Editing City Series:Volume2 Chapter 1 (section)

===Part 1===

A man known simply as the Inspector had a private office on the second floor of Scotland Yard, London’s metropolitan police department.

The light of midday entered the large and tidy room through the window and it washed over a man standing by the window.

He was the Inspector.

He wore a brown three-piece suit and the dandy-colored collar was perfectly stiff, so he looked like an elite businessman from the real world. He would have looked perfectly at home in a modernized office district.

But regardless of how he looked, he could not be human if he lived in London.

Even so, no one could say anything more than that because not a single person in London knew his identity. No one knew his race, his name, or even his initials. They only knew he had a somewhat troublesome personality and he excelled at Overriding and Overlossing.

He demonstrated that now by Overriding a cigar into his mouth out of nowhere. The tip of the cigar suddenly lit, so it seemed he had a match or lighter Overlossed somewhere.

He exhaled some smoke while making sure it did not touch his gray-streaked moustache.

He brushed a hand through his hair, sat on the large work desk by the window, and crossed his legs in a calculated fashion. The action created a sharp noise that refused to be ignored.

After that, he glanced toward the wall and his reflection in a tall, narrow mirror.

“Yes.”

He posed as if testing himself and slightly adjusted his tie.

“The coloring is wonderful. Is this what they call Italian quality? No, or is this thanks to my own quality?”

He breathed a satisfied sigh and seemed to be in an excellent mood.

“Yes, truly a man of the heavens.”

But as soon as he said that…

“What are you doing, idiot?”

He turned toward the blunt tone one would expect of an older sister.

A uniformed woman stood at the huge door into the office. She had the well-formed eyes of a werecat and they were giving the Inspector a look of pity.

He completely ignored the look and moved to the window while thinking about the backlight.

“Oh? Fir, I thought you were off duty today. What do you need?”

“C’mon, now. Everyone was called in because of the murders this morning. Isn’t that why you’re here, too?”

Fir sighed and swept back her high ponytail. Her cyan hair darkened toward the front and it gently swayed behind her. Her eyes remained on the Inspector.

“So don’t ask what I need. It’s my job to help you when you have a job, so try to act more like my boss.”

“Don’t blame me. A capable man is always busy. And as you work for me, you are a capable secretary who-…”

“Yes, yes, yes. Quit pretending to be a dandy gentleman and get in your seat. We’ve got a lot of paperwork today.”

“I can read paperwork while I stand.”

“You need to sign it,” she snapped back.

When she placed the paperwork on the desk, it thudded down like a piece of luggage.

“You want my autograph that badly? Well, if you insist.”

“I don’t want it. This is just part of the job.”

“What an unpleasant young girl.”

The Inspector reluctantly sat in his seat and placed the cigar in the ashtray.

He lightly cleared his throat, rested his elbow on the desk, used some Verbal Self Control, and Overrode the mood he was giving off.

“Now, then. Fir, what kind of case is this one?”

“If you want to know what this job is about, just read the paperwork.”

He frowned when he saw her point at the paperwork on the desk.

“Are you really my secretary?”

“I do sometimes wish I wasn’t.”

“A secretary needs to at least summarize all this paperwork!”

“This ''is'' the summarized version. And it’s your fault for letting it pile up this much.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

“Aren’t you supposed to live as the quintessential dandy? So get to work.”

“Wait, Fir. Listen.”

The Inspector raised a finger at the perfect angle and with the perfect timing.

“You keep talking about work, but I deal with trouble, not work!”

“Trouble? All you ever do is cause that.”

“When have I ever caused any trouble!?”

“Well… Okay, you can start by signing this permit.”

“Don’t ignore me!”

Without looking up at the Inspector, Fir spread out a few pieces of paperwork on the desk.

“Look, even a monkey can do this.”

“You think I am on the level of a monkey, don’t you?”

“Well, of course I do.”

“I’ll prove you wrong one of these days,” he grumbled.

He pulled a quill from the pen holder, checked on the ink, and quickly began signing the papers. He moved through the papers placed before him at a decent pace.

He was quite fast.

