Chapter 200: Malice
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 200: Malice
The Nostalgia Theater. Upon a stage layered thick with dust stood Dominique, a Class-1 fugitive, and Julian, a Sentinel Knight.
Hermann watched the two men face each other in silence, like the protagonists of a tragic play.
Swish—!
In a flash, Hermann kicked off the ground and shot forward. Vaulting through the air, he instantly closed the distance to Dominique’s back. Thwack! His boot slammed into the back of the fugitive's knees.
"Kuh!"
Dominique’s legs buckled. Hermann twisted the man's wrists together and slapped a pair of mana stone handcuffs onto them.
Click.
"Dominique Baumann. You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit insurrection, endangering the security of the Empire, and countless acts of treason against the Imperial House."
Hermann recited the code befitting a knight.
Julian merely watched him, his gaze steady. His opaque pupils showed no sign of agitation.
"Hoo~"
Still pinning Dominique to the floor, Hermann lifted his head. A bright smile had already spread across his face.
"My, that was quite impressive, Sir Julian."
He feigned admiration with exaggerated praise. But in his eyes, which curved into crescents as he looked at Julian, a faint sneer and deep suspicion flickered like a serpent’s tongue.
"By the way, what is that letter you’re holding?"
Hermann held out his hand. It was Laura’s letter, clutched tight in Julian’s grasp.
"May I have a look as well, Senior Julian?"
The smile on Hermann’s lips grew wider.
"……"
Julian handed over the letter. Hermann snatched it from his grip.
"Thank you."
Hermann’s gaze fell upon the request left in Laura’s letter.
It was a simple, trivial last will. She only asked to be buried next to Ashton should she die; there was no mention of revolutionary causes or secrets that might threaten the Empire.
"Hmm…"
While Hermann read the contents, looking as if he were chewing and swallowing every word, Julian looked down at Dominique sprawled on the stage.
"Cough, keuhk…"
The man’s breaths came in ragged gasps, as if he were choking on his own blood.
Once a promising elite of the Sentio Magic Tower, he was now an executive of the revolutionary group that had betrayed the Empire.
A foul stench of death emanated from his body.
Was it consumption? Cancer?
Either way, his remaining time was short. Julian knew the nature of the revolutionary group all too well.
They used everything—even their own deaths.
They would gladly sacrifice themselves if it meant becoming the kindling to ignite a new world.
…
I walked out to the Sentinel Knights’ parking lot. An aide waiting by my car respectfully opened the door for me.
Just as I was about to get into the back seat…
"Max!"
A voice suddenly called out to me.
"Max! Max! Max!"
"…What the hell."
I frowned and turned toward the voice.
"Max! Max!"
It was Reutern II.
What is that bastard doing here?
Before I could even question it, he came prancing across the asphalt.
"Max!"
Reutern called my name again, puffing out his chest dramatically.
"Max!"
This bastard was acting like some kind of trained animal.
"Max!"
Had he suddenly forgotten every word in the dictionary except "Max"?
"Max!"
"…Lord Reutern. Please calm down. What is it?" I replied, forcing a level tone.
"Oh, you know~"
Reutern drawled, a slow smile spreading across his face, but I had no time to entertain him.
"I’m sorry, but I have urgent business to attend to."
I got straight into the car. As I fastened my seatbelt, I glanced to my side—only to find Reutern casually sitting in the seat next to me.
"……"
I stared blankly at his face.
Reutern clicked his own seatbelt into place. He sat there quietly, as if waiting for the car to depart.
"…What are you doing?"
"Hm? Why?"
He had the audacity to ask me that, puffing his chest out once again. The man was making my head spin.
Vrooom—
Just then, the engine purred to life and the car started moving.
It seemed my aide had mistaken this lunatic for one of my companions.
"Ooh~ Nice car, Max~ Is this the new model?"
"Yes."
"I have a new one too. Guess what it is~"
"……"
I decided to just let him ride along for now. I didn’t even have the time to waste asking what this man was thinking or why he was clinging to me.
"So, Max. Where are you going now?" Reutern asked, craning his neck to look out the window.
"Knight’s business. It could be dangerous. Actually, no, it’s very dangerous. Would you like to get out now?"
