Translator: KJ

──[ To Knight Maximilian Ebenholtz ]──

Forgive my impertinence, but I dare to lay this letter before you.

My name is Niko Weber, and I live on the outskirts of the Empire's central region. I am a lowly subject who has read your autobiography 「Under the Moonlight」 more than several hundred times over.

I engraved every one of your sentences upon my heart, and when I came at last to Dr Johann Georg's 「The Thousand-Year Empire」, my eyes were finally opened.

Before the truth you revealed, I came to understand for the first time why I was born, and what my purpose had been.

I am a pure Aran. A shabby man whose only possession is that bloodline. My father and my mother, my great-grandfather and my great-great-grandfather, and above them, and above them still, a lineage carried down from the central region without a single drop ever running muddy. That alone is my one and only pride, and.......

......my father died because of the Ezenheim.

It was debt. A debt that never shrank no matter how much he repaid. In the end, my father could never crawl free of that swamp of usury.

Back then I knew nothing. I simply thought my father had been weak, that my family had been unlucky.

Until you taught me otherwise.

Now I know. That tragedy was not our fault. It was their livelihood.

The one and only history of those who devour without building, who reap without sowing.

Sir Knight.

In the basement of a company called Alchemia, I saw the filthy altar of the Ezenheim.

In truth, the discovery itself happened long ago. At the time I thought it was mere chance. That I had passed that place by chance, opened that door by chance, overheard their rite by chance, and nothing more.

But now I know. It was fate, beyond mere chance.

Now I intend to punish them. I mean to restore the order that is right and self-evident.

I pray this letter of mine reaches you.

Of course, I know that the writing of a worthless wretch like me could never find its way onto the desk of the most honored man in the Empire. And yet I write. Knowing it will never be delivered, I send it all the same. Because this letter is not written in hope of a reply.

Thanks to you, my eyes have been opened.

I have learned that my family's tragedy was never our fault.

Thank you.

[Respectfully, Niko Weber]

───────

* * *

I visited the site of the terror attack at the chemical company Alchemia. I disguised my identity.

Lately the name Maximilian had grown so famous across the whole of the Empire that there was a risk my enemies would react sharply to my every move.

The ideal undercover identity, one that could let me infiltrate deep into the scene and secure the cooperation of the police, was──

──[ Operations Officer ]──

Name : Gerd Bynes

Affiliation : Office of Councilor Reutern

────────

The nobles of the imperial palace keep operations officers, secretaries, administrative officers, and the like in their retinue. Reutern II in particular is a councilor of the House of Nobles, so posing as one of his hands and feet makes for a shield beyond compare when carrying out a mission.

“......Is this the place?”

“Yes, Operations Officer sir.”

The police bowed deeply and courteously as they led the way. I looked around the interior of the ruined factory at an unhurried pace.

“Quite a mess, isn't it?”

One of the officers said with a wry smile. The acrid smell of chemicals still hung in the air, mingled with the lingering traces of Mana.

“I heard a circuit board exploded.”

“Yes. They carved a Mana Circuit into a small circuit board and turned it into a bomb. An organized act of terror.”

According to Niko Weber's letter, it was an explosive that a commoner with no knowledge of magic whatsoever had forged through sheer obsession alone. That exceptional talent had produced this catastrophe.

“But why would Councilor Reutern take an interest in a case like this......”

The officer cautiously studied my reaction.

“He wishes to understand the dangers of terrorism.”

“Ah~ of course.”

Thump—

In that moment, the Virus beneath my collarbone pulsed.

The epicenter of the blast had been crumpled beyond recognition, but there, in a heap of stones piled beneath a collapsed wall, in the crevice where the rubble had come spilling down, something foreign lay hidden.

“Mind if I take a look for a moment?”

“Uh...... yes. Truth is, Georgen already hauled off all the evidence, but you're welcome to look all you like. Oh, right, but here's the thing. These days, whenever there's a case that'd pad our records, Georgen swoops in and cleans it all out first......”

I let the officer's grumbling go in one ear and out the other, and raked through the rubble with a gloved hand.

Thump—

My hand closed around a crudely carved chunk of stone. To an ordinary eye it would have looked like nothing more than a broken shard, but on my retina I could observe a thick pulse of energy clinging to its surface.

