Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Turning Point (2)
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“Why the hell are you making me do this crappy grunt work!”
“Who else is gonna do it?”
The letters Philipp had painted on last night while grumbling under his breath.
“Tch, what a mess.”
I scratched my head with a pained expression and looked around.
Street graffiti wasn't the only problem.
The area around the tavern looked like it had been bombed.
Piles of small flyers were stacked up on the roadside like mountains, dozens of them crammed forcefully into mailboxes as if they might burst out any second. They were even hanging from rooftops and tucked between bushes—places you wouldn't believe.
At the shocking sight, people fidgeted nervously, watching my reaction.
I silently picked up one flyer and read it.
The White Crow Unit demands: Mad dictator Krüger, who tortures people cruelly—abdicate immediately!
It was provocative material, complete with striking illustrations.
“Oh my, what on earth is all this?”
Erika emerged late, draped a shawl over her nightgown, and widened her eyes in feigned shock. Excellent acting.
“No idea. But I have a hunch it might be them.”
“Them? You don't mean...”
As Erika's face hardened, the crowd gathering and murmuring around us looked at her with concern.
They were all thinking the same thing.
The ones who kidnapped Miss Braithner to threaten the Leader. The ones who dared to paint horrific insults against him in every corner of the caves.
The White Crow Unit—those reactionaries with their deceptively holy-sounding name.
They were targeting Erika again.
I pulled her close.
“Go inside for now. I'll handle things out here somehow—”
But amid everyone's worried gazes, Erika, who had been trembling slightly, took a deep breath and swept her eyes over the onlookers.
“Everyone, don't worry.”
A wave of surprise spread at her calm, cool voice. She continued brightly and confidently, word by word.
“I'm fine. I've already escaped their clutches once, haven't I? Neither I nor President Redan will bow to those traitors.”
Her steadfast words rippled with being deeply moved.
“That’s our Miss Braithner!”
Starting with one person, applause erupted.
What naive folks.
I exchanged a wry glance with Erika and smiled bitterly.
The start of our meticulously scripted play.
From here on, Erika and I would take the stage once more, moving exactly as Ossel wanted—or rather, as Captain Johann Werner wanted.
And while we did, we'd claim our own gains.
Solidifying Erika’s image as the resolute Miss who wouldn’t yield to hardship was just a tiny part of it.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ “Oh my god, what is this?”
“Police! Call the police!”
“What kind of thug would do this...!”
The flyers weren't just scattered in front of our place.
We'd been hit especially hard, but thousands had appeared across all of Lüdelheim District 13.
Ordinary residential areas, schools, factories, parks, shopping streets.
Mad dictator Krüger, who tortures people cruelly—abdicate immediately!
An enormous quantity.
District 13 was in an uproar again, with police swarming out to collect the flyers feverishly while berating citizens.
Two officers were assigned to Erika for ironclad protection. Quite the privilege.
“Isn't two too few? Those bastards might try kidnapping her again. This time could really be dangerous!”
I protested with a flushed face, and the officer fumbled to placate me.
“Sorry. We're short-staffed. But we're watching as closely as we can—no need to worry about her getting caught up in danger.”
The police looked genuinely frantic. Word was, the matter had escalated all the way to headquarters.
Of course it had—this was the big event Johann and I had meticulously prepared over two weeks!
The entire White Crow Unit had rushed to print the flyers, then dashed around District 13 all night scattering them.
My first role was done.
Now, on to the next phase. Time to pass the baton to Johann.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ “Aaaagh!”
Johann stood expressionless outside the room from which horrific screams leaked.
The colonel was probably panting with rage inside, venting with brutal lashes.
All because of the flyer terror.
It hadn't even been a month since the colonel ordered clues on the White Crow Unit. The reactionaries had mockingly resumed activities on a far larger scale.
In his current state, the colonel would show anyone hell over the slightest suspicion.
No matter how powerful or influential they were.
The colonel was that brutally simple-minded, utterly lacking in political sense. That's why, even in his forties, he was stuck commanding a fringe district of Lüdelheim without promotion.
As Johann sneered inwardly, the door burst open, and the colonel emerged drenched in sweat and blood.
“Long live the Great Leader!”
“Hoo... Long live the Great Leader. Captain Werner, got a report for me?”
The colonel's voice was laced with venom. Before the sparks could fly his way, Johann quickly proffered the documents.
“We plan to raid the homes of suspects. Please authorize the search warrants.”
“Good, good. Use any means necessary—drag those sons of bitches in and beat confessions out of them!”
“I'll report results immediately.”
The colonel snatched the pen Johann politely offered and signed without even glancing at the papers.
Ossel wielded immense authority, but a mere captain like Johann couldn't arbitrarily arrest or search homes.
In principle, at least.
Naturally, senior Ossel officers delegated authority to subordinates, shielding themselves from blame for any arrogance.
