Deri peeked out from between his fingers.“All of them?”

　　“All of them.”

　　“Spisa, are you a devil?”

　　“It’s not too late to find out now.”

　　Derry let out a wail and stood up, resigned to his fate. He’d eaten too much; his stomach felt painfully full as he rose, and he couldn’t help but rub his stomach and let out a belch. Spisa shot him a glance, his eyes brimming with disgust.

　　“What are you looking at? Never seen anyone eat until they’re stuffed before?”Deri retorted defiantly.

　　Spisa couldn’t be bothered to respond. He stood up first, the hem of his robe tracing a crisp arc.“You must finish reading the case files by the end of the day. If you don’t understand something, ask. Don’t embarrass me when we get to Great.”

　　“As you command, my lord—”Deri drawled, deliberately making an exaggerated bow. When he straightened up, he found that Spisa had already walked several steps away without looking back.

　　He quickened his pace to catch up, and the two walked one behind the other down the corridor. The mid-morning sunlight streamed in through the long arched windows, dancing on their shoulders. Walking behind, Deli watched Spisa’s upright silhouette and suddenly realized that although this man had a sharp tongue and an eccentric temperament, with him by his side, everything seemed to become more interesting.

　　“Spisa.”

　　“Hmm?”

　　“Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of this matter with Grete.”

　　Spisa paused for a moment but didn’t turn around; he merely gave a soft“Hmm.”

　　Deri followed Spisa into the study. Before he had a chance to marvel at the bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling and the mountains of files piled high, Spisa pushed him down to a large oak desk.

　　Three neat stacks of files were arranged on the desk, each about half an arm’s length high.

　　Spisa ran his finger over the files one by one and explained,“Grete’s shipping records for the past half-year, commercial tax returns, and the list of border crossing permits. Go through them all and mark anything suspicious. I’m going to take care of some official business; I’ll check your work when I get back.”

　　“Wait—”Deri grabbed his sleeve.“Are you just going to leave me here like this?”

　　Spisa looked down at the cuff he was holding, then looked back up at him.

　　Deri sheepishly let go and even smoothed out the crease in his sleeve as he did so.“I mean, you’ve got to at least tell me what’s important, right? There’s so much here—I won’t finish going through it all by tomorrow.”

　　“Then read until tomorrow.”

　　“…Are you even human?”

　　Spisa raised an eyebrow slightly, his expression clearly saying,“What do you think?”

　　Derry conceded defeat and resignedly pulled over the first file, flipping it open. Dense lists of goods and numbers crawled into his eyes like ants; he hadn’t even read two lines before his head started spinning. No wonder Spisa always wore such a stern expression—looking at this stuff day in and day out would make anyone’s face go stiff.

　　Spisa walked to the door and suddenly remembered the customs declaration for the shipment of spices from Vincent&Co. last month; the quantities were vague, and the place of origin had been changed twice. Then there was the fact that the Silverfin’s unloading time that night was off, and it hadn’t docked at its usual berth. On top of that, the ledgers of the three trading houses showed that the volumes of cloves and nutmeg coming in and going out were consistently different from those of other firms. Taken individually, these things weren’t significant, but when pieced together, they made one unable to help but wonder.

　　He stood by the door, a sense of doubt creeping into his mind.

　　Then he spoke up:“Focus on the spice shipment records. For the waybills from the three trading houses under Carlo Vincent’s name, if they don’t match up with other firms’records, mark them.”

　　“Got it,”Deri said, waving his hand without looking up.“Go ahead with your work—don’t disturb me while I’m studying.”

　　Spisa turned and gave him another look. Deli was slumped over the desk, his chin resting on the case files, his legs stretched out long beneath the table—looking just like a big cat that had been wilted by the sun.

　　He looked away, closed the door, and left.

　　The study fell silent, with only the rustling sound of Deli turning pages.

　　After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Deli had spread the Vincent Trading Company’s shipping manifests across the entire table. With a quill pen in his right hand, he was scribbling on the paper, while the tip of his left index finger tapped the tabletop intermittently. Though he appeared carefree and unrestrained, when he actually got down to work, he was deeply focused—so much so that he didn’t even hear someone knocking on the door.

　　Knock, knock.

　　Seeing that there was no response to his knocking, Lock pushed the door open a crack and cautiously poked his head inside.

　　“Chief Inspector…”

　　Dery looked up and saw his subordinate, Lock, standing in the doorway, with the impassive-looking Decaire beside him.

　　The butler gave him a slight bow, stepped back, and closed the door behind him.

　　Rock stood there, rubbing his hands together, his smile looking more like a grimace than a smile.

　　Deri dipped his quill into the inkwell, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and let a sinister smile play at the corners of his mouth.

　　“Rock, you’re just in time. I was just about to look for you.”

　　“…C-Chief Cha, did you need something?”

　　“Nothing much,”Deri said, springing to his feet and strolling leisurely around the desk to come to a stop in front of Rock.“I just wanted to ask you:I was investigating smuggled salt in the riverine area, got chased for three blocks, and finally escaped by hiding in a pig-transport wagon—who told Spisa about that?”

　　Lock’s legs went weak on the spot.