Thump—

My heart gave a great pound.

Thump—

......I couldn't tell yet.

No language was written upon it, no meaning dwelt within it.

Thump—

And yet my Virus, fixing upon it, thrashed violently.

Thunk.

I let the fragment fall.

“......This rubble.”

I told the officers.

“Pass the word that no one is to clear it away. Preserve it exactly as it is, without fail. Say it is by order of Councilor Reutern.”

“Uh, yes. Yes. We'll be sure to do that.”

Behind the company called Alchemia there was, without a doubt, 'darkness'.

I stepped out of the site and climbed into the waiting vehicle.

“Operations Officer?”

One of the operations officers who had been at my side the longest. 'Hans', a former guard of the Western Prison, answered in a tense voice.

“Yes, Sir Knight.”

“I'll need to do some infiltrating.”

He looked at me through the rearview mirror.

This was the Empire, not some foreign land. And the man I had to deal with was a high official who had seen my face more than once. False teeth, a change of hair, a shift in eye color, none of it would be enough for a disguise.

“A lawyer. Could you manage it?”

At my question, he gripped the wheel and answered.

“Yes. I ca⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌n.”

“You'll have to go to Georgen. It could be dangerous.”

“It's fine. I can look after myself well enough.”

Hans had spent nearly five years at my side, honing himself all the while.

Then again, I was the one giving him a separate self-improvement stipend for exactly that purpose.

“Good. Then.”

I gave him his instructions.

“Go to Georgen, take up Niko Weber's defense, and check the boots of the Georgen agents.......”

* * *

The detention center of Georgen in the west of the Empire. Behind the iron bars, Niko Weber was a wretched sight. His whole face was swollen and purple, as if he'd been stung by a swarm of bees.

“......Inspector, at this point, don't you think he really did pull it off on his own?”

Sergeant Gewin asked, sipping his coffee. Inspector Fritz shook his head. (TL Note: In the previous chapter, the author used "Fried", which has now been changed to "Fritz". I believe "Fritz" is the correct spelling. However, I'll wait for a few more chapters before updating it to "Fritz" in the earlier chapter.)

“It makes no sense. Look at how refined that circuit board is. A commoner who's never so much as laid eyes on magic, carving out a circuit with a chisel to build a bomb?”

It was work that called for a highly skilled technician, or help from someone behind the scenes.

Fritz straightened his hat and gave Gewin a pointed look.

“This is a man who dared to carry out an attack in the very heart of the Empire. There's someone behind him. Director Heinrich himself is furious, so we have to root them out, no matter what.”

“......Yeah, well. First things first, I'll get him patched up. He can't even talk properly right now. Next time, go easy on the beating, would you? We need him able to speak.”

“Shut it. What are you, my wife?”

“No.......”

Fritz left the detention center first.

Gewin glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then stepped up to the bars. He spoke in a low voice to the trembling Niko.

“Three days. That's all. I'll give you three days.”

Three days. There would, of course, be no reply to Niko's letter.

As if that Knight would ever answer a letter from some bottom-of-the-barrel terrorist.

“If you still won't talk after three days, then it's the death sentence for you, no questions asked.”

Niko could only wheeze faintly for breath, and Gewin turned and climbed the stairs out of the detention center.

Thud. Thud.

The spiral staircase seemed to wind on without end. Georgen headquarters was needlessly vast, and this detention center was needlessly deep.

Thud. Thud.

After a long climb, he emerged from the detention building.

“Chilly out.”

Yawning in the night air, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

Just as he stuck one between his lips and lit it.

──Thud.

At the echoing footstep, Gewin turned his gaze that way. There stood a man with a flat cap pulled low over his eyes.

“A pleasure. Sergeant Gewin, I take it?”

As the man spoke first, Gewin took a deep drag on his cigarette.

“Hssss.......”

Exhaling the smoke, he asked.

“Hoo...... And you are? This isn't a place ordinary folk can just wander into, you know.”

Instead of answering, the man looked down at the tips of Gewin's boots.

“Tell me, how many pairs of boots were issued to Georgen?”

“Two pairs...... no, hold on. I asked who you are.”

