I’m an Immigration Officer!

"I shall deliver the judgment."

A dry voice cut across the courtroom.
At that moment, every gaze turned toward Rio Castor.
It was the first time in nearly fifteen years that the King had publicly expressed his opinion.

The entire courtroom froze in place.
The Minister clenched both fists tightly, overcome with emotion.
“Finally…”

He looked up at the King with a mixture of tension and anticipation.
But then, confusion clouded his expression.
“…Your, Your Majesty?”

Something was wrong.
I followed his gaze—
—and I too couldn’t help but gasp.

Rio Castor’s face was no longer expressionless.
Those green eyes staring down at me, the furrowed brow twisted with deep creases—
There was only one emotion etched into the King’s face.

Rage.
For the first time in fifteen years, the King was glaring at me with fury in his eyes.
 

****
‘Pathetic.’
That was the first thought that crossed his mind.
Rio Castor scanned the faces of everyone staring back at him.

They all wore the same expression.
Desperation.
Faint hope.

Faith, and expectation.
The Foreign Minister seated far across the courtroom with the defense, and the Queen pressed almost flush against his side—both wore that same look.
They had placed everything in the hands of their King.

And Rio was not merely exhausted by the sight—he was sickened by it.
‘What’s the point of any of this?’
The entire trial felt meaningless.

After all, a single word from him could erase thousands of pieces of evidence and testimony.
So, in the heart of the King, there was no tremor, no wavering, not even the slightest interest.
Whatever was said, whatever was proven—in the end, all it took was a word from him.

A desperate fight to save one young man.
A mounting pressure to execute him.
To Rio, it had all felt like water flowing past.

That’s what he believed.
But now—
After watching it all unfold, from beginning to end—

His insides twisted.
A feeling he’d long forgotten.
The sorrow-buried heart began to churn again.

His fingers dug into the armrest so tightly they nearly snapped.
‘Why?’
He asked himself.

Why am I angry right now?
Who is this fury directed at?
Even he couldn’t explain the sudden wave of emotion, and he clenched his teeth hard.

His green eyes swept the courtroom, searching for the source.
And then he understood.
This was rage toward the Chief Inspector.

‘No. Not him.’
It wasn’t directed at Nathan Kell.
But at the power behind him.

At the Saintess bathed in light, and the owner of that light.
‘God…’
Only then did the King realize why he was so enraged.

This trial had become a moment for the history books.
The God of the Holy Church had, for the first time, intervened directly to protect the Saintess—and to empower the Chief Inspector’s position.
And simultaneously, the Pope’s authority had crumbled. A miracle—an utterly unprecedented chain of events.

Even though Rio had long since withdrawn from governance, he could grasp the gravity of it all just from the glances and murmurs exchanged in the chamber.
And from that, he could already predict the direction the world would now shift.
‘The Pope has fallen. The God has chosen the Saintess.’

The meaning was obvious.
The Pope, who had fanned the flames of holy war, would fade away.
The Saintess who renounced her title would become the harbinger of a new age.

The Holy Church would enter a new era—
—one of glory and revival.
A golden age.

And right at that realization, Rio felt his insides churn again.
That truth—that inevitability—was what provoked his wrath.
‘If God truly intervened—if that being really exists—’

He stared at the divine light shining down upon Erzena.
And asked the most fundamental question of all.
‘Why didn’t You protect my son?’

The words the Saintess had spoken flashed through his mind:
—The innocent must not die.
She was right.

‘Then what sin did my young son commit, to deserve death?’
Killed by his own little sister.
All because of some cursed “Talent Manifestation.”

For going against the Church?
Because I didn’t believe in God?
Then why is the Chief Inspector being spared now?

Fifteen years ago, when I first stood against the Pope’s will—why wasn’t I granted a miracle?
It infuriates me.
That buried, long-dead rage now roared back to life like wildfire.

"Beloved of God..."
He spat the words like venom.
If the world really does have those who are loved by God, and those who are not—

What a cruel, unjust world this is.
Was Lassen, then, forsaken by God?
While this unimpressive young man is somehow worth protecting?

He, who stole my beloved son from me, now moves to shield his favorite?
‘Then I will trample that so-called love myself.’
Pathetic.

The life of the Chief Inspector is mine to hold.
All I must do is issue the verdict.
"Let it be as the Queen wishes."

With just that one sentence, everything they had done until now would be reduced to nothing.
It wouldn’t matter how God chose to intervene—if he gave the order to behead the man first, it would all be over.
A hollow chuckle escaped him.

Nothing mattered to him anymore.
Not the dawn of a new era, not the generations yet to come.
What could one possibly expect from a world without their son?

‘And now You decide to intervene?’
Absurd.
His insides twisted.

