Chapter 238
Chapter 238
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 238
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble House
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4, 2, 5.
This wasn't a code in and of itself, nor something that needed further decoding. It was a hint to solve the code.
“…….”
An awkward silence fell among the bureaucrats. One of them narrowed his eyes and asked,
“Are there also eleven holes in the stick?”
“Indeed. Four letters from the front, skip one, two letters, skip another, then five letters. Combine the alphabets on the backs of the matches, and you'll get a sentence made of three words. You might think it's speculation, but consider that there was no reason to specifically cut off the ends with alphabets written on them or to meticulously punch blanks into the matchstick bodies.”
“…Good lord….”
“Also, if they didn't intend to use the manufacturing number on the back as part of the code, then why did the number of blanks match the number of matches with alphabets so coincidentally? Why cut off the alphabets on the holed matches specifically… These are worth pondering.”
And as mentioned earlier, the basement location and the timing of the outbreak were suspiciously coincidental too.
6 PM was when the French team would be heading back to their lodgings one by one. Even during the sightseeing, they had to escort them to the hotel by 7 PM. There was a hotel banquet scheduled for 8 PM, so they needed to check in and unpack by 7.
Considering the storage depot set up near the hotel—where discovery risk was high—and the timing of the outbreak, the outbreak incident was likely engineered to target the team's hotel entry time.
Why?
“Thus, this contaminated rat incident was staged to ‘show us.’ I trust you all know why that would be.”
A few bureaucrats nodded.
“This way, we'll be on high alert for rat terror for the next 72 hours straight, turning into nationwide rat hunters of our own accord, leaving no room to focus on other plans. Today's incident is likely a smokescreen to hide another plan set to execute in Pentaron proper. We must work to prevent terror from contaminated beasts, but investing major resources into it is a dangerous choice.”
“…….”
“That concludes my analysis.”
The bureaucrats stared at me in silence. It wasn't resentment or dismissal. Their expressions had already changed from earlier.
Someone from the fire department flipped through the report with a grave face and looked up to ask another person.
“Brandenburg Police Chief, Your Excellency. Do we have any footage?”
“It's attached at the bottom of page 31, but it's a single shot of all eleven matches, so the quality isn't great.”
The police chief said that, then added by way of excuse.
“We thought it was just manufacturing numbers at the time, and with how rushed we were preparing for this meeting, we couldn't photograph every side individually.”
As if having underlings snap and store photos somehow left no time.
‘Well, I remember them anyway.’
The letters found in the basement were A, E, E, G, L, L, N, S.
Adding T, A, S found outside the basement made A, A, E, E, G, L, L, N, T, S, S.
These eleven letters needed combining.
This kind of code would be solved by time, no matter who tackled it. So leave it to the code-breaking team.
As everyone stared into space with grave, silent faces, someone broke the silence from the front.
“It's been a while since I heard such a refreshing answer.”
It was the King of Bavaria speaking.
It could have sounded opportunistic, but the king's curt speech and steel-like temperament were already famous in political circles, so it wasn't taken that way. His voice and expression were as impassive as stones right now. His backing was pure gain for me, never a loss, so I had no reason to resent his calculated observation and timely praise. It was par for the course in politics.
The crown prince nodded with an appropriate smile.
“The King of Bavaria thinks the same, it seems. Good. It must have been hard to speak before us in your poor condition, but the Security Bureau Chief must feel deep gratitude toward Deputy Commander Ascanien.”
“…Y-yes. Of course. Thank you.”
The Security Bureau Chief bowed toward me.
If there were a contest for making people uncomfortable, Abraham would take first in under ten minutes. I politely returned the Security Bureau Chief's gesture to resolve this stifling situation.
The crown prince spoke.
“Pleroma set up that basement to lead the Security Bureau Chief to the conclusion you drew. Now do you understand why I had to speak to you that way?”
“…….”
“Enter the fire pit that endangers the safety of the subjects. How many people could keep their seat after hearing that?”
The Security Bureau Chief replied with a darkened face, barely managing.
“I apologize. I never intended to put the subjects in danger. Now that I understand everything, if you could just give me one chance….”
All eyes were fixed on empty space. No one but the two from Bavaria and the imperial chancellor looked at the crown prince or the Security Bureau Chief.
