Chapter 28 – What’s Going On With Her?

In an office lit by cold lamps, an investigator was sitting in front of a table covered in papers, printed reports, empty coffee cups and several screens that were on.

The place looked like the kind of office where somebody said "I'm just going to check one more thing" and then didn't sleep for hours.

And, judging by the investigator's face, that was probably exactly what was happening.

On one of the screens there was a frozen image from yesterday's broadcast.

The image was bad. Very bad. Not because it was blurry. On the contrary. It was too clear.

In it you could see the Night Watcher, the same white-haired girl who had spent months showing up at monster incidents, coming out of a portal in the form of a black bat, transforming, being caught by Cya Hogwarts on public television and, to top off the professional misfortune of everyone present…

With her clothes destroyed.

Almost naked.

The investigator rubbed his face with one hand.

"This has to be a joke…" he muttered.

Next to him floated a small semi-transparent ghost, more or less human-shaped, though with blurry edges. It had a light pen in one hand and was drawing several lines in the air connecting events, timestamps and cameras.

The ghost drew an arrow from the image of the Watcher toward another image where the black bat appeared entering the portal.

Then it drew another arrow toward Cya.

Then another toward an enormous question mark.

The investigator looked at it.

"I don't need you to make it more dramatic."

The ghost turned its head toward him.

Then, very calmly, it drew a second question mark.

Bigger.

The investigator closed his eyes.

"Thanks."

The ghost gave a thumbs up.

The investigator looked at his phone again.

Nothing.

Not one notification.

Not one reply.

Not a "I'll look at it later."

Not even a period.

He had sent Cya a message several minutes ago.

Several.

And Cya Hogwarts did not take several minutes to answer when it came to work.

She could take hours to answer a social invitation.

She could completely ignore a family message.

She could leave half the guild on read if she considered the conversation useless.

But work…

No.

Cya answered.

Always.

Especially if the topic was the Night Watcher.

The investigator looked down at the sent message.

[Yesterday's broadcast is already being analyzed by other guilds. I need to talk to you as soon as possible.]

Below that.

No answer.

The investigator clicked his tongue.

"Tch."

Because this was serious.

Way too serious.

They had spent months following that bastard girl's trail.

Months.

The same girl who showed up when the Association arrived late.

The same one who walked on air, created red barriers, tore monsters apart with her bare hands and then disappeared as if the entire city had been designed to hide her.

The same one who now, thanks to a public broadcast, had stopped being just a rumor from forums and witnesses.

Now she had a face.

She had a body.

She had a nickname.

She had fans.

She had memes.

And, above all, she had international interest.

The investigator played a fragment of the broadcast again.

The Night Watcher, trying to flee.

Cya catching her with wind.

Reporters shouting.

Cameras focusing on her from every angle.

The white-haired girl with her clothes in tatters, clearly trying to escape before the whole world could see more of her than it should.

The investigator turned off the video.

"Other services are definitely already looking into this," he muttered. "Private guilds, government intelligence, foreign agencies… all of them."

The ghost, as if wanting to help, drew several circles in the air.

One said: [National guilds.]

Another: [Government.]

Another: [Neighboring countries.]

Another: [Idiots with money.]

The investigator looked at the last one.

"That's not a technical term."

The ghost underlined [Idiots with money] twice.

The investigator let out a sigh.

"You're not wrong."

That was the problem.

If nobody managed to find the Night Watcher's whereabouts, her fame was only going to grow.

And the more famous she became, the more political, military and commercial value she was going to have.

An unregistered hunter capable of killing high-level monsters without support, evading cameras, crossing portals and escaping even from Cya Hogwarts on television…

That wasn't a person.

That was a strategic resource.

And strategic resources didn't stay unclaimed for long.

Somebody was going to try to buy her.

Somebody was going to try to recruit her.

Somebody was going to try to capture her.

And if a foreign country found her first…

The investigator gripped the phone tightly.

"Dammit, Cya. Answer."

Just then, the door opened.

A tall woman came into the room with a tray in one hand and an expression of exhaustion on her face.

She was wearing the Association uniform with the jacket open, her hair pulled back practically and that look of someone who had already come prepared to argue.

