Chapter 78: Before Spring Comes
Chapter 78: Before Spring Comes
“Catch that rat—!”
Deep in the back alleys of Genen, late at night.
Two agents in gray jackets were sprinting through the narrow path, firing their pistols as they pursued a man.
Bang—!
A bullet grazed the man's shoulder.
As the man collapsed and the agents rushed forward, another group appeared and blocked their path.
“What the fuck! Who the hell are you?!”
“...Investigators from the Genen Central Police Station.”
It was Zendo, an investigator from the Genen Central Police Station.
The Imperial Secret Police agent’s brow furrowed.
“Scum like you should just get lost. We’re on official business!”
“This is Genen. It falls under the jurisdiction of the Genen Police Station.”
“Hey—you anteater-faced bastard. Do you have any idea who I am? Do I really have to spell it out for you?!”
One look was enough to tell. They were agents of the Imperial Secret Police—men who had been injected with excessive ideology and authority following the Gigantes terror incident.
“If you don’t want to die—”
The moment the agent aimed his pistol at Zendo, the Genen investigators simultaneously drew their weapons. Several of them leveled modern submachine guns at the agents.
The agents flinched and stepped back.
Zendo spoke again.
“This is the jurisdiction of the Genen Police Station.”
The agent glared at him and let out a hollow laugh.
“Hey. You. Give me your name.”
“...”
“State your name and rank, you bastards!”
“If you state yours, I will state mine.”
The agent smirked. A murderous intent flickered in his twisted smile.
“The Genen vermin have certainly grown bold. See you later. Watch your back at night, yeah?”
Men filled with inexplicable madness and arrogance.
Ptui! They spat on the ground and left the alleyway.
Zendo watched their retreating backs before turning his gaze.
“...You there.”
He looked at the man pretending to be unconscious in the corner of the alley.
“Get up. Don’t you know there’s a curfew?”
Following the Gigantes terror incident, a nighttime curfew had been imposed on all Autonomous Regions of the Empire.
The man, his shoulder grazed by the bullet, crawled out trembling. He was clutching something tightly to his chest.
“...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Are you with the Revolutionary Group? Or the Independence Faction?”
Zendo approached, gripping his baton. The man’s face turned pale.
“No, no! Absolutely not! It’s just... my child is sick. A fever suddenly spiked so high...”
The man slightly opened his arms. Cradled against his chest were a few red berries, often used as a fever reducer.
“I’m sorry. My child is in so much pain. I just couldn’t sit still...”
“...”
Zendo was suddenly reminded of the past. His father had been killed by the Independence Faction—a meaningless death, caught in the crossfire of violence committed in the name of a 'greater cause.'
The man before him was also someone’s father, and he had nearly met a meaningless death because of those who ran wild under the pretext of a cause.
“If the child is sick, you should give them medicine.”
Zendo put his baton away.
“Lexil. Give him some medicine and take him home.”
“Yes, sir.”
The subordinate helped the man up. The man’s expression brightened. Even as he was led away, he kept bowing his head toward Zendo.
“Th-thank you! Thank you, Investigator!”
“...”
Zendo let out a silent sigh. Then, feeling a lingering rage, he gritted his teeth again.
“All of this... is because of those damn bastards in the Revolutionary Group.”
You probably don’t know how many people your 'greater cause' kills, or how much suffering it spawns.
Because you’re nothing but fools, blinded by ideals and abandoning reality.
* * *
Before the new year arrived, I began my 'work' in earnest.
First, I established the [Imperial Soldiers Foundation].
It was a non-profit organization that arranged jobs for veterans who had nowhere to go after discharge and provided medical and living expenses for wounded soldiers.
It was a move to win the favor of the regular army.
Next, I began the expropriations.
Or should I call it that? In truth, it was a 'pre-emptive seizure' tactic—securing assets one step ahead of the Imperial Guard.
The Imperial Guard’s greed toward non-Aran wealthy individuals within the Empire was becoming more blatant by the day. It would only get worse after the fall of Kanilan.
Furthermore, a new decree was set to be announced next year.
A bill that would impose punitive capital gains taxes and ban currency exchange when non-Aran individuals traded real estate, companies, or stocks within the Empire.
The Imperial Guard—the festering pus of the Empire—had naturally caught wind of this news first and placed wealthy immigrants on their hit list.
The fortunate thing was that they were quite poor compared to me.
They likely planned to wait until the decree was implemented, when asset prices would plummet or forced sale orders would be issued, to buy them up for a pittance.
That was why I used the 'pre-emptive seizure' tactic.
[Aurum Logistics]
A logistics transportation company connecting the eastern and western parts of the Empire. I sought out the CEO of the company, which owned dozens of large warehouses and numerous trucks across the Empire.
“But, Sir Knight. This is...”
He broke into a cold sweat as he accepted my proposal.
“These are unacceptable terms. To hand over the company I’ve spent my life building for this price...”
It was understandable. I had set the price relatively low compared to its appraised value.
“Think about it carefully.”
But he was not an Imperial Aran. Nor was he a citizen of an Autonomous Region annexed by the Empire.
The Empire’s racial pyramid was clear. Arans were at the apex; just below them were Westerners and citizens of the Autonomous Regions; and at the bottom were ethnic minorities like the Merin, Easterners, and sub-species.
“You are not an Aran.”
The CEO was a Merin.
A race the Imperial Guard would target first due to their business acumen. In their eyes, he was the most succulent piece of meat.
“The Imperial Guard already has their eyes on you. Haven’t you seen suspicious people loitering around your factories lately?”
The CEO’s pupils shook. He seemed to have an idea of what I meant.
