The Uninvited Guest in Black (4)
The next day, fully recovered, Werner dispatched the remaining loose ends with brisk efficiency. He visited the safe house to inspect the surveillance equipment, then met with the local collaborator hired as a banquet waiter and handed over the advance payment. The man’s role was simple: blend naturally among the high-ranking guests and eavesdrop on their conversations. After all, Werner’s own name sat prominently on the official attendee list; failing to appear would have been an unforgivable breach of etiquette.
The greatest concern, however, remained exactly what he had feared.
Of all places, the Eastern Army District.
Leah Gilliard had arrived as the adjutant to a colonel from that very command. Nearly six months had passed since the fortress commander’s retirement and the official declaration of Graveyard’s closure. In that time the fortress had been dismantled through proper procedure, its personnel scattered to the four winds. Werner had obtained the preliminary attendee list precisely to prepare for any unwanted reunion, yet the adjutant accompanying one of the officers had not been listed. That oversight had come back to bite him.
Still, she’s only support staff. There’s little chance we’ll cross paths inside the actual banquet hall.
A small mercy amid the misfortune. If he remained cautious, an encounter could be avoided. The hotel employees assigned to attend him throughout the event had also promised to warn him should Leah appear. All that remained was to guard against any “chance meetings.”
Once every preparation for the following day’s banquet was complete, Werner and Karin headed to the pasta restaurant they had promised to visit. As a lieutenant colonel dispatched from Supreme Command, he had been able to reserve a private room. Perhaps the establishment simply wasn’t the sort of place where bearded, wrinkle-faced generals would appear. Most of the patrons waiting outside were young men and women. At twenty-five, Werner, and at twenty-one, Karin, could both still be counted among them.
And just as he had hoped, the pasta seemed to delight Karin completely.
“Is it good?”
“…Yes!”
She nodded so vigorously that her head looked ready to fall off. Werner watched her with quiet satisfaction before sliding a slice of steak into his own mouth. The flavor was decent.
They had been savoring their meals in companionable silence when Karin spoke first, breaking the quiet.
“Um… Director.”
“Hm?”
“Have you always had health problems?”
“Ah, I never thanked you properly. Thank you, Karin. As you can see, I suffer from a mild nervous condition.”
“N-no, that’s not…! I understand. It must be difficult. You’re a war hero, after all.”
“War hero…”
Werner murmured the words with a bitter taste in his mouth.
“You don’t like that nickname, Director?”
“Is there any particular reason I should?”
“Ah… um…”
She suddenly seemed at a loss for words. Werner lowered his gaze to the pasta she was absently prodding and let out a soft chuckle.
“I wasn’t scolding you. That was my honest answer.”
“It’s just… most people like that kind of nickname. Unlike mine, which is strange.”
“The Grim Reaper, you mean?”
Her face darkened the instant she heard the words.
“Well… I was once called something similar myself. It’s not exactly a pleasant title.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
By then Werner had finished eating. He wiped his mouth and continued.
Was it the seventh regression? Or the eighth? The exact number had grown hazy, but there had indeed been a time when he bore that name.
“Remember me, Lutus. My name. The person I was. How hard I fought here.”
“Commander… Commander, please… in the next life, again…”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay until the end. Please drink the liquor I saved for you. You like it, don’t you?”
“Lutus oppa… thank you.”
He had ended the suffering of comrades who had been attacked by Titans, granting them merciful release. Eternal rest. In those days Lutus Edan had been the gravedigger of Graveyard, the grim reaper who guided its fallen to peace. A far more primal title than the grandiose “Lion of Defense” or “Empire’s Sentinel.” Yet Lutus had accepted the duty with humility and reverence. Even if others pointed fingers, he had believed it was the responsibility given to him.
Lutus Edan.
Of course, what awaited him at the end of that duty was yet another regression. Alone atop the deserted fortress, he had once more witnessed the destruction of humanity.
But there had been one person who kept him from breaking. Leah Gilliard. The woman who had lifted the crushing weight from his shoulders.
“I know what guilt you carry, Lieutenant. But if you cling to it like that, you’ll lose other chances as well.”
Only someone who had walked through countless deaths could speak such truth. Anyone who had never lost a comrade would never dare utter the words.
He had left the past behind so he would not remain trapped by it. He had begun a new life as Lieutenant Colonel Werner Grime, Director of the Security Strategic Agency. Therefore Karin Maven, too, could live a new life beneath him.
“The war is over, Lieutenant.”
In the past she might have snapped at him, demanding what he could possibly know, or simply ignored the remark. But Karin Maven could do neither. The glimpse she had unintentionally caught of this man’s inner self the night before had been just as twisted as her own. She could dimly sense how many wounds he must have endured before reaching such a conclusion.
Wounds do not heal. Asking someone to erase the memories entirely was nothing more than a childish tantrum. Two paths lay before her: remain shackled to the past as before, or embrace the scars as Werner had done and rise once more.