“…”

As his hand flipped though the paperwork, Fir watched to make sure he was doing it right.

At the fifth, sixth, or seventh page, she quickly snatched the cigar from the ash tray and naturally pressed it against his hand.

It produced a quiet sizzling sound for a moment and his hand stopped moving.

“Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot! Fir! What did I do to deserve that!?”

“Your signature is too messy, you stupid old man. People are going to think it’s just an ink stain!”

“My signature always looks like this!”

“Liar. I’ve been watching and every last one of them is different.”

“I like to be original.”

“Shut up! Stop making up excuses!”

After shouting, Fir’s shoulders drooped. She could not let herself get so worked up.

“I always end up Altering so quickly when I’m around you.”

“I like it better when you're the Siamese cat.”

“My claws are sharper that way, you know?”

She used some Verbal Self Control.

He Overlossed the burn on his hand, ignored it, and began signing again. This time, he did it properly. His pace had dropped, but it was still acceptable.

After three, four, or five, the number of completed documents reached the double digits and continued to grow. The quill moved back and forth between the papers and the ink pot.

“…”

Silence fell over them.

However, it was broken by a light knock on the office door.

The Inspector gave some Open Words as he continued signing.

…''I’m busy, so have them come back later.

Fir nodded in understanding.

“Come in.”

The Inspector bared his teeth and glared up at her as the door opened.

A slender form slipped through the cracked-open door on unsteady feet.

“Excuse me. It’s Klausl.”

She was a girl from the main office.

She entered the private office with her eyes closed and bowed. Her long blonde hair spilled from the shoulders of her black apron skirt and over her chest.

The Inspector watched as she frantically fixed her hair.

“What do you need, Klausl?”

“Oh, right. Um, the reception desk has been getting a flood of complaints about late paperwork and we don’t know what to do.”

Fir glared at him.

“See? Your laziness is causing trouble for Klau.”

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child,” he complained.

“Um, Fir? Is something wrong?” asked Klausl.

“There’s always something wrong with this monkey.”

She showed no mercy.

“I am not a monkey!”

“Not genetically, maybe. But you’re about as capable as one.”

Klausl tilted her head with her eyes still closed, so the Inspector spoke to her.

“This is between the two of us, so do not worry about it.”

She replied with a pure smile.

“Understood. You can rest easy because I will not worry about it in the slightest.”

“I’d…kind of like it if you worried a little bit, though.”

“?”

Fir casually waved a hand toward Klausl’s confused look.

“You can ignore what this…thing says, Klau. Any news on the murder case?”

“Yes,” she immediately replied. “A lot is still unknown about it. The paperwork you were given before has the information on the victims and the surrounding situation. Currently, we have called in Amon, the one who first reported the murders.”

That name instantly changed the atmosphere in the room.

It was the Inspector and Fir who caused that drop in the room’s temperature.

“Again?” muttered the man.

Fir turned her back on that word and naturally looked toward Klausl.

“Don’t say that, Inspector. It isn’t like he was the killer.”

“Do you know him?” asked Klausl.

“Back when I lived on the streets as the leader of a group of Urban Heroes, he led our combat unit.”

Fir’s tone was emotionless as she talked about her childhood.

The Inspector gave a deep nod and faced straight forward.

“And I arrested him once.” He took a breath. “He was still on probation I believe.”

“Yes, one of the victims was a Mr. Jonathan Holland who had taken him in. Amon has an alibi and it has been proven that he was not the murderer.”

At that point, Klausl tilted her head.

“What kind of person is Amon? I am about to bring him breakfast.”

Fir was the one to answer. She crossed her arms and chose her words carefully.

“Are you familiar with the idea of a death wish?”

“No, I’m not.”

“There once was a guy who always charged head-first and alone into fights and battles he had no chance of winning. No matter how much he was injured, he would keep fighting. He probably wanted to burn out and die.”

“…”

“The one who would always seek out a place to die like that is Death Wish Amon. He’s a demon, but he doesn’t use that power and he has no wings.”

After some hesitation, she summed up her description.

“He’s a pitiable guy.”