Julian preserved the scene of the imdiate execution. The beheaded child’s corpse was left alone in the park, and the virus inside my body secretly absorbed a small part of him.
I didn’t know the exact principle, but I felt that my mana core had slightly grown larger.
“.......”
I looked at Julian. His composed face suggested he had intended to let the child go. He was a man who, both then and now, always pondered over what was "right".
Click. Click.
Before I knew it, a few reporters rushed in and took photos of the scene. Julian didn’t particularly try to stop them.
“Good work. The detailed results will co from the forensics team. Loyalty.” (TL Note: ???? is the word used when giving a salute in the Korean military to a superior officer, which can be translated as "Loyalty" or "Allegiance".)
The police pushed back the reporters and retrieved the body, leaving only Julian and
behind. We seed to be gauging each other’s thoughts, but there was no real way to avoid this.
A chilly wind blew on this night. A back alley where the lights of the Capital did not reach.
We walked side by side along a road where the gas lamps flickered faintly.
“You did a good job on your first day.”
Julian broke the awkward silence.
“Yes. Thanks to you.”
Julian was a pure Imperial. Shining blond hair and sharp golden eyes. Every one of his gestures reeked of nobility, down to the bone.
That was why he beca my instructor, and honestly, he was my spiritual ntor.
Before his strength, I realized my own weakness. That’s why I once harbored petty jealousy.
Julian was a man who had everything I did not.
“How do you feel? For a first mission, it must’ve been rather bland.”
“I’m fine. It was manageable.”
Yet Julian was a man too noble for this rotten Empire.
And the Empire had no need for Julian, either.
One day, I had watched as he was sentenced to death. Having lost everything, he looked at
with a full smile and said,
......Max. I would’ve rather died by your hand.
“Good work.”
Julian spoke, breaking my recollection.
“You’ll need to attend the committee tomorrow. Imdiate judgnts go through post-review, as you know, right?”
I would likely undergo an internal investigation. It would be a bit annoying, but it would probably end in a day or two.
“......Yes. I don’t mind.”
***
By the ti I arrived at the Knight Order Headquarters, it was already dawn. I returned to the office and wrote up a report. Using the mories from before my regression, I docunted the course of events in a sound and proper format.
The final paragraph of the report read as follows:
‘──As the circumstances of the suspect murdering a noble were clear, a imdiate judgnt was carried out on the spot in accordance with Imperial law.’
A knight is a prosecutor, a judge, and an executioner all in one. It ans they hold a status that allows them to get away with accidentally killing a few commoners under the pretense of self-defense.
Of course, since the Empire was a strict bureaucracy, even a imdiate judgnt required a post-review process.
That morning, the day I submitted my report to the higher-ups, I was summoned to appear before the review committee.
It was a cold and static space.
Across the table sat two high-ranking knights. One was a woman with a sharp impression, and the other was a man with a blunt expression.
“The report is well written.”
The woman said as she placed the file on the table with a tap.
“According to forensics, the victim’s blood and mana residue were clearly detected on the body of the child you executed. With evidence like this, there’s no need to infer any other circumstances.”
She closed the file. Then, resting her chin on her hand, she stared at . It was a probing gaze.
“However, you've already killed two people. You weren’t this kind of character at Empire Point. I was a professor back then, didn’t we see each other a few tis?”
“......Yes. I rember.”
Her na was Adria von Hardenberg.
There’s no way I wouldn’t know. Though she now sat before
as a high-ranking knight, behind that facade she was a defector of the Empire.
Codena: “Blue Owl”.
A noble-born spy who had served as a core executive of the Revolutionary forces for decades.
To , she was more dangerous than the Empire itself.
Probably, the sa went for her.
Because one day, I will sever your head.
“You might be referred to the Grand Jury. There was a report filed.”
“A report.”
“Yes. You killed a fifteen-year-old and an eleven-year-old, didn’t you?”
Adria faintly smiled.
“It's a perfect headline for the press to bite on. ‘Cold-blooded Ebenholtz’s excessive suppression’. Those bastards always claim the pen is mightier than the sword, yet they don’t give a fuck about the weight behind the words they write.”
