Chapter 140. Whistleblower (1)
Bang!
The Manager of Division Nine slammed his palm against the polished oak desk as if to splinter it, shouting, “It wasn’t me!”
“You’re very rude. I’ll add obstruction of duty,” the auditor answered coolly.
“... No, please listen! I’m telling you, it wasn’t me!” The manager quickly folded his tail, but the blow had been dealt.
“Didn’t you work with Assistant Manager Cheong Jeong to smuggle artifacts out of District Seven?”
The manager’s face hardened. He had known for some time that Cheong Jeong, the youngest member of the team, had been diverting valuable items from his assigned districts.
In return for looking the other way, the manager had occasionally procured items that the higher-ups wanted. Thanks to that, Division Nine had taken on the Investigation Bureau’s major projects, allowing the manager to arrange team assignments and personnel as he pleased.
“On what basis do you make such accusations? This is offensive!” the manager demanded, scowling as if he were undeserving of such insults. Naturally, because getting caught would be the end of him.
Oddly enough, even without evidence, the matter was treated as settled.
The young auditor played with his rimless glasses and read from the papers in his hand. “So... It seems like you smuggled Raw Blue Sapphire Crystals at the Starium Mine in Sector Seven, and Droplet Coral at Solace Beach in Sector Eight.”
His, which carried conviction as if this wasn’t some tentative probe, made the manager flinch. Moreover, the details were quite specific.
“Who fed you these specific lies?” the manager barked.
“There was an anonymous tipster.”
An anonymous tipster? the manager frowned.
“It seems like you’ve been collecting from every sector, haven’t you? The Ermeden necklace, didn’t that go missing after the restructuring started?”
“W-what are you saying?” the manager stammered.
“It was mentioned in a draft of the preliminary investigation report, but later omitted.”
How could he know what changed in a draft before it was shared with other bureaus?
Anger and disbelief warped the manager’s expression, but the auditor answered placidly, “I told you, there was an anonymous tipster. And besides, you’ve been keeping that bundle of Platinum Fleece in your office, the one that was reported stolen.”
“And is that information also from—”
“Again, there was an anonymous tipster.”
So who the hell is it?!
The manager forced down the urge to shout and asked more calmly, “Is it Lee Eun-Ho? That same kid from earlier?”
“Excuse me sir. You know the meaning of anonymous, right?” the auditor said calmly.
The manager trembled, but even through his fear, one thought settled with grim certainty. It had to be that rookie!
He recalled the earlier remark, sharp as a needle.
“You really should’ve kept your hands clean, sir. If you had, I wouldn’t have needed to report you.”
No... But it’s impossible...
Logically, it seemed impossible. How could a newcomer possibly know the decades-old secrets everyone had kept? Eun-Ho probably didn’t even know where the restrooms, the cafeteria, or the supply room were yet.
Or, he might have powerful backing! the Manager thought, feeling as if someone had struck him with a hammer.
That would explain the stellar grades that made everyone envious, a demeanor confident enough to pass for a long-serving employee, and extraordinary swordsmanship besides.
“It’s Lee Eun-Ho! You need to investigate him! Someone planted a mole! Really, there’s no other explanation!” the manager shouted, certain in his conviction.
The auditor barely seemed to register the outburst. Instead, he tapped the papers on the desk once, twice, arranging them. “Well, I’ll take note of that. For now, the investigation into the illegal export of artifacts will end here.”
That phrase meant nothing would be done immediately. The manager felt the contempt rise like bile. If the truth were to come out, this whole farce would collapse. He had to take matters into his own hand. The manager stood abruptly, the desk drawer clicking as he pushed back his chair.
“Where are you going?” the auditor asked.
The manager found the auditor’s expression perplexing. “Aren’t we finished here?”
Hadn’t the auditor just declared the investigation concluded?
“I meant the questioning about the artifact export is finished,” the auditor replied.
The audit process was nowhere near simple.
“Ugh... What else is there?” the manager demanded, trying to keep his voice composed so that neither irritation, impatience, nor rage showed.
The auditor’s next words hit like a physical blow. “Promotion bribery, accepting kickbacks, irregularities in hiring, and even the murder of a subordinate. You should forget about going home tonight.”
The manager sagged into his chair with a hollow, stunned sound.
***
It was true that Eun-Ho had killed Cheong Jeong and robbed Cho Bok’s Personal Vault. The manager had no solid proof, but he had his suspicions.
Eun-Ho knew he had two choices. First, he could confess that he’d taken Cheong Jeong’s belongings. Second, he could deny everything to the very end.
If he confessed, the advantage was clear: he could avoid unnecessary conflict with the manager, and likely pass through the ordeal unscathed. However, the downside was just as obvious.
I would have to give everything back.
In truth, that would have been the proper thing to do from the start, whether or not he had the key to open it. Confessing now wouldn’t erase the guilt of having secretly kept it for himself.
That left the second option, which was to deny everything. Best-case scenario, no one would notice and he could get away with it, but that was wishful thinking.
He remembered what Cheong Jeong had once said.
“You think you can just brush this off?! The Audit Bureau can identify a culprit from a single attack mark!”
According to him, the Bureau’s investigative power was closer to that of the police or even the prosecutor’s office, than that of a normal corporate audit team.
“I’ll ask you one last time, Mr. Lee Eun-Ho. You really didn’t kill him?”
Even deceiving the manager might prove impossible in the long run.
If I hide it and they find out, I lose control of the situation, he thought.
Then the conclusion came to him like a sharp click of steel.
Then, I just need to strike first.
Once he made that decision, he made a move right away, his wrist tingling from tension.
***
“Enough about this anonymous informant! Who the hell is this person? Are you really going to accuse me based on one person’s word?!” the manager shouted, pounding his chest in indignation.
