Chapter 31. Launch Mission
Episode 31. Inaugural Mission
Early September. Before the cold had arrived. While the lingering warmth of summer still remained.
Construction workers bustled about one corner of the grand mansion.
Their hands were full of tools, and vehicles carrying materials came and went without pause.
Sandwich panels—steel plates filled with styrofoam for cushioning.
Double-ended screws—fasteners designed to secure rebar or wooden beams.
Rebar, soundproofing materials, molding, paint, silicone sealant, and caulking guns. And more.
Countless materials were being shaped by skilled hands into something resembling a work of art.
Dr. Crombell and I watched the construction site—where the laboratory would soon stand—with satisfaction before turning to each other to continue our discussion.
"Defining the essence of black magic as mere 'darkness' is ambiguous. Darkness is nothing more than a human conceptualization of the absence of light."
Though we'd been talking for two days straight, I wasn't tired of it.
"Then what do you believe is the foundation of black magic?"
"Hmm. Perhaps it's a substance that doesn't reflect light, or one that exists beyond the reach of light's wavelength. Or maybe it absorbs light entirely."
"Oh-ho... Where on earth did you learn such things?"
I couldn't answer, "From you, before my regression."
"Through my own investigations into dark mages and black knights. Beyond that, I don't know much myself, so I'll leave the research to you, Doctor."
Dr. Crombell responded with enthusiasm.
"Some of this aligns with theories I've established, while other parts are entirely new. Regardless, I'll refine and study it further."
"If anyone can do it, it's you."
Crombell looked genuinely moved. Since beginning his research into black magic, no one had ever shown him such blind faith. He muttered something to that effect.
'I never knew you were this kind of person.'
Having confirmed our shared goal, Dr. Crombell and I grew rapidly closer. Was this what scholars were like?
In my past life, we'd been at each other's throats whenever we met. It just goes to show how important first impressions are.
"I'll leave the laboratory in your hands, Doctor."
At that, Crombell hesitated slightly before speaking.
"The family head has promised funding, but... are you truly alright with this? We have no results yet. Investing this much budget..."
The labor costs for skilled workers were far from cheap, and the material expenses were nothing to scoff at either.
Not to mention, the land my father had provided was large enough for a hundred grown men to engage in physical activities...
Even excluding the land value, once electrical systems, air conditioning, and plumbing were installed, it would easily cost billions of Jeni. But—
'It doesn't matter. Father said he'd support it. Spend lavishly. It's not my money.'
"It's a small price to pay for saving humanity."
"Hah, you really..."
I smiled awkwardly.
If the North falls, money becomes worthless scraps of paper. Rather than clinging to such things, investing in technology, people, and organizations is a hundred times wiser.
"I'll provide separate research funds. Use them without hesitation."
"Understood. I'll work just as hard."
With a resolute expression, Dr. Crombell strode toward the construction site. I watched his retreating figure for a moment before turning away.
September 4th.
After receiving a summons from the Director of the Inspection Bureau, I reported for duty for the first time in a while.
But the way people looked at me had completely changed. Whispering, you could say.
One thing was certain—there were far more favorable gazes than before. A majority, perhaps? Of course, some still eyed me with suspicion, but so what?
Not long ago, everyone had regarded me with hostility. This much was already a tremendous improvement.
And the one who had contributed most to this shift in perception was...
The Daily newspaper. Specifically, a reporter named Charles. Since that day, he had been writing exclusively about me.
The Hashman Brothers, the Red Awl, the Golden Star Tournament... even the places I'd donated to. How he knew all this was almost supernatural.
It was a little overwhelming, but what could I do? This, too, was a necessary process. I straightened my shoulders, lifted my chin, and composed my expression.
Thud, thud.
With crisp, disciplined footsteps, I absorbed the gazes directed at me with my entire being.
Whether they were friendly or hostile didn't matter. It wouldn't change the path I had to walk. I simply kept walking.
When I reached the door of the Inspection Bureau Director's office, I saw the agents who had arrived before me.
Sylvia, Louis Dykken, Bwindol, Bill.
Familiar faces, in a way.
Sylvia waved, while Louis, Bwindol, and Bill gave slight nods of acknowledgment.
Perhaps because we'd fought together in the Red Awl suppression operation, their gazes were softer.
Still, this lineup, this location... I could guess what this was about.
Sylvia knocked on the door as our representative, and as soon as permission was granted, we entered.
The Director's office was impeccably tidy. A modest desk, packed bookshelves. A scroll hung on the wall, inscribed with:
[Even a single step must be taken rightly.]
It spoke volumes about the Director's character.
The Iron-Blooded Knight, Midgal Lau, sat at his desk wearing glasses that didn't quite suit him, reviewing documents. When we entered, he stood and greeted us warmly.
"Welcome."
The five of us saluted with blade-hand gestures, and Sylvia spoke as our representative. In terms of seniority and rank, she was the highest among us.
"Loyalty. Senior Agent Sylvia and four others, reporting as ordered."
No matter our relationships outside, here, Director Midgal was the highest authority.
And in an organization, formalities were essential.
Director Midgal returned the salute with a precise blade-hand, and we lowered ours.
"Starting today, you will be assigned to the Inspection Bureau's Special Investigation Headquarters. The Special Investigation Headquarters is..."
Under the authorization of the North's de facto ruler, the Grand Duke. An entity granted immense power to investigate, judge, and execute—effectively becoming the sword of the North.
"That is the Special Investigation Headquarters."
At Midgal's explanation, Louis, Bwindol, and Bill's expressions grew uncertain. Could an organization truly wield such authority? As if reading their thoughts, Midgal smiled gently.
