TCWGRF 15

He had thought there would be no more opportunities to access the records office. But contrary to his expectations, a second chance came less than a week later.

“…They say they’re going to draft some of the patrol members as cleaners.”

“I bet they’re planning a big cleaning. Anyway, how are we supposed to do this whole huge place by ourselves…”

Among the members gathered in the second-floor patrol office of the Public Security Bureau for a shift change, a few who were quick with news were putting their heads together, already sharing their worries about the orders that would soon come down from above.

Isaac and Vincent, who had luckily finished their patrol early and returned, were also able to hear their whispered conversation.

“This job seems harder than I thought.”

“Tell me about it. I thought it would be easy.”

The patrol members’ main complaints stemmed from the miscellaneous tasks piled on top of their patrol duties. The patrol work, which they had thought would be easier than other jobs, turned out to have its own difficulties once they actually tried it.

It took at least three or four hours to roughly scan one district of the city, and a patrol member had to survey at least two districts in half a day.

Their feet were a mess from walking briskly in cheap, ill-fitting shoes distributed by the Party, and no matter how robust a person had been, they would groan the moment they returned to the office and sat their bottoms down.

Moreover, there were no days off, so they worked every single day. Between tasks like moving trash or repairing fences as instructed by the officers, it was more accurate to say that while it was called a two-shift system, they worked as ceaselessly as worker bees in the spring.

“How much will they work us to the bone if it’s for the Founding Day grand cleaning?”

The sole Party that had built the city and distributed necessary goods for the citizens. Its founding day was ten days away.

It was a day when special food was distributed throughout the city, and instead of the ear-splitting siren, the Party leader’s speech flowed from the speakers. It was also the most important day of the year, when everyone cleaned everything from their homes to the streets and expressed their gratitude to the city and the Party that had accepted them as citizens.

It was not strange for each department to put more effort into environmental beautification than usual in commemoration of the Founding Day.

“I’m scared to death. What if I get framed as a rebel after going into some random place to clean?”

The recent rebel commotion at the Public Security Bureau. Although it had passed safely without interrogation or torture for the remaining patrol members, they were not entirely free from suspicion.

The marginal citizens of the outer districts were always more like outsiders compared to those in the city center and Districts 1 through 4, and 5 through 12, and suspicion naturally followed them due to their proximity to the outside. They were not even given a chance to prove their innocence or protest, so the moment they were singled out as culprits, everything was over.

So, if by any chance an officer thought a patrol member who was just cleaning was suspicious, or if they were framed because there happened to be information related to rebels in the place they entered to clean, there was no way out. It was inevitable that they would be reluctant to take on additional tasks, feeling like they were playing hot potato and hoping they would not be the one to get caught.

“Surely, is there no one?”

The worries the members had been discussing soon became a reality. Not long after, Sera came into the office and asked if there were any volunteers to take charge of cleaning at night, after the Public Security Bureau employees had gone home.

The dozens of patrol members lined up only glared at each other; no one readily stepped forward.

However, since it was a job someone had to do, the prolonged silence was awkward and uncomfortable. As if there was a secret desire to push it onto the youngest member, most of them sent glances towards a young man named ‘Joshua’ standing in the back row.

Stinging glares were fixed on one person, and heads shook minutely, urging him to raise his hand quickly.

The black-haired young man, with his hat pulled down low, had no choice but to say, “I’ll do it,” and slowly raised his right hand. His elderly partner standing next to him also displayed a sense of solidarity that was hard to watch without tears, saying, “I’ll do it with him.”

Only after six or seven more reluctantly volunteered did the other members, who had escaped the crisis of being framed as rebels and the increased workload, breathe a sigh of relief.

One or two among them were vaguely realizing that being a patrol member was not much different from other jobs in the city, a life-threatening one, but there was no way they could quit now.

For the time being, the best they could do was consider themselves fortunate to have avoided today’s crisis.

‘Will it really be okay?’