Gewin narrowed his brow, wary of the man.

“Let me see some ID.”

“Certainly. Here you are.”

The man handed over the ID without further comment.

Gewin took it with a suspicious eye.

──[ Imperial Central Attorney's License ]──

Name : Thomas Iduna......

────────

It was a genuine license, stamped with the seal of the Imperial Central Court.

Gewin frowned and asked again.

“And what's a la⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌wyer doing here.......”

“I've come to defend Mr. Niko Weber.”

Niko Weber. Gewin turned the words over quietly, then let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Ha, are you out of your mind? Do you even know who that guy is?”

“Yes. I do.”

The man smiled softly once again.

“He's from my home region. I too have lost something precious to those Ezenheim bastards, so I understand his heart better than anyone.”

“Look here. He didn't blow up the Ezenheim, he blew up a piece of critical national infrastructure. He's a terrorist. Lawyer or whatever the hell, he ought to be up on the gallows this instant and it still wouldn't be enough.”

Gewin tapped the ash off his cigarette and added.

“In the first place, this is Georgen. Counsel visitations follow a procedure that-”

“I've already filed a formal application for the appointment of defense counsel.”

The man drew a sheet of paper from his briefcase and held it out.

“Under Imperial law, any subject of pure Aran blood has the right to the assistance of defense counsel. No state institution, not even Georgen, may infringe upon the sacred rights of an Aran. Wouldn't you agree?”

Gewin looked back and forth between the document and the man's face.

“What's more, Alchemia is a 'national strategic defense contractor' that operates under the patronage of the Empire's Ministry of Defense, providing technical support. Critical national infrastructure, just as you said.”

The man pushed up his glasses and went on.

“Which is to say, it is a 'domain of pure Arans', one that demands strict legal oversight and verification of bloodline. But what if, among the owners of such a company, or among its core researchers, there happened to be a Subspecies hiding in disguise?”

Gewin's eyes wavered, a beat too late. He could roughly guess where the man's line of defense was heading.

“Precisely. That would constitute a clear violation of the「Imperial Citizenship Law」. A Subspecies may not hold public office, and must be excluded from the decision-making structure of any company that receives the Empire's support. As you're aware, the「Imperial Citizenship Law」is a higher law that takes precedence over all other criminal statutes.”

A smile hung at the corner of the man's mouth.

“In other words, if the targets were never recognized as citizens of the Empire to begin with, then the defendant's act of destruction is not terror at all; there is ample room to construe it as a legitimate act to drive out the Empire's undesirables.”

Gewin swept his hair back and shook his head. It was sophistry. He'd never heard of legal reasoning like this in his life.

“......Then come back tomorrow. Visiting hours are over for now.”

“Very well. I'll see you again tomorrow.”

The man gave a courteous nod of his head, then melted leisurely into the darkness.

“......The hell was that bastard?”

Gewin gathered the saliva pooling in his mouth and swallowed it. He tapped the cigarette ash into a portable ashtray.

* * *

Meanwhile, I visited the hospital where the victims of the Alchemia attack had been admitted. It was to see for myself the true nature of these people who had supposedly been caught up in the terror.

“.......”

The bastards, lying there under the protection of the Empire's finest medical facility.

Six in all had survived the blast.

Wrapped head to toe in bandages like mummies, they lay wheezing out ragged breaths, dependent on oxygen machines.

I looked down at them coldly─ steadily.

Thump.

A heavy pulse rose beneath my collarbone.

Thump.

There was no need to look any further.

Six out of six were Ezenheim.

They had, without a doubt, gathered in that basement to work some 'rite', and the Empire's great commoner hero had put a stop to it.

Niko Weber was no terrorist.

He was a great man deserving not of punishment, but of reward.

“.......”

Without a second thought, I turned and walked out into the hospital lobby.

Thump—!

In an instant, the Virus reacted violently once more.

At the hospital's main entrance. Someone in a suit was walking in through it.

“......!”

The moment he entered my line of sight, my pupils blew wide open.

It was as though an ice pick had stabbed into my temple, and then a hollow laugh spread across my whole face.

It was a face I knew.

A name hard to forget.

A man who, before my Regression, had coiled his tongue like a snake at my side.

