Translator: KJ

──Drip, drip, drip.

A bright afternoon, sunlight pouring down. I took the freshly brewed coffee handed to me.

Inside a private suite at the Imperial Central Hospital, which fell under the Bertem Family's jurisdiction, Quanda Snorf sat with an anxious face. The actual occupant of the room, however, was his young daughter, asleep on the bed.

"The surgery was a success, I'm told."

At my words, Quanda exhaled a sigh of relief as if collapsing.

"Haaa..."

Watching him, I thought about the Empire's strange way of operating.

The nobles of the Imperial Palace took the practice of discarding their dogs once the hunt was over as the most natural thing in the world. Was it because they begrudged the loose change? Or because they regarded a commoner's life as worth less than a fly's?

Either way, it was an extremely shortsighted approach.

"As long as she keeps receiving the prescribed medication, she'll be able to live a long, long life."

But those who had sold out their group, their nation, even driven a knife into the backs of their comrades, deserved to be treated accordingly.

Whatever the reason, if they had served the Empire, they had to be given a clear reward.

Only then would a person endlessly justify their own choice and sink deeper into the swamp.

"...Thank you, Sir Knight. Truly, thank you."

Quanda bowed his head over and over, his eyes reddening. Before he was the master of a back-alley tavern, he had been a sommelier with an exceptional palate and nose.

In the future before my regression, he had earned forgiveness from the Outcasts, but at the cost of losing the daughter he loved.

"As I said, this is only a fitting reward."

The reason I had recruited Quanda was not solely because he could appraise the finest wines at my own「Lilac Vita」.

Elixirs.

He possessed a natural talent for analyzing and blending the components of liquids. The precise pharmaceutical work of compounding mana with herbs translated directly into the improved performance of stimpacks─that is, the combat drugs that could turn the tide of a battlefield.

Julian had succeeded in Verkina. The Black Poppy and other raw materials that would pour out of the great plantation under his management. I absolutely needed an expert who could refine those into a flawless drug.

I smiled.

"Mr. Quanda Snorf. Turns out you're a Pure Aran."

I drew a single document from inside my coat and handed it over.

A Genealogy Certificate of the Snorf family, formally issued through an Imperial government office.

"If you stand with the Empire, your child will grow up ordinary and happy, with nothing to worry about. Above ground, not beneath it."

Quanda took it, shoulders trembling, and bowed deeply.

"Lift your head."

I gazed past the window of the hospital room at the clear sky, and added in an even tone,

"You've done the right thing as a parent."

"─Ngh."

Just then, the daughter, waking from anesthesia, let out a soft groan and opened her eyes.

"Daddy...?"

Quanda hurriedly stepped to the beds⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠ide and clutched the child's hand tight.

"Sweetheart, it's all right. Everything's, everything's going to be all right now..."

I quietly watched the father and daughter.

So that this child could keep on living safely, so that we could secure the peaceful natural death every human being longs for.

What we have to do is all too clear.

......

I met with Imperial Princess Justine.

The location was that secluded hideout. There, in the place connected to the Imperial Princess's wardrobe by an Arcane passage, I had been summoned.

"...So you're saying one of the test subjects is alive?"

"Yes."

The Imperial Princess stared at me with a chilling stare. The meaning behind her golden eyes remained inscrutable.

"The Imperial Court must surely ha⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠ve ordered you not to involve yourself in Mason Industry's affairs."

"Yes. I did not involve myself. For one week, I infiltrated the laboratory and merely kept them under close surveillance."

"Are you trying to play word games with me?"

The Imperial Princess's brow furrowed. But I did not retreat. My justification was solid. The physical evidence existed.

"To put the conclusion first, their research was never reproducible to begin with."

The Mana Engine had no general applicability wh⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠atsoever.

It was the height of inefficiency, killing tens of thousands just to find a handful of compatible subjects.

"And the reason you went out of your way to kill the test subjects? That was defying the Imperial Court's orders, was it not?"

"Because they could not be controlled. Falkenrath was defeated by them, and the Mason side did not possess even the bare minimum capacity to handle them. Rather than letting them fall into the hands of an enemy nation or the Revolutionary forces and be used as uncontrollable weapons, I judged it better to put them down on the spot."

The Imperial Princess still seemed to suspect me.

I had already prepared my next words.

