I, the Reality Janitor!

After giving Leon a somewhat appreciative glance, the red-haired woman's stern expression softened slightly. She spoke soothingly to comfort him:

"Leon, you don't need to worry about the intel. You reported immediately when you discovered the Corrupted and dealt with that troublesome demon, convincing it to lead you to Emma.

When Emma was trapped later, you even shot down the target with one shot, successfully rescuing her and saving hundreds of others without causing them to lose too much vitality.

As a newcomer who has just joined the Cleansing Bureau for a few hours, you have already done quite well. As for the intel situation, that was just an unavoidable accident."

"No! We at least contributed, why are you twisting it so much?"

Before Leon could respond, the agitated black goat couldn't hold back any longer:

"That shot was fired by him, okay? We merely helped determine the position. How come for him it's an unavoidable accident, but for us it means being sent to the kitchen to be made into soup?"

"Why would they make you into soup... don't you know what you did?"

The red-haired woman snorted with disdain:

"Don't think I'm unaware of your intentions! Leon might not know that Emma is immortal, but you surely must.

In a situation where Emma wasn't in any danger, you could have easily let Leon get you closer to the hospital, and then amplify that out-of-control Corrupted's malicious thoughts from a distance, driving it to lose its mind and forcing it out for us to capture!"

"I just didn't think of it for a moment..."

"Don't tell me it didn't occur to you! You've always used this method when you've been in my hands; how could you suddenly forget it this time?"

Leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, the red-haired woman fixed her gaze on the cowering black goat and sneered:

"Even when capturing the target alive was entirely possible, you deliberately led Leon to shoot him dead. You're definitely involved in something!

Speak up! Were you trying to absorb the target's sinful soul? Lure Leon into helping you regain power? Or perhaps...

You're colluding with whoever's behind this, silencing him because you feared he might leak information if captured?"

"That's bullshit!"

The black goat, now accused of treason, immediately bristled at the accusation.

"We didn't! These are all baseless accusations! You've got no proof!"

"Since when does the Cleansing Bureau operate like a courtroom requiring evidence?"

Snorting dismissively, the woman suddenly furrowed her brows, studying the goat with newfound suspicion:

"Hmm... I'll admit I was joking earlier, but thinking deeper, several oddities emerge.

Though most bureau members were deployed, I remained stationed in the capital. What mastermind would be foolish enough to cause trouble just three streets away from me?

Unless this was intentional sacrifice, there's only one explanation - the mastermind had an inside contact in the bureau who knew I suddenly left the capital yesterday!"

Holy shit?!

Hearing this logical deduction, Leon's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the black goat in his arms.

The entire Cleansing Bureau had been empty yesterday. Besides you, who else knew about the Director's absence? Could you actually be the mole?!

"N-no... We didn't..."

Glancing between the wide-eyed Leon and the red-haired woman—whose gaze had sharpened once more—the black goat trembled before puffing up indignantly, its eyes bulging:

"We never leaked any information! You're framing us!"

"Oh?"

The woman rose slowly, planting her palms on the desk as she leaned forward with deliberate menace:

"Then explain these coincidences.

An incident timed perfectly with my sudden departure? Fine. But yesterday—" her voice hardened, "—when capturing the target alive was possible, why manipulate Leon into killing him? Explain that."

"It was an accident, I told you!"

The goat snapped:

"I helped that brat eliminate the target to get blood on his hands! To train him to… to…"

"—To instinctively resort to violence in future crises," the woman coolly interjected, "making him vulnerable to your whispers, gradually eroding his principles until he falls to corruption. Am I wrong?"

Silence fell as the goat clamped its mouth shut, frustration writ across its features. Leon shuddered visibly. Observing this, the woman's stern demeanor melted into a sly smile as she reclined in her plush chair, addressing Leon gently:

"Leon, burn this lesson into your mind. When faced with similar choices on future missions, remember today."

"I… I will."

With lingering fear, Leon hesitated before cradling the goat's head and placing it back on her desk.

"Please… take this back."

Studying his expression, the woman chuckled:

"Worried you can't resist its influence?"

"...Yes."

"Don't be. Keep it."

Resting her cheek on one palm while twirling a lock of fiery hair around her finger, the red-haired woman regarded Leon with amused approval:

"Anomalous objects harboring their own intellect and desires are indeed ill-suited for rookies. Yet you maintained clarity under its influence—that alone proves your qualification.

Moreover, Emma reported your soul perception spans two kilometers. Such compatibility with this artifact, paired with your cautious nature, confirms your capability to wield it."

Rising gracefully, she circled the desk and clasped Leon's hesitant hand, placing the disgruntled goat's head into his palm.

"Keep it. Stay vigilant against its manipulations. I trust you can."

"..."

Under her approving gaze, Leon felt his pulse quicken. He averted his eyes briefly before forcing himself to meet hers, nodding solemnly:

"I swear I will."

"Tch—swear my hoof!"

