[Imperial Security Departnt -Obsidian]
The air inside was always cold, crisp, and heavy with tension.
The tapping of shoes, the scribbling of pens, and the constant chatter of enchanted communication crystals were the soundtrack of this place.
Behind a large steel-plated door engraved with the empire’s sigil, in an office lined with heavy file drawers, sealed scroll tubes, and crystal recording spheres, Senior Manager Phoebe sat at her desk.
The room was filled with organized chaos—thick stacks of docunts, sealed folders, and red-marked reports that scread urgency.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, her red hair cascading over one shoulder like fla.
Her uniform jacket was folded neatly on a nearby coat stand, revealing the tailored white shirt underneath, its cuffs rolled up to her elbows.
A silver emblem, shaped like the wings of the Empire’s griffin, glead from her collar—signifying her high rank.
Her eyes, a sharp and tired shade of blue, glared down at the latest report she had been reviewing for nearly an hour.
"...I’d rather fight in a bloody war than spend another minute with these cursed folders..."
She muttered under her breath, slamming one docunt closed and tossing it aside.
She leaned back in her seat—an austere leather chair that seed as tired as she was—and gazed up at the ceiling, letting out a long, asured sigh.
This was the life of a Senior Manager at the ISD.
She dealt with classified troop movents, ergency war orders, national supply lists, and records of both civilian and military unrest.
She was expected to keep track of multiple departnts, organize and verify reports, manage internal investigations, and worst of all—handle budget oversight from the Treasury...
Which had been Noel’s position...but he had resigned leaving her to handle it all in the anti.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to throw one of the crystals out the window.
Just then, a hurried knock—no, not even a knock—ca from the door as it swung open.
"Ah! S-Senior Manager! I-I’m sorry for not knocking—!"
Phoebe’s eyes slowly turned toward the door, her glare sharp and ice-cold.
Standing there, half-bowed, was a girl in glasses—lia, her personal assistant.
She looked flustered, strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead from running, and she clutched a bundle of papers tightly against her chest.
"You didn’t knock," Phoebe said flatly, her voice as hard as the walls around them.
lia winced.
"Y-Yes ma’am...
...I-I sincerely apologize."
Phoebe didn’t say anything further—just stared.
lia shuffled inside quickly and laid the docunts on the desk.
"I ca to deliver the latest reports from the Wall."
Phoebe’s brows furrowed slightly, her hand reaching out for the first page.
"What is it this ti?" she asked, flipping through.
lia stood stiff.
"The patrol captains are... having difficulty.
The soldiers stationed there are giving more and more irregular reports.
Unusual activity, sudden drop in morale, unexplained injuries.
But no one’s giving solid details."
Phoebe’s eyes scanned the words on the page.
Most of them were vague.
Non-committal.
"...Tch," she clicked her tongue.
"What about the Holy Knights? Isn’t this supposed to fall under their jurisdiction?"
lia quickly nodded.
"The Holy Grail Faction has deployed so assistance.
A few paladins and clerics were sent as reinforcent.
But... most of the Holy Grail is currently engaged in other critical territories.
The Church says they’re stretched thin."
Phoebe slamd the folder shut and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk.
Of course they are, she thought bitterly.
The Holy Grail Faction—known as the blade and shield of the Church—were the Empire’s most elite warriors.
But the Empire, under the Holy Emperor’s guidance, had long stopped sending enough support to the Wall.
It was no longer a political interest.
Too far. Too expensive. Too easy to ignore.
That part of the Empire had always been a battlefield—and now it was slowly becoming sothing worse.
She took another deep breath and then looked back up at lia.
"What about the report you gave three days ago?
The one during the Welco Party... about Manager Noel...
You were to hand it to the very next morning after the welco party..."
lia froze, blinking behind her glasses.
"O-oh... right!"
She flipped through her bag and pulled out another file, hands fumbling.
"So, originally, there were flagged records from the Treasury section.
They had listed a significant gap in funding—massive amounts, ma’am.
The missing amounts lined up with the sa period Noel Grenn was assigned to the departnt."
Phoebe narrowed her eyes.
lia adjusted her glasses, still flustered.
"But when I submitted the full report to the Minister’s office, I received a ssage back that the record was officially deed a false entry.
The Minister’s own words—
’Noel’s involvent in the financial discrepancies was a misfile by junior auditors. The gap has since been accounted for.’"
Phoebe didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared.
A misfile? she thought.
That amount of money... gone just like that?
She did the calculations quickly in her head.
That sum could’ve outfitted an entire platoon of Imperial Knights.
Or supplied blessed gear from the Holy Grail’s stores.
That wasn’t a simple error.
Not sothing to just brush under the rug.
Her tone turned colder.
"Did the Minister say those words to you directly?"
lia shook her head.
"N-No, ma’am.
The ssage was relayed to through his aide after I turned in the docunts.
