Chapter 397
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 397
Chapter Title: You've Really Gone Mad.
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‘I was too hasty.’
Moscow State Armaments Factory researcher.
A first-class citizen ranking in the top 1% of the Russian Khanate.
And secretly, a member of the revolutionary army who had smuggled out the factory’s latest technology and weapons.
Batemensky was filled with regret.
Not because he’d been blinded by Aynsha’s talents and rashly invited her to join.
No, it was because he’d panicked upon seeing her face and straight-up kidnapped her and Rimon.
‘If I’d just backed off then, we wouldn’t be in this mess...’
He could’ve investigated more safely by digging into their backgrounds discreetly from afar.
But kidnapping them had only made things worse.
Of course, the biggest victims in all this were the suddenly abducted Rimon and Aynsha.
Out of guilt, Batemensky had done his best to accommodate them even in captivity—food, shelter, and all.
...Or at least, he’d tried.
The problem was that these two siblings defied all common sense.
“We don’t need another room.”
“Huh?”
“Pardon?”
“Rino and I are siblings. One room is plenty.”
“Even so, sharing this cramped space... wouldn’t that be uncomfortable for the two of you...?”
Batemensky felt awkward after offering to move Aynsha to a separate room out of kindness, only to be flatly refused.
The room they were in had been built for confinement from the start.
It was sturdy, sure, but so narrow that one person might manage, but two would constantly brush against each other.
“That’s exactly why it’s perfect.”
“...Pardon?”
“Rino’s a total mama’s boy. He gets anxious without me nearby. So the closer, the better.”
“I-is that so?”
Batemensky’s eyes flickered.
He remembered how Rimon would check on Aynsha whenever he got a break at the factory.
For a moment, veins bulged on Rimon’s forehead under Batemensky’s oddly knowing gaze—like he was looking at an overprotective brother.
But Rimon soon flashed a bright smile.
“Yeah, honestly, I do get a bit anxious without my little sister around. You know how much trouble she stirs up.”
“I get that, but...”
“Plus, she’s such a spoiled brat that she can’t even change her clothes without me. It hasn’t been long since she could handle bathroom stuff on her own.”
“At her age?!”
“The front’s one thing, but the back’s a false accusation. She’s been able to handle that since she hatched from the eg—”
Crunch.
“...R-Rino, that hurts.”
“Anyway, thanks for the thought, but we’ll stick with this for now. Move us after the misunderstanding’s cleared up, okay?”
“Ah, yes. Understood.”
Rimon sweetly smiled while clamping Aynsha’s cheeks in an iron grip.
His face was smiling, sure.
But there was something subtly intimidating about it that left Batemensky nodding and retreating, eyeing the siblings with a strange look.
While Batemensky kept a closer watch on the white-haired pair, the revolutionaries moved swiftly.
They’d faked acute food poisoning to get sick leave, then dove into a reinvestigation of the siblings.
They’d investigated before, of course—but this time was on another level.
Government offices, newspapers.
Even Okhrana files were pilfered, combing through every detail of Rimanoff Kosikin and Elshar Kosikin’s histories.
Family and acquaintances.
Past residences.
Connections to their factory jobs.
Views on the government.
And so on—every scrap of info scrutinized.
The result?
[Too clean.]
“No suspicious points at all?”
[That’s right. The problem is they’re too clean.]
In the Russian Khanate, records and testimonies could be fabricated at will.
Especially if the Okhrana was involved.
Planting meticulously disguised plants to ferret out anti-government intel was their specialty.
A spotless past? Untrustworthy.
Flaws? Even more suspicious.
Instilling doubt to stifle activity and dismantle groups—that was the terror of the secret police called Okhrana.
[But one thing’s certain.]
“What’s that?”
[She’s not the same person as that dictator, at least. We’ve confirmed the Great Khan was in the Kremlin Palace at the same time.]
“...That’s a relief, at least.”
Batemensky sighed in relief at the man’s firm words.
He hadn’t really thought the slightly off Aynsha was that monstrous dictator anyway—but confirmation carried weight.
[The most suspicious is still the Singing White.]
“The Sinseon Alliance priestess? The world’s greatest prophet?”
[Based on what we’ve gathered, she looks eerily like the dictator too.]
“But why would she hide her identity and work at our factory?”
[Fair point.]
Same Seven Dragon Society or not, that was it.
They knew better than anyone how the seven clans operated independently.
The White Dragon Princess working for the Russian government? Not worth considering.
“Maybe it’s all coincidence. If there are two identical people, there could be three.”
[Or the Okhrana dug up or sculpted someone who looks just like the dictator to throw us off.]
“...So we can’t prove their innocence.”
Batemensky furrowed his brow.
If he hadn’t made contact, he could’ve kept his distance and observed.
But with Aynsha already kidnapped and locked up, he couldn’t just watch suspiciously forever.
