The police officer approaching Chinatsu stared dumbfounded as he listened to her and looked at the foaming-at-the-mouth jujutsu sorcerer she was dragging with one hand. For a moment, he had no idea what to say.
Ever since the concept of jujutsu sorcerers had officially entered public awareness, civilian-run departments had been established to handle jujutsu-related disputes.
Still, people had a joke about that: there was a state of work called "under investigation," and a department nobody could ever find called "the relevant department." As for what that relevant department was actually called, forget asking whether Confucius or Mencius knew-because I sure as hell don't.
Seeing the officer's bewildered expression, as though three enormous question marks from that confused-guy meme had appeared above his head, Chinatsu realized she had clearly asked the wrong person.
"Sorry, I'll ask someone else, then."
Chinatsu gave the officer a perfunctory wave, then took her phone out of her pocket and dialed a number.
Although she didn't know the relevant department's phone number, Chinatsu could declare with complete confidence that she had connections at the top. Surely she could find out what to do with one measly criminal jujutsu sorcerer.
The call connected shortly afterward. From her extensive yet oddly limited network of contacts, Chinatsu had chosen the relatively most reliable elder: her former homeroom teacher at Jujutsu High, who was now its principal.
Masamichi Yaga.
Speaking of whom, Masamichi Yaga had been extremely busy lately. Everyone had pushed him into the spotlight, leaving him to coordinate all sorts of matters between Jujutsu Society and ordinary society.
At that moment, he was sitting in the principal's office at Jujutsu High. Documents for various projects covered the desk in front of him, and the telephone beside him rang every so often, mostly with inquiries from ordinary society.