Return. (1)
The logbooks of Recor Dak Detention Camp lay buried in the 'Records Storage Room'.
Premien was there, underground.
Alone in the darkness, she sat on a dust-covered chair, poring over each page one by one.
[...Special management subjects: 339 individuals. Lord Igiris, head of Phairden, requisitioned some of them under the pretext of hard labor.]
Phairden.
The homeland where Premien was born, where her parents were taken, where despair was bestowed upon her.
A biting winter, endless cold, collapsed log cabins, hunger every other day for three days straight, melting snow to drink because there was nothing else, licking food scraps discarded on the roadside... loathsome days.
[The list includes Loprune, Bainsmore, Gekrel...]
Every detail of these criminals was etched into Premien's mind.
Loprune was the madman who murdered thirteen people and sold human flesh. Bainsmore was the guard who beat a noble to death for trying to rape his sister. Gekrel was the pharmacist who poisoned a river and erased an entire village from the map.
[Ten days later, only two of the thirteen laborers returned. The lord stated that eleven died during labor.]
Premien reached out to the document.
Ziiing—
Her mana created an exact replica of the log.
"......"
Premien had a hunch. Soon, the crackdown on Altiegue would intensify. It would spread like madness.
After great calamities came sweeping purges on a grand scale. History had always unfolded that way. This time, the target would naturally be the 'Altiegue'.
Thus, she and her clan needed this 'evidence'.
Premien placed the copied log in a drawer and slipped the original into her backpack...
Thud—!
The lights flickered on with a dull sound. Premien's heart jolted, but as always, she turned toward it without a hint of reaction.
"Is that you, Professor?"
Deculein.
Supporting his leg with one hand on his magic cane, the other behind his back, he clearly still bore the aftermath of his injuries.
"What are you doing in a place like this?"
"I am the deputy director of imperial security. Investigating criminals is—"
Whoosh—
Deculein's Telekinesis snatched her log away. Premien closed her eyes briefly and sighed.
"It is nothing of note."
Deculein flipped through the pages with a rustle.
But Premien remained optimistic. A single log wouldn't allow him to infer anything.
"Premien."
Deculein called her by her family name. Proof of her honorary nobility. Premien nodded.
"Yes."
Then, as if calling a runaway dog or sending a child on an errand, he asked indifferently,
"Are you pursuing the suspects in His Majesty's attempted poisoning?"
Words that pierced her heart.
"......"
Premien's body stiffened. Her expression remained unchanged, but she turned rigid like a mannequin. For a moment, she even forgot to breathe.
Yet her poker face held firm, and her reply was concise.
"It is the calling and duty of the Security Bureau."
"Why seek it here in Recor Dak?"
"I am merely searching for any criminals who might be linked to the poisoning. It is right to gather even the slightest possibility."
Deculein nodded. Then he countered,
"Do you believe Igiris was the mastermind?"
"......"
He had struck the core again. Premien met Deculein's blue eyes.
Were those transparent pupils piercing her mind?
It was possible, so she ceased thinking. She emptied her head, licked her parched lips.
"Do you think that informing His Majesty would bring you wealth and glory, or guarantee a safe future?"
Or had he known everything all along?
With a mind capable of predicting the southern advance, the connections between mere humans and events would be...
"......Yes. For my own wealth and glory. I could become a true noble, not just an honorary one."
The only path for her clan to peacefully sway Sophien's heart.
Revealing the culprit behind the poison that tormented her past, and earning forgiveness directly from her.
Phairden might perish in the process, but...
"Take it."
Deculein extended the original back to her.
"And hear this."
As she tucked the log into her backpack, she looked up at him.
"Behind that poisoning was Dikailen as well."
"......"
Premien's movements halted.
Half-inserted, half-not. Deculein regarded it and spoke.
"Rather, Igiris may have been the follower. The Yukline might have been the mastermind. Can you infer the full truth with your mind?"
At those words, Premien furrowed her brow.
In that moment, she realized.
"I know it is a lie. You seek to protect Phairden, Professor."
"......"
Deculein gazed down at her silently. Premien met his eyes and finished stowing the log.
"The masterminds behind the poisoning are Phairden. They must face fitting punishment."
"Igiris is already dead."
"Yes. However—"
"Yukline killed him."
"......"
"No, the Illaydes. Beorad. Rewind. Zaves... It was a political assassination involving all the great houses."
