The Truth
In truth, there was something Anton had overlooked before his private meeting with Darling Outsider.
He had assumed that a kid with a ridiculous name like Darling would open his mouth without much trouble. It wasn't so much that he had underestimated the boy for being young as that the little soldier was already infamous around the unit for freely trading on Heydam's name — so the miscalculation was not entirely Anton's fault.
By all accounts, the mere mention of the first syllable of Heydam's name was enough to set him off on some wild adventure story, half true and half invented. And yet here he sat in front of Anton, playing at amnesia that didn't even land. It was enough to leave a man speechless.
Kids these days are terrifying at ten…
Heydam was one thing. The little brat in front of him was another. Neither of them was giving him so much as a crack to work with. Most likely Heydam had drilled him thoroughly on keeping quiet about the past…
The one silver lining was that Darling Outsider's reaction to the photograph Anton had produced was clearly different from a moment before.
The person in the picture was none other than Luna Moon.
If he really lived with Heydam in the Slums, he ought to know Luna Moon's face.
Anton had handed over a picture of her and claimed she was his secret daughter. He had been certain some kind of reaction would follow. It was a bold move — introducing Heydam's dead mother as his own hidden child — all for the sake of prying a real story out of Darling.
"What's wrong? Do you recognize her, by any chance?"
Darling had frowned at the photograph, and Anton had hoped it meant he had recognized Luna Moon and was unsettled by it. The response that followed, however, was rather deflating.
"It's not that. This isn't a photo — it's a portrait."
Darling pointed out the frame around the portrait captured in the image. Of course there were no remaining photographs of Luna Moon; what Anton had handed over was a photo of the portrait he had once gifted to Heydam.
"Is that really the important part right now?"
"Then what is? Either way, your daughter's a beauty."
Darling casually returned the picture, and Anton began to feel genuinely confused.
Does he really know nothing about Heydam's past?
He wondered if Darling had recognized Luna Moon and was simply pretending not to. But the boy's face showed not the slightest flicker of resistance at being told that the woman with Luna Moon's face was Anton's daughter. That kind of indifferent expression was not something you could fake unless you were truly seeing a stranger for the first time.
Which left only one conclusion.
After a long silence, Anton spoke.
"You really haven't known Lord Heydam for long, have you."
"Huh? So you finally believe me?"
"Yes. I've decided to believe that. I don't want to think there's another child out there like Lord Heydam."
"…? Uh, okay."
Darling looked as though he hadn't understood a word of it, but he nodded along as if he had. If that was acting, the boy was more terrifying than Heydam himself.
Anton decided further conversation was pointless.
"We'll leave it there. I'll see you back to the barracks before it gets late."
"Ah, no need. The barracks I'm staying in isn't far from the abandoned cathedral anyway — I can walk."
"…"
Anton, who had been about to offer an escort as far as the entrance, fixed Darling with a sharp look.
"How do you know that?"
"Sorry? Know… what?"
"Where this place is."
Anton had deliberately taken a route through the Slums and covered Darling's eyes on the way to the secret location. It hadn't been to hide anything from Heydam. Heydam would have realized immediately who had taken the boy. Anton had kept the meeting quiet so that none of the other pro-Daphne faction officers would spot them. They still didn't know he had one foot in Heydam's camp — and they couldn't know.
So of course Darling Outsider shouldn't have known exactly where they were either.
Darling scratched the back of his head and muttered,
"Huh. Was I not supposed to act like I knew?"
"What do you mean by—"
Anton frowned, then grasped a critical fact.
"Wait. If you know about this place, then Lord Heydam also—"
There was no way Heydam wouldn't know something this kid knew.
Anton was halfway out of his chair when the tightly shut door slammed open. A small foot that had clearly kicked it appeared first, followed by its owner.
Heydam Goodman walked in.
His gaze went to Darling Outsider first. With that characteristically impassive expression, he looked the boy up and down.
"You look fine."