"Above all, Hector Mason was not a Pure Aran."

At last, a strange light gleamed in her eyes. The Princess reacted, more violently than to anything else, to the single sentence I had just uttered.

"His grandfather was a Merin, and his grandmother was a half-blood of Edlem and Aran."

I handed her a notebook containing Hector Mason's genealogy and photographs.

There was no chance Hector, with that trashy personality of his, had treated his relatives kindly, and my information network had located his old family. They, having had their family fortune stripped away by Hector, had testified eagerly.

"His real name is Eugen May. A few of his relatives were living in the East, it turns out."

The Princess scanned the documents, the photographs, and above all the records of the relatives' testimonies, and murmured low,

"...Hector Mason is not a Pure Aran."

The Emperor's logic ran thus. Even the act of implanting impure Mana Stone Circuits into Pure Arans could be tolerated as a sacrifice for the Empire's great cause, so long as the one leading and overseeing it was himself a 'Pure Aran'. But if Hector was not an Aran, then the entire premise collapsed.

It became an unforgivable blasphemy: an inferior breed daring to seize the Empire's subjects and use them as test subjects.

"Yes. However, the T24 facility and the research resources they have accumulated remain valuable."

"And so?"

The Princess raised her gaze to look at me.

"We need research that targets the Subspecies."

Ezenheim. The ones we absolutely must beat into the dirt.

"All we know so far is that the 'shape of their hearts' is different."

The corner of the Imperial Princess's mouth twitched ever so slightly. But it is not the usual sharpness. It is a faint satisfaction, a contentment she is deliberately holding back.

"So if we dissect them physically and in terms of mana, and analyze them systematically, until we know them better."

The word she wants, I already know.

"The most efficient annihilation will become possible."

* * *

At the same hour, Sentinel Knight Order Headquarters. Deputy Commander Chiron had convened an emergency knights' meeting.

"You've all heard the news about Maximilian, I trust."

Chiron opened with a heavy voice.

Hector, Head of Mason Industry, had reported Maximilian to the Imperial Court. Raging that it was an act of treason to have defied the Imperial Court's order to halt the investigation, he had thrown a fit, and the Imperial Court was now seriously deliberating the matter.

"I couldn't sleep yesterday, the day before, or the day before that. I simply couldn't."

It was anger from the heart.

That a mere businessman had defied a Sentinel knight, that the Imperial Court had countenanced his overreach, drove Chiron to something close to fury.

"We pursue what is right. And Maximilian's actions were unmistakably right."

Chiron slowly looked over the faces of the knights gathered at the round table. Raynel, Zionne, Cliff, Tiana, Leon, Hannah... Across factions and positions, many knights had gathered here.

"Sentinel is, in the end, Sentinel."

The words Maximilian had spoken not long ago, when the Knight Order had stood on the brink of fracture and he had rallied them together.

Now it was the Knight Order's turn to repay him.

"How dare he. The audacity of some company chairman laying a hand on a Sentinel knight."

The capital and scale of Mason Industry counted among the most formidable in the Empire's history, and in the Empire's western reaches, they wielded power and treasure approaching the very pinnacle.

But.

"Sentinel is the sword of the Empire. They, on the other hand, are nothing but merchants with a bit of money."

Every member of Sentinel had to grasp this clearly. Just as Maximilian had proclaimed, Sentinel had to recognize its own authority and the absolute power it held.

And it had to know how to wield that power at the most fitting moment.

"Now, we will mobilize every ounce of strength we possess."

Bang!

Chiron slammed his fist down on the desk and declared,

"We will crush Mason."

......

Hector Mason, Head of Mason Industry, called upon the vast network of connections and capital he had so painstakingly built up in the western Empire and attempted to strike back.

But everywhere he reached, the powerbrokers in the capital turned their backs on him, one by one. Even those who had blustered 'trust me' with such confidence at the start cut off contact.

No matter how often he stressed that this was a state-sponsored project receiving the Imperial Court's full backing, none of it mattered.

"These goddamn bastards..."

Hector glared across the room, breathing roughly.

There sat a man with deep ties to Chief of Staff Grossman as well. A central nobleman who had until now served as the sturdy lifeline connecting the Mason family and the Imperial Court, and his close, dear friend, 'Valdemar'.

