and spoke.
Klaus suddenly realized he found the sight of her sitting like that deeply irritating.
“Why?”
Sirin looked up at him blankly.
“Because it’s only natural, Mr. Creepy Stalker.”
“What kind of nonsense are you—”
“Hmph.”
Sirin smiled, smooth and unhurried.
“Listen up, Mr. Follows-Women-Around-Like-a-Dog. You know what the most important thing in rehabilitating a criminal is? It’s building a social environment that prevents reoffending. Why do you think you’ve been able to keep tailing a vulnerable civilian like me? Because nobody knows who you are. Isn’t that right?”
“…”
Sirin folded her arms and looked at him.
“Now you can no longer stalk women freely. Consider it a surveillance network built through social networking.”
“……”
Sirin nodded, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.
“I’m great at keeping up with the latest trends. Early adopter, through and through.”
“…”
He had accepted the Security Forces commander’s orders without resistance because it was both restitution and penance for his own mistake — and because the stated purpose of searching for missing children gave it legitimacy.
But *this*…
“Bounty hunter.”
Klaus finally let out a low growl.
“Is this your revenge? Did you drag me around just to humiliate me publicly like this? When you said I had a debt to repay — did you mean I had to endure this humiliation?”
The air in the room went cold.
Sirin stared at him, as if reading the shift in atmosphere.
Klaus looked into Sirin’s eyes.
They weren’t what he’d expected.
She wasn’t laughing.
She wasn’t flustered.
There was no petty hunger for shame and disgrace in her gaze.
Sirin stood up.
“Humiliation?”
The teasing edge had left her voice entirely.
“Your very existence is a humiliation to the Security Forces.”
“…What do you mean.”
“The commander must have said something to you. Do you know why you’re here?”
“…You said it was to search for missing children. But what does any of what you’ve been doing have to—”
Sirin didn’t wait for him to finish.
“Do you know what this is?”
She pulled a worn sheet of paper from inside her coat and flicked it at Klaus.
He caught it reflexively as it drifted toward him.
Last seen: alley near the West Gate Market, Lutecia
Distinguishing features: small scar on right cheek.
Left corner of mouth rises higher when smiling.
Cries easily; shy around strangers.
…
A familiar guild form.
A child’s clumsy portrait.
A missing persons search request.
Before he could react, Sirin’s cold voice drove into him like a blade.
“What your Security Forces, what your Imperial Military has failed to do — I’m the one doing it for you right now.”
“…The Security Forces operates according to procedure. Every case has a priority order—”
“Yeah, I know that.”
Sirin conceded the point with unexpected ease.
“You were understaffed. Public authority always is, everywhere. That’s why guilds and bounty hunters and all the rest of it exist in the first place — I know that.”
“…”
“And guilds and bounty hunters don’t exactly jump at requests like these. The pay is negligible, and more than that, there’s almost nothing to go on.”
Sirin let out a slow breath.
The face of Lina, the guild receptionist, surfaced in her mind.
Even someone whose job was to synthesize information had been at a complete loss, wringing her hands with nowhere to turn.
Klaus didn’t know how to respond.
“Well, it’s not necessarily the fault of individual soldiers that things like this get buried. There are people within the system who do their best.”
Sirin’s gaze drifted briefly to the middle distance.
“Your commander, for instance. She’s a genuinely pitiable person.”
“Pitiable?”
“Yeah. Even when I’m being completely insufferable, she still tries to negotiate with me using proper courtesy. She’s probably on the verge of a breakdown dealing with her useless rookie subordinate on top of everything else.”
“Negotiate — what do you mean by—”
“Do you know what the commander said to me? It wasn’t just ‘don’t overstep your authority with criminals.’ She also said she didn’t care whether they lived or died. What do you think that means?”
“…”
“It was her way of telling me not to get tangled up with a blockhead like you. If I just bring back the heads, there’s nothing to get tangled up about. She was trying to protect me from idiots like you, in her own way.”
Klaus lost his words.
It had never once occurred to him that the commander’s words had carried that intent.
“But you’re not like her, Mr. Stalker. You’re nothing like your commander.”
The contempt in Sirin’s voice was now completely undisguised.
“Someone like you would rather dig through the background of someone who’s actually getting things done and fish for something to pin on them, instead of doing this — the exhausting, thankless, utterly unrewarding work of finding children. Using some trivial pretext like ‘Witch,’ for instance. Isn’t that right?”
Klaus forced the words out through a tight throat.
“That was… a legitimate investigation into a credible suspicion.”
“Legitimate investigation?”
Sirin let out a short laugh, as if she’d just heard the funniest joke in the world.
“So where’s the evidence?”
“…”
“The actual evidence? Do you have any?”
Her voice went cold.
“All you had was a feeling. And you figured you’d find the evidence somehow along the way. Isn’t that right?”
She pressed on, contempt bleeding into every word.
“Suspicious bounty hunter — bring her in first, ask questions later. Grounds? What did you say yesterday? The consistent testimony of convicted criminals? Excellent grounds, I must say. I never would have guessed that an officer of the Empire would place such faith in the word of murderers, thieves, and rapists.”
“…”
“I thought I was pretty open-minded, but I never expected to meet someone even more open-minded than me here. Impressive.”
Sirin was starting to get genuinely angry.
