Chapter 607: Vote

Chapter 607: The Vote

Suse, perched upon his small stool, pinched his beard with one hand and crossed his short legs.

"You know, I originally thought you would be a difficult person to get along with."

"I only know that the outside world deeply misunderstands me right now."

"It is mostly because the things you have done make it hard for people not to associate you with that kind of reputation."

"That is the most frustrating part of it. In many matters, I was left with no room for choice."

"Yes, that I can understand. Everyone encounters similar circumstances. It is just that you are a bit exceptional. Do you know in what way?"

"Because, judging from the results, it seems I have never lost."

"You are being too modest. It is not that you have never lost, but rather that you have been winning all along.

As long as you keep winning, it becomes quite easy for others to believe that those things you were forced to do without a choice were actually orchestrated by your own design. This is human nature. Even without concrete evidence, the vast majority of people will self-righteously believe that the first impression in their minds is absolutely correct."

"That is indeed the case."

"Add to that, you are still very young. Youth in itself is a kind of fixed impression, do you understand?"

"I understand."

"So, when I previously thought about becoming your superior and working alongside you in the future, the pressure on me was immense."

"You can relax a bit now."

"I am relaxed now. From the moment you walked through that door up until our interaction now, I have confirmed that the outside world's impression of you really is a misconception. You will be a very easy person to get along with."

"While I am glad to see this outcome, I am still curious—is your change of heart perhaps a bit too hasty?"

"Hasty? No, not at all. I merely feel that if I were in your position, knowing I would likely never be promoted for the rest of my life and would be permanently pinned to this spot, I would not continue to be this courteous and cautious. Yes, I would not be this polite.

Those old priests in the department who have no hope of advancement and have extinguished all desire for progress, simply waiting for retirement—their tempers are often the foulest. Because they know you have no leverage over them, they do not bother to mind their manners."

"Well, I see how it is."

"Still, to this day, I do not know why your previous superior wanted to set you up."

"I do not know either. It was said to be an arrangement from above."

"Above? How far above?"

"Unclear."

"I have asked around and done a bit of investigating myself, though I failed to turn up any concrete results. But rest assured, I will not make such a foolish mistake."

"Yes, I believe you."

"No, you do not believe me, and please, do not believe me. It would be best if you kept a close eye on me at all times. If I ever intend to move against you, I will do my best to give you some clear hints beforehand.

That way, it will be easier for us to confine our conflicts within a manageable scope, rather than flipping the table together like this time, leaving everyone blown to pieces.

Do you think what I am saying makes sense?"

"Yes, you are very open-minded."

"When all is said and done, I actually have to thank you. Originally, the post of District Director for York City was a highly sought-after position, with countless eyes fixed upon it. Yet after this whole business took place, no one dared to compete for this seat anymore.

First, because the original momentum was broken—what was once a model district within the system suddenly became a negative example, and coming here now makes it very difficult to fly off elsewhere after getting a bit of gold plating.

Second, because of the presence of someone like you. How should I put it? The vast majority of people would feel that being your superior would be highly uncomfortable.

So I was lucky enough to pick up this bargain. Originally, I was not even qualified to run for this position, ha."

"I will help you achieve success here, Director."

"We shall work together. I will not interfere with what you wish to do either. Most of the time, you can just treat me as a megaphone. If there are any directives from above or changes in the wind, I will convey them to you. As for how things are done down here, you do whatever you see fit.

When something successful is accomplished, just remember to add a line at the front of the announcement: 'Under the wise leadership of District Director Suse...'

If something goes wrong, remember to perform a self-criticism and add a line at the very end of the announcement: 'I have failed to meet the expectations and teachings of District Director Suse...'

In short,

this is how we shall play it:

you do the work, I lie back;

you win the credit, I take my share;

you make a mistake, it has nothing to do with me.

Does that work?"

"It works, Director."

"Ha, that is the spirit, hahaha! I love living this kind of life. After all, my legs are short, and I do not like making a fuss. I will just rest easy. I will give you freedom and latitude, and you will accumulate credit for me.

These words are not a test, but genuine candor. Before coming here, I already knew you were a man of great capability. Having an outstanding subordinate like you is a stroke of luck that would make any superior smile in their sleep.

Furthermore, there is one more thing. This time, not only is the Director's position vacant, but a whole host of department heads will also be packing their bags. You and I have filled two slots, but we are nowhere near finished.