In fact, Isaac had heard the news that they would be recruiting cleaning personnel beforehand, through Vincent.

He was on good terms with the officer in charge of his residential District 26, so he often heard about the Public Security Bureau’s affairs one step ahead like that. The information about the records office had also been obtained through that officer.

‘A large-scale cleaning of that magnitude is usually done after everyone has gone home, and everyone will be reluctant to do it. So, it’s a perfect opportunity for us.’

During that time, Isaac had explained the whole story in detail to Vincent, who had offered to help him.

That he had recklessly stolen the identity of a person named ‘Joshua’ to find his friend, and that he had almost suffocated in filth while infiltrating through a sewer connected to District 28 without knowing any better.

That he had been anxious that the real Joshua might be at the address listed in the documents, or that a neighbor might recognize him, but was relieved that the house had been empty for a long time and no one was interested.

Since the other man had also told him his story without hiding anything, he wanted to at least not hide anything from him. The only thing Isaac could repay the first and only ally he had met in the city with was the truth.

However, he did not say exactly who he was looking for. It is possible that even at that moment, he was thinking of the ‘what ifs’.

Afraid that the moment he was discovered, Vincent would speak of ‘Asel’, and that he would not even be able to protect the boy. He simply added a few physical characteristics like hair and eye color, and height, and that he was a beautiful young man.

After hearing the general story, Vincent, like Isaac, prioritized two possibilities. He judged that he was either long dead and had become a corpse, or if he had survived against all odds, he would not have been able to leave the outskirts.

Of course, there was a third possibility. If the friend Isaac was looking for was an undeniably outstandingly beautiful young man, he could have caught the eye of someone important and entered the inner districts.

However, if that were the case, it was unlikely that there would have been no rumors, and even if they had been strictly tight-lipped, he would have gone through the hands of the Public Security Bureau for identity verification or laundering. If the young man brought into one’s home for amusement turned out to be a rebel, that would be a shortcut to a string of family ruins.

The city’s politicians, whose prudence was second to none, loved documents, procedures, and verification, so their subordinates must have been adept at preparing paperwork, even if only formally, to avoid any untoward incidents.

Whether he was dead or alive, or had obtained a new identity. The traces would surely remain in the Public Security Bureau’s records office.

But when Isaac had actually opened the door and looked, most of the materials were useless, and there was nothing about population or names. Where on earth could they have kept them?

‘You said there was a red door inside the records office, right?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘I’ve heard that data on unidentified deceased persons or people who have newly obtained identities are important, so they’re stored separately.’

As expected. At Vincent’s words, Isaac was once again convinced that his premonition was correct. If he opened the red door and went inside, the answer he had been waiting for would surely be there.

‘…Actually, someone came into the records office that day.’

As his confidence swelled, so did the fear caused by a man whose face he did not even know rise in his chest. When complete darkness fell, his low voice whispering ‘rat’ clung to him like an afterglow, buzzing in his ears.

Even while forcing himself to swallow the reassurance that his presence had not been discovered, he often had dreams of black shoes striding forward, stopping, and then barely moving away.

‘Who?’

He wondered if maybe Vincent had also seen him and had not mentioned it for the same reason, but judging from his reaction, it seemed he really did not know of his existence.

‘I was only looking down, so I don’t know for sure. He brought a woman inside with him, and also, a white uniform…’

‘Hmm…’

With just that much of an explanation, Vincent seemed to have figured out who the man was. His brow furrowed, and the expression on his face as he squeezed his eyes shut was unusual.

‘There are only a few people who can move around inside the Public Security Bureau that freely, and on top of that, a pure white uniform…’

‘…Who could it have been?’

‘Have you ever seen anyone wearing a white uniform among the people you’ve encountered so far?’

All Public Security Bureau officers wore black uniforms and epaulets according to their rank. If someone had been walking around in white, it was impossible not to have noticed.

