People Who Want to Be Forgotten (4)
The name of the Strategic Planning Department has been changed to the Security Strategic Agency to give it a more intelligence-agency feel.
Lutus drained his glass in silence. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed left a bitter taste. Even in the previous regression, when he had risen to Supreme Commander, the Chancellor’s checks had never ceased. In truth, the only reason he had been allowed to claim that post was because Lutus Edan had pledged himself unequivocally to the Chancellor’s side. He had promised to eliminate every political rival. He had sworn to deliver the empire’s victory—and humanity’s salvation—into the Chancellor’s hands. That was why the Chancellor had bestowed the title of Supreme Commander upon him.
“…Would you mind if I smoked?”
“Go ahead. This is your fortress, after all.”
Click.
Lutus drew the smoke deep into his lungs. It made sense. He had kept his distance from the Chancellor this time, offered him no real loyalty, and repeatedly acted on his own initiative within the military. To the Chancellor, Lutus was an irritant—useful, yet never truly trustworthy.
Damn it all.
He crushed the spent cigarette into the ashtray. They had driven out the Titans, and now it was humans turning on one another. Why could they never stop fighting, not even for a single day?
Still, orders had been given. He had no choice but to obey. As Otto once said, a soldier’s duty was to follow commands, no matter how distasteful.
“Then the two years you mentioned… that was your estimate for when the military would be fully under control?”
“I cannot deny it.”
“It won’t be easy.”
The Eastern Military District alone was proof enough. The empire had been fighting Titans long before Lutus Edan ever enlisted. In that time, the military’s influence had grown beyond anything previously imagined. Nearly every citizen had undergone military training; it was only natural. Not all of them would agree with the Chancellor’s vision, and many openly opposed it. The war’s special circumstances could no longer suppress the discontent brewing among both civilians and soldiers.
Arthur dismissed the concern with a single sentence.
“That is the Chancellor’s concern, not mine. I am a commander, not a politician.”
“…”
Lutus recalled the words Arthur had repeated so often:
—Lutus, the age when soldiers only needed to fight well is long gone.
—If this war ends in our victory, I’ve half a mind to try my hand at that damned politics myself.
This was the same Arthur Philias who had entrusted him with the position of Supreme Commander. There was weight behind those words. The Arthur Lutus knew was as enduring as a bear and as cunning as a wolf.
“…I see.”
“That was the situation. I apologize for pushing this through without asking your opinion. There was no other choice.”
A capable war hero could not be sacrificed to mere suspicion. The Supreme Commander added the remark, one that could easily be taken as an insult to the Chancellor. Even so, it was clear he held little affection for the man.
Lutus gave a faint smile.
“I understand. If anything, I should be grateful.”
“Well… that isn’t the only reason.”
Arthur refilled the empty glass as he spoke.
“On the day the empire’s victory was confirmed, I saw a profound emptiness in your eyes when you spoke of retirement. Did you truly never consider ending it all?”
“…”
“Don’t try to hide it. I’m nearing sixty myself. In my years, only those who have already decided to leave this world carry that kind of atmosphere.”
Lutus thought back to his appearance months ago. The unkempt beard, the disheveled hair, the rumpled clothes, the hollow gaze. He had felt the urge to end his life more than once or twice. Perhaps repeated regressions had numbed him to his own death.
“That is why I pushed you so hard. Whether you took your own life or the Chancellor disposed of you, neither end suited a hero who saved humanity.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
Yet death had never been a final escape for Lutus. To him, it was merely another chance to correct his mistakes. After forty regressions, after finally leaving the Graveyard Fortress behind, he was no fool who would tear down the tower he had built with blood and sweat.
Still, gratitude and the refusal to die were separate matters. Lutus thanked Arthur sincerely. Since taking command at Forbidden Lake, those darker thoughts had indeed faded. The Lutus Edan who once commanded the Graveyard Fortress had already been buried in that graveyard.
“Thanks to you, I’m much better. You needn’t worry anymore.”
“That’s a relief.”
Arthur Philias laughed heartily.
“In any case, the Chancellor says the fortress repairs are nearly complete. He intends to make full use of the Security Strategic Agency from now on.”
Arthur produced a stack of documents from his coat. They bore an unfamiliar emblem of a pen crossed with a gun, stamped with the Chancellor’s seal.
Security Strategic Agency (SSA), commonly known as the Safety Bureau.
An organization that had never existed in any previous regression. Lutus felt a faint sense of dissonance as he began to read. The first page displayed his own face, yet the name printed beneath it was not Lutus Edan.
Lieutenant Colonel Werner Grime, Director of the Security Strategic Agency.
When Lutus looked up, Arthur snapped his fingers.
“An alias on paper. As you said, it doesn’t matter what name you go by here.”
Werner Grime. It wasn’t a bad name. He had always planned to live under a different name after retirement anyway.
“Your subordinates have also been promoted to officer rank.”
It was as he said. After all, this was a special agency under the Chancellor’s direct command. It wouldn’t do to have ordinary soldiers serving under it.
