Translator: KJ

Julian's house, the Ascars, had long stood at the forefront of racial division and discrimination. Such was the family creed passed down through the generations, and such was their tradition.

Pure Aran.

The Ascar bloodline carried its hereditary traits with unusual intensity, so most of their kin were born with golden hair and golden eyes. Julian was no exception, nor was his younger brother, Leon.

And yet Julian, or at least Julian alone, may have harbored deep doubts about that pure-blood supremacy.

When the attendant who had cared for him so tenderly in childhood was beaten to death simply for carrying the blood of a subspecies.

When the nursemaid who had raised him as though she were his own mother was driven from the estate in disgrace, all because she belonged to another race.

In those moments, Julian may have sensed, instinctively, that the order of the empire and his family was not right.

Later, when he enrolled at Empire Point, he met a man named Eshton. Perhaps Eshton had approached him deliberately. The eldest son of the Ascars was, after all, the most useful target Ezenheim could have hoped for.

Julian stood beside Eshton as a friend, as a comrade, as a brother-in-arms.

But at some point, Eshton let Julian discover the truth, that he was Ezenheim.

Or perhaps he let it slip on purpose.

Seeing Julian waver, he made the mistake of believing that this man's goodness would rise above racial prejudice and grant him complete understanding.

Yet Julian was a man who upheld his duty as a knight of the empire. He was the kind of man who fulfilled his obligations before any private feeling.

There was, however, one mistake Julian made.

Rather than executing Eshton on the spot, he extended the mercy of merely expelling him from the order.

In the end, the surviving Eshton must have kept Laura informed of his circumstances through letters. And Julian, no doubt, secretly censored those letters Eshton sent to Laura.

In doing so, he would have naturally picked up the ciphers, the secret phrases the two of them exchanged. And at the same time, he would have sealed away the truth of his own heart forever.

...Even this is nothing more than my own conje⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠cture.

I still do not fully know the man called Julian. I cannot read his outward self, and I cannot see him from within. It is because the surface that shows, even the heart beneath it, has all been worn away.

“...”

Still the Sentinel office. Laura's two eyes glared at me without a word. In the gaze of a woman standing at death's door, there dwelled an emotion that did not waver.

“──The Path of Dreams.”

She spoke as if grinding the words between her teeth.

“That operation the Sentinel boast about so proudly.”

A distorted fury spread across her pale complexio⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠n.

“Eshton was sacrificed because of you people. You may as well have tortured and killed him yourselves.”

The incident in which Eshton, exposed as a subspecies by Julian and cast out, had met a wretched death at the hands of the cartel.

No, the incident in which Julian had ‘sold’ him off to that cartel.

“The only dream he ever held was to become a knight of the empire. To help those in need. And because of that illusion called Aran... he lost his life. He was betrayed by the comrade he loved most.”

Laura poured out her resentment with bloodshot eyes.

“Do you know? The one who sold Eshton off to the cartel was-”

“It was Julian.”

At my answer, Laura's face looked as though some thread had snapped clean within her.

“I know it all too well.”

I answered indifferently.

“Because the operation called ‘the Path of Dreams’ was itself a joint effort between Julian and me.”

A sudden chill gathered at the corners of Laura's eyes. Her shoulders trembled. That trembling spread through her whole body.

“Eshton was a subspecies, and that fact alone meant he had to be put to death.”

I gave a faint smile.

“It could not be helped. For a knight, emotion is unnecessary.”

If anything, it was thanks to Julian that he had lived as long as he did.

She wept even as she laughed. Drenched in helplessness, she pushed back.

“No. Emotion is precious.”

I listened to her words.

“It is the noblest and most beautiful thing, something only a human can possess.”

A thing only a human can possess.

And that is precisely why Ezenheim makes use of emotion.

“Then, that most beautiful thing.”

I scrawled across the document with my fountain pen.

The charge: suspicion of insurrection. The sentence: death.

“You may die with it still kept close.”

* * *

...Reutern II, a noble of the Imperial Palace, finds his daily life these days unbearably dull.

“Maybe I shouldn't have made that speech back then.”

That electric moment, standing at the podium of the House of Nobles with every eye upon him, keeps coming back to him, and everything since has been bland beyond measure.

Word keeps rolling in from the knights about revolutionary forces this and that, yet inside the Imperial Palace itself things are quiet~ as can be.

“Tch.”

Anyway, Valkania, those worm-like wretches. That Prime Minister who dared insult the empire's royalty and started a war on his own whim is, apparently, even struggling against some little tribal nation.

