Straining to move, Sigmund raised his left hand and pried the fingers of his right open one by one. Threat turned to condescending pity when the officer realized what was happening, remarking “Some sort of paralytic sickness from mucking about in the zone, huh?” as he turned the key to the left, waiting for the machine to go silent before turning it to the right again.

“Alright, grab the handle again. You Ikesians never know where to stop, that’s how you get these bizarre conditions…” he continued thinking aloud, waiting for Sigmund to do as he asked before pressing the buttons again, waiting for the Fog to form words once again, without any enthusiasm this time.

NO CRIMINAL RECORD FOUND

“Figures…” muttered the officer, unsurprised by the outcome. He had assumed the malfunction caused a false readout, and he was correct. “Step away from the machine before you seize up again,” he added as he turned and took a seat at his desk again, once more retrieving a paper from one of the drawers and the pen from his coat.

“Reason for entry?”

“Search for employment and medical treatment,” Sigmund replied in a clearly rehearsed manner.

The officer wrote something on the paper and filed it away. He dismissively gestured for the bearded man to step away, which he did, walking to the door and leaning up against the wall.

“Next!” barked the mustachioed man, his tired eyes locking onto Zefaris. “Blonde with the homunculus eye!”

As much as he ogled her eye, the officer didn’t act as hostile towards Zefaris. He did the same things he had done for the previous two, operating the machine with a semblance of resignation as if he had realized that truly, these people weren’t war criminals. The machine returned the expected result.

NO CRIMINAL RECORD FOUND

The self-same sequence of events unfolded, beat by beat. The officer gestured for her to step away from the machine, sat at his desk, retrieved one of the papers alongside his pen, and looked up at Zefaris.

“Reason for entry?”

“Employment.”

“Markswoman, huh? I find homunculus eyes to be a crutch for lack of real skill, but no helping it if you lost the real thing. Couldn’t afford a second one?”

Zefaris let out a dark, melancholic chuckle as she answered, “One put me deep enough in the hole.”

“Count yourself lucky, then. Your debt is probably no more than the price of new shoes, what with the recent surge of inflation,” laughed the officer in a mocking tone, directing his mockery towards the country more than the person before him. The humor faded from his being in seconds, and he sharply gestured for Zefaris to step aside, staring through Makhus with a gaze as sharp as a razor.

“Next.”

“One moment, please,” Zefaris said, grabbing the officer’s attention once more. “What do you mean by inflation?”

He raised an eyebrow, turning a somewhat self-satisfied gaze towards the markswoman. “Oh, haven’t you heard?” he asked rhetorically, smugness dripping from every word.