I’m an Immigration Officer!

The next morning.
“Welcome to the Cross-Line Kingdom.”
— Thud.

The sound of the immigration stamp echoed from my desk for the first time in a while.
“Good. Next!”
The border never changes.

No matter how the world spins, one of the few things upheld with absolute ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) strictness is border control.
Which means, no matter what I’ve gone through these past few days, I can’t forget my duty.
Yeah… this is my place.

I found myself fiddling with the immigration stamp, a faint sense of relief settling in.
It finally felt like I was slipping back into routine.
The Immigration Bureau doesn’t change. It’s practically a universal constant.

But if there was one thing that had changed—
“…Hmph.”
It was the people.

I glanced over my shoulder.
In the corner of the Bureau, Elaine stood quietly, observing everything beneath the deep hood of her robe.
When I gave a subtle nod, she returned it, mimicking me.

Her green eyes glinted faintly beneath the hood.
Pinned to her chest, a hastily made badge dangled lightly.
— Honorary Observer.
A last-minute, makeshift title to match the badge.

Unlike Erzena, who had carved out a real position here as the Bureau’s unofficial recovery specialist, Elaine wasn’t ready to take on anything yet.
For now, just watching would broaden her perspective.
It was a perfect opportunity to show her the sheer variety of species in this world—and how to deal with them.

I better make this a good example.
As expected, Elaine’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and nervous tension, darting around the room, absorbing every detail like it was all brand new.
I turned back to the line stretching out before me and called out:

“Next!”
“Oi!”
A voice answered immediately.

“What’s with this crowd? Do they even want people to enter or not?”
A grumbling man’s voice.
But something felt off.

“…Sir? Where are you exactly?”
“You ground folk can’t see straight even with your eyes wide open?”
The voice was close, but I couldn’t see anyone.

What the hell?
Confused, I looked around.
There was no one in front of me.

“Oi, down here! How about you lower your gaze for once?”
“Ah.”
Following the voice, I looked down—and finally saw him.

A man standing at barely half my height.
Stocky build, thick beard reaching his knees, burly muscles contrasting his short frame, dressed in something resembling miner’s overalls.
The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew exactly what species I was dealing with.

“A dwarf…”
A member of the short-statured subterranean race.
The dwarf, wearing a sturdy-looking helmet, muttered gruffly.

“If you only look ahead, you’ll trip over rocks eventually. Try looking down once in a while.”
His common tongue was rough, tumbling out between his beard with blunt, choppy pronunciation that was oddly refreshing.
It made sense. To a small-statured race, being overlooked likely came off as disrespectful.

“My apologies. We don’t get many dwarves this far south, so I seem to have made a mistake.”
Offering a brief apology, I flipped the hourglass on my desk.
“Please state your place of origin, full name, and purpose of visit. You have five minutes.”

“Five minutes? That’s plenty.”
The dwarf planted his feet shoulder-width apart and straightened his posture.
“Name’s Bathan Glimrock. Second son of the great miner Chepa Glimrock.”

He gestured toward the ground with a hand tangled in his beard.
“I come from beneath your feet.”
“...”

As if that wasn’t obvious enough.
Everything about him screamed underground dweller.
And it’s not like “underground” told me where exactly he was from.

Forcing myself to maintain a neutral expression, I pressed on.
“I’d appreciate a more precise place of origin.”
“Don’t know if you’ve heard of it… UnderMine?”

UnderMine.
Not a name I was unfamiliar with.
It was the dwarves’ homeland—a mysterious city yet to be discovered by other races.

But something wasn’t adding up.
UnderMine isn’t down south. It’s buried somewhere under the Great Mountain Range.
The dwarves’ homeland lies beneath the Urakaras Mountains—a massive range that bisects the continent into four parts.

The southern regions, by contrast, are mostly flat plains, nearly devoid of mountains.
And where there are no mountains, there are no mineral-rich deposits.
Meaning, there’s practically no reason for a miner species to be here in the south.

And yet here stood Bathan, covered head to toe in dirt, right in front of me.
Most dwarves operate near the western volcanic zones… What’s he doing all the way out here?
There was a strange sense of disconnect.

The details didn’t quite line up.
“Hmmm…”
And there was still one unanswered question.

“What is your purpose of visit, sir?”
“You surface folk really are blind with your eyes wide open, huh? Why else would an underground man crawl above ground? There’s only one reason.”
He rummaged in his pocket and pulled something out, still caked in soil.

A vivid green gem glinted in the light.
— Sparkle.
An emerald.

“Oh…”
From across the room, Elaine’s identical green eyes shone with curiosity.
A gemstone.

The pride of the dwarves—the physical embodiment of their racial obsession—was in his hand.
“I’ve been slumming it in this sorry land for half a year thanks to rumors of a new southern vein.”
Dwarves don’t usually abandon their homeland lightly.