Plenty here had likely reached the same conclusion as the Security Bureau Chief. Yet the crown prince knew that and deliberately avoided the topic. Why? Naming the Security Bureau Chief's allies here would forge a united front among them. Cornered, the chief would grasp at anyone, and everyone else wanted nothing more than to avoid ending up in his shoes.
In this extreme situation, if the crown prince pointed out another fool, that person would fall to the same level, sparking more desperate flailing.
In short, there could only be one target.
The crown prince simply gazed at the chief, who couldn't finish his words, then nodded.
“Of course. We know full well there was no malice on your part. Then, to give me one final assurance.”
“What….”
“We must now uncover Pleroma's new plan and defend against it thoroughly.”
The Security Bureau Chief's face went stark white. Assigning him such a heavy task meant this situation could repeat.
“But remember fundamentally that Pentaron falls under imperial government jurisdiction. With only 72 hours left, ensure the Security Bureau provides the government full material and moral support without disrupting their plans.”
At the crown prince's following words, the chief stood dazed. The imperial chancellor, catching the signal, chimed in.
“The Security Bureau is under the imperial household, so the government cannot usurp its authority. The imperial government will be the core of this terror defense.”
It might sound rude to the crown prince beside him, but there was no such intent. Though it sounded discourteous, it lightened the burden of responsibility on the prince.
The same applied to imperial household organs. Fearing to miss his chance, the chief hurriedly replied.
“Yes. We will. We'll do our utmost. Thank you.”
The crown prince nodded and addressed the bureaucrats.
“Imperial government, hear this. Whatever resources and funds are needed, the crown will cover them through the Security Bureau. The utmost priority—first and foremost—is the safety of our subjects.”
“We shall keep that in mind.”
“Now that we've set direction, it's time for the imperial government to appoint a control tower to uncover and defend against Pleroma's new plan. Before that.”
The crown prince's gaze turned to me. The government officials looked at me too.
“From today until opening day, Deputy Commander Ascanien will rest at the Imperial Central Hospital.”
* * *
“You cannot leave the premises until 12 hours before opening.”
I smiled at the doctor blocking my way.
An hour after the meeting ended—68 hours and 11 minutes before opening—Abraham had me confined to the hospital.
I'd been sedated and slept, so now only 56 hours remained.
Word was this was a joint effort with the Bavarian government. They'd assigned national medical institute doctors from Bavaria as my personal team under the guise of VIP treatment, but the real reason was political.
‘Obvious.’
My remarks at yesterday's meeting had surely influenced this.
‘My words were merely personal opinion,’ I'd added, but the moment my argument was accepted, the situation had turned risky for me.
‘If something goes wrong in Pentaron, they could pin responsibility on me too.’
Thus, the crown prince and Bavarian government stuck me in the hospital until the start to prevent any fallout.
They wanted all accountability on the government and Security Bureau by opening day. Grateful for the intent, but shouldn't I at least get outside news?
“Please let me see Squadron Leader Leonard.”
“Visiting is prohibited. There's a direct order from His Highness the Crown Prince for absolute rest.”
“Then at least give me a newspaper. I'm bored out of my mind.”
“Newspapers could cause stress too….”
“I don't get stressed much.”
“But didn't you lose consciousness before coming here?”
“That was just sleep.”
I said that much, then laughed and shooed the doctor out. I had slept, but no one would believe it. I was well aware I'd spouted madness.
I flopped onto the hospital bed and gazed out the window at the morning sun rising.
‘They're probably decoding the cipher by now.’
What to do for the next two and a half days.
I'd prevented focus solely on Pleroma's smokescreen incident, but I couldn't just trust the imperial government to uncover and preempt their real plan.
‘I need preparations too.’
I pulled my belongings box—delivered by Leo—with magic. Out of conscience, the palace had sent supplies for three days.
Infusing magic into the keyhole, the box clicked open.
Inside were my prepared blank notebook, artifacts commissioned to Wittelsbach, elixirs.
‘What’s this?’
Hoping I'd enjoy the hospital stay, Leo had tossed in several recently published Bavarian novels. I'd never read in front of him, but all being mysteries meant he knew my tastes.
A small whiskey bottle—likely from Elias—peeked out, next to a stone fragment Pie had surely snuck in.
‘Hm.’
I needed to compile all Pentaron intel so far into the notebook, but with time aplenty, slowly.
First, unpack. I cleared some items from the box. Uncorked the whiskey, took a swig, and emptied it.
