Swaying Rails, Gilded Secrets

Had he truly never learned what it meant to be careful?

"Something feels off about him, sir. It's not the smell of paperwork so much as... how should I put it, oil. The smell of the battlefield."

Sharp as ever.

I marveled inwardly. Whether it was thanks to her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Mana Sense or not, her intuition was practically that of a wild animal. To catch the scent of blood on a man who looked like nothing more than a polished administrative officer.

But I couldn't very well tell her, "Actually, that man is a spy from the enemy state." The moment I did, my ever-loyal Hanna would draw her pistol and sprint to the next compartment to put a bullet between his eyes. I had no intention of losing my precious asset manager.

I affected a casual air and lifted my teacup.

"Well, of course. The man served on the Eastern Front, didn't he? Bound to have eaten his share of engine oil."

"His hands are far too elegant for that, sir. For someone who's only ever twirled a pen, his eyes are disturbingly calm. And above all..."

Hanna rested a hand on my thigh, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"I don't like that you assigned him the role of 'vault keeper,' Lieutenant Colonel. Duties that delicate... were always meant to be mine."

Ah, so that was it. A dry chuckle escaped me.

Status Analysis.

Jealousy over the fact that I'd shared my slush fund—arguably my most dangerous secret—with a complete stranger who'd just rolled into camp. What a darling girl.

I set down my teacup, hooked an arm around her waist, and pulled her onto my lap.

"Hyah?!"

"Don't be ridiculous. That man is nothing but a calculator. A machine that punches numbers and cooks the books, that's all."

I brought my lips to the shell of her ear.

"But you're different, aren't you?"

"Different... how, sir?"

I answered with a light nip at her earlobe.

"Because a calculator manages my money. You manage my body and my life."

"Ah..."

"And besides all that."

I slid my hand between her thighs. Warm, soft flesh coiled around my fingertips.

"I don't sit calculators on my lap, do I? Am I wrong?"

Hanna's face flushed crimson in an instant. The wariness that had been bristling just moments before melted away like snow.

"That's cheating, Lieutenant Colonel... you always smooth things over like this... Hahh?!"

Clunk!

The train lurched. A violent jolt shot up through her backside and struck my spine.

"Nngh...!"

Hanna clutched my shoulder hard.

My hand paid it no mind and slid lower, palm pressing flush against the soft flesh of her thighs beneath her skirt.

Status Analysis.

Her undergarments were already soaked through. No wonder she'd been squirming on my lap this whole time—the train's constant juddering had been teasing her most sensitive spot without pause.

"You're remarkably well prepared, Adjutant."

"Th-that's only... because you were... right there in front of me, sir..."

Without hesitation I pushed the damp fabric aside and undid my belt buckle.

"Then let's finish before the next stop."

"Ah, wait—!"

I gripped her waist and guided her down onto me without a moment's delay.

Shluk—

"Haaahhhnn—!"

The tight, scorching heat of her swallowed me whole in one motion. Hanna threw her head back and cried out.

"Mmf—nngh...!"

Too late, she clapped a hand over her own mouth. The compartment walls were thinner than they looked, and at any moment a crew member or another officer might be passing through the corridor.

Hanna's eyes wavered. The tension of having to stay silent only made her inner walls clamp down tighter.

Clunk! Clunk!

Every time the wheels crossed a rail joint, our bodies bounced together. I didn't even have to move my hips—the train's constant rise and fall drove me deep into her over and over again, all on its own.

"Keep your voice down, Adjutant. If this were a battlefield, that'd be a summary execution for revealing our position."

I whispered wickedly, deliberately timing a thrust of my hips to the train's biggest lurches.

Creak, creak. Clunk.

The obscene, slick sounds of friction threaded perilously close beneath the rattle of the wheels. Hanna bit down on my shoulder to smother the moans threatening to burst out of her.

"Mmph! Nnnghhmm!"

Color flushed up the back of her pale neck. Pleasure, shame, and the forbidden thrill of nearly being caught mingled together, and her inner depths clung to me like a living thing, gripping tight and refusing to let go.

I lifted my hand away from her mouth and covered her plump lips with mine instead.

"Hahh, mmnh...!"

Hanna's thighs squeezed my waist until it ached.

For a first-class berth, Arthur's compartment felt cramped.

Not because the space itself was small, but because of the two massive bags sitting at his feet.

Click.

Only after locking the door twice and drawing the curtains fully shut did Arthur lift one of the bags onto the bed.

Insane weight.

He carefully worked the buckles loose. The moment the leather flap fell open, the dim compartment flashed gold.

"Ha..."

A hollow laugh escaped Arthur's lips.

Gold coins.

And not just genuine imperial eagles with the crest stamped crisp and clear. Ingots of forcibly melted-down metal, their serial markings scrubbed away, and gems of no traceable origin, packed dense between the leather lining.

At this scale, it's not embezzlement—it's plunder. He wrung Soissons dry, then wrung the rag.