Thanks to that, plenty of nobles keep buttering him up with things like ‘Your Lordship's foresight runs so deep’, and ‘You're a genius of diplomacy’, and sure, it does puff up his chest a bit, but Reutern himself wonders what good any of it really is.

“Haaaah...”

No matter how much he sleeps, he's still drowsy. There's no exciting event to speak of, and strangely, only tedious matters keep piling up. Nobles of the Imperial Palace and some no-name bureaucrats come by constantly, asking with grave faces for his counsel, how does he think the state of the continent will unfold-, what does he make of the empire's next move-.

How the hell would I know.

He wants to shout it inwardly, but on the outside it's his daily routine to put on a solemn expression, toss out a few vague, cloud-grasping remarks, and send them on their way.

Still, well, the sight of them listening to his every word with such grave, earnest faces is funny, and kind of endearing, and amusing too, all of that.

Knock knock—

Just as he's about to close his eyes and sleep, a knock rings out again.

Reutern furrowed his brow.

“Ugh. Come in.”

“...Lord Reutern.”

A secretary, entering cautiously, held out a wooden case of some sort.

“What is it this time?”

“A gift sent from Mekerel.”

“Mekerel? Who's that?”

“The... the southern tribal nation currently at war with Valkania, my lord.”

“Ah, right.”

Reutern took the box listlessly, but the moment he opened the lid! His eyes flew wide open!

“...Oh? Ohh?!”

A necklace, rough and crude yet steeped in an extraordinary mana. Bones of wild beasts, rare southern jewels, and mana stones woven together with great precision, an utterly exotic and savage thing.

“Whoa. Hey, hey. What is this, it's really, you know? Why'd they send it to me?”

“The King of Mekerel has also enclosed a letter of thanks written in his own hand.”

The secretary handed over a parchment scroll. Reutern skimmed it in roughly three seconds.

“Ahh, I get the gist.”

'So they're thanking me for ripping into Valkania in the House of Nobles? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, that sort of scheme.'

“Well...”

'Sorry to say, but you're mistaken. I couldn't care less whether savages like you get trampled to death by Valkania or not.'

“Anyway, never mind that.”

Reutern lifted the necklace out of the box. There was no reason to turn down something free.

“The thing's nice, though. I quite like it.”

He held it up to the mirror, turning it over, and grinned.

“Se⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠nd an official letter to Mekerel.”

“Yes. What shall I write?”

“Nothing grand... Tell them, ‘There's no real need to thank me, but the gift suits my taste, so I'll wear it.’ Oh, and clear my schedule for something today. Anything.”

Reutern II sprang to his feet, still fiddling with the necklace.

'I'm going out to show it off.'

......

Laura Espin's death sentence was confirmed, and she was transferred to a maximum-security prison for felons in the western empire.

“Sir. A letter from Lord Reutern.”

I received Reutern's letter in my office.

[Max! You free around this evening~? Got something to show you. You might be in for a real surprise~]

Just one line.

No matter how I turn it over, front to back, it really is just that single line.

How idle must a man be.

“...It's nothing important.”

I set it aside carel⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠essly and turn my gaze back to the people across from me. I already have guests, after all.

“Lord Reutern... isn't he an esteemed personage of the Imperial Palace?”

“No. Well, yes, that's true.”

I reassured the two mages, whose faces were taut with anxiety.

“First of all. There's no need to worry.”

They were Laura's elder brother and younger brother, respectively.

“I'll get straight to the point.”

I scrawled my signature across the papers. The document declared that the Espin Family itself was innocent.

“The anti-state terrorism and crimes Laura Espin committed as a member of the revolutionary forces have been thoroughly confirmed to be her own individual deviation.”

Before throwing herself into the revolutionary forces, Laura had severed all ties with her own family. Most likely to keep her choices from spreading to them.

Of course, if it were a matter of padding my record, there would be no real problem in branding this entire family as the masterminds behind the treason and rounding them all up. A Sentinel knight, and ‘I’ in particular, hold that much power.

“Therefore, her guilt will not extend to the Espin Family.”

“Ah...”

The two of them let out a deep sigh. A sorrowful relief crossed their faces. There were no excuses, no protests.

“...Thank you, sir.”

They offered their thanks to me, the man who had sentenced their younger sister to death.

It must m⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠ean that they, too, understand there is no other way.

“However, surveillance of your house will only grow heavier from here on. Please, I urge you, do not say or do anything that might invite suspicion, and avoid any rash actions.”

“Yes. We'll keep it firmly in mind.”

The two brothers rose from their seats. As if their souls had left them, they staggered out of the Sentinel office.

“...”

Next, I picked up the file folder on my desk.

The rookie knight, Hermann von Berg. It was a file recording his family and his past conduct.