"Some of you may find it hard to accept. But precisely because of that, we needed tangible results to justify our establishment internally before our official launch. That's why I'm assigning you this mission."
Before the others could ask more about the Special Investigation Headquarters—or "Special Unit" for short—I stepped forward.
"Where is the mission location?"
"...Do you know of a region in the southwestern North called Travis?"
At the mention of Travis, Bwindol raised his hand.
"Yes. My hometown is the Harzmann Territory in Travis."
"Ah, yes. You're from there. That should make this easier. Are you familiar with the criminal organizations operating in Travis?"
"...Yes. The Iron Teeth, the Green Snake, and the Red Three Eyes. They've been terrorizing Travis for fifteen years. That's actually why I joined the Inspection Bureau."
"...?"
This was news to me, too. I knew about the three organizations in Travis, but I hadn't realized Bwindol was from there.
No wonder his voice trembled. There must be a story there. Everyone pretended not to notice.
"Your inaugural mission is to investigate them."
"I have a question."
"Go ahead, Sion."
"If they're so notorious, why haven't the Travis police eliminated them?"
At my question, Midgal's gaze darkened. But he didn't evade the answer.
"The Travis police have been pursuing them for fifteen years. Yet they've achieved little. Even when the Central Inspection Bureau sent agents, they all returned empty-handed. The reason is..."
"There's a force protecting them."
"Correct. And it's likely a local power broker."
At Midgal's words, Bwindol's expression darkened further.
'Local power broker.' A diplomatic way of saying nobility was involved.
And the Inspection Bureau had almost never successfully investigated nobility.
The procedures were notoriously cumbersome, and during the drawn-out process, most evidence would vanish.
"...So while this isn't official, your mission includes investigating not just the three organizations, but also those shielding them."
"Director. In that case, I request authority to investigate corporate and noble private properties as well."
Midgal and the other agents stared at me in shock.
Corporate properties were one thing, but authority to investigate noble estates? That was unheard of.
"I'll speak to the Grand Duke and notify Duke Caster, the ruling noble of Travis."
Midgal didn't refuse. This inaugural mission would set the precedent for the Special Unit's future operations. He was telling us to proceed as we saw fit.
Good. This was how it had to be.
So that any citizen suffering injustice could petition the Special Unit.
So that at the edge of reality's abyss—where morality, common sense, and even the police had turned away—there would still be a place to turn.
I bowed my head slightly in gratitude, while my fellow knights' faces twisted in shock.
They shouldn't be this surprised.
Speaking of which...
Duke Caster von Sven.
He wasn't exactly trustworthy, but neither was he the type to refuse cooperation with the Central Inspection Bureau.
Though he held the title of Duke and ruled a duchy, the North was effectively under the dominion of the Karsen family, who held Grand Ducal authority.
The Central Inspection Bureau was the Karsen family's hands and feet. Hands and feet move with their master's authority—he wouldn't dare refuse.
Letting criminal organizations run rampant was already grounds for reprimand. If we were offering to clean it up for him...
The justification was on our side.
"Sion Karsen will lead this mission."
"Understood."
This time, no one seemed surprised, as if they'd expected it.
"When do we depart?"
"...We'll need to request authorization, so prepare for three days. Depart at dawn on September 7th."
"Yes, sir."
After leaving the Director's office, I turned to the comrades who would form my team.
"I'll draft the operation plan. Until we depart, check your equipment and physical condition."
Sylvia and the three knights nodded. But one—Beginner Knight Bwindol—spoke heavily.
"Your Grace."
"Yes?"
"Do you truly believe the three organizations in Travis have corporations and nobles backing them?"
His expression was complicated. There was something like suppressed fury in his eyes, flames flickering within them. He was angry.
I met his gaze squarely and answered firmly.
"I'm certain. And more nobles are likely involved than you think."
"..."
Bwindol's head lowered. His expression darkened further. The flames in his pupils wavered. But what could be done? It was the truth.
In my past life, the entire Platinum Knight Order and Inspection Bureau had mobilized to occupy Travis.
An unprecedented event—one that wouldn't have happened unless absolutely necessary. But a certain corporation had caused such an uproar that there was no choice.
They had slaughtered nearly 100,000 citizens and gathered their corpses to conduct some kind of ritual.
The corporation's name was E5 Francis.
When senior inspectors thoroughly investigated, they uncovered that Duke Caster and numerous other nobles and corporations had accepted bribes.
And at the corporation's lowest level lay a research facility called Post 24.
An institution that kidnapped innocent citizens to conduct horrific experiments in developing a mana engine.
The hell that had birthed Jefren, the monster of the Red Awl.
And in such a place, criminal organizations had operated with impunity for fifteen years?
It would be a miracle if they weren't connected.
I stared straight into Bwindol's burning eyes. If the flames in his were flickering, the ones in mine were infernos that had endured decades and returned unextinguished.
"Knight Bwindol of the Inspection Bureau."
I called his name in a tone devoid of inflection.
"...Yes."
"Is that what matters right now?"
At my question, Bwindol lifted his head. Our gazes tangled in the air.
You're letting your flames waver over something as trivial as nobles? Don't be ridiculous. What are they to you?
"We are the Inspection Bureau's Special Investigation Headquarters. Understood?"
Corporations, nobles, rotten cartels—we were created to crush them all. So a knight shouldn't cower.
Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Bwindol's face. The flames in his pupils seemed to reignite.
"...Yes, Your Grace."
"Let's go. We have preparations to make."
Sylvia and the others nodded, quickening their steps.
I watched their retreating figures briefly before walking my own path.