There would be times she would cry. There would be moments when terrible memories resurfaced and she faltered. She was human; such things were natural. But because she was human, she could also stand again. She could walk toward a brighter road.
If she had never met Werner, would she have been able to taste such delicious pasta again?
“……”
Karin remained silent for a moment, then smiled at him.
“…You’re right. The war is over.”
Her voice sounded far lighter than before.
The next day, the long-awaited banquet arrived.
High-ranking military officers and powerful figures from across the empire poured into the castle of Branberg. Every road leading to the fortress had been closed to traffic. Only vehicles bearing the red plates that marked their passengers as generals lined the route in long, stately columns.
This was the first large-scale event hosted by the Eastern Army District since the war’s end. Given that the district was composed largely of the Emperor’s faction, many of the distinguished guests were close associates of the Emperor, now reduced to political irrelevance. The Chancellor’s ears must have been burning.
“Lieutenant Colonel Werner Grime, Director of the Security Strategic Agency.”
“Loyalty! Identity confirmed. Enjoy the banquet, sir!”
He received his access pass from the soldier and stepped inside the castle. True to its history as the residence of an ancient high noble, the building was both magnificent and steeped in antiquity. Being located in the rear lines, it showed no scars of having endured Titan assaults.
They held out well in a place like this.
The banquet hall’s interior was every bit as opulent as its exterior. Sparkling chandeliers, tables groaning under endless arrays of food, and even a miniature orchestra stationed in one corner. Werner found himself wondering whether this was an imperial social gala or a victory commemoration. The extravagance felt excessive.
He had expected luxury, but not to this degree. Werner clicked his tongue and swept his gaze across the hall. As anticipated, ranks had already divided the room; the generals had gathered like a tight knot in the exact center.
Eastern Army Commander Lieutenant General Heinrich Rendal and the various fortress commanders overseeing the districts and divisions beneath him. Every one of them required careful watching.
Werner caught the eye of the waiter he had bribed beforehand and gave a slight nod. The man lifted a tray laden with champagne and drifted toward the cluster of generals. The operation was straightforward: eavesdrop, observe, and make contact with other soldiers of the Eastern Army District. Rumors only flowed when one stood close enough to catch them. Although Werner had been dispatched from Supreme Command, subversive activities could not be conducted solely through Eastern Army personnel. Intelligence of that nature would inevitably reach him as well.
“Ah, so you’re Lieutenant Colonel Werner Grime.”
“A pleasure. I am Director of the Security Strategic Agency, under direct command of Supreme Headquarters.”
“Is that something like an internal affairs office?”
“More accurately, an organization that oversees matters outside the regular military chain.”
“I see! That makes sense. We do need an overseas counter-espionage agency now that the war is over.”
“And you are, Colonel…?”
“Forgive my late introduction. I serve as Fire Support Staff Officer for Eastern Army Command.”
He continued exchanging words with other field-grade officers throughout the evening. Approaching generals too boldly would only arouse suspicion; it was wiser to probe without crossing any visible lines. Besides, a general could accomplish nothing alone. The true scale of any operation would depend on how many subordinate officers he could recruit.
“Will you be attending tomorrow’s masquerade ball as well, Lieutenant Colonel Werner?”
“Of course.”
“Oh my… Do you have a partner yet…?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Perfect. I don’t have one either. I’ll wait for you at the main gate at the appointed time.”
Of course, Werner’s striking appearance worked to his advantage in such settings. While he was not the only one wearing the black uniform that marked direct affiliation with Supreme Command, few could command attention the way he did.
After conversing with several colonels, exchanging contact information with other lieutenant colonels, and establishing familiarity with newly promoted brigadier generals, the first day’s banquet ended in what felt like the blink of an eye. Numerous guests invited him to after-parties, but once he had achieved his objectives there was no reason to linger. Werner shook off those who tried to detain him and returned directly to the safe house.
He sat before the listening equipment and began meticulously sorting the recorded conversation files. Most were nothing but trivial chatter. Yet a few could not be ignored.
[Preparation… done…?]
[The operation…. underground arsenal….]
[Eastern Army Commander… and the Chancellor….]
Werner pressed the button repeatedly, replaying the fragments. He reconstructed the crushed pronunciation, strained his ears to isolate individual words buried beneath the noise. It was painstaking work that demanded intense concentration and time. Still, it was easier than analyzing Titan vocal patterns. Trying to infer meaning from mechanical frequency shifts alone would have been impossible even with endless labor.
After listening to the recordings for a full hour and using software to restore clarity, Werner finally extracted the complete conversation.
“Good.”
A short smile touched his lips.
“Is everything prepared?”
“The operation is tomorrow. After the banquet, secure the underground arsenal first.”
“If we assassinate the Eastern Army Commander and steal every gun and round of ammunition, even those Empire bastards will understand what it means.”
Assassination of the Eastern Army Commander.
The moment he heard the plot, Werner rose from his seat without a word, pistol in hand. He had to cancel every scheduled event for the following day immediately.