Nor could he release her on blind faith.
It was a true dilemma.
[No, luckily there’s one way.]
“Really?”
[Yes.]
The man casually dismissed Batemensky’s worries.
Then stated firmly.
[If they’re truly the dictator’s spies, this’ll make them reveal themselves for sure.]
“...So?”
After a long silence.
Rimon asked with an expression somewhere between disbelief and exasperation.
“That’s your reason for coming here—Sergei Vladinov?”
“That’s right.”
Reddish-brown hair.
A bushy beard.
And a massive build.
The man evoked the image of a grizzly bear.
His comrades called him ‘teacher.’
Rimon’s face grew even more baffled as he regarded Sergei and the anxious Batemensky hovering behind him.
Of course, he wasn’t the type to feel honored by a high-ranking figure seeking him out.
Not even if it was the revolutionary leader with a bounty in the billions.
His surprise stemmed from one thing.
The item Sergei had plunked right on the table upon arrival.
“Fine, whatever—but why hand us a gun out of nowhere?”
It was fully loaded, of course.
A heavy pistol stamped with the Moscow State Armaments Factory mark, meant for Deplayer use.
Rimon eyed it dubiously as he spoke, and Sergei replied in a grave tone.
“If you’re the dictator’s dogs, you’d shoot me right here.”
“...You got a death wish?”
“I’ve no desire to die, of course. But this is the only way to trust you.”
He spoke lowly.
Whatever Rimon and Aynsha’s true identities.
If their goal was dismantling the revolutionaries, this was an opportunity too good to pass.
Sergei had led the revolutionaries for nearly a decade—he was a symbol of the revolution.
Capturing him alone would shatter half the group.
Bring in his head, and success, riches, and glory in the Russian Khanate were guaranteed.
“As you see, it’s just the Batemensky brothers here. Easy to kill me and escape.”
“...With terms like that, even if I weren’t Okhrana, I’d be tempted to pop you in the back of the head and defect.”
“Then that’d be my fate.”
“Huh, right.”
Rimon scowled briefly at the man’s unnervingly calm eyes, wagering his life like it was nothing.
Then he picked up the pistol from the table.
Racked the slide to check the chamber, and aimed it straight at Sergei.
BANG!!
The deafening gunshot.
A lock of hair sliced off and fluttering away.
Batemensky paled and trembled behind them.
But Sergei didn’t so much as twitch as the bullet whizzed past his ear.
He just spoke in that heavy voice.
“You handle the gun well enough, but your aim’s awful. If you can’t hit, just press the muzzle to my forehead and pull the trigger.”
“...You’re truly insane.”
“To fight monsters, one must become a monster.”
“Fair enough. Makes you wonder why you haven’t snapped yet.”
Rimon stuck out his tongue once at the words fitting a man who’d plotted revolution against that Yekateriche.
He set the pistol back on the table and slid it toward Sergei.
Scrape.
“Not killing me and returning the gun—can I take that as willingness to join our revolutionaries?”
Sergei calmly asked as he took the gun back. Rimon crossed his arms.
“Depends on your intentions.”
“What intentions?”
“Don’t play dumb, revolutionary. You wouldn’t pull this stunt every time you recruit a new comrade, would you?”
Rimon snorted.
Sergei staking his life to test if they were spies was, frankly, not the act of a sane man.
But if he were just a lunatic, he’d have been dead or captured long ago.
Surviving the Silver Dragon Clan’s eyes proved his caution.
So why this recklessness?
At Rimon’s sharp point, Sergei finally broke his silence.
“Truth be told, I want the Elshar sisters to do something vital for our revolutionaries.”
“Build us some miracle weapon to win the revolution overnight?”
“Long-term, yes, I’d hope for that. But right now, we need Elshar’s beauty, not her wisdom.”
“...What the hell do you plan to make my sister do?”
At that moment.
Rimon’s brow furrowed.
He hadn’t thought it was simple recruitment, but hearing her looks mentioned so openly set him on edge.
His instincts were spot-on.
Sergei’s proposal, gazing at Aynsha, was utterly absurd.
“I want Elshar to disguise herself as Yekateriche and infiltrate the Kremlin Palace.”
“...Rino, I think my ears are broken. I’m hearing weird things.”
It was so ridiculous.
Aynsha muttered blankly, forgetting Rimon’s plea to stay quiet.
Rimon couldn’t blame her.
He was just as flabbergasted.
“Have my sister impersonate the Great Khan?”
“For starters, yes.”
“You’re nuts. That’s impossible.”
“It’s possible. All I ask is that she contact our savior there.”
“...Savior?”
“Yes.”
Rimon’s face hardened.
Aynsha, who’d already heard this through prophecy, blinked blankly.
Sergei stated his true goal with grave seriousness.
“The hero who defeated the cruel tyrant Sword Sovereign 80 years ago and saved us—Duke Rimon Asfelder.”