SSS-Class Asset Manager

"Admiral William's judgment makes sense. A man this dangerous needs to be uprooted as quickly as possible — for the sake of the Allied Kingdom, and for Her Majesty the Queen."

Wellesley turned his head toward the man seated in the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shadows.

"Ready, Arthur?"

From the darkness stepped Major Arthur. He was the Allied Kingdom's pride, a black-ops specialist. In place of gaudy decorations, his career was written in redacted lines across countless classified documents — names erased, trails wiped clean.

"Just give the order, Director. I will personally expose that man for what he truly is."

Arthur's voice was as dry as a machine. Wellesley slid an encrypted file across the desk to him.

"Your mission is not assassination. Assassination is for amateurs. Kill a hero and he becomes a legend — but turn him into a corrupt traitor, and he becomes garbage."

Wellesley's eyes narrowed.

"Can you do it? This Max Jäger must be remade — not a revered hero, but a repulsive war profiteer lining his own pockets on the backs of the war."

"Operation Frame, then."

"That's right. After all, there's no man alive so clean that a thorough scrub won't turn up dust."

Lieutenant Colonel Sterling chimed in.

"The man is being promoted at a blistering pace right now. The Empire is crawling with officers green with envy over him. Make good use of that."

"Understood. I will make the Empire's own people distrust one another until they destroy themselves."

"Good. Get going."

Back in the Empire — near Soissons, on the Western Front.

Inside the command vehicle bound for the rear railway depot.

"Achoo!"

I sneezed loudly and sniffled.

"Lieutenant Colonel, are you sure you haven't caught a cold? Your complexion looks oddly pale."

Hanna placed a hand on my forehead. The cool touch seemed to take a bit of the heat out of me.

But driven by an instinctive unease, I swept my gaze across the window.

Status Analysis.

Nothing. Whether I scanned my surroundings or checked the minimap, there wasn't a single suspicious red dot. And yet my back had felt cold as ice for a while now.

Just my imagination?

I thumped the leather bag sitting at my feet. A dull, heavy metallic sound rang out, faint but unmistakable. Inside was a hasty portion of the gold coins I'd scraped together in Soissons.

I'd packed plenty — so why did I feel so strangely anxious?

"It must just be my conscience weighing on me. Leaving the men behind while we slip away."

Hanna gave a thin smile at my shameless lie.

"The Battlegroup is refitting at Soissons, and you, Lieutenant Colonel, have been summoned by His Majesty the Emperor. It's your rightful privilege."

"Right. A privilege."

The Imperial command's orders had been succinct.

In plain terms: you pretty faces come back, collect your medals, and pose for the propaganda photos. Thanks to that, I was temporarily liberated from the headache of managing my unit and treated to a comfortable ride to the capital.

"Hanna. Bring me the list of escort officers for this trip to the capital. Again."

"Here it is. We pulled them in on short notice, so they were recommended by the HQ company. This Lieutenant 'Aiden Hunt' in particular has an immaculate record."

Hanna handed over a single sheet of paper.

"He comes recommended by General Falkenheim himself. No medals to his name, but apparently he's discreet, and exceptional at administration and protocol. Perfectly suited, I'm told, for managing the Lieutenant Colonel's... personal luggage."

"Aiden Hunt..."

I felt like I'd heard that name somewhere before. But I turned the page without much thought.

"Good name."

I glanced at the ID photo clipped to the file. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠A pleasant, approachable face — even a touch naive-looking.

"Handsome and competent."

I made a show of smiling with leisurely satisfaction. I liked him already.

"When he reaches the rendezvous point, have him report straight to my car. I'll want to hand over my bag first."

"Understood."

The command vehicle lurched forward, cutting through the rain-slicked road.

In the distance, a black military train waited with billows of steam, ready to carry us to the capital.

The Imperial military transport, VIP platform.

The smell of rain-soaked iron mingled with coal smoke.

"Reporting in. Lieutenant Aiden Hunt, HQ Company, 7th Infantry Brigade. As of today, assigned as aide-de-camp to the Commander of the Jäger Battlegroup."

Neat blond hair, pleasant eyes, an immaculate uniform without a single flaw.

The young man standing before me looked like a textbook specimen of the 'capable staff officer.' No wonder Falkenheim had recommended him.

"So you're the paperwork wizard, are you?"

I asked lightly, and out of habit, activated my skill.

Status Analysis.

Ding—

...What the hell is this.

My heart plummeted straight into my boots.