I didn’t get to see the Minister myself."
Phoebe leaned back, silent.
Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the table as her red hair fell gently around her shoulders.
Her green eyes were deep in thought.
Was this a cover-up? A real mistake? Or sothing else entirely?
Noel’s file had always been incomplete. His background, his assignnts, his record—it was clean.
Too clean.
And now, even a serious fund report was dismissed just like that.
She closed her eyes briefly, her tone flat and unreadable.
"...Very well. You may leave."
lia nodded quickly, bowed, and shuffled out.
As the door closed behind her, Phoebe finally opened her eyes again.
There was a flicker of sothing sharp in them.
***
[༺ Noel’s POV ༻]
I didn’t expect to find Claire—let alone in the academy, and in my office.
"Claire?... What are you doing here?
I asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind with a soft click.
She stood near the window, light brown hair tied neatly behind her neck, and those warm, sharp eyes turning toward with a smile I hadn’t seen in a while.
"The Minister tasked with assisting you here at the academy," she said, folding her hands.
"And also to help with your partial duties back at the Imperial Security Departnt."
My heart skipped a beat.
So she knew.
That I hadn’t officially resigned.
That I was still a civil servant—still tied to that suffocating system—just... hidden from the public eye.
It sohow made angry my chest tightening.
The Minister had promised .
Promised to keep that detail between the two of us.
So much for discretion.
But then again, I couldn’t complain too much.
Claire was trustworthy. She had always been.
Since we were kids, we’d been by each other’s side.
She was one of the few people I could place my faith in without second thoughts.
Even now, her presence felt... grounding.
"I’ll be helping you prepare lectures," she continued, her tone shifting to a more professional one.
"Assisting with practical evaluations, scheduling, and if need be, administrative clearance for any restricted materials or classified records—thanks to the Minister pulling a few strings for to be officially recognized as your assistant instructor."
She smiled as she said it, almost proud.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, thinking—rembering.
Or rather, Ju-won was digging into Noel’s old mories.
Claire had always been a scholar, even if she hadn’t studied here at Velorian Imperial Academy.
Back then, we’d parted ways during our youth— attending Velorian, and Claire joining a different institution under the Holy Church of Lumin’s direct support.
We t again years later.
By then, she had beco my assistant manager at the Imperial Security Departnt.
I had taken on the position of Senior Instructor at the Imperial Academy alongside my ISD duties.
A bizarre dual life—but we’d managed.
I noticed now that Noel’s mories with her together ... were intact.
Whole. Almost untouched.
Unlike the fragnts I had with others—blurry monts, missing context, bitter exchanges that I couldn’t make sense of.
My thoughts drifted to Adel Saint Redwyne.
He said we’d been acquainted because of Claire.
But... asking Claire too much about that now might tip her off.
Might make her suspicious.
That I wasn’t really "Noel."
So I stayed silent.
Still, the way Adel had spoken... I could guess they’d t during the years Claire and I were apart.
Only one question was safe to ask.
"Claire... during the attack at the ISD, the Holy Knight—Adel—arrived just in ti."
I glanced at her, voice calm.
"That’s what I was told. So I wanted to ask how he knew.
How did he show up so suddenly?"
Claire paused, tapping her index finger on her cheek thoughtfully.
"Oh... that’s right," she said after a mont.
"It was because of a pen-like device he gave a while ago.
I press it when I’m in danger—or if I need his help urgently.
It sends him a direct signal."
She chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Well... it used to be for other simpler things too."
My eyebrow twitched, and I leaned forward slightly.
"Secret etups?"
She flinched, visibly caught off guard.
I could read people like open books.
Claire wasn’t that hard to figure out either.
She clutched her hands together, gaze dropping to the floor.
"Yes..." she whispered.
I didn’t say anything.
Did they use to date?
Were they close?
Closer than I thought?
I—rembered the na Adel from my sister’s playthroughs of the ga.
But those were just passing glances.
Peeking over her shoulder as she tapped away.
Sotis, she’d read dialogue aloud.
I rembered once, hearing her say lines that sounded like poetry.
And there on the screen, I had seen him—a man in white, blonde almost white hair tied back loosely, sitting by a window, writing.
Adel was... a poet?
Poems... for Claire?
I pieced the possibility together, but it felt vague. Incomplete.
I didn’t have enough to make anything of it.
So I let it go.
I just smiled. Softly.
Claire eventually broke the silence, snapping her fingers as though rembering sothing.
"I’ve already planned your first lecture," she said brightly.
"It starts tomorrow. Everything’s scheduled."
I nodded.
"Alright. I’ll go check the workshop then."
"Workshop?" she blinked.
"Where the lectures will take place," I clarified.
"I want to make sure everything’s in place."
And also...
I wanted to make sure I was in place.
Still myself.
Still stable.