Premien's eyes widened. Deculein twisted the corner of his mouth silently.
As if warning, or threatening, he asked again,
"Will you still proceed? Can you bear it?"
"......"
Biting her lip, she let out a small sigh. Then she pulled the log from her backpack.
Whoosh—!
Flames erupted in her grasp. Without a trace of hesitation, she fed the log into the fire. The document blackened and crumbled to ash.
"I heard nothing today."
With that, Premien brushed past Deculein.
* * *
In the dim dawn, I emerged into Recor Dak's rear courtyard and surveyed the knights' corpses. Beside me stood Premien, her face as impassive as ever.
Five minutes ago, this woman had approached me with greetings like, "—It's our first meeting today. Are your injuries alright?"
"You have nerves of steel."
"What do you mean?"
Ignoring Premien, I examined the knights sprawled on the ground again.
Their bodies, barely recovered, were far from intact. Limbs attached were fortunate; far more had faces or entire torsos torn apart.
All had died because of me.
Of course, I felt no pity or compassion. Death is inherent in war, and knights are those who 'protect'.
Dying while protecting was honorably fulfilling their role.
"Ah, Professor! Are you alright?"
Then Delik came running with short steps. He inspected my body and grinned.
"Good. I—we were so worried. Haha."
After several harsh scoldings, Delik had somehow turned puppy-like. It was grotesque for a man in his mid-thirties.
"Casualties."
"Total 173. We've recovered just under nine-tenths: 150 bodies."
173.
A well-trained knight equals over a thousand soldiers in value and power. Blocking this southern advance despite 170,000 dead was profoundly praiseworthy.
"......Inform the families truthfully and visit with due respect. Their honor will endure across the continent."
What I could give the fallen: ensuring their families lived the remainder of their lives in honor. Helping them thrive in wealth and abundance, hearts filled with pride.
Rewards for loyalty, punishment for betrayal.
"I pledge it on the name of Yukline."
"Yes, sir!"
Delik and the imperial knights saluted. Tears welled in some eyes.
"Once the southern advance is fully quelled, recover the remaining bodies."
"Yes, sir!"
With that order, I turned away.
I strolled slowly through Recor Dak's rear courtyard.
Suddenly, my gaze fell on the hospital, solitary in the forest's corner.
A renovated old annex. Somewhere beyond those lit windows, Julie was now—likely hovering between life and death—
"It's okay~!"
A bright voice approached unexpectedly. I turned toward it.
"Really okay~!"
Lia, appearing alone.
Her beaming face truly resembled Yuarra, but surprisingly, it didn't faze me.
Of course. Because she wasn't Yuarra.
"Demonic energy poisoning can be cured~."
Just as I had spat at her earlier. Like self-mocking mutterings.
Now, I had to let go.
No, I could let go.
These lingering emotions in my heart. The one etched in my memories.
Time to open the floodgates and slowly release them.
"......What do you mean?"
"Wait a sec~!"
Lia rummaged through her shabby backpack, grunting from the weight but eventually pulling something out.
A crumpled wad of paper clutched in her delicate, fern-like hands.
"......Here~!"
She handed it to me.
An item so stained with a child's touch I hesitated to take it. I simply stared.
Medicinal herb that purifies internal demonic energy. Not potent enough to cure Julie's curse outright, but invaluable for instantly healing acute demonic poisoning.
"Wasn't this what you sought to heal that mongrel?"
"......"
She frowned briefly at 'mongrel' but replied crisply.
"Someone more urgent needs it now."
I regarded her silently and shook my head slowly.
Her personality matched to some degree—
"Hm. Thank you. I'll put it to good use."
Suddenly, Premien snatched the item.
......Had this woman been tailing me since earlier?
"Wh-what?!"
Lia blinked in disbelief, eyes wide. I said,
"I shall pay the proper price."
"I'd claim it from my mission completion funds anyway~."
Her words made my face stiffen momentarily.
As expected from a character modeled exactly after her personality.
"Then. I shall deliver this to Knight Dayah."
Premien headed toward the hospital with purposeful steps.
Ah, me too— I wanna see too—
Lia followed behind her.
"......"
Under the night sky, I stood alone once more.
I knew I wasn't truly alone.
Someone had been shadowing me for a while.
"I heard."
A man emerged right on cue. Refined like a noble youth, with glossy flowing long hair, yet his body was more rugged and destructive than any other— a paradoxical knight.