A replacement staff officer, my ass — an enemy nation's secret agent had just walked straight into my arms. So those island bastards found me that irritating, did they?

My hand instinctively drifted toward the pistol at my hip before I stopped myself.

Calm down, Max Jäger.

Suppose I shot this bastard dead right here on the platform?

Even setting aside how hard it would be to prove charges of espionage, the headlines would scream 'Imperial War Hero Executes His Own Subordinate on the Platform.' And besides, if this one died, the Allied Kingdom would just send someone more discreet and more dangerous.

Better the enemy you can see.

And besides...

Administrative processing? Memory?

Playing at espionage meant perfectly digesting a cover identity — and apparently, somewhere along the way, the man had developed practical skills that would put any ordinary staff officer to shame.

The calculator in my head started spinning like mad.

What was my single biggest headache right now? The 7,450 gold coins I'd scraped together in Soissons. I needed to move them to the capital without anyone noticing, launder them cleanly, and turn them into my retirement fund.

But entrust them to some dim-witted Imperial staff officer, and one careless slip could leak straight to the military police.

But this man?

He's an enemy spy.

What happens if he sees my secret ledger? He'd rejoice — 'Excellent! Max Jäger's weakness!' — and meticulously gather every scrap of evidence. Which is to say: for the sake of his own mission, he would manage my money more perfectly and more securely than anyone alive.

He would never strike at me now. The people at the Allied Kingdom's Royal Intelligence Agency don't want a mere embezzler named Max Jäger — they want to remake me into a nationally despised traitor.

A free-of-charge, S-class asset manager.

I curled the corner of my mouth into a smile. The satisfied smile of a boss welcoming a competent new hire — not a sucker. Definitely not a sucker.

"Lieutenant Aiden."

The sucker has arrived.

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel."

"You said you're good with numbers?"

"I graduated second in my class from the Imperial Academy's Department of Administration. Calculations are one area where I have full confidence."

Arthur — no, Aiden — answered with complete self-assurance. I nodded and tilted my chin toward the two heavy bags sitting at my feet.

"Good. Then start with these. They're my... personal spoils."

Aiden hurried over and tried to lift the bags.

"Nnngh—!"

The man's face flushed crimson in an instant. Bags packed with hundreds of gold coins — heavier than a lump of steel, if anything. He blinked in flustered surprise.

"L-Lieutenant Colonel? This weight... what on earth is inside? Artillery shells, by any chance?"

"Close enough."

I leaned close to his ear and whispered covertly.

"Tank components. Very precise, very expensive ones. If the military police saw them, they'd find grounds to make trouble — so you guard them with your life. File them in the ledger under 'classified reserve parts.'"

The man's eyes gleamed. He'd snapped onto the bait, jaws first.

"Understood, sir. I will take full responsibility for their management. I'll also... complete the paperwork perfectly."

"Good man. Load them onto the train and bring them to my compartment."

Watching the back of the Allied Kingdom's elite operative as he groaned and hauled my slush-fund bags aboard, I rejoiced inwardly.

That's it, keep hauling, Major Arthur. All that money you're sweating to carry — that's what's going to buy cocktails for me and my women on a beach in Hawaii... er, I mean, at a southern resort.

Just then, the familiar click of military boots sounded behind me, along with a scent I knew well.

"Lieutenant Colonel, boarding preparations are complete."

Hanna. She was eyeing the unfamiliar officer carrying my slush-fund bags with unmistakable suspicion.

"Is that the new Lieutenant Aiden?"

Perhaps her Mana Sense had instinctively picked up on the man's wrongness. I wrapped an arm naturally around Hanna's shoulders and steered her toward the train.

"That's the one. We get along remarkably well. I'm planning to entrust him with the management of my... wallet."

"Your... wallet?"

"That's right. He seems like the type who'd tend to it very, very thoroughly."

I left a meaningful smile behind and boarded the train.

Chugga-chugga—

The steam locomotive belched white smoke.

Clack, clack.

With each rhythmic jolt of the rails, the scenery outside began sliding away behind us.

I sank deep into the plush velvet sofa of the first-class compartment. Across from me, Hanna was setting down her teacup.

Clink.

"Lieutenant Colonel."

"What is it, Hanna? You look like a quartermaster who just found spoiled ammunition."

A faint crease had settled between Hanna's brows.

"This is no time for jokes. I'm talking about that 'Aiden' — the lieutenant from earlier."

She took the seat beside me and lowered her voice to a whisper.

"I have a bad feeling about him."

What.

About my precious asset manager?