The Art of Packaging
A chilling silence settled over the commander's office the moment the word left my mouth.
"Eric...?"
Commander Wainwright, the Empire's premier swordsman and a figure revered by every knight in the realm, stared blankly at me as though his mind refused to process what he had just heard. To him, the idea of an unordained squire willingly walking away from the Imperial Guard Knights was utterly unthinkable—even if he had slapped me with a severe disciplinary measure only a few days prior.
Right. That's just the kind of man he is.
Despite being the supreme commander, Wainwright was still hopelessly drunk on knightly romance. Born the young heir to a distinguished, wealthy family with continental rock salt mines, he had swung a sword like a madman since childhood driven solely by the pure desire to become a knight. Worse, he possessed the prodigious talent to match that ambition. He was a man who had walked down a path of roses his entire life.
Perhaps because of that sheltered nobility, he was constitutionally incapable of empathizing with the secular, worldly greed harbored by individual knights.
He couldn't fathom why his subordinates had neglected their training to obsess over Kodana, glaring at me with bared teeth.
He couldn't grasp how unreasonable and violently coercive it was to demand that someone surrender dozens of Kodana coins for free.
And he certainly couldn't understand why anyone would willingly surrender the glorious honor of being an Imperial Guard knight over "mere" money.
Even now, he merely gaped at me with a dazed, dumbfounded expression.
After stammering for quite some time, he finally voiced his own clumsy rationalization.
"Eric, do you... believe the disciplinary action was unjust? Granted, such a penalty is unprecedented. But you must consider the ripple effect you had on the order. Because of you, our younger knights cast their drills aside just to check the market price of Kodana."
I could have thanked him for reciting the exact script I had anticipated. With him setting the stage so obligingly, executing my plan would be all the easier.
From here on out, everything hung on my acting.
I bit my lower lip, hanging my head as if I were too ashamed to look him in the eye. I lowered my gaze toward the standard-issue knight's blade in my hand, staring at the steel with lingering, sorrowful affection.
Then, as though I had finally mustered the resolve to face the music, I let my voice waver.
"Commander. I admit it. Though it was never my intention, I acknowledge that I severely undermined the morale of the knights."
"If you knew that, then why did you—"
"Because at the time, I was blind to the burden I placed on the order. I was so consumed by a victim complex that I genuinely believed my comrades were trying to rob me out of vulgar greed. Only now do I realize how wrong I was."
"......?"
Wainwright tilted his head in bewilderment. Behind him, the murderous glares burning into my back from the other knights began to flicker with confusion.
Small wonder. They had been trying to rob me out of sheer greed, yet here I was, clearing their names with my own mouth.
"Eric, what kind of bullshit is that?"
Unable to stomach it any longer, Celine snapped and cut in.
Her sun-tanned skin glowed against lustrous blonde hair, framing an imposing, athletic physique that retained an undeniable, voluptuous femininity. There had been a time when I regarded her warmly as a talented and capable colleague, but now she was nothing more than an enemy driven mad by Kodana, ready to tear my throat out for coin.
Still, now was not the time to show hostility. Instead, I forced a faint, melancholic smile and met her gaze with gentle warmth.
"Celine, I understand now. I know why you all demanded the Kodana."
"......?"
"To be frank, I thought it was completely unfair at first. I felt as though you were persecuting a comrade who simply struck it rich overnight. But I finally understand that your intentions weren't sinister in the slightest. I'm sorry it took me this long to see it."
"Well... of course. What did you take us for?"
Celine stammered, casting an anxious glance toward the commander. As brazen as she was, even she couldn't bare her true, ugly face directly in front of Wainwright.
"I truly am sorry. But I hope you can understand that my upbringing was entirely different from yours. You already know this, but I'm a commoner. I grew up in a shack crawling with rats and fleas, huddled together with my brothers and sisters. You might find it hard to believe, but there were days when the four of us had to split a single sprouted potato just to survive."
"......"
"When you grow up in a place where starving is more common than eating, selfishness becomes second nature. It was only thanks to a retired knight living in our village—and the fact that he recognized my talent—that I was given a chance to escape that poverty."
"What are you trying to say?"
"I'm saying that unlike you, I never had the privilege of learning chivalry and moral duty from an early age. Oh, I read about them in text at the Academy, but I never felt them in my heart. My head was filled with only one thought: become a knight, make a name for myself, and get ahead in life."
"......"
As I poured out this self-deprecating confession about what an embarrassing, shameful life I had led, Celine and the rest of the squad grew visibly restless.
Commander Wainwright, on the other hand, was hanging on every single word.
I didn't even need to read his mind. He was undoubtedly thinking, How terribly remiss of me not to consider that Eric came from a different world! Or perhaps his noble brain was genuinely grappling with the logistical puzzle of how four human beings could physically divide a single potato.
I turned back toward him with a look of heavy remorse.
"Commander. I was blind. I had no idea the squad was trying to secure my Kodana to fund a charitable relief effort."
"What...?"
"Did you not know either? Well, to be honest, I only learned of it late last evening myself. Immediately after I liquidated all my Kodana, a fellow knight came to me in secret to confess the truth."
Of course, no such knight existed. It was a fictional phantom I had fabricated on the fly during my conversation with Bingo yesterday. Fortunately, Wainwright showed not a shred of suspicion.
"And what did this knight tell you...?"
"That our squad was trying to aid the refugees driven to ruin by the war against the Demon King's army. Specifically, the destitute refugees barely clinging to life in the capital's 18th District, surviving in conditions worse than insects."