"Ah, is that so~? It’s fine. I didn’t have much to do today anyway. This works out perfectly."
This son of a bitch.
I didn’t let my irritation show, however. Gritting my teeth slightly, I instructed my aide.
"Get us there as fast as possible."
"As fast as possible? Sounds fun~ Let’s go!"
Reutern’s eyes sparkled as he fixed his gaze on the scenery flashing past the window.
…
[Julian, I won’t resent you for betraying me.]
[This was the path Ashton and I chose, so the end we meet is ours to bear alone.]
Laura’s last will and testament.
The rookie knight, Hermann, deliberately put on a gloomy expression as he read the letter.
He feigned a look of deep sorrow.
[But, for the sake of the old days when we once laughed together, I’ll ask you for one last favor.]
[When I die, could you please bury me in a sunny spot not far from where Ashton sleeps?]
[We couldn’t be together in life, so I want to stay by his side in death.]
"…Ashton, you say."
Hermann let out a deep sigh after finishing the letter.
"Haa… So she was the lover of the great Sir Ashton."
"You know of Ashton?"
At Julian’s question, Hermann folded the letter and looked up.
"How could I not? The incident is in the textbooks at Empire Point."
Hermann grinned.
"Operation 'Dream Road' is a tragic tale of heroism that serves as an inspiration and a heart-stirring lesson to all cadets at Empire Point."
Julian glared at Hermann. More precisely, he stared at the furrows of his brow.
"Hooo… Still, to think the lover of such a fine knight was a revolutionary stooge."
Hermann clicked his tongue as if in pity.
"I wonder what Sir Maximilian will think when he sees this letter… It’s all quite confusing."
He started to hand the letter back, then paused, retracting his hand to ask another question.
"Ah, right. This letter… I’ll have to collect it as evidence, won’t I? Since it’s something the revolutionary group left for you, Sir Julian."
Julian nodded silently. His lack of response seemed to irritate Hermann, but the rookie quickly masked it with a smile and clapped his hands.
Clap, clap, clap.
As if on signal, his aides rushed into the theater.
"Everyone, search the area!"
At Hermann’s command, they began to tear the place apart, rummaging under the stage, between the audience seats, and through the waiting and control rooms.
Clouds of dust rose from every corner of the small theater.
"…Oh dear. This is trouble."
Dominique’s voice drifted up from the stage. He seemed to have found a momentary reprieve from his pain, his tone calm and subdued.
"This is trouble indeed…"
Unlike Dominique, who muttered the words to himself, Julian simply watched the commotion in silence, like a spectator watching a play.
…
Inside the speeding car, I watched the scenery blur past the window and found myself lost in thought.
Hermann von Berg.
He was a minor noble from the western part of the Empire. A declining family that had barely managed to survive in a rugged rural village. Hermann was known to be the second of two sons.
However, his mother and father had passed away long ago, and even his older brother, the firstborn, had supposedly lost his life in a bombing orchestrated by the revolutionary group.
Therefore, the only blood relative left in the Berg family was Hermann.
—A very familiar set of circumstances.
An isolation where all traces of the past had been erased, with no one left alive to confirm his true identity.
"…Oh, what a view."
A sharp voice shattered my thoughts.
"This is why people need to get out more. It really clears the mind."
I glared at the seat next to me. I wished he would shut his trap, but Reutern II was practically pressing his nose against the glass, lost in admiration.
"I get so antsy cooped up in the Imperial Palace, you know~?"
Looking at Reutern, a thought suddenly surfaced in my mind.
A very simple and seemingly frivolous thought.
"Lord Reutern."
"Hm?"
Reutern answered, puffing out his chest at the same time.
Is he some kind of peacock? What on earth was wrong with him? But his bizarre behavior wasn't my concern right now.
"Do you happen to receive any special skincare treatments?"
"…Huh? Ah~ well~ I do use some top-of-the-line cosmetics. Hahaha!"
Reutern chuckled, patting his own cheek.
The man was certainly youthful-looking. But no matter how much money one slathered on their face, the fine wrinkles that came with age couldn't be completely hidden.
Youthful-looking.
He looked young, but the signs of his true age were definitely there.