The black goat glared at Leon's flushed ears, its voice dripping with mockery:

"Getting dizzy from hand-holding? If she kissed you, would you die for her?

Pah! Damn this goat form! If I were some bombshell, a hormonal virgin like you would be eating from my—mmph! Let go! I'll say it! You're just a goddamn—!"

"You goddamn stew meat!"

Muscling the black goat's jaws shut with all his strength to silence its obscenities, Leon glanced up at the still-smiling red-haired woman and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck:

"Director... My sister's still hospitalized after yesterday's shock. Could I take the afternoon off?"

"Go ahead," she nodded warmly. "You've earned rest after that dangerous cleanup operation."

Her smile faded the moment Leon left clutching the squirming goat. Leaning back with interlaced fingers, she stared pensively at the peeling ceiling.

Something's wrong...

I erased Leon's memories of Bureau operations. Why did he know to seek us when his badge alerted him?

And just now – he clearly reacted to my charm, yet shows no memory loss.

Her eyebrow arched as she recalled a previously overlooked detail: When the rookie had joined yesterday using his "anomaly," he'd hesitated before claiming his ability was "compulsory intel extraction."

"How... interesting."

Smirking, she dipped a quill into inkwell, pulled Leon's file from her drawer, and drew a tiny question mark beside the "Information Acquisition" entry in his profile.

What secrets lurk in that cautious mind of yours, I wonder?

...

[Encountered incomprehensible entity - Heterochromatic Badge "Materialist Soul (Crimson)" activated. Cognitive boundaries expanded. Partial entity data acquired.]

[Designation: Oblivion's Embrace (Forgetting, Whispering)]

[Manifestation: Non-corporeal]

[Ability: When affection (adoration, devotion, reverence) forms toward the host, the host gains capacity to temporarily suppress a fragment of the admirer's recent memories.]

[Price: Permanently forfeit one among parental love, filial love, or romantic love. Should genuine love of the forfeited category develop toward the host, all related memories vanish instantaneously.]

[Archive: Currently wielded by Olivia, Director of Cleansing Bureau Branch 6. Subject lacks parents, partners, and offspring. Thus indeterminable which love category was sacrificed. Last recorded activation: 1794 Crimson Moon Descent Incident. Disguised as a singer, Olivia broadcasted enrapturing melodies via public channels, securing lunar inhabitants' affection to erase memories of 70,000+, thwarting their invasion.]

[Assessment: Exceptionally potent ability, offset by grievous personal cost.]

[Corrosion Level: 7]

[Through observation and deduction, substantial intelligence on "Oblivion's Embrace" obtained. Heterochromatic Badge "Materialist Soul (Crimson)" reactivated. Comprehension of activation rules enhances resistance, now capable of nullifying moderate influences.]

...

"So that's why..."

Standing at the bureau chief's doorway, Leon stared at the newly surfaced anomaly data triggered by the red-haired woman grasping his hand. He nodded slowly in revelation.

No wonder I forgot Bureau protocols - she temporarily blocked those memories.

Recalling the black goat's warning about "truth-seekers attracting anomalies," he realized her memory tampering aimed to protect him while vulnerable.

Two factors saved him: his initial attraction had been mild, minimizing the memory tampering's effect, and the badge's heat warning—triggered by proximity to a corrupted entity—had jolted him into recovering those suppressed memories.

But why keep this secret? She could've just explained—

"Leon?"

A mellifluous voice shattered his thoughts. Looking up, he blinked against the sudden radiance—a willowy beauty in a beige pencil skirt stood at the corridor's end, smiling with disarming gentleness.

Unlike the dangerously alluring bureau chief, this woman's beauty held no edge. Her slender frame retained feminine curves, while her jade-luminous skin and delicate features exuded serene warmth that beckoned trust.

"Thank you for yesterday," she said, approaching with files cradled like precious texts. "Is the Director available? I need to submit another solo mission report."

[...Yesterday's incident... Solo mission... Knows me...] Leon's eyes widened. The bandaged one?! No—Senior Emma?!

The transformation stunned him—yesterday's plague-doctor-esque figure swathed in bandages versus this refined lady. He paused mid-step before hastily clearing the doorway:

"Of course! We just finished."

"Thank you."

Now that he saw her unobstructed, Emma's radiant transformation became undeniable. She bit her lip hesitantly:

"After my next assignment... could you do me a favor? No dangers—just... strenuous."

"It's nothing!" Leon straightened, his voice steeled with resolve. "You risked your life to save my sister yesterday. Whatever you need—no matter how exhausting—I'll give it everything!"

"Then I'll thank you in advance," Emma replied, her dewy lips curved delicately. With a final nod, the former bandage-clad agent—now radiant—pushed open the Director's office door.

Leon gaped as her silhouette vanished. Holy hell... If not for her voice, I'd never have recognized her!

The difference is insane! If she—

"If bedbugs looked like that, I'd let 'em chew me to death without a peep… That's what you're thinking, right?"