That Head of the Second Office, the one named Neo—he has a very good relationship with you, does he not?"

"Yes."

"As you Viennese say, when the old paste is dumped out, the remaining jars must be filled. The Head of Logistics—what do you think?"

"Could we change it to another post?"

"It seems your relationship truly is exceptional, otherwise you would not be advocating for a better position for him so blatantly."

"Yes. His working capability is very strong. I feel that placing him in the position of Head of Logistics would be a bit of a waste."

If Neo really became the Head of Logistics, he would no longer be lonely the next time he leveraged himself onto the edge of a rooftop, for turning his head, he would find the entire headquarters standing on the roof right along with him.

"Then... Head of Reconnaissance? According to the customs of the Dinge District, because much of the work between the Reconnaissance Department and the Law Enforcement Department overlaps, the Reconnaissance Department usually shoulders another function, such as the organization and control of informants, as well as the infiltration and investigation of certain special organizations.

I have flipped through some of the plans left behind by your predecessor, Bernie, and I saw an abortive scheme. It seemed he intended to use us as the core to organize a group of remnants of light, which would serve as a firewall for ourselves. I think this plan is excellent and want to implement it as soon as possible. Let us hand it over to him to handle, what do you think?"

"I think it is very appropriate."

"Very well, then it is settled. You did well just now—whatever you want, whatever you wish to say, just say it directly. Between us, let us try our best not to play office politics. It is far too tedious."

"All right, thank you."

"Do not mention it. Oh, right, since Neo is to take the position of Head of Reconnaissance, then the post of Head of Logistics can only be given to Richel. We need to go through the formalities of appointment and removal, so we will have to cast a vote when the time comes."

"Understood, I see. I believe she is very well-suited for the post."

"Hahaha, yes! She has a foul temper, so it will not be easy for outsiders to pry money out of her. When logistics run tight in the future, we can just knock her squarely on the forehead to vent our frustration. It really is quite suitable."

Standing nearby, Richel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, a gentle smile appearing on her face.

From this detail, Karen could sense that Richel was likely not part of Suse's core faction. The establishment of this investigation team was, in name, to investigate this incident, but in reality, it resembled an advance evaluation for the next batch of replacement officials to adapt to their roles.

Therefore, many of the people on the investigation team would subsequently be transferred to hold office here.

"Alright, then I must trouble you to stay in prison for another two or three days until we finish going through the procedures. Is that alright?"

"It is."

"Thank you for your hard work."

"Thank you for yours."

Karen rose to his feet and, guided by Richel, stepped out of the conference hall, yet the moment they reached the corridor, Richel abruptly came to a halt, prompting Karen to look at her with a hint of perplexity.

"Make your own way back," Richel said. "I trust I do not need to escort you?"

"Ah, right, of course, no need."

Karen descended the stairs alone, crossing paths with numerous priests within the building along the way, all of whom bore expressions of sheer astonishment upon beholding him.

"Director Karen, whatever are you..."

"Oh, heading back to prison."

...

"Ohhhhhhhh!"

"Hahaha! Borne, Borne!"

"Borne, even you have such a day! Oh, my dear Borne, to think that you would actually see a day like this!"

"Come quickly into my cell, let me cherish you properly, tsk tsk tsk!"

Unlike the cells at the Whip of Order headquarters, which remained desolate and quiet despite their reconstruction, the prison of the Regional Management Office was perpetually boisterous.

Confined within were many rampaging aberrant demons, murderous mystical beasts, and criminal believers.

And when Bishop Borne, stripped of his episcopal robes and clad in prison garb, was led past by the guard priests, piercing cheers instantly erupted from the cells on either side, with all manner of foul language pouring forth like a breached floodgate.

"My lord, I shall command them to be silent," one guard priest offered; though he could not read the political winds of the higher-ups, he held Borne in deep respect, having looked after him in the prison during this period and afforded him the best possible treatment.

"No need, to my ears, this is fervent praise."

"Yes, my lord."

"What is your name?"

"Tensen."

"Very well, I shall remember it. Come to my office to see me in a few days."

"Yes, er... but..."

"Heh."

Borne was escorted out of the dungeon, and after being handed over to a new detachment of guards, he was brought into the administrative block of the educational affairs building.

The heavy doors were flung open, and he stepped inside.