　　“Chief! I was wrong—I really was wrong!”He threw himself forward and clung to Deri’s thigh, sobbing,“I had a couple too many that day, and that aide from the Taman family was a real master at coaxing information out of people. I—I let it slip without even realizing it…Chief, punish me however you like—you can dock my pay if you must, but please don’t fire me!”

　　Derry staggered under the weight of his embrace and nearly knocked over the inkwell on the table.“Let go, let go! What kind of behavior is this?”

　　Lock let go, but remained kneeling on the floor, looking up at him with pleading eyes, like a large dog that had done something wrong.

　　Deli, exasperated by his stare, pressed his hand to his forehead and sighed.“All right, all right. Get up and let’s talk. Spisa isn’t a stranger—if he knows, he knows. It’s just…a little embarrassing.”

　　Lock scrambled to his feet, his expression instantly brightening.“I knew you’d be magnanimous, Commissioner Cha!”

　　“Cut the nonsense.”Deri sat back down in his chair, crossing his legs.“So, how did you end up here? I don’t recall summoning you.”

　　“Commissioner Cha, you’ve got some nerve saying that!”Rock leaned in, pulled a letter from his coat, and presented it with both hands.“You left in such a hurry without a word. No one at the Estate Administration Bureau could be reached, and the Minister of Finance was furious. He said you never act in accordance with the*Taman Principles*—that you’re disorganized and undisciplined, leaving without reporting, failing to register your residence, and not leaving a single contact number. Do you have any idea how many letters of reprimand he’s written?”

　　Deri took the letter, tossed it on the desk without even opening it, and said,“I’m not from the Taman estate—what business is it of his?”

　　“Inspector-General, although you’re a member of the Perth family, you hold the title of Chief Inspector-General of the Taman family. According to the rules, all your overseas activities must be reported to and filed with the Taman Estate Administration Office. The Minister of Finance has made it clear that if you continue to act on your own like this, he’ll freeze your entire audit budget.”

　　“…Damn, he’s ruthless.”Drey’s mouth twitched slightly as he pointed to the paper and pen on the desk.“Write him a reply right now. First, list your assignment as Spisa Manor, and for contact information, write‘c/o Spisa Manor.’Second, since the Estate Administration Office requires a report, draft a written application for me while you’re at it. I need to apply for a cross-regional operation permit to enter the Special Control Zone in Greate.”

　　Lock picked up the pen but stopped after writing just two characters. He looked up at him.“Inspector, are you going to Greate?”

　　“Yes, with Spisa.”

　　Lock’s eyes widened.“Lord Spisa is going too? Then this is no small matter.”

　　“That’s why I told you to write it quickly—don’t dawdle,”Deri said, pulling another case file toward him and flipping it open.“Once you’re done, take it to Dicai and have him arrange for a courier to send it out by fast horse. We can’t delay on the Great matter; the application must be approved before we depart.”

　　Rock acknowledged the order and buried his head in writing the letter. After writing a few lines, he sneakily glanced up at Deri. His Chief Inspector was frowning as he reconciled the accounts; the desk was covered with shipping manifests, and the crisscrossing rows of numbers made his heart race. Deri was usually carefree and frivolous, but when it came to serious business, his dedication made him seem like a completely different person.

　　Rock suddenly felt a lump in his throat. Their Chief Inspector wasn’t taken seriously within the Perth family; people spent all day calling him a good-for-nothing who was just coasting through life. But here in Taman, Lord Spisa had entrusted him with such a crucial matter as the Great. Though the Chief Inspector complained bitterly, he must be overjoyed deep down.

　　“What are you thinking about? Hurry up and write,”Deri urged dryly.

　　“Yes, yes, yes!”Rock quickly lowered his head, his pen tip darting across the paper.

　　Afternoon sunlight streamed through the study’s windowpanes, falling on Deli’s lowered profile and casting long shadows from his eyelashes. The room was deathly quiet, broken only by the sound of the pen tip scraping against the paper and the occasional soft rustle as Deli flipped through the case files.

　　After a while, Lock finished writing the letter and handed it to Deri for a quick look.

　　Deri glanced at it and nodded.“All right, you can go.”

　　Lock put the letter away, walked to the door, then turned back.“Chief Cha, you’ve got to be careful in Great. I’ve been there once—it’s a chaotic place. Any random person on the street could be a gang informant. Don’t be the first one to charge into everything. Hide when you should, run when you must—and for heaven’s sake, don’t try to prove yourself.”

　　Derry, annoyed by his nagging, grabbed an empty glass from the table and made a move to throw it at him.“Try cursing me again, and see what happens?”

　　Rock darted out the door, tossing over his shoulder as he left,“Chief Cha, about that pig transport truck incident—I really didn’t mean to—”

　　“Get lost!”

　　After Drey bellowed that, he listened as Rock’s footsteps vanished in a flash at the end of the hallway, and finally couldn’t hold it in any longer—he burst out laughing himself.

　　He shook his head and refocused his attention on the case file. It was still light outside; he had most of the day left to tackle these numbers. If Spisa said he was going to inspect them, he absolutely couldn’t let him find any mistakes. The man might have a sharp tongue, but he certainly didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Spisa.