story_kazema_1_1

In the corner of every session is a figure with her head perpetually down, recording every word said by the City Council.

January 1st, 10:12 A.M.

'We propose waiving the right to education for the Infected.'

'We propose imposing no limit on the hours an Infected can work, to ensure that they can earn as much as their ability allows, supporting their own livelihood.'

'We urge the Infected to wear special Infected clothing going forward...'

The silent recorder moves her sore wrists, turning to a new page in her notebook.

January 8th, 6:23 P.M.

'Councilor Jones objects, and proposes a new criteria for assigning jobs to the Infected...'

'Councilor Moneywell proposes a bill to limit the number of Infected factories can employ...'

Still busy, Kite?

Mhm...

Sorry to bother you, but may I ask... where exactly are those documents regarding the demolition of the factories in the east end filed? I can't find them at all.

Folder no.10289 in cabinet B03, third drawer behind the bookshelf.

Heh, I just knew you'd know where it was right away! If I had a head as good as yours, my mum would be so happy she'd slurp down three bowls of cheese soup at once!

Work hours are already over though, so why's your pen still moving...? Oh, Infected this, Infected that... my head hurts.

I already sent in an application; even if I'm just a receptionist for the council chamber, it'd still be better than being a filing clerk. This is just too boring! Why not try applying too, Kite? We can work there together.

What? No no no!

You don't know how hard I worked for this recorder job. My parents want me to be safe and secure, so keeping this position is the best for me. How could I even think of transferring?

Gosh, you're just too timid!

*sigh* Come on, just look at this pot of half-withered flowers I've been raising. Even if I were to change jobs, their situation probably wouldn't get any better.

My brain's good at rote memorization, so being a recorder suits me just fine.

January 15th, 11:45 A.M.

'We propose issuing a special series of banknotes for the Infected, to boost domestic demand...'

'We propose issuing half of the Infected's wages in the form of consumer vouchers...'

Phew......

Wait, I have one more bill to propose!

As I'm sure we all saw this morning, the protest march against Infected desegregation has become such a nuisance that it's even blocking the roads that some of us councilors take!

I was in a hurry and had to loudly heckle them several times to stop blocking my way to work, lest today's council session be delayed.

So I propose allowing the Infected to buy homes, what does everyone think?

If all those Infected workers had adequate housing, they would stop wandering about like vagrants looking for shelter. Then they wouldn't have any reason to interfere with the lives of ordinary people and spark such protests, yes?

Additionally, there are quite a number of Infected in Caladon these days. If each of them bought a house, imagine the boost to the economy!

Councilor Jones, I hear from the others that you've taken on the bid for that land development project on the east end, and they were all harping on about how it was a huge project that would take at least a decade to finish.

Hey now! That's all just hearsay, how could you possibly believe that... Besides, how could it be compared to the roadwork you're backing?

Once the roads are good as new, the people will get moving, and then anything and everything could happen, right?

Our city's development is progressing at a steady pace, but there's no place for such protests in our future. Just a few of us were delayed today, but who knows how much worse it could be tomorrow?

Keeping the general public of Caladon safe and earning their trust is our most basic responsibility.

Only once the residents are at ease can we think about developing our economy!

Recorder? Did you get all that down?

Yes, Miss Councilor.

So, what does everyone think? As soon as the road connecting to the east end is repaired, we can begin work on so many more projects!

...I have no particular opinion on this, but such a bill will be beneficial to everyone, so I will back your proposal.

Recorder, be sure to note every word of this down! The quicker we settle this, the better!

Got it, Councilor Jones.

Please hold on for a moment. I have something to say about the previous proposal.

I find myself curious. These Infected workers... would they even be able to afford a house?

Whyever not? They'll earn enough from the roadwork, and it'll all sort itself out.

January 15th, 6:12 P.M.

So, the good news is that the processing of both the business certificates and access permits the landship needs is going well, so you'll be able to get them all by the next month.

And the bad news is that in the six months since you last submitted a report, it's been long enough for them to finally make a little breakthrough on their proposed bills.

And this latest one is to 'let the Infected buy houses'?

Mhm.

...If I recall your last report correctly, you mentioned that there were a couple of bills proposed that were potentially beneficial for the Infected. What happened to those?

You can probably come up with an answer to that yourself, Captain.

The councilors feel that even though this one is the least feasible, it can still be taken advantage of. Whether it be by those holding vacant land, those with factories, or those repairing the roads, they all want a piece of the pie.

Now that the bill has already been placed on the cutting board, all that's left is to divide the pie to everybody's satisfaction.

The remaining proposals will be squished under the pie pan, and maybe trod upon a few more times for good measure.

...I know that much.

Recently, we've been admitting more Infected patients with acute symptoms.

I'm not complaining, but... things are getting harder for us, even with all the material support we're getting from the landship.

And there will only be more such patients in the future.