John Hobbs had risen from second lieutenant to captain. Edward, Dante, and Otto were now first lieutenants. Karin remained a second lieutenant—her service record was the shortest. In a single day, they had gone from common soldiers to commissioned officers.
“The uniforms look presentable enough now, don’t they? There are new ones tailored specifically for the Safety Bureau.”
“The uniform… I’ll pass.”
“Why not? I assure you, they’re nothing like those dreary dark-green ones!”
Instead of answering, Lutus set the documents back on the table and stood.
“You must wear it! That’s an order from the Supreme Commander! It suits you perfectly—our female officers will be swooning!”
“Since we’ve come this far, why don’t we have dinner together? It’s a bit early, but what do you say?”
Lutus asked with a light smile.
===
“You command well, fight well, plan operations well, read the room quickly, you’re handsome, fit, and now you cook well too?”
Arthur Philias muttered in disbelief.
“At this point, I’m starting to wonder why a man like you is still on the market.”
Judging by the way he patted his stomach, the meal had been thoroughly satisfying. Lutus shrugged silently and lit a cigarette. Beyond the lake, the crimson sunset rippled across the sky.
“The view of Emerald Lake from the rooftop is truly magnificent.”
Arthur lit his own cigarette. Hiss… crackle. The ember pulsed as he inhaled, exhaling a plume of smoke. Silence settled over the rooftop.
Time passed. Several cigarette butts lay scattered at their feet when the Supreme Commander finally broke the quiet.
“Lutus Edan, do you regret the choices you’ve made?”
“…”
Lutus fell into thought. He had resolved never to regret, to follow only the will of Lutus Edan the regressor, ignoring everyone else. As a result, humanity had won, and everyone he wished to protect had survived. Yet when he considered every decision he had ever made, they were all stained with regret. He could not honestly claim otherwise.
Regardless of Lutus’s answer, Arthur continued.
“I debated whether to tell you this. But I thought you deserved to know.”
“…?”
Arthur hesitated for several seconds, then sighed in resignation.
“The acting commander of the Graveyard Fortress, Brigadier General Arhen Orca, has filed corruption charges against you.”
“Corruption charges?”
“She claims you embezzled strategic assets and military supplies, and falsified the ledgers.”
Lutus could recall the incidents without difficulty. In a way, they could be twisted into corruption. He had once falsified reports to stockpile more prototype hydrogen bombs than allocated, knowing their devastating effect against Titans.
“Is that so… Arhen.”
“I knew she was strict with her subordinates, but Brigadier General Arhen seemed to despise you with genuine hatred.”
“She has her reasons.”
Yet Lutus accepted the news with surprising calm. Arhen Orca was the kind of person who followed through on whatever she set her mind to. Her promise to make him cry and regret everything had never been an empty threat.
“You admit it?”
“The actions were necessary for the operation, but they were still corruption. And I’ve done little else to earn her favor.”
“What? So you’re saying you’ll accept an investigation?”
“No. If that were the case, you wouldn’t have come here alone, Commander Arthur.”
“…Hah. Fair enough.”
Arthur let out a dry laugh at the unshakable composure. To confess to corruption yet remain so brazen—Arthur decided the hero before him was far more cunning and sly than he appeared.
“It’s as you thought. Lutus Edan’s personnel records have already been erased from the Imperial Army. The war hero and former commander of the Graveyard Fortress, Lutus Edan, no longer exists. Only Lieutenant Colonel Werner Grime, director of the newly established Security Strategic Agency, remains.”
In other words, no punishment would affect the current Lutus in any way.
“Military corruption is a serious matter, however. Even a war hero won’t be entirely free of consequences. The information will be passed to the military prosecutor’s office and the investigative division.”
“In conclusion, none of it will have any impact on me.”
Arthur nodded. Lutus exhaled a stream of white smoke.
“Whatever Arhen says about me now, it no longer concerns me.”
“How peculiar. It’s rare for someone to have such a poor relationship with their direct subordinate—especially the deputy commander.”
Thud. Arthur’s words brought back the memory of that day.
—You’re truly disgusting.
When he stood atop the fortress and looked out over the lake, only warm voices had ever reached him before. That day, her voice had been cold enough to tear into his heart.
“…There were circumstances. She is one of the biggest reasons I want to be forgotten by everyone.”
“Everyone has their story. I understand.”
Arthur turned away as he spoke.
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle it properly. I only mentioned it in case you needed to know.”
“Does the Chancellor know?”
“Of course. He personally ordered that her accusation be resolved at an appropriate level.”
“Thank you, Commander Arthur Philias.”
“I should be the one thanking you, Brigadier General Lutus Edan.”
Arthur corrected himself at once.
“No… Lieutenant Colonel Werner Grime.”
Lutus Edan—no, Werner Grime—watched the Supreme Commander descend from the rooftop. Crackle. He flicked away the last burnt cigarette butt as if discarding it.
On this rooftop, today, Werner Grime buried his old name.
“Werner, huh. I’ll have to get used to saying it again.”
He murmured the words with a complicated expression.