“Hm.”

Hermann. He had clearly been a knight who outranked me before my Regression. Yet what became of him in later years was not in my memory. Whether he was executed as a war criminal, died in the midst of war, or, failing that, turned traitor.

As I was reading down through Hermann's file.

Beep beep—

My terminal rang.

It was a transmission from Schatz, who was on Julian's tail.

* * *

A remote little city in the western empire.

Julian arrived at the hometown of the dead Eshton.

[ Theater ─ Nostalgia ]

This small theater, tucked into the corner of an alley, was a space of unforgettable memories for Julian.

A place where, in the past, he had come with Eshton and Laura on every holiday, sitting side by side to watch plays, laughing and chattering together.

Creeeak─.

Julian stepped inside the theater. Slowly he looked over the empty seats and the dust-covered stage.

Much of it was unchanged from before. The posters on the walls, the creaking floorboards. But the stage still bore someone's recent touch.

Judging by the position of the lighting rigs and the props, it seemed a play had been staged here even lately.

Creak. Creeeak.

Just as Julian was treading across the floorboards and taking in the interior.

──Thud.

A quiet footstep stirred from behind the stage.

“A pleasure to see you.”

Someone walked out from beneath the shadows of the ceiling.

“Sir Julian.”

Julian looked at him with hollow eyes. He recognized his opponent at a single glance.

A man with round, gold-rimmed glasses, his hair combed neatly upward without a single strand out of place. A gaunt, pallid-looking Class-1 Wanted Criminal.

A core member of the revolutionary forces, Dominic.

Julian murmured in a low voice.

“...You're not an illusion.”

“No. As you can see, this is my true body.”

Dominic had once been a promising mage of the Sentio Magic Tower. He had been Laura's direct senior at one time, and the very man who had led her into the revolutionary forces.

Julian watched him in silence, yet ready to draw his sword at any moment.

“Cough, cough. Ahem.”

Dabbing the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief, Dominic gestured toward Julian with his eyes.

“Sir Julian. What do you think of the empire as it stands now?”

At the sudden question, Julian's eyes narrowed.

“The reason Laura called you to this place is to make the truth of the empire known to you.”

Dominic wore a weary smile.

“The truth.”

Julian's face twitched as he echoed the word.

“Yes. You must already have some inkling of it yourself, sir. The great war that the madmen of the Imperial Household, in the deepest reaches of the empire, will soon set in motion.”

War.

A rumor already circulating openly within the knight order itself.

“There is no cause to that war, no meaning. It is nothing but slaughter to feed one man's greed, the Emperor's alone. Far too many across the continent will die, far too many families will be torn apart. And what's more.”

Strength entered Dominic's final words.

“The empire, the Emperor, is preparing the extermination of races. The concentration camps being built all across the empire... cough.”

Dominic coughed several more times. Julian found himself, for a moment, thinking about the rest of this man's life.

“...Haah. Those camps are the proof. The empire is plotting things that must never, ever be carried out. A genocide of the races-”

“What do you have to say to me?”

Julian cut Dominic's words off short. Dominic gave a bitter smile.

“...Yes. It is Laura's final request.”

He came closer with effort and held out a small envelope.

“Read it.”

Julian opened the letter contained within.

[ Julian. I'm sorry. I won't ask you to forgive me, the one who betrayed you, the one who had no choice but to betray you. But the two of us mean nothing if we aren't together... ]

Laura's last words, written down with quiet composure, having already sensed her own death.

[ When I die, could you bury me in some sunlit place not far from where Eshton sleeps? ]

Julian took in the hidden sentences pressed firmly into every part of the letter.

From deep in his chest came a pain like a cold blade carving into his guts.

“Julian Ascar.”

Dominic called out Julian's name.

“Will you not share in our cause?”

Words asking him to join them.

Words asking him to share in the cause.

“...”

In that very moment, as Julian stood there, sunken, offering no reply at all.

──Clap. Clap. Clap.

A slow clapping rang out from somewhere, slicing through the silence of the theater.

──Clap. Clap. Clap.

The entrance behind the seats.

A presence approaching from the darkness beyond, steeped in thick bloodlust.

──Clap. Clap. Clap.

“As expected~ As expected, it's Sir Julian.”

The rookie knight, Hermann von Berg.

A smile playing at his lips, he looked back and forth between Julian and Dominic.

“To think you tracked down a rat of a traitor like this all on your own.”

Hermann's hand slid down and gripped the hilt of the sword at his waist.

“As your junior, I simply cannot contain my admiration for such outstanding investigative skill.”

His two wide-open eyes settled upon the ‘letter’ cradled in Julian's arms.

~~~

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