The investigator didn't even look up.

"I'm busy."

"Good evening to you too," she answered.

"I'm busy."

"You already said that."

"Then there was no need for you to keep coming in."

The tall assistant closed the door with her foot and walked to the table. She set the tray to one side, very carefully pushing aside a stack of papers that looked about to commit suicide off the edge.

On the tray there was a simple meal.

Rice.

Meat.

Some vegetables.

And a bottle of water.

The investigator looked at the tray.

Then at her.

"I didn't order that."

"I know."

"Then take it away."

"No."

The investigator looked at her with narrowed eyes.

She returned the look without flinching.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"I'm busy."

"That doesn't answer the question."

The investigator let out a short sigh and looked back at the screen.

"I don't have time for this."

The tall assistant crossed her arms.

"If you don't eat well, you're going to sleep badly. If you sleep badly, you're going to make mistakes. If you make mistakes, your work is going to get worse. If your work gets worse, you're going to take longer to find the Night Watcher. And if you take longer to find her, you're going to be even more insufferable."

The investigator went still.

Then he slowly turned his head toward her.

"Are you done?"

"No."

"Finish."

"Also, in the long term, you're going to develop health problems that are going to interfere with your performance."

"Now you're done."

"Yes."

"Good. Leave."

She let out a low laugh.

"You're still a grouch."

"And you still come into my office without permission."

"Your office smells like dead coffee and desperation. Somebody had to intervene."

"If you came to bother me, go be with the others."

The tall assistant sighed, but she didn't leave.

On the contrary, she looked at the screens.

She looked at the reports.

She looked at the phone the investigator still had in his hand.

And then she smiled slightly.

"I see."

The investigator frowned.

"What?"

"You're like this because of Cya, aren't you?"

The investigator tensed up.

Not much.

But enough.

The tall assistant noticed immediately.

Because she was looking for it.

"Leave," he said.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Well. Nailed it."

"You didn't nail anything."

"Of course I did."

"I told you to leave."

"That doesn't change the fact that I nailed it."

The investigator set the phone face down on the table.

Very slowly.

"I'm working."

"Uh-huh."

"On a case."

"Uh-huh."

"An important case."

"Uh-huh."

"It has nothing to do with Cya."

"Uh-huh."

"Stop saying uh-huh."

The tall assistant smiled wider.

"Did she leave you on read?"

The investigator opened his mouth to answer.

He said nothing.

He closed it.

That was enough.

"She left you on read," she confirmed, delighted.

The investigator half rose out of the chair.

"I told you to go be with the others."

"Yes, yes, I'm going."

But before she could turn around, the door opened again.

This time a young man came in, with a folder under his arm and a smile that was way too relaxed for someone who worked in an office with collective dark circles.

Upon seeing the two of them, he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," he let out. "Am I interrupting something? Are the ex-spouses fighting again?"

The room went silent.

The tall assistant turned her head toward him.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

"I warned you," she said.

The man raised his hands instantly.

"I'm sorry."

"I warned you not to make that kind of joke."

"I know, I know."

"So why did you make it?"

The man tried not to smile.

He failed.

"I couldn't help it."

The tall assistant took a step toward him.

The man took one step back.

"Seriously, I'm sorry. It was stronger than me."

"One of these days I'm going to make something be stronger than you."

The investigator, still sitting, rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Both of you. Out."

The man pointed at the tall assistant with his thumb.

"Actually I came for her."

She looked at him.

"For me?"

"Yes. Zoe is looking for you."

The tall assistant clicked her tongue.

"Tch. Now what does she want?"

"I don't know. But she used the serious voice."

The assistant's expression changed slightly.

The annoyance was still there, but now it was mixed with resignation.

"Fine."

Before leaving, she looked at the investigator again and pointed at the tray.

"Eat."

"No."

"Eat."

"I'm working."

"Eat or I come back."

The investigator looked at her.

She looked at him.

The man at the door whispered:

"I'd eat."

The investigator threw him a look.

The man closed his mouth.

The tall assistant smiled with satisfaction, turned around and left the room. The man let her pass and then closed the door behind her, staying inside with the investigator.