It was the same everywhere — back home or in this fantasy land, it made no difference.
There were people in law enforcement who spent twenty years doggedly pursuing cold cases until they cracked them.
And there were people who tried to boost their numbers by pinning things on innocent bystanders.
That memory lit a sudden fire in her, and Sirin pulled the sheaf of papers from inside her coat and hurled it straight at Klaus’s face.
—*Thwap-thwap-thwap.*
Klaus took the paper barrage full in the face, completely helpless.
“Stalking is one thing. But trying to frame someone without a shred of evidence?”
“…”
The papers that fluttered weakly to the floor were all the same kind of document.
Different parents, different handwriting — all of them pleading for someone to find their child.
Sirin looked at Klaus standing there like an idiot and continued.
“Sure. Poke around until something sticks — fine. It’s not like it costs you much effort. Minimum investment, maximum return.”
“…”
“Absolutely brilliant. That’s exactly how investment should work. I’m learning so much from Mr. Stalker since I got here. Being reminded once again that the easy, comfortable way through life is always the right way.”
Klaus swallowed.
He hadn’t meant it that way.
Of course he hadn’t.
But he couldn’t argue back. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Sirin’s words had lodged in his ears and wouldn’t let go.
*Minimum investment.
Maximum return.*
Faces from high society flickered through Klaus’s mind.
People who had always tried to get the most out of the least.
The young noblewoman who had “accidentally” dropped her handkerchief to engineer a connection with the heir of a wealthy house.
The widow who had tried to win favor with a single false tear.
The mistress who had pressed her coquettish body forward, trying to claim both the loyalty and the desire of a young, capable officer at once.
*Easy.
Comfortable.
The path of least resistance.*
Klaus understood.
The essence was the same.
How was what he had done any different from any of that?
What grounds had he actually had for suspecting her of being a Witch?
Had Klaus witnessed Sirin committing any act of witchcraft firsthand?
No. Had Klaus tracked Sirin outside the city to verify the rumors himself?
No. All he had picked up were criminals’ written testimonies.
Thin reports that cost him nothing to collect.
Easy.
Comfortable.
The path of least resistance.
What was the difference between the hand of that noblewoman dropping her handkerchief and his own hand picking up a criminal’s deposition?
Without a word, Klaus bent down and gathered the papers from the floor.
“….”
Silence.
“What? Nothing left to say?”
Sirin scoffed.
“Decurion of the Imperial Security Forces.”
After a long silence, Klaus finally raised his head.
“…You said this was about searching for missing children.”
His voice came out rough.
“I hope that’s the truth. What is your plan?”
Sirin blinked.
*Well, look at that.*
Klaus’s manner had changed.
Sirin let out a small smile.
People who could admit their own mistakes were rarer than you’d think.
And this one turned out to be among that rare breed.
She revised her assessment.
She’d planned to use his rank and then kick him to the curb, but there might actually be a use for him.
“Had a change of heart?”
Sirin settled back into the chair and crossed her legs.
“…”
Klaus suddenly noticed that the sight of Sirin sitting there with her legs crossed was deeply irritating.
Why did his eyes keep getting pulled in that direction.
Whether or not she sensed his thoughts, Sirin let her voice relax and said,
“Well. I wasn’t really just trying to embarrass Mr. Stalker by going around shouting his name like that.”
“It wasn’t?”
“…Honestly, it was a little fun. But you were a stalker — past and present — so you should expect at least that much, shouldn’t you?”
“…”
Sirin shrugged off Klaus’s reproachful stare.
“Have you ever heard how bees behave?”
“…?”
What was this woman on about now.
Klaus found himself confused all over again.
Sirin said,
“Listen carefully.”
#
打草驚蛇.
Strike the grass, and the snake is startled into flight.
Sirin didn’t know the expression itself, but she had a rough grasp of the concept.
She thought back to a certain blockbuster cop movie she’d seen years ago.
In that film, when the police set up a fried chicken shop right in front of a criminal hideout and business started booming, the criminals grew uneasy and relocated their base of operations.
A police-run chicken shop driving out criminals.
Truly one of the most bizarre and inexplicable plot devices ever committed to film.
But in Sirin’s experience as a bounty hunter, the behavioral patterns of the criminals in that movie had a certain ring of truth to them.
The problem was that dropping a movie reference in a fantasy land would be completely lost on the stalker standing in front of her.
Sirin searched her memory.
How do you get through to an inflexible, by-the-book junior officer?
She landed on a different channel.
After a moment’s thought, she opened her mouth.
“Have you ever seen a beehive in the woods? Actually — do you even know what a bee is?”
“…I do. Saw them during training.”
“Good, this’ll go faster then.”
Sirin nodded.
“So you know what happens when you poke a beehive?”
Klaus stared at her.
“The bees swarm you. Are you treating me like an idiot?”
Sirin shrugged.
“Right. The bees swarm you. To protect their home.”
“Obviously—”
“But what happens if, for several days, you just linger near the hive — circling around it, acting like you might get close, like you might jab it with a stick, never quite doing it, just hovering?”
“…”
“The bees abandon the hive. They pack up their honey and move somewhere else. Somewhere without the dangerous stick.”
Sirin pointed at Klaus.
“Mr. Stalker. You’re the stick. You need to be the stick.”
“…”
Klaus swallowed.