He poured rage into a heart that had long since gone cold.
A dragon struck on its reverse scale would always go mad.
And so, King Rio Castor made up his mind.

“This trial shall…”
It would proceed according to the Queen’s will.
He was just about to say it—when his eyes met those of the Chief Inspector.

“…”
Did the man know the future? Or was he simply startled by the King’s expression?
Even as fear flickered behind his gaze, he did not look away.

Then, without warning, Nathan Kell’s final words echoed in Rio’s mind:
—There are no exceptions at the border. Please honor the agreement. Remember the duty of a neutral nation.
Those words left a new question in the King’s mind.

At this point, with the support of God behind him, Nathan had no reason to speak further.
If he had remained silent, none would have dared to challenge the Saintess who stood by his side.
So why, then, did he push the Saintess behind him and speak the final words himself?

He did not rely on God.
Instead, he had the Saintess step back, and spoke solely of his duty as an immigration officer, invoking only the binding agreement.
Rio Castor repeated that fact in his mind.

‘Why?’
He couldn’t understand.
A man loved by God—actively avoiding divine aid and trying to resolve the matter by his own strength?

The contradiction struck him hard.
King Rio Castor fell into contemplation.
What justifies my rage?

Who deserves punishment?
“Let it be as the Queen wishes.”
The temptation began to fade.

The wildfire of emotion that had overtaken him now began to cool in the confusion.
And in its place, a single thought emerged—
A way to deal with this contradictory man.

The King made his decision.
“This trial…”
I now pronounce the final judgment.

 
****
"Is hereby declared null and void."

A verdict no one had foreseen.
“!!!!!”
“!!!”

The thunderous declaration drew gasps from both the prosecution and the defense.
“Y-Your Majesty, what does that mean?”
“Void? Not guilty or guilty, but void?”

I too, stunned beyond comprehension, looked up with my mouth agape.
‘Void? As in… the whole thing never happened?’
But no one was more shocked than the Queen.

“Y-Your Majesty—no, my love, what are you saying!?”
Forgetting even where she was, she grabbed at the King’s sleeve in panic.
“You said you’d always do what I asked, like you always have—!”

“Silence.”
Not the brittle voice from before, but a commanding roar that cut through the courtroom.
In an instant, everyone fell silent.

That voice—it unmistakably echoed the King of old.
Rio Castor rose slowly from his throne.
Through the mess of his unkempt hair, his piercing green eyes overwhelmed the room.

“This trial was convened based on the Chief Inspector Nathan Kell’s autonomous decision, and the subsequent diplomatic controversy it caused.”
“However, it has now been revealed that {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} the plaintiff filed a false accusation—there was never sufficient cause to hold a trial in the first place.”
“Therefore, I declare this trial null and void. Furthermore, in accordance with the treaty, I order the immediate expulsion of the entire Pilgrimage Delegation from the kingdom.”

“This is a Royal Decree. It is to be carried out at once.”
A declaration like a bomb dropped.
Each word struck the room like a hammer.

“Respond.”
With his voice lowered into a growl, everyone replied in unison.
“W-We obey the Royal Decree!”

And finally, he spat words at his Queen like poison.
“Do not ever summon me for this kind of matter again, Queen. Not ever. That was my final word.”
With that, the King turned and left the courtroom.

—SLAM!
The doors shut with a thunderous crash.
Thunder passed. And all that remained was a silence that felt like suffocation.

Hearing those cold words for the first time, the Queen’s face turned ghostly pale.
“Ah… Aaaaah…”
Crushed by terror, she collapsed to the floor.

Not just the Queen—everyone in the courtroom was trembling.
“W-What is this…”
Even the Minister staggered, knees buckling.

This was not what anyone had expected.
Not even within the realm of possibility.
The King had awakened.

But it wasn’t a return to sound governance, nor a revival of royal ambition.
He was furious.
Like a dragon struck on the reverse scale—

Unstable, volatile, and burning with wrath.
Fifteen years’ worth of repressed emotions now roared to life within him.
 

****
Thud, thud, thud.
The King’s heavy steps echoed through the hallway as he muttered under his breath.
“I shall be watching you, Chief Inspector.”

The one that even God sought to protect.
For now, he would not touch him.
He would protect him—a man who walked alone, who refused compromise.

A man who rejected God, and stood like a stone against the crashing tide.
But if even once he showed the slightest reliance on that God—
If he dared to beg that revolting being for love or aid—

Then the King would use every means at his disposal to destroy him.
That is my wrath.
A revenge against God,
A lament for my dead son,
A price to be paid for using my judgment.

So resolved, Rio Castor closed the door to the chamber where his son’s portrait hung.
And with it, closed the door to his heart.