Confusion flickered across Anton's face at Heydam's entrance. He had known he would be found out — he hadn't even planned to hide it. But he had never imagined Heydam would know about this place as well.
This underground hideout beneath the abandoned cathedral used to be the previous commander's bunker. The only people who know about it are the former commander and my direct subordinates. Even Daphne doesn't know this place exists.
He suddenly remembered that Heydam had known the name of the newborn puppy next door, and a chill ran down his spine. When the boy had claimed he knew everything about them, it hadn't been a bluff after all.
"So the last thing you do before retiring is kidnap a child?"
Heydam's voice snapped Anton back to the present.
"…Kidnap? We simply had a conversation."
"He looks surprisingly intact, but for a 'simple conversation,' his condition is pretty rough."
Darling Outsider's clothes were a mess, the result of panicking and trying to escape the moment he met Anton here. Anton clicked his tongue.
"It's a misunderstanding. The second he saw me he got some terrible idea in his head and made a whole scene…"
The moment Heydam's withering look landed on him, Outsider launched into nonsense.
"N-No!! He threatened me! Told me to tell the truth! I didn't want to come — he dragged me here!!"
"What did you just say?"
What kind of bastard—!!
Anton, who had treated Darling with relative kindness, was so dumbfounded he couldn't speak. But Heydam didn't so much as flinch as he addressed Anton.
"Ah… don't worry about it. I know better than anyone that he's a pathetic little idiot. Seeing him this full of himself, you must have been pretty nice to him."
"…"
It was a relief that Heydam didn't suspect him. But it only made Anton more baffled as to why Heydam kept a creature like that around.
Darling Outsider started grumbling something resentful beside them, but Heydam ignored him and asked Anton,
"So did you really skip your own son's graduation ceremony over this guy?"
"He wouldn't have cared whether I came or not."
"…"
"Judging by the silence, I take it he really didn't."
"Platon didn't particularly seem to mind, but…"
The news that his own son hadn't missed him was hardly surprising. Then Heydam continued.
"You'll regret today for a long time, Anton."
"Me?"
"Your son's graduation speech got a standing ovation."
A standing ovation?
Anton knew Platon had a fair number of followers, but most of them were younger students who didn't know the real Platon. His fellow graduating seniors treated him like an eccentric and generally preferred to keep their distance…
Why would those graduates give Platon a standing ovation?
A sudden unease made Anton ask,
"What… was in the speech, exactly?"
The moment Heydam answered with a catlike smile, Anton knew by instinct that his bad feeling was not wrong.
"If you're curious, go ask your son."
"Lord Heydam! Don't tell me you had a hand in my son's graduation speech?"
To the appalled Anton, Heydam replied with an infuriating grin.
"That's why you should have come to the graduation."
A few hours earlier, at the graduation ceremony.
"Honored Lord Heydam, and the rest of you ordinary graduates."
For a graduation speech that opened on such an ominous note, what followed was relatively ordinary.
"That Cadet Lucas left us with the famous words that any cadet who assumes defeat without even trying has no place in this academy; that Cadet Bones alone insists he was never fooled by Lord Heydam's acting; and that, despite the many outstanding cadets among us, I stand here as the graduates' representative — it is nothing short of a great honor."
Well… maybe not so ordinary after all.
From where I sat I could see Lucas and Bones in the front row, fists trembling. Beside me, the Commander had one hand over his mouth and his eyes closed, either holding back laughter or something close to it.
From there, the rest of the speech was ordinary enough.
"Today we arrive at one of the most special moments of our lives. It is a precious occasion to celebrate the dedication and effort we have given so far, and to offer our hopes and blessings for the journey ahead. We graduates have, until now…"
The principal, who had been sweating cold bullets, relaxed into a calm expression as the content settled into safer waters. For a good while after that, the speech was thoroughly bland.
For about five minutes, at least.
"—In this way, we learned a great deal through the academy and grew as people. But as all of you know, opportunities like this are not given to everyone."
This was where the graduation speech I wanted truly began.