‘Ah, no. I thought maybe it could have been another guest who came for the inauguration ceremony…’

Embarrassed that his ignorance had been exposed by Vincent’s slightly reproachful question of didn’t he know that, Isaac hastily trailed off while adding his own reasoning.

Then Vincent cleared his throat with a few coughs and, for the sake of his clueless partner, answered, emphasizing each word.

‘…The new Commissioner of Public Security, Samuel.’

‘What?’

‘Remember this well. Samuel is a person you must never, ever encounter in the future, and the most dangerous man in the city. From the moment you meet a man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a white uniform, you’ll start to think that it would be better to just die…’

As soon as he realized once again that he had been in the same space as that Samuel, who was no different from a devil to the rebels, and at a distance that seemed reachable if he stretched out his hand, his heart plummeted and his head spun.

Someone in the rebel camp where he grew up must have chattered on in detail about Samuel’s appearance, but until then, Isaac had had no intention of coming to the city, so he had always let it go in one ear and out the other.

Based on the stories he could remember, he had only imagined him to be a monster-like person with scars all over his face who appeared in the basement or the top floor of the Public Security Bureau, but who would have known that they had already shared such a revealing moment.

‘D-do you think he, he noticed I was there?’

Isaac stammered, voicing the question that had been tormenting him for days.

‘No. If he had known someone was there, a bullet would have flown first and you would have been turned into a honeycomb. That man has absolutely no mercy.’

Thanks to Vincent’s firm answer, Isaac was able to stroke his chest in relief that the ‘rat’ had not been him.

‘So let’s both be careful not to get caught. Got it?’

Thanks to the words of his reliable ally, who called them ‘us’—two people who would not have even met a few weeks ago—Isaac was able to compose himself, thinking it would be better to focus on seizing the upcoming opportunity rather than getting scared by his assumptions about Commissioner Samuel.

The Public Security Bureau’s grand cleaning for Founding Day took place over a long three days.

On the first day, they removed the old dust from the corners of the building and polished the unseen places until they shone.

On the second day, they made the places where people came and went often, like the hallways and stairs, gleaming. And on the third day, today, they were to walk around and clean any less-polished or bothersome spots.

The higher-ups, conscious of the fact that there had been a rebel among the patrol members, had stationed officers on duty at the ends of the stairs and hallways, but that too had fizzled out by the last day. They had concentrated manpower only on the first floor or the seventh-floor security room, which the rebels had directly targeted, so the other floors were quiet.

Isaac and Vincent were in charge of cleaning the second to fourth floors. Except for the Commissioner and a few other high-ranking people, everyone had to use the stairs instead of the elevator, so everyone had shown that much consideration for Vincent, who had a bad leg.

The two men, just as they had done until the previous day, cleaned thoroughly from the fourth floor and came down to the third. When the third-floor cleaning was finished, they planned to go down to the lower floor to check for any dirty spots. Of course, there was a place to stop by for a moment before that.

“Phew.”

“…Don’t be too nervous. You haven’t forgotten the signal we agreed on, have you?”

“No. Of course not.”

Cough, cough, two coughs meant someone was nearby, so be careful. Ahem, ahem, the sound of clearing one’s throat meant it was safe, so you could come out now. Just in case he could not hear the sounds, if there was no reaction from inside, Vincent was to let him know how much time had passed by the number of knocks.

Even though his future could not be guaranteed the moment he was caught, Isaac felt an indescribable gratitude toward Vincent for stepping up and helping him so much like this.

“Thank you. I really mean it.”

“…I hope you find a clue to your friend inside. Are you ready?”

Was it because he had a reliable person on his side? Isaac nodded his head gallantly. He was much less nervous than when he had first opened the records office door and entered. He was even under the illusion that Asel might be waiting for him inside the red door.

“Ahem, you wipe this side more. I’ll take that side!”

“Yes.”

Those words were the signal. Vincent pointed his index finger blatantly at the corner and then, using his mop as a cane, slid slowly toward the opposite side of the hallway.