She pointed a finger at .
“Of course, if you want, we can bury it. The Grand Jury’s just a formality-”
“No.”
I rejected it.
“There’s no reason to bury a just act. Please proceed with the formal process.”
Adria’s eyes widened slightly.
“......Alright. I’ll let you know once the schedule is set.”
The male knight, who had remained silent until then, smirked.
“Aren’t you curious? Who reported you?”
In principle, the identity of a whistleblower should be confidential. But in the Empire, such principles are never upheld.
“It was this guy.”
He slid a photo and a docunt across the table toward .
Na: Alphonse von Stauffen. Born into a reputable family, yet willingly descended into the lower ranks alongside the pen. A journalist who exposed the Empire’s corruption.
“I see.”
“Soone you know?”
I hid my expression.
I did know him.
Even in these grim tis, there were still people who pursued what was right. So of them held a pen, and so held a sword.
But their righteousness, in the end, was never truly right. For the justice they believed in led the world to ruin.
"No. It's a na I'm hearing for the first ti."
I rose from my seat.
Then, just as I was about to leave, a voice drifted over to .
“I’m curious.”
Adria looked at
with her chin resting on her hand as she spoke. Her voice was languid, but hidden within it was a sharp blade. At least, that’s how it felt to .
“What will Ebenholtz do to him?”
It was a testing remark. Before answering, what ca to my mind was my father.
Sebestian.
The Revolutionary forces respected my father. They severed his head and hung it from the Central Road, but even that was an expression of reverence. It was an act born out of fear, an attempt to forget what terrified them.
Sebestian risked his life to uphold his convictions. Conviction was a value that important.
“Suppressing a man’s belief through force is not the Ebenholtz way.”
A petty man who sways in pursuit of his own gain will eventually disappear, buried in disgrace and filth.
However, one who has lived his whole life upholding his beliefs, even if an enemy, deserves respect.
“Hm.”
Adria’s gaze wavered slightly.
With just a single call to Enzi, Alphonse could be found dead by tomorrow morning. Maybe Alphonse himself was prepared for such an end.
And so, those annoying bastards called martyrs are born again.
“I’m curious. What is the Ebenholtz way?”
“To let them find out for themselves.”
Killing Alphonse would only worsen my image. It would only raise Adria’s suspicions. In every way, it was a losing equation.
For my sake, I must thoroughly calculate profit and loss. At the very least, I had to be perceived as a “rational” noble.
“A few lines scribbled by so reporter won’t change anything. The Empire’s society isn’t so soft that it can be dyed with ink.”
I looked at Adria.
“I executed the criminal who murdered a noble on the spot. No matter how much the pen is swung, that fact does not change.”
I stood up. There was nothing more for
to do here.
“Well then, I’ll be going.”
***
As soon as I left the Knight Order, I imdiately got in a car. The destination was a nearby autopsy room.
[Imperial Eaton Forensic Institute]
A space reeking of disinfectant. I opened the door to one of the autopsy rooms. A small figure covered with a white cloth lay on a steel table.
The dical examiner took off his gloves and turned to face .
“What were the autopsy results?”
“Ah, yes. As expected, it is a demi-human.”
“Ezenheim?”
“Ezenheim… I’m not sure. Could be Edlem, or a mixed-blood Elina. The subject is too young for a clear distinction to be made.”
The examiner, with graying hair, removed his mask. Deep fatigue lined his face like wrinkles.
“It’s definitely not of Aran descent. Based on the unusual mana reaction detected in the body…”
‘Aran’ is, strictly speaking, not a race. It’s a term used by Imperials to refer to themselves in a superior tone.
“So you’re saying it’s indeterminate?”
“Yes. Usually, subjects this young haven’t fully manifested their racial traits. Still, the structure of the mana circuit is clearly that of a demi-human.”
Demi-human. At so point, the Empire stopped calling them a “race”. It was a brand marking them as inferior to humans. A chanism to socially and academically justify the Empire’s discriminatory policies.
“You’ve achieved great rit on your first mission. Congratulations, Sir Maximilian.”
The examiner offered a customary complint.
I lifted my head and looked at him. At the word "congratulations
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