"..." Leon shot the black goat a withering glare.

"Tch. Quit simping," the goat sneered. "She's got kids older than you! Not a chance—give it up!"

(－＂－)

Chance?! I'm just shocked by her transformation!

Why must you twist everything?

And how has no one murdered you yet with that mouth of yours?

Is your broth that good?!

...

Leon grimaced as he lugged the motor-mouthed goat through the Cleansing Bureau's dim corridors, its endless chatter muffled under his arm. Squinting at nameplates lining the walls, he deciphered:

Harry·Morgan (Level 2 Crisis Handler)

Emma·Alman (Level 1 Disaster Specialist)

Leon·Lane (Level 3 Incident Officer)... Ah, here. Right next to Senior Emma's office.

His lips twitched upward at her nameplate. Not that he harbored any feelings—simply the natural joy of a rookie stationed beside a kind, competent mentor. Wait... Was that a flash in her office?

Peering through her corridor-side window, Leon froze. A three-meter scythe with rusted blades dominated Emma's desk, sunlight glinting menacingly along its edge.

This wasn't the cozy space he'd imagined—no potted plants, fashionable dresses, or children's toys. Instead:

Bloodied bandages. A dented maul. Yawning antique coffins. Leather-bound tomes of dubious origin. Unidentified skeletal remains. And half a guillotine embedded in the wall—its blade suspended midair by frayed ropes, awaiting the executioner's axe... Crunch.

"Well, maybe Senior Emma is a gentle person. However, the unique nature of the cleanup bureau's work seems to confine her gentleness to her personality alone.

I still remember last night when I hurried to the intensive care unit. I even saw the fingerprints she had left on that hard metal corner cabinet, made by her sheer strength..."

Reaffirming his vow never to cross her, Leon rummaged through his office until he found the massive trunk described by the red-haired Director—a near-twin to Senior Emma's.

Brass-reinforced corners. An heirloom-grade hardwood frame. Leather upholstery mimicking crocodile hide.

Though devoid of fashionable engravings or ornamental clasps, its rugged craftsmanship screamed luxury. The sole decoration: a gilded emblem stamped beside the handle—the Cleansing Bureau's insignia depicting a scarab maiden dutifully rolling her dung sphere.

Inside lay custom compartments, including a horned niche clearly meant for the black goat. Beside it rested a disassembled anti-materiel rifle and six melon-sized silver canisters.

Warmth flooded Leon at the sight of the familiar "Big Iron." Emma left this for me.

Her care transcended duty—yesterday, she'd prioritized mentoring him over washing bloodstained sleeves, patiently detailing cleanup protocols and dangers. Now she'd even loaned her signature weapon for his mission.

This debt's too great. When she needs help, I'll repay tenfold.

Eyes misting, Leon secured the trunk and shoved the cursing black goat into its horned slot before slamming the lid shut.

The miracle happened the moment the trunk clicked shut.

All noise ceased—the goat's grating voice, the psychic curses—as if someone had severed a scream mid-throat. Blessed silence.

Good. Now I can haul this idiot to Anna without traumatizing her.

Nodding in approval, Leon gripped the handle and heaved.

...Not a millimeter.

??

He stared at the defiant trunk, then seized both handles with a growl, muscles straining.

The behemoth budged—barely—before crashing down with a thunderous boom! Dust motes danced in the sudden sunlight.

[...Solid wood... crocodile-esque hide... metal fittings... plus a goat head and Big Iron...] Leon glared. This thing weighs a solid 60 kilos if it's an ounce. I'd eat it otherwise.

His malnourished arms trembled. The trunk lay smugly inert.

"Pathetic," he muttered, surrendering. Snatching his ID, he stormed toward the cafeteria.

Eat. Stuff myself until I'm jacked.

Train like hell. At least until I can lift this damned thing.

When Senior Emma needs me, I refuse to beg her to carry my own gear—that's social suicide!

"Anna… hic… Guess what I brought you?"

Leon pushed open the ICU door, his face softening at the sight of his frail sister lighting up.

He lifted the rosewood lunchbox with a playful shake. Before she could respond, he revealed triumphantly:

"Silver cod soup! Just like when you were little! Fresh from the outer river this morning—they even added milk!"

Cod and milk… That must've cost a fortune.

"Brother," Anna hesitated, fingers worrying the sheets. "You just started working yesterday—the private room upgrade, this expensive soup… Isn't it too much?"

"Don't worry about any of that." He set the triple-tiered container borrowed from Police Catering on her nightstand. "Just focus on healing. Now let me check your leg—"

As he flipped the blanket corner to inspect her bandaged thigh, Anna gasped.

"Not painful! Really!" She flushed scarlet, snatching back the blanket. "My skirt was cut during treatment! Stop peeking!" Her small hand clamped his wrist. "And quit blaming yourself! You couldn't know the gas pipes would explode!"

"Still, if I hadn't chosen this hospital—"

"No!" Her grip tightened. "It was an accident! Not your fault!"