Originally, this ought to have been the venue for the bishops' assemblies, a circle of seats where everyone took their place, but now, only a single chair was occupied while the rest remained entirely vacant;

The bishops of this region who had not yet entered a prison cell were currently divided into two rows, standing below in an exceedingly disciplined manner.

And the sole individual seated there was resting his elbow under his chin, dozing off.

Borne knelt down, paying obeisance to the figure elevated above:

"Greetings, Lord Cardinal."

Creed opened his eyes and looked down at the kneeling Borne, though none could discern any superfluous emotion within his slightly weary gaze.

"Borne?"

"It is I, Lord Cardinal."

"I am deeply vexed at present, for the matters regarding York City region have deprived me of proper rest for days now."

"Your subordinate is guilty!"

"We are guilty!"

All the regional bishops flanking the room fell to their knees in unison to plead their guilt.

The Church of Order possessed three Grand Cardinals who governed three distinct facets of the faith; Creed was in charge of warfare, and everyone was well aware that, much like the Whipper, he belonged to the Grand Pontiff's early inner circle.

His appearance here this time was chiefly due to the unusual movements of the garrisoned army; naturally, even so, his arrival here was truly akin to a whale entering a small pond, leaving the original fish within trembling in terror.

"Borne, you say you are guilty?"

"Yes, Lord Cardinal."

"Has the confession been written?"

"It is written."

"Where is it?"

"In your subordinate's heart."

"I require it on paper."

"Please grant me time."

"How long?"

"Half a day."

"Too long. Three hours; that happens to be the duration of my afternoon nap."

"Understood, my lord."

Creed's gaze swept across the bishops who also lay prostrate on either side as he inquired:

"Gentlemen, are you busy?"

No one dared to answer.

Creed shook his head and said, "I shall go take a midday rest; you all shall wait right here. Though the Church cannot function for a single moment without your dedication, a three-hour respite will hardly cause the faith to collapse entirely, heh."

"Yes, my lord."

"Yes, my lord."

Creed stood up and walked toward the doors of the conference hall, remarking as he passed by Borne's side, "Aside from paper and pen, do you require anything else?"

Borne replied, "Only paper and a pen."

Creed gestured toward one of his secretaries nearby and commanded, "Satisfy his request."

"Yes, my lord."

Once Cardinal Creed had departed the chamber to take his nap, all the bishops present rose from the floor, letting out collective sighs of relief.

Even the Chief Bishop had to tread with utmost caution when facing Creed during certain assemblies, let alone the likes of them.

Immediately following this, everyone fixed their attention upon Borne.

Borne took a seat behind the round table, and soon after, someone entered to deliver paper and a pen to him, whereupon Borne commenced his writing.

Before long, another person brought more paper and a pen.

Then, another individual brought a stack of papers and a pen.

Next came a case file and a pen... several case files and a pen... a mountain of case files and a pen.

Borne wrote with great celerity; the first document, which was presumably his own confession, was swiftly completed, whereupon he set it aside independently, stood up, and began to organize the dossiers that had piled up to half the height of an adult.

Among those present, some bishops stood while others sat, yet the gaze of everyone remained unblinkingly fixed upon Borne.

Bourne first pulled out a single dossier and placed it alone in the center, a large name written across it: Yeder.

Immediately after, Bourne selected five more dossiers, stacking them together with the previous one of Yeder, making six in total.

The remaining dossiers were re-stacked and set aside.

Done with this, Bourne leaned back slightly, turned his head to look at the Cardinal's secretary who had been standing beside him all along, and asked:

"I am ready with the written confession. You may invite His Eminence over."

The secretary replied: "The time has not yet come; we must wait for His Eminence to finish his afternoon nap."

"Very well, I understand."

Bourne sighed, pulled one folder out from the tallest stack of dossiers, and opened it, his fingertips rustling through the documents before his gaze fixed upon one of the bishops present.

That bishop had originally been seated, but upon being swept by Bourne’s gaze, he stood up subconsciously, his chair scraping against the floor.

Seeming to realize his own gaffe, he deliberately tried to smooth it over: "Haha, sitting for too long makes the legs a bit numb."

Bourne spoke up: "Then you must be careful; sitting for long periods is bad for blood circulation. I have been the same lately; staying in prison for too long makes me feel somewhat unwell."

"Is that so, haha, then you have suffered."