"Why? You want me to recommend a brand? Oh, right, never use mana stone-extracted cosmetics! They’ll turn your skin bright red."
Tuning out Reutern’s nonsense, I returned to my own suspicions.
"That’s alright."
"Really? Then why’d you ask?"
Was the record of Hermann’s brother being killed by the revolutionary group actually true?
"It’s nothing important, but…"
In the first place, was Hermann really the second son of the Berg family?
"…I was just reminded of a friend who looked particularly old for his age."
A blank slate, where all truth was concealed.
Upon that empty space, a rather plausible hypothesis was quietly beginning to take shape.
…
"Yes. Nostalgia Theater. In the Camel District, the West. Yes, yes. Requesting immediate backup."
Hermann used his terminal to request support from the Knights Order.
The Class-1 fugitive, Dominique, was already subdued and bound in mana stone handcuffs, and the letter Laura had left behind was sealed as evidence.
"Mmm~"
Hermann stretched. He looked relieved to have finished his work.
"Ah, Sir Julian."
He lowered his terminal and gave a twisted smile.
"You’ll put my name in the report, won’t you? A rookie like me desperately needs every bit of credit I can get."
Julian answered with silence.
"Thank you."
Hermann took that as a yes. In the meantime, his aides continued to discover more evidence.
From the underside of a stage device. From a tear in the leather of an audience seat.
An aide who had pried open a false bottom in the floorboards shouted urgently.
"Found it!"
Unknown symbols. Incomprehensible formulas. All sorts of forged identification cards and letters exchanged by the revolutionary group. The aide pulled out a thick bundle of documents filled with such things.
"Give it here."
Hermann took a few of the pages.
"…What is this? A coded message?"
Hermann’s eyes scanned the papers. He frowned in concentration but shook his head, as if he couldn’t make sense of it.
"Ah, damn it. What is all this… Sir Julian, would you like to take a look?"
He handed over the evidence. Julian took it, immediately confirming the traces of mana imbued within the paper.
"We’ll transfer this to Sentinel Headquarters for now. Well, I suppose we’ll have to ask the Magic Tower and a few other places to decipher it."
As Hermann gave a meaningful smile and his aides bustled about, collecting the steady stream of new evidence…
"……"
Julian’s gaze suddenly fell upon Dominique.
Dominique’s blood-soaked eyes curved into a gentle arc.
It was a strange smile, as if to say, I know you.
"Bag every last piece!" Hermann shouted to his aides, turning his back.
At that moment, Dominique’s lips moved.
It was a silent whisper.
‘…Julian. You read it, didn’t you.’
Laura’s last will, left for Julian.
But that letter contained a hidden sentence.
An intimate truth, inscribed with densely packed mana, visible only to members of the revolutionary group—or to those who could read the grain of mana.
‘That is Laura’s final message to you.’
The cruel truth formed by Dominique’s lips.
‘She… hates you enough to want you dead.’
A soundless curse.
Laura’s trap.
‘She was willing to give her own life….’
All the evidence gathered here would likely point to Julian.
The evidence, meticulously fabricated by Laura, would be presented alongside the life of the already-dying Dominique.
It would become the greatest achievement, one that would elevate a certain knight to the core of the Sentinels.
‘…to ensure that you would die.’
Julian gave a low nod.
He knew.
All his sins.
All his retribution.
The sin of abandoning his friend, of driving him to his death under the pretext of serving the Empire as a knight.
From the moment he learned Ashton was a sub-species, he had used him, eventually selling him out to the cartel.
Ashton’s miserable end was, without a doubt, his own doing.
It was his own fault, a truth he had to humbly accept.
‘Sir Knight. In the end, the Empire will abandon you.’
Julian’s gaze drifted sideways.
His eyes fell upon Hermann.
"Everyone, handle it with care! Backup will be here soon!"
Just as Hermann’s shout filled the small theater…
—Creeeak.
The theater doors slowly opened.
Everyone’s eyes shot toward the entrance.
Beyond the heavy doors, silhouetted against the blinding backlighting of the sun—
Stood Reutern II.
"What’s this place~?"
Shoving aside Reutern, who was brightly puffing out his chest, Maximilian strode in.