Cameraman Never Dies

The eerie silence of the night was undisturbed, but the sound barrier gave Judge additional security against.. the security... guards, how ironic.

He slowly proceeded to take his pen and an application paper, filling it was the first step. There were three types of application forms, one was basic, which most use and cost only two nen. The other two were for people who needed it quickly, one was for people who paid a premium for the quick which would come around seven sen.

The third was the fastest, the office term for it was quick paper, it would only take a few hours and at most a day. But the premium was exorbitantly high, it was three sten. Only the aristocrats and the other equally rich families used it.

After writing the details, he then proceeded to paste his picture on the required column. The next step was the typewriter, printing out all of his details into the old paper he had long prepared for this moment.

He took the paper from the typewriter and double checked the details. After making sure everything was as he wanted, he put the premium application paper along with the old paper in the small stack of premium papers on the table.

He had filled out the application form as a re-apply, which many give when they lose their existing document and was not rare, but there should be a document within the department. Judge just forged a fake document to put it within the department, and with the re-apply request, he could create another copy for himself without any issues.

The reason he did not take quick papers was because they were rare and never passed a night, they would be finished quickly and would be finished before the officer went home. So his request would stand out and receive unwanted attention as well as suspicion

He had not filled out any address so he had to come and collect it himself, and he would come back here to the office tomorrow. With all of that done, Jude canceled the effects of the rune of quietude and called back his spirit.

Finally, Judge canceled the effects of his rune of quietude, and in the dead of night, he sauntered out like an invisible ghost. He grinned, thinking, "Best disguise in the world: being completely unseen. Who'd have guessed?"

As for lodging, Judge had to forgo even the seediest inn. Apparently, identification was required for everything these days, even a brothel's most humble room. With a sigh, he retreated to his personal studio— a blessed realm of peace and privacy— and got some sleep. The city could wait until tomorrow. Eating could, too; he wasn't about to tackle a meal with two empty hands that had no lower denominations of notes.
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Is this what it is like to suffer from success? I have more wealth than these peasants could handle. His thoughts wandered.

Eating was moved to the afternoon because he did not feel like eating anything before he had gotten the identification documents and opened a bank account.

The bustling city was living up to its name as one of the most densely populated cities. Judge made his way through the city landscapes, recording the place as well as people's lives.

The long walk Judge ended in an alleyway without any people... again, Another trip to the alleyway, Great! I feel like more of a connoisseur of the urban backstreet instead of a mercenary or a divine existence about to take over the world. But at least this place is a lot cleaner, that's a big upside. Sigh!

Judge summoned his pocket watch from the studio to take a look at it, the time was about eleven, and the municipality starts at nine, two hours should be plenty for his application to be completed.

He put the pocket watch away. Due to the nature of the work of the mercenaries, they usually used a combat oriented watch specially designed to be as hard and unbreakable as possible, and Judge had forgotten to buy one. The salesman or woman would have suggested the watch part to him, but being too intimidating did not help. Maybe I should have gone for a more easygoing, fun personality. Sigh! You cannot change what you've chosen.

On his way, across the street, Judge saw a signboard on a restaurant— "Fine worrak steak, one sten five sen only." He swallowed his saliva, and his stomach let out a traitorous grumble. After the bank matter is settled, that restaurant is my first stop, you're next, my delicious friend. he made a mental note and sighed.

Soon, he found himself before the 'not so towering, yet huge' building of the municipality. His gaze shifted to the people waiting outside as he let out an exasperated sigh, How much time is this gonna take?

A worker in a security uniform appeared near him. The uniform consisted of a long coat with a mix of deep blue and charcoal black with strips of burgundy separating them. "Name and purpose." He said with no emotions like he had done this countless times before (Grave plot twist, he had indeed done this countless times before).

"Dorian Caine," Judge replied, also without much emotion. "I've re-applied for new citizenship documents," he had answered coldly in order to keep up with his new identity.

The guard worker sized him a few times before writing something in the hardcover book he was holding. "Wait here." He quickly headed to the worker who was busily scribbling something down in a book, he sat on a table that was put under a stone shed.

The guard told him something and the man nodded, taking out a pile of big brown envelopes that were sealed. He skimmed through them and took one out from the middle, double-checking it and writing something down before giving it to the guard.

The guard took the big envelope and headed back towards Judge, giving him the envelope and a clearly forced smile.

Judge gave him a respectful nod, trying not to laugh. It was clear as day— this man despised his job. But of course, who was Judge to judge?