I glanced at the Commander. He was resting his chin on his hand, watching Platon with genuine interest.
What is this man thinking, really?
Even after hearing that the apocalypse would arrive in ten years, he looked oddly at ease. Maybe because an apocalypse wasn't something you could stop through effort alone. Or maybe the idea still hadn't sunk in. Or maybe he was so confident in me, the regressor, that he could afford to be calm.
Ten years until the Second Apocalypse.
From my perspective — for whom that had been nothing more than Phase One of a game — ten years felt painfully short. But for a Commander who had spent the last decade searching for a lost lover and child, it was probably more than enough time to prepare.
While I was thinking that, Platon's speech continued.
"Only a privileged few are permitted to enroll here. From this platform, I would like to say that for the future of our Cola Area, things must change. From now on, it should not only be the children of a handful of officers or those with sponsors — every eleven-year-old child should be admitted."
The audience stirred at Platon's words.
Of course they're rattled. The call to give up their privileges just came out of Platon's mouth.
I had planted this proposal in Platon's graduation speech for a reason. Moments when academy graduates, the officers who were both their parents and sponsors, and the Commander himself were all gathered in one place were rare.
Of course, how many people would take a freshly graduated child seriously on a subject like this? What I was building was atmosphere. I needed a climate in which the Commander would, reluctantly, give his consent right here.
Roughly nine years and nine months remained until the Second Apocalypse. Even if we started packing eleven-year-olds into the academy now, they would barely finish the six-year course and get two or three rounds of live combat training. Universal admission without discrimination was a workaround I had devised because simply telling the residents of this zone that the Second Apocalypse was coming tomorrow would never make them believe it.
For more people to survive, more elite troops were necessary. That was simply fact. It was also why I intended to take only a small force on the upcoming subjugation campaign — not to waste lives pointlessly, but to put additional training into them and turn them into something that actually mattered.
Of course, going through Platon was slower than simply asking the Commander directly. But the final wish of the Three Rewards strategy had to be saved for forcing the divorce. And using Platon had other advantages.
If the Commander — who was not himself an academy graduate — stood up and declared open admissions, the backlash would have been severe. Coming from Platon, the top graduate, it landed differently. Platon was also the son of Anton, leader of the pro-Daphne faction, which meant the pro-Daphne officers who currently benefited most from the admissions system would be left unsure whether to oppose or support him.
And that slippery old fox Anton happened not to be here. A perfect chance to walk the Commander straight into granting permission. If it passed, I could also conveniently shove Shut-inWife and Taejeong — both turning eleven next year — into the academy as well.
I didn't coordinate with the Commander in advance, but by now he must have figured out why I'm staging this.
My plan was extremely simple.
Platon would use his graduation speech to call for mandatory academy admission for every eleven-year-old. While the privileged class flailed in confusion, the Commander would give in as if he had no choice. That was the whole thing.
What I still don't understand is why I had to come up on the platform for something this straightforward.
Then my eyes met Platon's.
He was supposed to be facing forward while he spoke. Instead he was looking straight at me.
Chilling.
No sooner had the thought formed than Platon's next line drove into my chest like a nail.
"Some of you may say that giving everyone a chance would only lower the quality of the academy. But ladies and gentlemen — look at Lord Heydam here."
Every gaze in the hall turned toward me.
This bastard… what is he dragging me into?
"There is not a single cadet here who does not know that Lord Heydam recently scored two consecutive overwhelming victories in the academy's training simulations. But there is one thing you do not know."
At the claim that there was something they didn't know, the hall began to murmur. Bones and Lucas were looking this way as well, eyes asking what on earth he was talking about.
"You all seem to believe that Lord Heydam grew up receiving a proper education in the Commander's residence, but…"
What came out of Platon's mouth did not disappoint.
"Until very recently, Lord Heydam was an orphan drifting through the Slums."
The smile vanished completely from the mouth of the Commander — the same man who had gone so far as to shoot General Bartom dead to bury my origins.