The auditor replied calmly, his expression unreadable, “It wasn’t just one person.”
“What?! What do you mean?”
Flipping through the papers in his hand, the auditor said in the same detached tone, “This morning, the Audit Bureau held its regular morning assembly where the director gave a brief address.”
“Well, that happens every month, doesn’t it?” the manager muttered.
“Yes. And it only lasted about ten minutes.”
The manager frowned and thought, So what?
“During that time, letters of accusation were delivered. To be precise, they were left in front of the Bureau offices.”
“Some kind of prank, then?”
“In front of all eighty-nine Audit Bureau offices,” the auditor said flatly.
The manager’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“Do you think one person could have covered an entire building that size in ten minutes?”
“N-no way!”
“It was a coordinated act. It was an organized retaliation, without question.”
That meant Eun-Ho couldn’t have done it alone unless he could teleport.
Then, who on earth would go this far? And for what grudge? the manager thought.
The auditor said in a lower voice weighted with implication, “Internally, we’re also considering the possibility that Assistant Manager Cheong Jeong asked others for help before he died. The letters contained details that only those involved could have known.”
The manager flinched. The meaning of the quiet statement hit hard. If Cheong Jeong had sent those letters before his death, then everyone named in them would be considered murder suspects.
Realizing that, the manager muttered, “I-I need a cigarette.”
His hands trembled as he stood. He was still officially only a cooperating witness, thus such a small request was permitted.
Click.
He lit a cigarette in the smoking area. Outside the glass door, an employee from the Audit Bureau stood watch to make sure he didn’t flee.
Ugh, come on! Please, the manager thought.
In that brief window, he tried to connect with the division chief.
Rrrrrr...
After what felt like an eternity, a voice finally came through. “What’s going on?! Things are going sideways!”
Anxious as it was, that voice felt like his only lifeline.
“It’s bad,” the manager whispered back. “We’re about to take the full blame for this.”
The division chief seemed to grasp the gravity of the situation immediately, his tone dropping low to match the manager’s. “What about the goods? Have you found them?”
“Is that really what matters right now?! I’m about to lose my head!”
“Of course it matters, you idiot! You’ll lose it twice over once if they demand compensation for everything that’s missing!”
The division chief was right. The murder was one thing, but they would also be held responsible for all the treasures that had vanished.
The problem was, the manager had no idea where those treasures were, let alone how to return them. In other words, they’d soon be hit with an astronomical restitution demand paid in Welfare Points. That had to be avoided at all costs!
The very thought of that sickly yellow payment slip landing on his desk, tightening around his neck like a noose, made him shudder. A cold chill ran down the manager’s back.
Apparently, the division chief felt the same way, because he finally said in a low growl, “Lee Eun-Ho. Let’s just pin everything on Lee Eun-Ho.”
That was his grand solution.
“How can we do that?!” the manager asked. “He just joined yesterday! The bribery and the favoritism all happened before he was even born!”
“Forget the rest. Just tag him with the murder charge first. I’ll find a way to tie the rest together.”
The division chief had survived decades of bureaucratic storms to reach his position. He was a man hardened by time, weathered by countless audits and buried scandals.
“We have to minimize this incident somehow,” the division chief said.
“How?”
“If we can keep it inside the Investigation Bureau, I can handle it myself.”
“Then, does that mean we—”
“Yes. We hand Eun-Ho over to the Investigation Bureau’s Special Investigation Control Team.”
The Special Investigation Control Team was better known by its nickname, the Bureau’s Mad Dogs. It was an independent unit, without any departmental affiliation. Originally formed as a temporary task force a few years back, it had been promoted to a full team earlier this year.
The manager didn’t know the details, but with the division chief’s influence, moving a newly formed team like that should be easy.
“... I’ll trust you on this, sir,” the manager said finally, a faint glimmer of hope crept into his face.
“Good. So start denying everything. Don’t run your mouth unnecessarily.”
“Understood.”
Pzz—
The manager stubbed out his cigarette, a faint smile curling at his lips. Imagining Eun-Ho crushed beneath the gears of that ruthless team, he felt lighter already.
***
Eun-Ho didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally heard the sound of footsteps.
The door opened, and a wave of people poured in. They were not the Audit Bureau people who had told him to wait, but a group of strangers in black suits.
“We’re from the Special Investigation Control Team,” one of them said. “You’ll come with us.”
According to Cho Bok’s internal report, no one could quite define the Special Investigation Control Team’s purpose. Apparently, they were a nuisance more than a division, constantly poking into other departments without clear jurisdiction.
Still, they’re said to have no ties to the Bureau’s regular staff. All recruited from outside.
Even so, he couldn’t take chances.
“Summon,” he murmured.
He slipped a dagger into his sleeve as he followed them. If things went wrong, he’d create an opening with the Wind Blade skill and use Acceleration to escape.
He walked down the dim corridor, alert.
“Where are you taking me?” Eun-Ho asked quietly.
The men in black didn’t answer. They simply surrounded him and kept walking. The lights grew dimmer, the silence heavier.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Eun-Ho was just adjusting his stance when light footsteps echoed from around the corner. There was a small figure, barely waist-high. She was wearing the same skirted pants he’d picked out for her from the Sky Island children’s boutique. Furthermore, that wide, beaming smile was so familiar.
“Uncle!”
“Yul?”
Yul ran toward him, wrapping her tiny arms around his legs. She didn’t seem afraid of the black-suited men at all, giggling as if she’d stumbled into a playground.
“What are you doing here?” Eun-Ho muttered in disbelief.
Then came another sound, which sounded like confident, rhythmic high heels.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
A woman in a sharply tailored black suit stepped into the light. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Eun-Ho.”
He blinked. “And you are?”
She smiled faintly, eyes glinting.
“You look even better in person than on the screen.”