'Knight Maximilian, sir. I h⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌ave a truly splendid business opportunity for you. If you would only lend me your name.......'

The businessman, Viktor Haim.

Around this time, using my name as a shield, he had established a number of front companies backed by the Ministry of Defense, and in return had offered up enormous kickbacks to me, blinding my eyes and stopping my ears.

I had believed him to be my loyal retainer......

He walked into the hospital room where the Ezenheim bastards lay.

“......Ha.”

The expression drained from my face.

Before anger came, a vicious disgust surged up.

Ezenheim.

They really had coiled themselves like cancer cells into every last corner of the Empire's veins, hadn't they.

* * *

The next day. Inspector Fritz received a report from Sergeant Gewin that defense counsel had been appointed for Niko Weber.

Someone had appeared who dared, under the pretext of the「Imperial Citizenship Law」, to throw a wrench into a Georgen investigation.

“A bizarre document like this actually made its way onto my desk, it seems.”

Fritz tossed down the formally submitted notice of counsel appointment and muttered.

“What are you going to do? The fellow seemed to have a rather tricky streak to him.”

At Gewin's question, Fritz wore a cold sneer.

“Every now and then you get people who don't understand how the world turns. Either a moron who can't tell what matters, or some fool drunk on playing hero. I'll take care of it, so you just get on with your own work.”

Inspector Fritz gathered up the file. Gewin hurriedly got to his feet.

“Ah. I'll come along too.”

“No need. You just keep an eye on that terrorist.”

And as Fritz walked past him and out, Gewin found himself absently staring at the man's boots.

.......

The office of Georgen's Deputy Director. Cool air circled from the gap of a window-mounted air conditioner, and ornaments steeped in the authority of the Empire pressed down heavily on the space withi⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌n.

Here, where an elegant classical melody drifted through the air, Fritz bowed his head courteously to the Deputy Director.

“......And that is what took place.”

“Mm.”

One corner of the Deputy Director's mouth twisted.

He was Valerian, heir to the Taxis Family, an ambitious man of Georgen who possessed all three of ability, bloodline, and rank at once.

“I've already heard about it.”

His voice was deep. He always kept an easy smile and an unruffled manner, yet across the whole of Georgen, indeed across every institution, he was the hardest man of all to deal with.

“So the terrorist has picked up defense counsel?”

he asked quietly, skimming the documents.

“Yes. Apparently he just finished filing a visitation request at the detention center.”

“Take it. It's the counsel's file. The information just came to me.”

The Deputy Director slid a photograph across the desk. The man's features, his background, his hometown, all of it was recorded there.

“.......”

Fritz felt it anew.

This was power. The ability to seize, in a single moment, every detail and every weakness of a man he had never once met.

His network of information truly ran wide and deep.

“What do you make of it, Deputy Director?”

“Well now. Interesting. It's the right direction for the Empire. Citizens helping citizens, Arans helping Arans.”

Valerian was a man whose thoughts were utterly impossible to read. He carried a gravity beyond words, an intimidating presence that made him hard to face alone.

“Even so, the words he spouted were insolent.”

Inspector Fritz put force into his voice.

“He's a man who dared to sabotage a company that upholds the Empire's national defense.”

“Any connection to the Revolutionary forces?”

“......Nothing's turned up yet, but we're looking into it.”

Deputy Director Valerian gave a thin smile.

“If you ask me, he looks less like a lackey of the revolution than a man drunk on ideology.”

“Ideology...... you say.”

“That's right. He thinks every Aran is one and the same Aran. And that lawyer's no different.”

Valerian leaned deep into his chair and put a cigar to his lips.

“Men like that are persistent. He'll come back to the detention center, and when he does, send him up to me. I'll have a tail put on him.”

“Yes, understood.”

“That'll be all.”

Fritz saluted and withdrew from the office.

Creeeeak──

The door closed, and in the office the classical music settled like mist.

Tap. T⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌ap.

His fingers drummed on the table, then came to an abrupt halt.

“......These days.”

Chin resting on his hand, the Deputy Director gazed at the lawyer's face in the photograph.

“The commoner scum really do love to cross the line......”

A thick disgust settled into his cold gaze.

~~~

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