Honestly, I never intended to carry out the mission with complete seriousness.
Assassinating a count?
Oh, of course, it’s not that I can’t do it. I’ve already tested whether I’m capable of completing the mission.
I took the carriage lent by the emperor to the count’s estate, and I found it entirely possible to infiltrate the count’s mansion.
Of course, I didn’t succeed on the first attempt. The mansion was crawling with guards, and the count himself was ticulous, with nurous servants and guards inside the mansion as well.
But no matter how tight security is, there are always gaps.
Especially in this world, where there is no such thing as CCTV. There are devices similar to computers that run on steam engines, called interpretation engines and difference engines, along with chanical calculators, caras, and printers, but all of these are based on ‘analog’ technology.
The difference engine can store numbers and letters, but instead of using semiconductor-based storage, it relies on countless large and small gears to store ‘physical shapes.’ Think of it like an expensive analog wristwatch. The complex gears, driven by steam engines, store information in a ‘form,’ which is then ‘printed’ onto paper when retrieved.
Of course, the engine constantly needs to be fed coal or mana stones, and you have to worry about the wear and tear on each part. Plus, compared to modern computers, it’s incredibly large. Even a difference engine that can store just a few images is about the size of three grand pianos stacked together.
Naturally, storing images is highly inefficient, so they are primarily used for solving complex calculations. If you store numbers instead of images, the engine can store far more data, and the ti needed to print the results is greatly reduced.
But even then, the advantage of these engines over human calculation is only marginally faster and more accurate. So unless there's an urgent need for precise calculations, most people just hire professional ‘calculators’—humans trained to do the math.
Moreover, a high-end interpretation engine with the power of sothing comparable to a 386 or 486 computer would require an entire building to house it, with hundreds of engineers on standby to maintain the gears. It’s smaller than a library, but if you consider the cost, building a library might actually be more efficient.
The latest model of interpretation engine, a scaled-down version, was installed aboard the imperial airship Dreadnought that flies above Rondarium, the capital. However, due to the reduced size, it sacrifices functionality, and dozens of human calculators are still needed to assist its calculations.
While caras exist, video recording hasn’t been invented yet. The ‘film’ in this world isn’t the flexible type we know, but rather large glass plates. And, naturally, the higher the resolution of the cara, the larger the glass plate needed, which increases the risk of breakage.
At the start of the main story, a film comparable to the 35mm film we’re familiar with does get introduced, but I haven’t seen any of it yet, probably because we’re still in the prequel phase.
…It’s strange how detailed the world-building is in so areas.
Anyway, to summarize, it’s a world where steampunk over-technology is mixed with the atmosphere of the 19th century.
Through my dozens of failed attempts, I confird that Count Crowfield’s estate relied solely on manpower for security, without any difference engines for surveillance.
And as long as humans are responsible for security, there will always be a way in.
Out of 46 attempts, I managed to reach the count’s side twice.
Out of 34 attempts, I succeeded in creating a situation where I could shoot the count while he was walking down the street three tis.
Out of 37 attempts, I succeeded in planting a bomb on his carriage twice.
Lastly, I disguised myself as a newly hired maid and successfully poisoned the count’s food once. It took five tries, with success only on the last attempt.
However, I decided to discard the poisoning thod. It took at least one to two weeks to infiltrate, and the success rate was too low. I only succeeded once, and even then, I had to rewind ti multiple tis to make it happen. I had to rewind entire weeks five tis, and the total number of ti rewinds was the highest for that thod.
Considering the ti needed for escape and the risk that soone might rember my face, the second thod—shooting from a distance and fleeing—seed the most efficient.
Of course, I didn’t actually kill him. I was just testing the likelihood of success. For now, the count is still alive.
“…Hmm.”
I sat perched in a tree, binoculars in hand, watching the count’s carriage pass by below, deep in thought.
I knew the na Crowfield. As ominous as it sounded, the count lived up to the na with his gloomy atmosphere. He sported a curled Kaiser mustache, and his skin was as pale as if he’d been drained of blood.
To be honest, this was my first ti seeing his appearance. I only recognized the na from the ga.
Mia Crowfield.
One of the heroines. She had a sowhat lancholy deanor, her hair hanging limply. But if you brushed aside her bangs, which covered half her face, you’d find a stunning beauty.
In the ga, it’s revealed early on that Mia lost her father to the emperor’s sches three years before the main story starts. However, it’s later revealed that Count Crowfield had been involved in all sorts of dirty dealings behind the scenes, including human trafficking and the opium trade.
Mia Crowfield’s storyline revolves around her discovering the truth about her father, whom she once believed to be an innocent victim of political scheming, and reconciling with the heroine of the commoner faction, accepting her past, and moving forward.
“…But I never expected to be the one to eliminate the Crowfields.”
I sighed lightly.