Their pride in living underground, their inherited craftsmanship, and the abundant mineral veins of their homeland keep them firmly rooted.
Leaving UnderMine is akin to forsaking all of that to wander the surface world alone.
But there are always exceptions.

Some dwarves, obsessed with finding rare gemstones and metals beyond their homeland, roam the wider world.
It’s thanks to eccentrics like them that the world even knows dwarves exist.
Looks like he’s one of those types.

Confirming my theory, he continued speaking.
“Vein’s tapped out now, so I’m thinking it’s about time to head home.”
Given that dwarves are exponentially more skilled at tunneling and mining than human miners, he could’ve stripped the whole vein solo in no time.

That adds up.
Eccentric dwarf, known origin, possessions and story aligned.
I spoke.

“Do you happen to have other gemstones in your possession as well?”
“Course I do. You think I trekked all the way to the south for just one stone?”
He turned, slinging a hefty backpack off his shoulders.

“Got a whole heap right here.”
The pack bulged with a colorful assortment of raw stones, sparkling faintly even through the dirt.
I snapped my fingers.

“Attendant.”
“Yes, ready.”
My personal attendant approached carrying a small wooden box.

“Sir, please place all gemstones you’ve brought into this box.”
“Huh? What for?”
“A routine inspection.”

Precious metals, minerals, and gemstones are considered controlled goods.
Precious metals require checks to prevent trafficking.
Minerals are strategic resources reported directly to the Intelligence Bureau.

And gemstones, due to their magical resonance, are highly regulated as essential components for artifacts and magical devices.
Tracking their types, quantities, and movement is mandatory.
“Hmmm…”

Bathan stroked his beard, clearly reluctant.
But after a moment, he nodded.
“…If you scratch even one of these, there’ll be trouble.”

“We’ll be as careful as possible.”
Reassured by my polite response, the dwarf grudgingly emptied his bag into the box.
— Clatter.

Dozens of fist-sized raw gems tumbled inside.
The attendant let out an involuntary gasp.
“Whoa…”

Selling even one of these would probably cover our salaries for months.
Carrying that around in a backpack… Is he fearless or just clueless about the world?
Yet again, dwarves’ underground common sense clashed with ours.

Once all the gems were in the box, the attendant carried it straight to the Tactile Officer.
“Tactile Officer, gemstone verification requested.”
“My, how pretty.”

The Tactile Officer’s eyes widened as she extended her tendrils, brushing over each gem one by one, murmuring to herself.
“Emerald, sapphire, opal, amethyst… Oh, even a ruby—”
But then—

“Huh?”
She paused, frowning slightly.
Lifting the final gem, she examined it for a long moment.

A blood-red, dazzlingly beautiful stone, gleaming like it had been carved by a master into a smooth teardrop shape.
Her expression darkened.
“This isn’t a ruby. It’s a Blood Diamond.”

Blood Diamond.
My brow furrowed at those words.
Goddammit.

 
Extremely rare, but at the same time, an incredibly dangerous gem used as a catalyst for blood magic.
It was classified as a prohibited item for entry.

“I’m afraid, sir, one of your belongings violates the entry regulations.”
“The hell are you saying!?”
Bathan shouted in shock.

“Blood Diamond. It’s classified as a Class 1 prohibited item. Equivalent in risk to unlicensed artifacts. Without proper containment, it poses a serious threat to border security.”
I recited the regulation.
“Therefore, we will confiscate the item and conduct a brief inquiry. Do you consent to this?”

How did that gem end up in his hands? Where did he get it? And more importantly, who was it intended for?
I was ready to calmly extract those answers.
But the dwarf’s reaction was far more aggressive than expected.

“Don’t give me that crap! You just want the gem for yourself, don’t you?!”
“Ugh—”
The sudden burst of shouting made Elaine flinch, pulling her hood low and retreating deeper into the corner.

Just as her guard had begun to lower, it was now shooting back up again.
My expression stiffened.
“…Calm yourself. No one said that. And lower your voice.”

“Then why else would surface folk try to snatch away a gem we dwarves mined with our own sweat and blood!?”
Ah.
There it was.

The dwarves’ infamous racial greed.
They’ve lived isolated underground for so long that interaction with other cultures is almost nonexistent.
All while being driven by an insatiable desire for metals and gemstones.

Right now, he’s convinced I’m after his Blood Diamond out of sheer personal greed.
The atmosphere was deteriorating fast.
“…We’re not getting anywhere like this.”

“Surface folk are always the damn problem!”
I locked eyes with my attendant.
With a glance, he silently asked, Shall I arrest him?

Hold for now.
Let’s think this through.
Anger is expected.

Dwarves obsess over gemstones. It’s common knowledge.
But then, why walk right up to our border openly carrying a prohibited item?
That’s the real issue.

Is this smuggling?
I narrowed my eyes, scrutinizing the dwarf.
Southern Border smugglers? Practically extinct.

I wiped them out four years ago.
The few bold enough to try since have either been executed or are rotting in cells.
Would this dwarf be one of them?