‘Oh.’
Another magic vault at the bottom. I turned off the light, drew curtains, coated the door crack with magic to lock the room.
Undeserved tension—inside were letters from friends.
I picked one at random.
[To my one and only (hidden from Leo) friend]
Who else would write this?
Elias, naturally.
Opening it, Elias's words in block letters filled the start.
[Luca. Eat this after reading.]
Who writes this seriously?
[How you holding up?
It's only been a day, so it feels weird asking, but we're both probably itching by now, so here goes.
You're in the hospital reading this. I'm in central Berlin. With Pentaron looming, the streets buzz like before a world's fair. Summer flowers everywhere, government-hired bands doing guerrilla performances. Every shop pushes entry tickets alongside Pentaron catalogs. Oh, and order a drink anywhere, the owner toasts ‘To Pentaron's success!’ Sky's full of magic-drawn national flags parading all day—great for killing boredom. Faces beaming with opening near, especially kids dying to play in the ‘Old German Street’ prepped for Pentaron. While they frolicked outside, I found and hospital-bound a near-outburst victim inside…. Anyway, exaggeratedly, Berlin feels like Easter come early.]
Elias wrote proper 1800s-style letters.
Compared to me ending everything with ‘ja’ or ‘nein,’ it made me feel guilty.
[But I can't smile alone in this laughing city. Remember the third exam?]
‘Yeah.’
I remember.
I knew where this was going.
[Of course you do. The injustice of becoming a criminal just for begging in rags despite doing nothing wrong. The injustice of fleeing to sewers to escape. I still can't forget. Even now, ‘paupers’—those in shabby clothes without means to tidy up—are randomly grabbed off streets and shipped to Brandenburg. Family income checks: under 1 million pells, into poorhouses outside, no matter your home. That damn city beautification!
…
No choices for them. Plainclothes cops have summary judgment powers. So I'm coordinating with city authorities to return Berliners scattered to Brandenburg and Saxony. Wanted to plan with you, but you got *dragged* to hospital—His Majesty's kindness is heaven-sent, right?—so I'm moving first. Anyway, reason for letter: join me? Even safe opening won't fix lives shattered in poorhouses. Closing in three weeks won't solve it. In short, just beginning. I'll wait anytime, think during rest, tell me on opening day. Waiting.]
I smiled at his letter.
While I pondered terror prevention for Pentaron, Elias thought of the city's people. Of course, 150,000 dead from terror would be its own disaster, so he wouldn't call my efforts futile. Just rediscovering why I devoured that novel and loved its protagonist before coming here made me smile.
Elias always brought plans to me, but seeing it in letter form felt fresh.
‘Obviously I'll join.’
Unlike facing Pleroma, it wasn't impossibly hard—just like before. Paying up and pressuring parliament solved most such issues.
Good that Elias nudged my focus elsewhere while I handled terror.
But the letter ended—yet extra paper. Turning the page, a large circle Elias roughly drew.
[p.s. Rabbit summon button~]
“…….”
Rabbit was Elias's name for Pie. I stared blankly, silent for a while.
Summon button? It's just paper.
‘But no loss trying.’
I lightly pressed the paper with magic-infused hand. Instantly, a grayish something popped before me and dropped.
“Uwak!”
“Eh.”
It worked?
I properly caught Pie falling into my lap and set him on the bed.
“Pie. Long time.”
“Eong.”
Pie shook his head side to side, steadying himself.
“Why'd you call?”
“Bored. Where you from?”
“School~ Eating!”
Which part of school?
But unimportant, no need to ask.
An idea had just flashed in my head.
“Pie, sorry to ask right away… could you fetch today's newspaper?”
“Newspaper? Sure~ But Elly gave something to deliver!”
“You're friends with Elias now?”
Pie glanced around, shook head furiously, then warped somewhere.
After about three minutes, I pressed the button again.
Pie reappeared, tiny note in mouth.
I unfolded the note Elias clearly left.
And spotted unexpected text.
[Police lost the white phosphorus matches.]
* * *
My remaining points totaled 42.
Chapter 6's special reward remained unopened. I could use it now, but the system seemed to swap rewards situationally, so no forcing it. Instead.
‘Burst when needed.’
I'd commanded that, but nothing yet. Not time.
Elias said: ‘Matches lost from police station right after meeting.’