That said... the certificates and permits you're getting us will give us more options. So we might still have some tricks up our sleeve going forward.

But... gah! Do you know what kind of Infected we've been admitting this month? Children!

Our efforts will be for naught if they keep screwing around in their City Council sessions like this!

...But we can't interfere, right?

Yes, generally speaking.

Captain, what do you think about Skyfire?

Why bring her up all of a sudden?

Oh, I was just... I think she comes from a good background, and has a good heart, but her worldview is still a little small.

She listens to reason, but has never had to experience reality, so she used an improper method to deal with those councilors when she found out how they really are.

If not for Councilor Angst, or her identity as a Mountbelan, those nobles probably would have served her a lesson—both overt and covert—and forced her out of Caladon in disgrace.

Sometimes she disagrees with my methods too. I'll always choose to preserve my status as a City Council recorder first, mindlessly nodding my head and noting down whatever the councilors say.

Only occasionally do I bring you the evidence they leave behind to make some use out of it.

I always thought her way of charging into things head-on was no good, but—

She's never made an error, and never forgets it: what she does is right. She has never relented on this.

We all have our own ways of upholding justice, Kazemaru.

Hah... But the councilors usually take no notice of me. They don't even remember my name.

They just go 'Recorder, record this,' 'Recorder, take that down.' They probably wouldn't even notice if I changed into a completely different person one day.

Kazemaru, we can't interfere with the council.

I used to chide Skyfire for that too, saying she shouldn't do such a rash thing.

...You know your limits.

Of course I do. So I'm going to pack up my things and go back to the archives and continue sorting through the files.

Oh right, these are the little paper animals I folded. You can give them to the younger Infected to play with.

Now that's more like it. Don't look so sad, we're still hanging in there. We'll manage to figure something out.

...Wait, why do these look so much rougher than the ones from last time?

Look at this horn, it's all twisted! It better not turn into a one-winged fowlbeast when I give it to a kid later!

...I'm going now!

*sigh*

January 17th, 7:19 A.M.

Early day today, Kite?

A new batch of documents arrived, so I'm sorting and filing them...

Oh, I heard you got transferred to the front desk? Congrats!

Heheh, it's my last day today here, so I'll help you out!

Let me tell you, I was passing by the council room yesterday, and I heard them argue about whether to raise the tax rate to limit the Infected's quality of life... even I thought that was a bit of a joke.

Yeah.

January 22nd, 7:32 A.M.

'We propose deducting 30% of the Infected's wages as a reparations fee, to pay for the damages caused to the city by the Infected.'

'We propose following Columbia's example, for the wilderness has vast acres of untapped resources with which the Infected may live prosperous lives.'

The recorder in the corner puts down her pen and, as if having gotten dust on them, wipes her hands vigorously with a handkerchief from her pocket before throwing it into the nearby trashcan.

...Ssh!

What's wrong with you? Don't make so much noise all of a sudden! Don't recorders know such a basic rule?

...My apologies, Councilor Jones.

I will make sure to stay quiet.

January 27th, 6:42 P.M.

'We will continue to push for the bill to let the Infected buy housing...'

'We expect it to be implemented by next year...'

The recorder organizes the documents, carefully filing them into their respective envelopes, and writes the date on the label before placing them into the filing cabinet.

There is a thin layer of dust on top of the cabinet, and she picks up a rag and wipes it.

She turns to her desk and begins to tidy up the area—the Records Room is packed with people looking for information during the day, and keeping the desk neat and tidy is also part of her disguise.

A potted flower sits on the corner of the desk, its petals drooping.

*crash*—!

An unstable flower pot is buffeted by the wind and falls from the sky, throwing streaks of soil and scattering petals everywhere.

The clay pot falls straight down with the mud and hits a young woman just passing by square on her head.

She does not let out any kind of cry after her collision, but simply touches the mud on her face in a daze.

The recorder looks at the pot of dropping flowers on her desk, which she had just tended to earlier, and finds its position perfectly secure.

She stretches a hand out.

*crash*—!

January 27th, 10:39 P.M.

Aaaahhhhhh—!!

What was that?! Did you hear that? Was that even human? That gave me a real fright!

The whole of Caladon probably heard that scream.

It sounded like it came from the villas. Maybe the nobles are playing around with some new toys again.

Whew, that ding dong clanging sure sounded like someone waltzing around with furniture strapped onto their back!

Haha, a waltz with furniture? How posh!

Ten minutes ago, Councilor Jones had been lounging comfortably on his sofa, sipping the wine his servants had prepared for him. Their backs blended into the light, while the shadows of his guards were reflected at his feet.

In Caladon, such an arrangement allows him to enjoy many a perfectly peaceful night in his mansion.

But few things are absolute.

Ah—Ahh—!

What is this, what's happening?!

The books on the shelf and the medals on the wall all stand up, taking even the bookshelf straight towards the couch where the councilor is lounging.

