Becoming a Mage of the Special Unit in Another World

Chapter 5 – Honestly, Tuesdays aren’t that different. (2)

“…Um.”
“Yes. Please go ahead.”
Sunal looked at the person sitting in front of him. For some reason, the person was pressing their face down with a hat and wearing sunglasses, making it difficult to discern their species.
“…I’m here to pick up my glasses.”
“Glasses?”
“You’re… giving out glasses, right?”
“This is the Interethnic Grievance Resolution Special Unit. Perhaps you’ve mistaken this for another department? If you go to the second floor……”
“Oh, no. Thank you.”
As the person hurriedly left, Sunal stared blankly into space for a moment.
‘Glasses? Why would anyone be looking for glasses here?’
His curiosity only lasted a moment. Soon, he lowered his gaze and checked his wristwatch.
‘How much time until I’m off…?’
Still a long way to go.
It had only been about 30 minutes since lunchtime ended.
‘Damn it.’
Pretending to organize some documents, Sunal pressed the number button very slowly.
Ding-dong.
Number 18.
As the number changed, Sunal gazed into the air, looking lost once again. He adjusted his glasses that had slipped down his nose as he heard footsteps approaching and forced a smile filled with professionalism.
“Hello.”
Greetings had to be moderately cheerful. Too cheerful, and someone could complain, so balance was key.
“What brings you here today?”
Sometimes, there were people who struggled to speak right away, and asking directly made complaints less likely.
The woman who appeared had slightly short black hair, a somewhat hip fashion style, but contrasted with outdated glasses. From her appearance, Sunal quickly realized that she was a Medusa.
Knowing that most of them were shy and sensitive, Sunal adjusted his tone, speaking more carefully.
“I’m here to pick up my glasses.”
Sunal felt puzzled by the woman’s blunt response. It was the same thing the previous visitor, who had hurried out, had said.
‘Did we start some free glasses giveaway without me knowing? Why are people looking for glasses here?’
Still, Sunal smiled politely.
“This is the Interethnic Grievance Resolution Special Unit. You’ve come to the wrong department.”
“No, no. I’m in the right place. I saw it clearly with my own eyes recently.”
The Medusa spoke with a somewhat laid-back tone.
Before Sunal knew it, the woman had leaned one arm on the consultation desk, bent her upper body forward, and was tapping the desk with her fingers. She was also shaking her leg on top of it.
‘Right. Just because most Medusas are shy and sensitive doesn’t mean all of them are. There’s always someone who stands out.’
Sunal cleared his mind of the preconceived notions he’d been paying attention to and asked,
“When did you see me?”
He hadn’t been out much lately.
Work, home. Home, work. That was the pattern. He thought maybe she had seen him on the subway or bus.
“Yesterday. A Medusa went on a rampage, and you handled it, didn’t you?”
When the Medusa spoke, Sunal briefly recalled the student to whom he had given glasses. He couldn’t help but feel like smiling.
Though work was exhausting, the student’s grateful smile, holding the glasses with such happiness, had washed away all his fatigue.
“So you saw me there. But why are you here today?”
Sunal didn’t let himself get lost in sentimentality. The very fact that she had come because of that day made him uneasy.
To file a complaint with the Interethnic Grievance Resolution Special Unit, in-person meetings were mandatory. Unlike other departments at the local office, they didn’t take calls at all, and there was no telephone counseling service, known as “phone transfers,” in this office.
If there was something that needed to be communicated to all employees or an urgent external issue arose, Edina Ross would personally contact them by phone, so Sunal didn’t have to worry about that.
The reason things worked this way was that these issues were sensitive, as they often involved interspecies conflicts still unresolved after the war, and the government’s policy was to avoid wasting manpower on false claims.
Though it seemed like a step backward in an era where mobile phones and computers had become so advanced, it did save a lot of unnecessary time.
‘…The downside is that you hear complaints directly, whether it’s about noise or feeling scared during the process.’
Sunal waited for the Medusa to speak.
‘I wonder what she’s going to say.’
Suddenly, the Medusa reached out her hand.
“Give me one too. I came to get that. And if possible, I’d like a nice pair of sunglasses.”
“…?”
For a moment, Sunal was speechless, stunned by her confident gesture as if she’d deposited money here. But he soon smiled.
“You can’t get any paperwork from this office. If you need documents, you’ll have to go to the paperwork department.”