Of course, some seniors hoarded all power and tightly controlled their underlings.
Not this colonel.
He cared only about extracting confessions through torture and repaying the Leader's grace somehow—so he approved whatever Johann requested.
Thus, Johann could do anything without repercussions. At least within District 13.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Crash! Smash!
“Kyaaah!”
“W-what is the meaning of this?!”
As the sun dipped west and dusk settled gloomily, a mansion in District 13's affluent neighborhood erupted in chaos.
Black-uniformed Ossel agents stormed in, overturning furniture, shattering windows, rifling every drawer, dumping items on the floor, and even digging up the garden.
Lieutenant Philipp Decker commanded the lower ranks, while Captain Johann Werner watched impassively from behind, arms crossed.
The man who rushed out in a panic at the maids' screams blanched upon seeing Johann.
“C-Captain, what in the world...”
Johann gestured for Philipp to continue, then approached him.
“Long time no see, President Sheffer. Care to talk?”
Johann's hand clamped his shoulder like a vise. Sheffer's face twisted as if he might vomit, his whole body trembling.
His eyes scanned the Ossel agents engrossed in their search.
They ignored him completely, ransacking the mansion roughly but diligently.
Realizing resistance was futile, Sheffer let Johann drag him by force to a corner of the parlor.
Bam!
Johann seized Sheffer's head and smashed it against the wall.
“Urk!”
Sheffer cried out in agony, but Johann's face remained blank.
“What the hell is this idiocy? You thought you could slip out from under me?”
At Johann's icy words, Sheffer gasped and begged desperately.
“I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I never meant to...! It was a mistake. I would never defy you, Captain. Forgive me just this once, please!”
Johann stared at him silently.
He released Sheffer's head. The man collapsed, coughing and pleading, looking up at him gasping.
“Run.”
The cold words dropped.
“If you don't want to die right now. Flee as far as you can.”
Johann turned and strode out of the parlor.
“Anything turn up?”
Philipp shook his head.
“Nothing suspicious yet.”
“Search every nook and cranny.”
Sheffer fled.
He had no idea why Johann gave him a chance to live.
Part of him suspected a trap, but his gut screamed: don't run now, and you're dead.
He bolted without settling his businesses, grabbing only ID, passport, and jewels, running endlessly.
Fortunately, he was confident in escaping. Hadn't he fled his hometown once before?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Time for me to step up again.
I gazed up at a mansion lavish for District 13—not quite Braithner level, but still screaming wealth.
The garden was torn apart, glass shattered everywhere, giving it a eerie vibe.
Finn Sheffer, was it?
When Johann named him, his face came to mind instantly. Another of District 13's rich folk, a regular at our tavern.
Rat-like face, always glancing around slyly. Groveling, chiming in with those better than him.
Not a capital crime, though.
Johann wanted him dead. Didn't say why—just called him an eyesore.
Obvious. Probably stepped out of line or became a nuisance. Some petty reason.
Using my hand to kill him while warning me, too.
Play uncooperative, and you'll end up the same...
I chuckled.
I wouldn't go down easy.
Sheffer was probably sprinting like mad by now.
My second role: set a trap he couldn't escape.
“Hey, let's get inside already. This is heavy.”
Oscar's grumbling came from behind. He hefted a bulging bag.
“Shut it, pack mule.”
Erika was probably keeping the police occupied right now.
I closed the tavern as usual and headed to my boarding house. Confirmed Mrs. Schmidt was deep asleep, slipped out with Oscar, and hustled here.
“Let's go in.”
With the owner vanished overnight, the servants had all cleared out.
A quick scan of the dark interior showed the sharp ones had looted valuables.
“Where's good?”
Wandering the ransacked mansion, I spotted a slightly rotted floorboard in the corner of the luxurious bathroom.
“That works.”
I pried the creaky board with my pocketknife, and it came loose.
“Perfect size.”
Oscar stuffed items from his bag into the hole and replaced the board.
“Still, even cooperating with Ossel... doing this to one person...”
“I told you—he's no innocent. And you promised not to flinch at blood.”
My voice went flat, and Oscar flinched, waving his hands hastily.
“Not against this! Our name gets bigger, and if we have to be used by Ossel anyway, better use them too—like you said!”
“Then what's the issue?”
“Just... feels a bit off.”
“...”
I met his eyes silently. He sighed and looked away.
He read my gaze.
You'll get used to it.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ “Radio broadcast?”
I stared blankly at the woman smiling from the bar stool in perfect attire.
She'd caught my eye from the entrance—not like regular patrons.
Enthusiastic expression, sparkling eyes, early twenties.
She ordered a beer, sipped it while staring at me and Erika, then grabbed my sleeve as I passed.
“President Redan! I've heard so much about you! I'm Sophia Cole, from the National Radio Station. Would you come on our show and share your story?”
Uh, this wasn't in the plan.