All alphabet-marked ones gone except the holed stick—no proper photos.
Elias's follow-up note that evening summarized:
Police on match theft: Basement setter was mere Pleroma copycat; bailed as things escalated.
Of course, not the time to pursue.
I cast spatial magic in Nikolaus state again, arriving at a parliament corner meeting room.
How?
Mind-controlled the doctor, slipped out. I'd rewind time soon. 2 points hurt, but necessary info here today.
I looked down at Assemblyman Alexander Kluger slumped over the desk, back gripped by my hand.
“You've read it all now, I assume.”
Last, info from this Pleroma assemblyman.
I'd handed him a report compiling the terror incident. Narke's unavailable on French team security, so divine power on this assemblyman reluctantly.
My magic around his core prevented instant death from divine power; he urgently spoke, face like he'd cry.
“I-I really knew nothing. Pleroma really planned this terror? It's not Pleroma—crime or prank impersonating them. I really….”
“…….”
“When Your Excellency asked about Pentaron plans, I tried checking church records.”
Unprompted, he panted on.
“Events like Pentaron International—unusually large—need leadership approval for unified action. Disunity across dioceses ruins things. Reports go to headquarters. I investigated post-your words: no scheduled terrors.”
“Penalties for acting without report?”
“Diocesan leader dismissal possible. Usually vice-bishops to assistant bishops purged, diocesan bishop under HQ watch.”
“Purged.”
“Revoke granted powers.”
Beating around the bush for ‘killed.’
I stroked my chin thoughtfully. Eager to dispel doubt, he continued.
“…From what I know, Trier, Regensburg, Hildesheim dioceses inquired about bio-weapons on Pentaron day in their areas—HQ rejected immediately. So within my access, no approved reports for Pentaron.”
“‘Within my access.’ You're not that low.”
“…True. I'm eligible for next bishop review. So effectively….”
He hesitated, then eyed me lowly.
“…If issues arise, you'll guarantee my interests, right?”
“Life alone insufficient, it seems.”
Shocked, he opened to explain. I raised hand to silence, said,
“Naturally. You've aided me greatly; if church trouble, we'll protect you immediately and secure your current stable position. No need to doubt.”
“…Could be disinformation, but this is truth. Per docs I checked: amid heightened anxiety now, hold off Pentaron; target federation capitals post-closing when vigilance drops.”
Staring into his eyes, I slowly nodded. Disinfo or not, he spoke truth as seen.
‘In other words, Pleroma has no intent to terror Pentaron.’
Officially, at least.
I lightly tapped the table with fingertips.
“Good strategy.”
“…Is it? Best for us. After that Ascanien kid's Grand Hotel incident, worries and criticism of our church surged. Heightened scrutiny means low success odds for any plan. Better pivot to overseas-friendly line.”
“Hm.”
Obviously.
Only a madman acts now.
I'd changed the future. If ten mad acts loomed, averting half wasn't bad.
“Watch your words. Criticism grew not after Ascanien's hotel incident, but because you terrorists did the hotel.”
“Y-yes….”
“Then you don't know who staged the contaminated beast terror?”
“No. That's severe offender. Harm to church. So again: those rats mere prank by non-Pleroma. Matches vanished too…. Knew it'd blow up, so bailed.”
“So you believe nothing happens Pentaron day?”
“Yes. Stadium holding 150,000 needs HQ approval for large-scale. No profit acting without—internal punishment follows.”
I nodded, noted his words on brought paper, withdrew divine power from his core.
“Good. Thanks for cooperating.”
Now final.
Just synthesize all intel from two weeks ago to now.
* * *
[Excellency Ascanien. Emergency Committee Leader Patrick Einheart. As you said, discovered ‘new plan’ threading through Pentaron main stadium and entire event grounds. No need for pessimism. Time remains ample. We won't drop guard; hold resources for defense plans whatever arises. For successful opening, need your help now.]
I read the note to me, folded it into the fireplace.
Then tore page by page my notebook compiling all terror intel during confinement, tossing into flames.
Two hours to opening.
8 PM, dark blue sky bursting multicolored magic fireworks. Imperial band music circling Berlin booms through buildings.
I donned Eschet ceremonial uniform last, gloved up. Fixed crooked hat, stepped to door—knock sounded, palace guard voice.
“Excellency Ascanien. Time to move.”