Arthur picked up a single coin and held it to the light. The corner of his mouth curled up on its own. He now possessed evidence that could take the head of Max Jaeger, the war hero, with a single stroke.

And mere moments after first contact, no less.

But Arthur—or rather, Lieutenant Aiden Hunt of the Imperial Army—had no intention of summoning the military police or writing to the newspapers just yet.

Why would he entrust this to me?

He began his analysis calmly. Max Jaeger was no fool. Judging by his conduct at Rosenheim and Soissons, the man was closer to a meticulous, cunning opportunist. And a man like that had handed over his entire weakness to a replacement officer he'd met for the first time today?

Insurance, or arrogance.

Either a ploy to make him an accomplice, or the man was so intoxicated by his own status as the Empire's hero and a single letter of recommendation from Falkenhein that he'd assumed the officer before him was his loyal hunting dog.

Either way, striking now would be the losing play. It was obvious whose word would carry more weight—a decorated war hero's, or a mere lieutenant's.

Then a hunting dog I shall gladly be.

He would launder every last coin to perfection, and manage it all with ruthless care. The moment that man grew drunk on this gold, these ledgers would become the decisive evidence to drag him down into the abyss.

Arthur slid the bag of coins beneath the bed.

That was when he felt it.

A strange vibration from the compartment on the other side of the wall. Not the train's swaying—something irregular, yet unmistakably rhythmic.

"......"

Arthur froze mid-motion and stared at the wall. The soundproofing wasn't perfect, and faint but distinct, he could hear it: a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠woman's stifled moans, and the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

Rolling around with his adjutant, is he.

Astounding.

He'd left the bag that might well be his lifeline in the next compartment, and here he was indulging himself with a woman. You couldn't have found a shred of vigilance if you scrubbed for it.

Laughable.

Clunk, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠clunk.

A little while later.

In the corridor leading to the dining car, I glanced at Hanna standing beside me and clicked my tongue.

"Adjutant. Fix your face. Are you planning to brag about it or something?"

"Ah... my apologies, sir."

Cheeks faintly flushed from the heat of moments ago. Eyes brighter than usual. A languid, buoyant rhythm in every step she took.

Her whole body radiated a satisfaction she made no effort whatsoever to hide.

"I am doing my utmost to compose a solemn expression, sir... Is something wrong with it?"

Hanna pouted her lips and attempted a look of grave seriousness. If anything, that made her look more dangerous to me.

"Nothing's wrong with it—it's practically an advertisement. 'Hero of Soissons Devours His Adjutant,' ladies and gentlemen."

"Oh, surely not. I've merely absorbed a bit of your cologne, sir."

I let out a short sigh and pushed open the heavy door to the dining car.

Creeeak—

"You're late, Lieutenant Colonel."

Major Serafina greeted me, elegantly swirling a glass of wine. Her gaze locked onto Hanna, who was standing at my side with her arms crossed.

Status Analysis.

"Pressing reports required my attention. Battlefield situations do have a habit of changing by the minute, you understand."

I answered breezily and took the seat of honor. Hanna slipped naturally into the chair on my left—the adjutant's seat—facing Serafina across the corner of the table.

"Hmph. I've never once seen you arrive on time."

Erika clicked her tongue and set down her wine glass.

And beside her, at the far end of the table, Major Frederica sat in perfectly immaculate posture, napkin spread across her lap with considerable grace. But the instant her eyes met mine, she flinched hard enough to make the water in her glass slosh.

"...!"

Clunk!

The train shuddered, belatedly.

Serafina regarded Frederica with an icy stare. Erika shot her a brief, puzzled look; Hanna's brow creased for an instant before smoothing again.

"Feeling unwell somewhere, Major? Your color's off."

"N-no, sir. It's only... the train's suspension seems... softer than Vehicle 101's..."

Frederica snatched up her water glass and averted her eyes in a hurry.

"Hardly. This is the Empire's newest passenger car. Though I suppose nothing can quite match the grip of your beloved Vehicle 101—after all, I tuned her myself."

"Pwahk!"

At my choice of words—generous to every interpretation—Frederica choked outright. Water ran down her chin and soaked the collar of her uniform.

"Careful now."

I handed her my napkin, quite naturally. The moment my fingers brushed hers, her whole body gave a start.

"Th-thank you... Lieutenant Colonel."

Watching the scene, Erika's golden eyes narrowed to slits.

"What's this? Since when were the two of you so... friendly? You patch up her tank a few times and suddenly you're married?"

"Call it comradeship, Captain Erika. People who cross the line of fire together always come out of it close."

"Close, is it..."

Serafina cut in, her eyes narrowed. A subtle tension crept into the fingers wrapped around her wine glass.

Status Analysis.

Just as the atmosphere at the table turned perilous, Erika crossed her arms and sneered.

"Honestly, Lieutenant Colonel Jaeger, you really were born under a lucky star, weren't you? Subordinates who fix your tanks, subordinates who nurse you through the night—sprawled all over the place."

The air over the table froze solid.