No… If he was, he wouldn’t have handed the goods over so easily.
If this were intentional smuggling, he would’ve concealed the gem or excluded it from the pile entirely.
I studied Bathan carefully.

“What are you saying? You said you’d inspect it and return it, so hand it over already!”
His reaction was pure, unfiltered confusion.
Smugglers never work alone.

They always arrive in groups with decoy goods to muddy inspections.
Not a smuggler. Too clumsy for that.
Other possibilities?

Simple ignorance. Lack of understanding of the rules.
Or…
Not an independent smuggler, but someone was using him.

That last suspicion felt the most plausible.
I need more information.
Focusing my thoughts, I slowly prepared my next move.

A moment later, a voice like it was caked in dirt and dust rasped from my throat:
“Kha-shila de Meta i Alagas Diaka.” (Let’s settle down and talk this through.)
“Whuh?”

He froze mid-sentence, eyes widening at me.
“…Huh?”
Elaine, puzzled by my sudden change in tone, tilted her head from across the room.

“Makha doom? Hruasil Beta de Untermine?” (What? You from UnderMine?)
The dwarf’s entire demeanor shifted—visibly friendlier now.
“Damn, didn’t know there were humans from UnderMine! Your parents dwarves or somethin’?”

“…Pardon?”
Even I was thrown off by how casually prejudiced that was.
I continued speaking in Dwarvish.

“That’s not the case. But I do know well how much effort your people pour into mining these beautiful gems. It’s only natural for everyone to covet them. I’ll admit, I’m a little jealous myself.”
Negotiation trick 101: Appeal to their pride.
The heart of good service is flattering the customer.

And for gruff dwarves, compliments go down as smooth as ale.
“This human knows a thing or two! Most surface folk got no clue how hard we work.”
“Which is exactly why I must tell you… you’re surely aware how dangerous this Blood Diamond is, yes? It requires proper handling.”

“Ah, yeah, I know. I do, but…”
Once you ease their mood, their defenses drop.
And when defenses drop, the truth spills out.

Bathan scratched his beard.
“Well… Heard a rumor. Some fella said he’d trade me mithril for this. Figured if I was careful, there’d be no harm done. Gem’s safe in dwarven hands, after all.”
There it is—the real story.

“You’re right. Your people handle gems masterfully. But… what happens if, by mistake, this gem ends up in someone else’s hands? Worse, in the hands of someone with malicious intent?”
“Ah, hell, that’d be a disaster. Can’t let such a pretty little thing roll into the dirt.”
“Exactly. That’s why we have these regulations.”

I gently drew him in, explaining our procedure.
“We’ll coordinate with the Royal Magic Society to ensure proper containment. Once secured, the gem will be returned to you. I give you my word.”
For the Magic Society, slapping a tracking spell on a cursed gem like this is trivial.

If this was truly an attempt to exploit an unsuspecting dwarf for smuggling, we needed to follow the chain—find the buyer, not just the courier.
Add a magic nullification seal, and it’s just another harmless shiny rock.
No loose ends. And I’ll find whoever was behind this transaction.

At least within the Southern Border, that threat had to be completely eradicated.
“Stay at the border for a few days. We’ll have this sorted quickly.”
“Tsk… Eh, alright then! Can’t not trust a human who speaks our tongue.”

At last, the dwarf relented.
“Good. Let’s proceed.”
I raised my stamp without hesitation.

“Bathan Glimrock, you carried a prohibited item, but it’s been determined this was a misunderstanding due to unfamiliarity with regulations. You’ve demonstrated full cooperation with our inquiry. Accordingly, your compliance is noted.”
I skimmed his entry documents.
Everything else checked out.

“Welcome to the Cross-Line Kingdom.”
— Thud!
The stamp pressed down firmly.

[ENTRY APPROVED] marked in bold.
Next to it, I scribbled in small handwriting:
[MONITOR CLOSELY].

“Return to me in one week. Your gem will be ready.”
The attendant, sharp as ever, discreetly filed the paperwork into a [Foreign Ministry Dispatch] envelope.
“Good mining, human friend! See you in a week!”

The dwarf waved cheerfully and strode out of the Bureau.
Watching him disappear, I muttered:
“A Blood Diamond… Who the hell’s trying to buy that?”

A nagging worry settled over me.
It’s valuable as a collector’s item, sure.
But dangerous enough that no ordinary person would risk dealing in it.

“Hmph.”
Hopefully, I was just being paranoid.
But it didn’t sit right.

It felt… like the calm before a storm.
As if something was about to crash down on the border, right when things had finally stabilized.
“If the next sixty days could just pass quietly… That’s all I’m asking.”

Murmuring under my breath, I turned back to the line.
“Next!”
From across the Bureau, Elaine was watching, a serious expression on her face.

[The world… really is brutal.]
Her quiet, conflicted thought drifted faintly through the noisy Immigration Bureau.