I smiled.
“A new Imperial decree will be announced soon. When that happens, protecting your company won’t be the problem; you’ll be wondering whether you can even leave the Empire alive.”
His mouth clamped shut.
I looked at him and asked, “How many family members do you have?”
“...Twenty-three.”
That was a bit of a surprising number. He seemed to have many wives, children, parents, and siblings.
“You have far too many weaknesses.”
Gulp. He swallowed hard.
I tapped my finger against the contract.
“It is a fair price. It will be enough for your family to live in comfort for decades.”
“...”
Nevertheless, for this man who was biting his lip in conflict:
“Twenty years.”
I held up two fingers.
“This contract includes a buy-back clause. Twenty years. If, after twenty years, you and your family survive and can return to the Empire...”
If this world hasn't ended.
If we all manage to survive.
“I will gladly return the business to you.”
I was sincere.
Though he didn't look like he believed me at all, my expropriation was ultimately a form of safekeeping. Soon, the turbulent waves of history would sweep over us all.
I didn't mind being demonized in the process. In fact, it was for the best.
It would be much better for them to have their assets taken by a devil than to be devoured by beasts.
“...I understand.”
I watched him intently as he signed the contract with a trembling hand.
The sad face of a man who felt he was letting go of his life.
I handed him one more document.
“This is a gift.”
A document stamped with the Ebenholtz seal on high-quality parchment finished with mana stones.
I had written a sentence on it in my own handwriting.
[I acknowledge this individual as an entrepreneur who has contributed to the prosperity of the Empire. Should there be any unjust infringement upon his person, I shall hold the responsible parties accountable.]
I didn't forget the signature at the bottom: Maximilian Albrecht von Ebenholtz.
“In the future, you will consider today’s decision a blessing.”
“...Yes.”
He stood up, unable to bring himself to say thank you.
“Mr. Jumein.”
I called his name, and he turned back to look at me.
“I’ll see you in twenty years.”
This was also my wish.
That you, I, and everyone whose property I’ve taken can meet again on that day and face each other.
I truly hope it happens.
“...”
He gave a forced nod and departed.
I sat quietly in the empty CEO's office.
Knock, knock. Dieter entered after a knock.
“You’re finished.”
“Yeah.”
There were still many companies left to absorb.
Railways, logistics, transportation, textiles, communications, storage, and food.
Dieter would pick out the choice cuts, and I would seize them at the most reasonable prices possible. Afterward, I would innovate and strengthen the companies with technology developed at the Lorenzo Academy.
It was a very satisfying virtuous cycle.
“As always, I’ll leave the management to you.”
“Yes. Leave it to me.”
Clap, clap. Dieter clapped his hands. A group of employees swarmed inside.
“These are employees I personally selected through open recruitment.”
They all gave off an aura similar to Dieter’s. Dry, thorough, and looking like they were good with numbers. They felt a bit like clones, which made me flinch slightly.
“...They look like hard workers. Good luck, everyone.”
I accepted their greetings, went outside, and got into the car.
Aran Shepherd-Leo sat upright in the back seat, while Yukia, my personal secretary, sat in the passenger seat wearing sunglasses.
“We’re departing.”
As I stroked Leo’s soft fur, I picked up my vibrating terminal.
It was a call from Schatz.
—Sir Knight. An incident has occurred in Genen.
My expression froze cold as I listened to her.
* * *
Is it true that what is meant to happen will always happen?
Ultimately, the signal for that catastrophe occurred in Genen at an unexpected moment.
It was the kind of thing that couldn't be stopped, even if I deployed investigators to scour all of Genen and set up dense wiretapping and surveillance. It was an act closer to an accident than a calculated plan.
For example, a high-ranking official of the Genen Governor-General's Office shooting and killing a Genen university student during a street argument. However, the matter was quickly concluded as simple self-defense or a quarrel, and no punishment was issued.
That became the fuse. The incident spread through Genen like wildfire.
The citizens of the Autonomous Region held protests, and in the process of suppression, three more innocent Genen university students were killed. Too much happened in an instant, and naturally, all of Genen was in an uproar.
Genen, which had once been a republic, still hadn't broken the habit of 'protesting.'
—Sir Knight. Terminal communications will soon be cut off.
Schatz’s report continued.
—Mana bulkheads are being installed throughout Genen. It seems they intend to block all information going outside.
“...I suppose they would.”
A surge of anger rose within me. I was disgusted by the idiocy of the foolish bureaucrat and by Izenheim, who would have exploited that opening.
However—I recalled Priya’s words.
Keep your conduct and mind diligent. Always, like a clear mirror.
Getting angry changes nothing. It is merely a foolishness that reveals my own impatience.
I caught my breath and leaned back into the seat.
“...”
The people of Genen, played by Izenheim, gathered in the square to hold rallies, and university students launched protests and street marches.
It was extremely dangerous.
If left like this, thousands, or even tens of thousands, might die.
The Spring of Genen.
I had to break the link that would lead to that day when blood would fall like rain.
“Schatz.”
I drafted a business trip request to submit to the Knights. However, my destination was not Genen. I was heading to the Imperial Military Headquarters.
It was time to use the connections in the military I had been currying favor with.
—Yes, Sir Knight.
What the Izenheim lot wanted was an accidental provocation by the Imperial Military. Or they hoped that an Izenheim plant within the military would fire a shot, escalating the situation further.
If that happened, the Emperor would order the 'suppression' of the riot. He would send the army to ruthlessly crush them.
“Wait for me.”
Before that happens, I will go.
I will gladly become their head and decide the method of suppression with my own hands.
“I’ll be there before it’s too late.”