“Not that. Glasses, I mean glasses.”
The Medusa pointed at her own glasses, her tone bold and even showing a bit of anticipation.
“I heard you’ve got super lightweight glasses. These are unnecessarily heavy and have been bothering me for a while.”
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t an eyewear shop. I recommend you visit the nearest optical store.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?”
The Medusa straightened up, leaning slightly forward from her previously relaxed position.
“I was told you give out glasses here. Was that a lie?”
“No, we’ve never done that.”
“Hold on a second.”
The Medusa took out her phone and started searching for something. A moment later, she held it up with a smug expression.
“Look at this. See? I captured it perfectly.”
Sunal adjusted his glasses and looked at the phone screen.
‘We’re giving out… free glasses?’
It was written in tacky red letters against a pink background.
His eyes moved downward.
‘The address is definitely correct.’
A wave of exhaustion suddenly hit him. He was already busy enough—who had pulled a stunt like this?
“This is a scam. Our unit doesn’t run such events. I apologize, but for any official events, they would be announced through the government’s official website, posters at the local office, or promoted on certified social media accounts. For more information, you can contact the phone number listed at the bottom of the local office website.”
“‘A scam,’ you say. But this is definitely….”
The Medusa’s mouth hung slightly open.
“Wh-where did it go? It was right here, wasn’t it?”
‘The scammer vanished without a trace.’
Sunal let out a heavy breath through his nose.
‘At least if I had the address, I could figure something out.’
The extra task now weighing on him, Sunal already felt irritation creeping in. Even though the Medusa looked flustered, her expression still carried a certain defiance as she extended her hand.
“Scam or not, I know what I saw.”
“And what exactly did you see?”
“You gave glasses to that other Medusa, but not to me. Isn’t that discrimination?”
The corners of the man’s mouth lifted slightly.
“This is strange, isn’t it? The department that claims to resolve discrimination and conflict is the one causing discrimination. How about I keep this little secret to myself if you just give me one pair?”
Taking out frustration from some unrelated grievance. Sunal found it absurd.
“I understand that you’re upset because someone deceived you, but this is not the place to vent your anger, nor do we give out free glasses here. I recommend heading straight to the police station to file a report.”
Sunal, too, offered a calm smile.
Situations like this were not uncommon. People, unaware that they were spouting nonsense, often thought they could get their way just by raising their voices and pushing boundaries. These were classic examples of unreasonable demands, known as throwing a tantrum, and those who did so frequently were called troublemakers.
The Medusa he had dealt with yesterday, the one causing this confusion, was still just a student.
It was natural for adults to protect students, and the law already safeguarded them. How could this be seen as discrimination?
“Oh, and by the way, everything in this conversation is being recorded and filmed. I’d like to remind you of that.”
Sunal pointed at the sign in front of him:
• All conversations are being recorded. For proper handling of public complaints, this is essential, and we appreciate your understanding.
“You really don’t care if this incident gets out?”
Sunal didn’t flinch at the man’s threatening gesture.
If that kind of threat worked, he would have handed over the glasses a long time ago.
“Let’s handle this smoothly. Just look the other way this one time, and… huh?”
Suddenly, Sunal noticed the man’s face freeze in mid-sentence, and he turned around.
“Team Leader?”
Sunal was slightly surprised.
‘…Is it already time to leave?’
No, that couldn’t be it. There was no way. Unless it was time to go home or a field assignment, Edina Ross was always glued to her chair, so for her to suddenly show up here was unexpected.
“Feel free to try.”
Edina approached Sunal with a smile as she answered.
“…Excuse me?”
The Medusa looked dumbfounded, and Sunal had to suppress a laugh.
“I said you can go ahead and do whatever you like.”
A sharp smile spread across Edina’s face, revealing her pointed teeth.
“Post it on all the sites you want. Complain on the local office’s website. Whine to your friends and family. Go ahead, it’s fine.”
“Wh-what… hey! Are you threatening me right now?”
The Medusa’s eyes trembled, clearly shaken. To her, it sounded like a very frightening threat.
“Threatening? No, I merely said it was fine since you mentioned you would do it. Are you finished with your business here?”
“Do you really think this situation, where some people get glasses and others don’t, isn’t discrimination?”
The Medusa tried to strengthen her voice, but Sunal calmly responded to her absurd reasoning.
“This isn’t a place where we hand out or sell goods to citizens, nor do we make them for people.”