The workshop was located at the Magic Engineering Tower.
Where I had spent most of my early teaching days.
Where I had built a reputation.
I left the office and stepped into the corridor.
***
Claire left in Noel’s office had a mory resurface
---
The steam from Claire’s teacup drifted lazily into the afternoon light, curling and twisting like her thoughts.
She sat across from lia in the quiet lounge of the Imperial Security Departnt, the rare silence offering them a much-needed break from the chaos of their paperwork-ridden lives.
lia sighed and took a delicate sip of her own tea, her shoulders visibly relaxing for the first ti that day.
"I was supposed to take this to the Minister," she said, tapping a folded docunt beside her saucer.
"But he’s been unreachable all morning.
Apparently he’s in another closed-door eting with the Church auditors again."
Claire’s gaze casually flicked toward the file.
Her eyes lingered for a second longer than necessary.
That signature.
Noel Grenn.
A neat, familiar flourish on the lower page.
Her heart gave a slight tug, a discomfort she couldn’t explain.
"I can take it for you," she said, setting her teacup down.
"I’m seeing the Minister after this anyway."
lia hesitated, blinking.
"I—really? Are you sure?"
Claire gave her a knowing look.
"It’s either or you’ll have to go through Linng."
The effect was imdiate.
lia paled.
"Oh no. Not Linng.
Last ti I bumped into him in the hallway, he followed around for twenty minutes talking about his pet cat and asking if I wanted to go see his succulent collection."
Claire nearly laughed.
"And don’t forget the ti he sent you a birthday cake shaped like a scroll."
"Claire," lia groaned, hiding her face, "he said it was ’symbolic of our shared professional passion.’
It had my na spelled wrong!"
"Well then," Claire said, standing and reaching for the folder, "save yourself the heartbreak and hand it over."
lia sighed in defeat and handed her the docunt.
"Alright. Just tell the Minister that this is about the revised financial report from the Treasury sub-section.
There were inconsistencies in fund allocation across several quarters.
I had the auditors double-check it.
It’s probably nothing, but—well, it needs his attention."
Claire nodded and tucked it under her arm, the mont still oddly serene.
It wasn’t until she stood outside the Minister’s office, waiting for an audience, that curiosity got the better of her.
She opened the folder.
Eyes scanning.
Figures. Dates. Allocations. Projected expenditures.
Then... gaps.
Big ones.
Whole sections of finances unaccounted for.
Budget ant for logistics and field operations simply marked as "processed," but no linked receipts or requisition logs.
And Noel’s signature... three tis.
On three different months.
She stared, jaw tightening.
Sothing was very wrong.
Later that day, she passed lia again in the hallway and told her simply, "The Minister said it was a false alarm. No follow-up required."
lia blinked. "That’s all?"
Claire nodded with a tight smile. "That’s what he said."
But even as she walked away, sothing in her gut wouldn’t settle.
---
Now—
Back in the present, Claire stood in Noel’s office at the Imperial Academy.
The room was filled with the scent of old parchnt and chalk dust.
A place of learning, of theory, of calm.
Yet the storm inside her mind hadn’t faded.
Her expression, once gentle, shifted into a colder resolve as her eyes traced the man she had once known so well.
"Noel..." she said, voice low and sharp now,
"did you really embezzle funds?"
Her question wasn’t asked aloud.
She held it behind her eyes.
But for what?
She’d done her digging. Quietly. Carefully.
And it hadn’t just been a one-ti discrepancy.
The pattern repeated.
Over ti, in different departnts.
Small enough to avoid alarm. Large enough to make her wary.
And now, he was acting like none of it had happened.
Noel Grenn—the sa man she’d known since their youth—he stood before her now with eyes that always seed to be looking sowhere else.
Sowhere far.
He wasn’t stupid.
If anything, he had always been the clever one.
But now... he seed distracted by the smallest things, confused at monts he used to own.
He was always lost in thought, like the present didn’t belong to him.
Yet his deanor remained the sa.
That quiet intensity.
That way of folding his arms.
Of listening, even when he said nothing.
Had he really changed?
Or was she just overthinking all of this?
It had been years since they last saw each other.
Ti changed people. That was natural.
But still...
It wasn’t just the numbers.
It was his behavior.
The way he moved, hesitated, reacted—didn’t react.
It felt like Noel. And yet, it didn’t.
Maybe that was why she had taken the financial matter personally.
Why she’d insisted to the Minister that she’d be the one to assist Noel here at the academy.
To watch him.
To read him.
Because sothing didn’t sit right.
He was Noel Grenn.
And yet... he wasn’t.
And the question kept burning at the back of her mind, growing louder each passing day—
Why did Noel embezzle funds from the ISD?
Was that what led him to step down from his civil servant role?
Had he been preparing for sothing?
Or had soone else been pulling the strings?
Whatever it was—
She was going to find out.
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