"Valdemar. I'll write you out the full list of these opportunist bastards who betrayed me, so report it to the Imperial Palace and ship them all off too. Camps, prison, anywhere you please."

"Uh... no, hmm..."

Valdemar, looking thoroughly troubled, scratched his temple.

"Hector. I'm only saying this with your interests in mind. The way things stand now..."

"What 'the way things stand'! Didn't you say even His Majesty was furious!"

"...Ah, in fact, He was. Briefly furious. I heard His voice was raised. His Majesty's wrath is no common thing."

'Briefly.'

That word, 'briefly', caught in Hector's ear.

"And yet, why?"

The Emperor was a man capable of erasing a person's existence with a mere breath. Cutting down this insolent sprout called Maximilian here and now, handing him exile or punishment or anything short of execution, and thereby keeping the Imperial Court's authority at its absolute peak, would surely benefit Him as well.

"A man who's defied His will once can do so a second and a third time. His Majesty must be well aware of that."

"No, well... ahem, ahem."

Valdemar coughed, then carefully went on.

"There are... uneasy rumors going around the Imperial Palace. That you aren't a 'Pure Aran'."

In that instant, Hector's expression turned hard as stone.

It lasted only a moment.

He smiled again.

"That can't be. I completed every blood-line certification flawlessly, and the documents at the Empire's central government office are airtight. Surely it's that brat Maximilian who's forged something. Daring to forge an Imperial document, that bastard truly wants to be branded a high traitor-"

"Do you ha⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠ppen to know a man named 'Eppen May'?"

"..."

Hector's words died in his throat. His pupils trembled wildly.

"...Who is that?"

At Hector's brazen counter-question, Valdemar clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Well, the son of the man called Eppen May? Apparently he's stated that you, Hector, stole the family's entire fortune long ago and ran off. Your old name was... Eugene May? Eu⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠gen May?"

A name he had spent his whole life forgetting.

He had thought he'd erased it cleanly, several times over.

Were the traces still there.

"Anyway. They've submitted evidence concerning your bloodline, I'm told. Things like family photos taken in childhood."

Hector's heart rate spiked as if it would burst. Cold sweat beaded along his spine. He could no longer hold his expression.

"What do you..."

"Well, Hector. I, that is, as your friend, you understand. Old friend. Though I can't really call you a friend now, can I? Legally that doesn't quite work."

Hector stared at Valdemar with a vacant gaze.

"Anyway. As one who used to be your old friend, I'd like to ask first."

Valdemar.

The man who, all these years, had eagerly snatched up every bribe and precious gift offered him

The man who had used that money, his money, to climb to a key post at the center.

"Hector. What in the world do you take yourself for?"

Now, with such an icy face, was throwing a strange question at him.

"What on earth were you thinking, going up against Ebenholtz?"

"...What?"

"Get a grip."

Valdemar fastened the buckle of his suit.

"You see. You're just..."

A heavy sneer settled at the corner of his mouth. Or perhaps it was genuine pity.

A trace of feeling for an old friend who, drunk on illusions and ignorant of his own place, had thrashed about and brought ruin upon himself.

"You're nothing more than a businessman. You and Maximilian are different by birth, by the very ground you stand on."

A tradition built up over centuries. A house that rose up faintly in the distance and became one of the Empire's symbols.

Every soul in the Empire knew of their nobility. Acknowledged their authority.

The countless nobles who respected Ebenholtz instead resented those rising 'from below', the upstarts presuming to encroach upon their place.

Ebenholtz they accept; you they do not.

Ebenholtz is noble; you are lowly.

It was the utterly self-evident order of aristocratic society.

"Hector... no, should I call you Mr. Eugen now?"

Even if Mason Industry, for decades atop the continent's corporate world, had scattered money like a mountain, one could not buy with money the weight of that history, that bloodline, that authority.

"That's the kind of family Ebenholtz simply is."

──Simply is.

Plainly unreasonable, yet a truth too obvious to deny.

"They touch the very ceiling of this nation called the Empire. Who would dare reach beyond the ceiling?"

If the Emperor is the sky, they are the ceiling.

"Take care. Thanks for everything."

Valdemar rose from his seat.

Leaving behind a Hector frozen in stupor, he turned without a backward glance and walked out of the private chamber.

"..."

A darkness sunken into stillness.

Within it, Hector simply...

For quite a long while, sat alone in his solitude.

~~~

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