Zeit, scratching his nape sheepishly.
"What did you hear?"
"They say you treated my sister like livestock."
I nodded silently. Zeit chuckled.
"......You needn't act that way with me too. I understand your heart well enough, former son-in-law."
The night breeze chilled my skin. Stray hairs annoyed me, and dizziness flickered.
Aftereffects of battle, quite severe.
"More importantly, are you alright? You look half-dead."
"I shall not die."
I replied immediately.
"Julie will live as well."
"......How can you be so certain? Even if that ochna cures the acute poisoning—"
"Rage will save her."
Phairden tradition, and Julie's. Her independent quest would feed on the emotion of 'rage'.
Zeit nodded with a low laugh.
"Well, perhaps. My own growth came from Father's death."
I looked up at the hospital again. Then at the distant rows of knights' corpses.
"It is near. Julie will overcome it herself. Therefore, Sir Zeit."
I called his name softly. Zeit cleared his throat awkwardly.
"What is it?"
"......The words I speak now."
I met Zeit's eyes.
Eyes identical to Julie's. Pupils of Phairden that left no room for doubt of their blood.
"When Julie awakens, relay these words to her."
"......What words?"
To his question, I conveyed a certain sentence.
Zeit's expression hardened by degrees; midway he shook his head in refusal, but ultimately agreed with my view.
"Are you alright?"
"......"
I let out a hollow laugh.
"Duke Zeit. I am Yukline. The world calls me a cold-blooded man with blue blood."
Zeit scratched his cheek. Likely partial agreement.
"I concur fully."
As did I.
No matter what emotions others held for me, who died or vanished, who hated or loathed me—it troubled me not a whit.
Because I was designed that way. Because I lived that way.
Because Kim Woojin had become Deculein.
"Thus, asking if I am 'alright'..."
I regarded Zeit.
"Is an insult to me."
"......"
Silence flowed briefly.
Zeit placed a hand silently on my shoulder. Then walked past me toward the hospital.
Moonlight descended from the distant sky. My shadow stretched long.
As if following Zeit.
* * *
The next day.
As dawn broke, Phairden reinforcements arrived at Recor Dak. With their aid in fully quelling the southern advance, stability was assured. I mounted with Ifrin.
Time to return to the capital.
"......The railway's all wrecked."
On horseback, Ifrin's voice came from behind. As she said, the tracks were demolished, and the sparse villages we passed were desolate.
No matter the preparations, the human and material losses were unprecedented.
"Ow, my butt hurts."
As Ifrin grumbled amid the grim scenery,
We reached the city.
Osllon, gateway between north and central—second capital of Durhman.
We stabled our weary horses and headed to the station with Drent and Ifrin.
"Ooh, this place is fine!"
Osllon, heart of the north, suffered minimal damage.
Had it fallen, the entire north would have been annihilated.
"They must've prepared well. Makes sense for a big city......"
Ifrin's take, ignorant of its geopolitics: 'Big city, so they blocked it well'.
"Professor. Can't we grab something to eat here? That restaurant's open. Four of us—no, three...... Ah."
Chattering Ifrin suddenly realized Allen was gone, her face turning mournful.
"—Professor Deculein."
Thus, as we arrived at the station.
Numerous knights and Durhman's lord awaited on the platform, greeting us formally.
"We offer our respects to the professor who foresaw a crisis beyond a mere criminal's ken. And we sincerely apologize for doubting your profound intent in our ignorance and folly."
I said nothing to their bows. Only Ifrin beside me shrugged proudly. Her triumphant face was amusing.
"......Furthermore. There is a mission left for Professor Deculein."
Durhman's lord approached, speaking thus.
"What? A mission right away?"
Ifrin muttered in complaint, but bowed low at the sight of the letter.
"Eek! I've committed a mortal sin!"
An imperial letter.
Ignoring the groveling Ifrin, I received it kneeling on one knee.
"......"
I read silently. Befitting an imperial missive, it brimmed with florid language, but the core was concise.
His Majesty commands the loyal Deculein to pursue Rohakan.
Durhman spoke for me.
"......His Majesty has ordered the faithful Deculein to pursue Rohakan."
"Yes?!!"
Shocked, Ifrin looked up then flinched down again. I rose.
Durhman asked cautiously.
"Will you accept?"
I replied calmly.
"You ask the obvious."