The emperor believed that everything he did was for the good of the empire. He loved the empire so much that he was willing to sacrifice the rest of the world to it. He was the quintessential imperialist, soone who would sacrifice everything beyond the empire’s borders for the benefit of his nation.
However, his love for the empire was genuine, and so was his desire to eliminate the opium trade and human trafficking within its borders. What happened to other countries didn’t concern him. He was ready to sacrifice anything for the empire.
Of course, there were plenty of flaws in his logic. But isn’t that true for all villains? If their logic was flawless, they wouldn’t be villains—they’d be heroes.
So, until I learned the na Crowfield, I hadn’t been particularly determined to carry out the assassination.
The problem—
“…”
I raised my binoculars again to watch the count’s carriage.
Through the ticulously crafted lenses, I could clearly see the black carriage the count was riding in.
It was a luxurious carriage made of expensive wood, though it was different from the one the count usually rode in.
His usual extravagant carriage was parked in front of another inn. The count had switched carriages twice before heading to his destination.
And that destination was a brothel in a secluded corner of the county.
By the way, brothel is just a na I ca up with. The sign in front of the building actually read orphanage.
Out of the 46 attempts I made to get close to the count—whether by bypassing or neutralizing his guards—12 of them involved this brothel.
And once, I even managed to get close enough to press my Wexler revolver to the count’s head.
Thanks to that, I knew exactly what went on inside that building.
Calling it a brothel was far more fitting than calling it an orphanage.
The foul stench of rotting filth.
The mind-numbing scent of opium.
The screams and moans. The desperate cries of children begging for their lives.
Oh, and I almost forgot to ntion that during my 12 infiltrations of the brothel, I thoroughly searched the place.
I found a list of clients, a list of the children who had been used up and discarded, the prices for their lives, and the nas of the people involved.
After I shot the count in the leg with a .455 caliber bullet, he spilled everything he knew.
That brothel sourced children from ‘an orphanage in the capital,’ processing them into ‘commodities’ as needed.
"Do you really think that getting rid of this one brothel will eradicate this problem? This is just one small cog in a much larger machine! If you want to eliminate the rot in the empire, you need to work with the big players! Let live, and I’ll do anything for the emperor. I’ll tell you everything I know…"
“…I have one question. The carriage you’re riding—what about the driver? Is he part of the organization?”
“Y-yes. Of course. To prevent any leaks, we use loyal mbers at every stage of the process…”
That’s what the count had told during one of my attempts.
Of course, the current count would never dream he had confessed such a thing.
There wasn’t a single innocent person in that carriage. Every person involved was entangled in more than just money—they were wrapped up in drugs and the exploitation of children. They couldn’t just walk away or keep silent, not when the evidence was ready to be exposed the mont they tried.
And these weren’t people who had been blackmailed into joining. Those with enough guilt to be swayed couldn’t have been roped in like this.
Most of the mbers propping up this organization were hardened criminals who had been in and out of prison multiple tis.
Even in a country with such a weak sense of human rights, harming children was still seen as a grave sin.
…In hindsight, it was strange. No one seed to care when a ten-year-old factory worker got their hand crushed in a press, but the mont those children were locked up and abused, society suddenly cared. I’ve never understood the logic of this world’s sense of ‘good.’
But that’s beside the point.
To summarize,
The count and his accomplices—
They were all people who wouldn’t be missed if they died.
As the carriage neared the brothel, it began to slow down.
I pulled out my pocket watch and checked the ti.
chanical watches aren’t the most accurate, but I could roughly estimate when the bomb would go—
BOOM!
—off.
I raised my binoculars again, aiming toward the source of the explosion.
Half of the carriage had been blown to pieces.
The driver, who had been sitting in the front seat, was rolling on the ground, missing his legs. One of the bulky guards escorting the count had lost an arm and staggered out of the opposite door before collapsing.
The other mbers of the organization, riding in the carriages behind, were scrambling to dismount—
Only to be caught in a chain of subsequent explosions, blowing them away.
The entire procession following the count’s carriage was caught in the blasts. While I had carefully placed the bomb to target the count’s position, I hadn’t been as precise with the other carriages, so the locations of the explosions varied. So carriages were blown apart from the driver’s seat, others from the left side, and a few, at first glance, appeared mostly intact.
Of course, even the ‘intact’ carriages had shattered windows, indicating there were likely no survivors inside.
I could see a few bodies strewn about, limbs flying in opposite directions.
…Along with several horses. A few of them had survived but were wildly thrashing in panic from the deafening noise, causing further chaos among the remaining organization mbers. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the innocent horses.
The count’s body would likely never be found.
This was my eighth attempt, and my third success.
“…”
It wasn’t the first ti I’d killed soone.
But… honestly, it didn’t feel great.
“Ugh.”
Suppressing the nausea rising in my throat, I climbed down from the tree.
I changed out of my dirtied clothes, hastily packed them into my travel bag, and closed it.
I needed to escape the estate before the chaos settled.
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