As if alive, a bunch of paper folds itself, becoming tiny figures, mouths, sharp knives.

They swirl around the confused councilor—

Help! Someone, help! What's all this!

My books? My... files? They're alive!

The paper dolls vibrate in mid-air, and tiny voices seep out from the words written on them—

'We urge the Infected to wear special Infected clothing going forward!'

'We propose issuing a special series of banknotes for the Infected, to boost domestic demand!'

'Let them buy housing? Yes, of course! Let them buy houses, we have many uses for the Infected!'

Ahhh!!! What's going on, someone! Anyone? Guards? Guards!

'Cystymilk is delicious, and we should increase our supply! The Infected—'

'The Infected should pay a reparations fee! We propose issuing half of the Infected's wages in the form of consumer vouchers!'

What are these! Get, get away from me!

The Councilor falls to the ground on his back, flailing his hands in an attempt to drive away the paper dolls encircling him.

He picks up a wine glass, aiming its contents at a paper doll. The wine seeps into the paper, and the swirl of white turns red as it fills the room with an alcoholic aroma.

Head in hands, the councilor huddles in a corner of the room, leaving only his rotund backside shaking in view.

Ah! Ahh!! AHHH!!

The paper dolls continue to close in on him, the overlapping voices encircling the Councilor.

Who are you? What do you want?!

W-What, what do you want from me?!

I'll do anything you ask! Anything! Let me go, just let me go, please?!

As if they had gotten what they wanted, the paper dolls stop spinning around the councilor and instead hover quietly.

Then, they stretch out their bodies, reverting to their original sheets of paper before landing on the ground. The councilor panics and crumples them, afraid that they might once again take flight.

In the midst of the flurry, a document lands quietly on the middle of his desk.

His hands trembling, Councilor Jones picks it up—

'Report on the City's East End Development Project'...?

After glancing at the open document for just a few seconds, the councilor crumples it into a ball with a twisted expression on his face. He is about to throw it into the trash, but hesitantly smooths it out instead, folds it, and carefully places it in his inner coat pocket.

This... What is this doing here...? Who found this? Didn't I already...

Sir... did you call for me? Should I come in and help you clean up?

You dolt! What are you standing outside for!

R-Right away!

Wait... No! No need!

Out! Get out! Get away from here, now!

The councilor bends down and scrambles to gather the papers scattered on the floor, fearfully scanning the heading and contents of each sheet, as if afraid to see something else on them.

He looks around, wary of the entire room. He then pulls back the curtains with a flourish.

Someone is definitely behind this! And he's going to find out who!

Ah, if it isn't Councilor Jones? Still at work at such a late hour, tidying up your papers?

You?!

(Loudly) I expected no less of you, Councilor Jones! To still be hard at work sorting through your files at such a late hour, polishing your proposal into an even better bill to better serve everyone!

(Loudly) I just now finished discussing the east end factory with the Infected representative earlier, and he's so grateful to see you working so hard for the council!

(Loudly) Truly a councilor who looks after the Infected! Come come, representative, you must thank him in person!

Truly, thank you so much, Councilor Jones! Our brothers in the factories will surely remember you for this!

...Haha, hahaha.

Y-Yes, yes! Haha...!

February 3rd, 9:19 P.M.

Councilor Jones, withdrawing a proposal is unprecedented. Do you realize what your actions are implying?

Everyone here has been working hard on their own preparations these last few days, all based on that proposal.

...No, I'm saying... I... I want to withdraw that bloody proposal!

Please forgive me, I... I've come to my senses over the last few days. This was a foolish idea.

Councilor Jones, the City Council is no place for playing around. Perhaps if you told us of any difficulties you've encountered recently, we might be able to help you.

No! Nothing of the sort!

Recorder? Recorder, are you there? Kite, Kite! Quick, note down my decision to withdraw the proposal! And file it! Quickly!

The recorder clicks her pencil, and as per her usual, writes down every word from the session in her minutes.

Got it, Councilor Jones.

February 7th, 3:18 P.M.

What a pity I went home early that night. Who would've expect something like that to happen in Councilor Jones's own home?

I've heard others say that the house was completely fine, but suddenly the stationery started moving and dancing. It could even speak!

Here are the business certifications and permits. You can return to the landship now, captain.

Good job on your end, too.

I heard his servants say that the councilor was frightened by something, but he didn't let them or even his guards enter the room. He tidied up his room himself!

I also heard that ever since that day, the Jones family has forbidden the use of paper, saying that some kind of foul evil lies within, haha! Then, how do you think he does his business in the loo...?

Seems like they're talking about what happened to Councilor Jones the other day? News spreads so fast, doesn't it?

...*cough*!

Hey, enough about this, the captain's still hard at work so we should be too!

Kazemaru.

Did you...?

Captain, do you have the inside story? Share it with us, we won't tell a soul!

Ssh.