"Is that... true?"
"Why would a man tendering his resignation lie to your face? It is the absolute truth. Though, admittedly, not every member was equally devoted to the cause."
Naturally, it was a complete fabrication.
Relief effort? What a joke. They had just wanted to carve up my windfall and line their own pockets. To soften the appearance of extortion, they had merely wrapped it in grand excuses like making it "collective property of the order" or "using it for the knights' welfare."
Commander Wainwright turned to the knights, his eyes searching their faces in lingering disbelief.
"Is what Eric says true?"
"......"
"I asked if it's true."
Pressed by the commander's stern tone, the knights had no choice but to nod in assent. Ramsey, who had spat curses at me in the hallway only days ago, offered a pained, awkward grimace of a smile.
Watching their faces curdle like spoiled milk, I graciously piled on the details to tighten the noose.
"As you well know, Commander, the war refugees have gathered in the capital's 18th District."
"It seems these knights wished to liquidate the Kodana to help those people stand on their feet once more. Considering the history of how Kodana came to be, there could hardly be a more fitting use for it. After all, wasn't it minted as a commemorative coin to fund the crusade against the Demon King and protect the people?"
"Once I realized that, I was so ashamed I could barely lift my head. I wanted nothing more than to erase my past self for having treated my own comrades like common highwaymen."
Just like that, I conjured a nonexistent charity project out of thin air and crowned my extortionists with sublime, saintly morality.
Wainwright nodded repeatedly, completely swept up in the narrative.
He even looked upon the red-faced knights with deep, paternal pride. To him, the revelation that his subordinates hadn't been coveting a comrade's fortune out of petty jealousy, but rather acting out of noble devotion to the order's chivalric honor, was profoundly moving. Never mind that running a charity with someone else's stolen money was hardly sane behavior to begin with.
However, Wainwright wasn't a complete fool. At a certain point, his brows knit together, and he tilted his head in confusion.
"Wait... Eric?"
"Yes, Commander."
"If the misunderstanding between you and your comrades has been cleared, why must you resign? You can simply reconcile, pool your strength, and support the refugees under the banner of the Imperial Guard. If you've liquidated the Kodana, you already have more than enough capital, do you not?"
Hearing that, I let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle.
"With all my heart, I wish I could. But the disciplinary measure has made that impossible."
"What?"
"I have been handed a severe disciplinary dismissal—a sentence that is, for all practical purposes, a capital execution for a knight's career. I hear it is the first such expulsion the Imperial Guard has handed down in nearly twenty years. If a man under such disgrace suddenly turns around and presents tens of billions of liras to the order, what will the world think?"
Wainwright froze. "Uh..."
His eyes widened as the realization struck him, his initial confusion melting into grave, solemn mortification.
He had imposed an unprecedented, heavy penalty just days ago. If the target of that disciplinary action suddenly handed over an astronomical fortune to the very order that punished him, anyone with half a brain would suspect foul play. It would reek of institutional extortion and hush money.
"...Hah. What an inescapable checkmate."
"I apologize for the bind, unintended though it was. If only the squad had revealed their noble intentions just a little earlier... Ah, no. It is wrong of me to reproach them now. It must have been deeply awkward for them to openly announce that they wished to perform charity using another man's coin."
"And it would be equally wrong to reproach you. ...This is nothing more than a catastrophic tragedy born of intertwined misunderstandings."
And I am hardly free of blame myself, Wainwright seemed to think, letting out a long, damp sigh of regret.
He was clearly kicking himself for acting so rashly with the disciplinary decree. Yet he knew all too well that walking it back now would only invite greater suspicion and drag the crown's premier knight order through the mud.
I let out a muted groan, pretending to struggle with my words, before gently laying my issued sword across his mahogany desk.
Then, I spoke.
"Commander. At my core, I am still a vulgar creature drenched in material desire. A man's true nature is not so easily rewritten. ...It pains me to say this, but I must take this fortune and live a life of comfort."
"...Go on."
"Yet I cannot bear to run away while turning a blind eye to the noble cause my comrades championed. Therefore, I intend to honor their wishes in my own small way by running a relief operation myself. At least until the guilt weighing upon my conscience is washed clean."
"Eric. For a knight of your exceptional caliber to retire so young is..."
"I am no longer worthy of standing among the Imperial Guard. I am merely a worldly snob, giddy at the thought of the luxuries awaiting me outside these walls. Please, Commander—just consider this the expulsion of a single coin-obsessed knight."
"......"
Faced with my earnest, self-sacrificing plea, Commander Wainwright finally gave in, nodding with heavy reluctance. He even went so far as to solemnly promise that he would restore my honor one day. Wearing an expression of choked emotion, I reached out and firmly clasped his offered hand.
By now, Wainwright's chest was undoubtedly overflowing with guilt. Because of a trivial misunderstanding, he had cast out a prodigy who had nearly been selected for the Hero's party. Worse still, to protect the dignity of the order and his own office, he couldn't even walk the mistake back.
And just like that, I was walking out of the Imperial Guard with tens of billions of liras entirely intact.
Of course, this didn't make me completely invulnerable, but having the pinnacle of imperial chivalry as my unwitting personal shield was an immense strategic advantage. As long as I set up something like a free swordsmanship clinic for refugee children under the guise of charity, I could keep Commander Wainwright's guilt simmering for years to come.
I offered the commander a crisp, impeccably respectful salute, then turned on my heel. Naturally, I made sure to cast one final, sorrowful glance at the insignia of the Imperial Guard before I stepped through the door.