The atmosphere changed.

The teasing left almost instantly.

The man set the folder on the table and looked at the screens.

"So," he said, in a lower voice. "Are you really going to do it?"

The investigator took the bottle of water from the tray, opened it and drank a little.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do."

"Then don't ask."

The man let out a sigh and leaned against the edge of the table.

"Investigating the government isn't the same as reviewing public cameras or requesting guild reports."

"I know."

"No. I mean that this could be considered espionage."

"I know."

"And depending on what we touch, treason."

"I know that too."

"They could arrest all of us."

The investigator didn't answer.

The ghost, who was still floating off to one side, drew a small jail in the air.

Then it drew three stick figures inside.

The man pointed at the drawing.

"See. Even your little ghost understands the problem."

The investigator looked at the ghost.

"Erase that."

The ghost erased the jail.

Then it drew a prettier jail, with decorative bars.

The investigator closed his eyes.

"You're not helping."

The ghost shrugged its shoulders, offended.

The man let out a short laugh, but immediately turned serious again.

"I'm talking to you seriously," he said. "If we cross that line, there's no going back. We're not talking about a monster. We're not talking about an unregistered hunter. We're talking about getting into files that surely have seals we don't even know exist."

"If you don't want to do it, don't do it."

The investigator picked up the phone again.

He turned it on.

Nothing.

Cya still hadn't answered.

The man observed that gesture and let out another sigh.

"It's not that I'm not going to do it," he clarified. "I just wanted to know if you're aware that we could lose everything over this."

"I am."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"And even so?"

"Yes."

The man stayed looking at him in silence.

For several seconds he said nothing.

Then he clicked his tongue.

"Tch. You really are hopeless."

The man picked up the folder again and opened it.

"I'll do what I can," he said. "But I'm not promising anything."

"I don't need promises."

"Good. Because I wasn't going to give you one."

"I just need access to the movement records of official teams near the incidents."

"That's exactly what could land us in prison."

"Then do it carefully."

The man looked at him as if he wanted to throw the folder in his face.

"Ah, sure. What great advice. 'Commit possible treason, but carefully.' I feel so much calmer now."

The investigator looked at one of the screens again.

"I also need to know which government units received the full video before it went out edited on television."

The man sighed and closed the folder.

"Fine. I'm going to pull a few contacts. Nothing direct. Nothing that leaves my name. Nothing that leaves yours. And if anybody asks, I was at home watching a mediocre series and you were here eating like a functional person."

The investigator looked at the tray.

"I'm not going to eat."

"You're going to eat. She's going to come back."

The investigator clicked his tongue.

The man smiled a little.

"Besides, if they arrest us, I'd rather it not be on an empty stomach."

"How optimistic."

"I work with you. If I don't develop dark humor, I die."

The investigator didn't answer.

The man walked toward the door, but before leaving he stopped.

"Hey."

"What?"

"About Cya…"

"Don't start."

"I wasn't going to make a joke."

The investigator looked up.

The man looked at him with a seriousness that was rare for him.

"If she isn't answering, she might really be caught up in something."

The investigator clenched his jaw a little.

"I know."

"And if she's caught up in something related to the Watcher…"

"I know."

The man nodded.

"I'll let you know if I get anything."

"Good."

The door closed.

The office went silent again.

Only the hum of the screens.

The soft scratch of the ghost's light pen drawing lines in the air.

And the phone.

The investigator looked at it again.

Zero messages.

Zero calls.

Zero replies.

Cya Hogwarts still wasn't saying anything.

The investigator stayed watching the darkened screen for several seconds.

Then, without thinking about it any longer, he opened Cya's contact and pressed call.

The ringing started.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Nothing.

The investigator frowned.

The ghost stopped drawing.

The ringing continued.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Nothing.

Finally, the call cut off.

No answer.

The investigator slowly lowered the phone.

The food was still off to the side, untouched.

The screens were still showing images of the Night Watcher.

The city was still moving outside, as if there weren't an unregistered hunter becoming the center of attention of half a continent.

And Cya…

Cya wasn't answering.

The investigator stayed silent.

Then he murmured:

"What the hell are you doing, Cya?"