"It is fine. More than half of the inmates in that prison were put there by me. They actually look after me quite well; fearing I might be lonely, they sing to me every hour of every day."

Bourne tidied up the dossier in his hands, put it back, and naturally drew out another one, opening it. Just as before, his fingertips flipped through it rapidly, and then, he slowly raised his head;

The bishops present were all staring at Bourne, and by tracking the angle of his peripheral vision, they identified the bishop Bourne was observing, and everyone immediately looked at that person.

This bishop had originally been standing, but at this moment, he actually grew somewhat uneasy, reaching out to grip the back of his chair, his fingers kneading it repeatedly, his expression exceedingly unnatural.

No one asked him anything, yet he took the initiative to speak: "Haha, let alone sitting for too long, standing for too long makes the legs numb just as easily."

In this single instant, the bishops representing the highest inner circle of power in this parish all became frail, decrepit old men who could not withstand the slightest strain.

In truth, they did not need to be so anxious and uneasy, but the problem lay in the fact that Cardinal Klede's arrival completely crushed all the rules present, because he could bypass every obstacle and personal favor to directly decide the fate of everyone in attendance.

This was a peculiar and sensitive period, for the usual reliance of the bishops—their status, family background, and connections—was, at least at this moment, entirely pale and powerless.

When stripped naked to stand before a crowd, one naturally becomes sensitive and suspicious.

Bourne simply picked up the dossiers one by one, looking across at each person, one by one. He did not call any names, yet every single glance served as an answered roll call.

The time had arrived.

Cardinal Klede, flanked by his entourage, walked into the conference hall and took his seat. After his afternoon nap, he looked much more energetic than before.

He looked toward Bourne and asked: "Is the confession written?"

"It is written."

Bourne picked up the confession and presented it to Klede.

Klede flipped it open to read, skipping the first half to focus primarily on the punishments directed at Bourne in the latter section, such as severing ties with a series of dark factions he had controlled in the past. By comparison, relinquishing command of the garrison forces here was actually of little consequence, as garrison command was something displayed out in the open.

"What are those?" Klede asked.

Bourne replied: "Your Eminence, these are the supporting materials and evidence required to match my confession."

"So many?"

"Because time was limited, they have not been clearly organized yet. I can only report the specifics to you in person."

"Then tonight, you shall report to me alone.

For now, there is a more important matter. A piece of news was just received, which I shall announce to everyone: your Chief Bishop, Wolfrun, is already prepared to report to the First Knight Regiment."

Upon hearing these words, everyone present placed their arms across their chests,

And chanted in unison:

"Congratulations to the Chief Bishop."

In reality, Wolfrun had long been dead; it was just that the news had been strictly suppressed.

Klede tossed the confession aside and said:

"Dunkin has already been transferred back to the Digne Parish on official business, so we now need to elect an Acting Chief Bishop to temporarily preside over the work of this parish.

Let us do this: you all shall vote among yourselves first to choose one candidate, and I will submit it. If the Holy See also agrees, then this person shall temporarily assume the position of Chief Bishop.

We will use the method of calling out the ballots to elect the person you yourselves approve of.

Are there any other questions?"

"This subordinate has a question."

"Bourne, what is your question?"

"Can this subordinate participate?"

"Although you have committed an error, you have not yet been indicted, so your current status remains a bishop of the York City Parish. Of course you are qualified to participate in this election."

"Yes, Your Eminence."

"Very well, let us begin then. Since it is the election of your own York City Parish, I will not interfere and will only be responsible for supervision. Choose someone among yourselves to start keeping the record. Who will do it?"

"I will," Bourne offered proactively.

"Fine, you do it."

Bourne stood up, pulled out a sheet of blank paper, and with a sharp slap, placed it upon that stack of dossiers. Picking up his pen, he wrote as he called out the ballot:

"Bourne, one vote."

Having spoken,

Bourne’s gaze swept across all the bishops in the hall,

And he smiled faintly:

"I cast the first vote for myself. The rest of you may do as you please."

———

Postscript: The suspenseful short film for Chapter One has been produced. You can watch it on Bilibili by searching for the title [High Energy Alert | Self-made Suspense Short Film "No. 13 Mink Street"], or by searching for the uploader [The Chipmunk Striving to Chase the Light].

It was filmed exceptionally well, and Lady Molly's legs are very beautiful.