“I assumed this wasn’t a shop from the beginning. What do you think?”
Edina followed up, supporting Sunal’s words.
“…Hah.”
The Medusa let out a scoff. The situation was too absurd for her to process. How could government employees be this shameless?
“There isn’t a single law stating that I can’t give citizens items while resolving complaints. In fact, the government encourages it to promote smoother complaint resolutions.”
Sunal adjusted his glasses.
How efficient would it be if a single magical tool could resolve conflict and discrimination? The government had placed very few regulations on how the Interethnic Grievance Resolution Special Unit handled complaints, to encourage active problem-solving.
It could be seen as a liberal approach, but on the downside, the lack of strict guidelines meant that resolution methods often depended on individual capability.
“And why did you come to this department in the first place? You didn’t seriously fall for that scam, thinking you’d get a free pair of glasses, did you?”
It had only been two weeks since Sunal had transferred to the department and started handling complaints firsthand, but he felt like he had already encountered a wide variety of cases.
‘No wonder we don’t get more staff here.’
Yet, maybe he was getting used to it.
“I’ll say it one more time. If you need glasses, this isn’t the place. You need to go to an eyewear store.”
Sunal made it clear to the Medusa that her baseless complaints wouldn’t get her anywhere.
‘This is what the department is about.’
On the other hand, legitimate complaints were a different matter.
For example, if someone complained that the noise during complaint handling was so loud it woke them up when they had to work a night shift, then he’d have to prepare to write a report in silence.
“Well then, goodbye.”
Sunal flashed a wide smile at the Medusa, who seemed ready to flee.
“I-I’ll file a complaint about this place!”
“We only accept complaints in person. See you next time.”
He didn’t forget to kindly remind her of the rules. After all, she would end up facing him again sooner or later.
“What kind of place is this? And you call yourselves public servants!”
As the Medusa spat out curses while leaving, Sunal took a sip from the water bottle next to him.
‘If only all complaints were like this.’
He could dismiss them without writing any reports.
“But what brought you here, Team Leader?”
“Oh, nothing. I heard someone was impersonating our department on social media, so I came to check. It’s not like we’ve dealt with any glasses cases recently, other than that one incident of yours, right?”
“Someone else came earlier as well.”
“They must have only posted it for a few hours. When I checked, the account was already deleted.”
“Has this happened before?”
“It has. We’re not exactly loved around here, you know. Anyway, Sunal. Don’t worry about it… but you already aren’t, huh?”
Edina chuckled, half in disbelief.
“At this point, the only thing I care about is getting off work.”
“Hang in there, Sunal. Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”
Edina patted Sunal’s shoulder a few times before heading back to her office.
Sunal took a deep gulp of water and exhaled slowly.
He already felt drained from dealing with strange people.
‘When is quitting time…’
Just as he was about to check his wristwatch, he heard footsteps approaching.
“Hurry up and press it.”
“Yeah, press it already.”
A bold but youthful voice rang out.
Sunal looked up to see two children, barely tall enough to have their upper bodies visible above the counter.
They were elementary school age, or so he guessed. One was a girl, and the other was a boy.
They looked so alike that Sunal wondered if they were twins. With their pale skin, he figured they were from the Vampire race.
In the girl’s hand, she was clutching a number slip carefully.
Number 20.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” the girl said with a long smile on her face.
Both the girl and the boy had an air of nobility about them, as if they came from some aristocratic family.
Many Vampires were, in fact, nobility before the war, and even after the war ended, most of them had only become wealthier, thanks to their already considerable assets.
“Hello there.”
Sunal smiled at them.
Even though they were children, he couldn’t speak to them too casually.
“Yes, nice to meet you,” the girl said, raising her chin as if to flaunt her pride.
“Sister, sit here. Let’s sit together,” the boy said with a bashful grin, pointing to the chairs.
Tap tap.
Ding dong.
A sound from the number board caught Sunal’s attention, making him turn his head.
It was number 20.
Sunal pointed to the number slip in the girl’s hand.
“I’m sorry, but number 20 is for over there, not here.”
The girl looked down at her number and then turned to see another number board displaying the same 20. Her arrogance vanished instantly, and her face twisted as though she was about to cry.
“Why?”
Her voice trembled, on the verge of tears.
“We waited so long,” she whimpered.
The boy’s lower lip had already started to quiver upward.