Crossroads of Choice
It felt like an unnecessary question was shaking him to his core. As Adolf stood there frozen, Kelun quickly jumped in with a response.
"Even if it's the will of Lumen Guard, it doesn't stray from the intent of barrier stability."
"Yeah, that's not wrong. But is it really for the stability of the barriers? Or is it the Grand Marshal's personal philosophy?"
Freigel continued, recalling that overwhelming moment from before.
"It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it the Grand Marshal's will."
Freigel still couldn't understand it. The Grand Marshal's actions. And his constant refrain of "for the stability of the barriers."
Adolf still looked deep in thought, and seeing that, Freigel shrugged.
"The lieutenant doesn't seem in the mood for more talk. Come back here tomorrow. If you're that worried, bring your dedicated weapon or something."
With that, Freigel disappeared down the stairs.
The underground ruins flickered with red neon lights. Slot machines long out of order stood there like grotesque relics, and rebar jutted menacingly from the collapsed ceiling, threatening to fall at any moment. A few monitors still looped animations of fake money printing endlessly. Where the hell was the power still coming from?
The space held only Freigel, his face etched with emptiness. Adolf and Kelun had probably gone back by now. Still, it had been a pretty entertaining time. Even if he could no longer call them juniors.
Guys like that as subordinates? Yeah, they'd definitely be fun. Freigel flopped onto the dust-covered sofa. Before his eyes, through the hazy dust, rusted dice and a corroded roulette wheel stood frozen like the ruined world beyond the barriers.
This place must have been a tangle of past frenzy and despair. Before the apocalypse, it was probably packed with people. Betting, craving, forgetting, desire. All gone now.
Freigel reached out to the broken table. He rolled a crude glass cup in his hand, lost in thought. It was empty—no liquor inside. He'd drained it ages ago. Just a habit, spinning it between his fingers.
In the end, the Grand Marshal's will had reached Rain Code. The total war he'd called futile—what had he really wanted? Like this ruined space, did he want to reclaim the wasteland outside? What did he want to seize, and why had he charged ahead like a man being hunted?
Unresolved questions gnawed at his mind, one after another. Thud—he slammed the glass back on the table in irritation.
Suddenly, Mordan's words came back to him. "Make your choice."
What the hell did that choice mean? "Hah—Mordan. Which side are you on? At least tell me that much."
Freigel leaned back fully into the sofa. Mordan Brendar. The name echoed in his head.
These days, Mordan looked like just an ordinary bar owner on the surface. That's what he'd thought. Even after becoming a proxy, they'd run into each other now and then, sharing decent conversations over a long stretch. But at some point, she'd seemed awfully busy. He'd chalked it up to running the bar.
If anything, he was relieved she wasn't suffering PTSD like so many marines did. He'd even thought her busyness was a good sign. Nothing beats immersion to forget something. Like these slot machines right in front of him. That's why gambling machines exist, right?
Freigel recalled Mordan in her marine uniform. Now she had a stylish mustache, but back then, she was just a clean-shaven, affable, muscular marine uncle-type.
"...Seemed like she was living normally, but after all that, did she fall into some weird cult?"
She'd saved countless civilians on the front lines and defended the barriers during the war. But her family had vanished from a place her hands couldn't reach. Freigel knew that trauma well.
His own Shtafenberk family had been a military powerhouse, producing generals, and he'd served too. But Aria's rampage had taken it all. That shared loss bound Freigel and Mordan in a subtle camaraderie. That's why they'd bonded so quickly from their first meeting.
Freigel closed his eyes. Now he pictured Mordan not in uniform, but loose and chuckling freely. And the way she'd declared her belief: "I want to see a world where kids don't cry."
"Damn, all sorts of crap's coming back. Met a weirdo, and now this."
Freigel laughed self-mockingly. Ridiculous questions like "Is the one you love here?" had been enough to stir up dusty, long-buried memories. And today's actions were flooding his mind nonstop.
Lumen Guard proxies had tracked him down. And he'd shot down their drone. What would the Management Bureau do now? How deep was the entanglement?
Still, deep down, Freigel trusted Mordan. Even suspecting she was tied to some faction. Simple reason: You can fake sadness, but not the will born from loss. He wanted to believe in the bond forged from that loss.
Freigel irritably swung both legs onto the table. "Hah—damn it. Head games are Cheisi's department."
Mordan had subtly tried to pull in Freigel, who clung stubbornly to neutrality. He could feel it. She must have gotten swept into this conflict too. Since when? Could he really trust her as much as he thought? Even her creed about a world where kids could smile—it was starting to feel questionable now.
Luminot. He already knew it was circulating centered around the church. Lucia's father, Pedric Beloche, had been a friend who got along great with Mordan.
"Lucia's a proxy now. Must be a tragedy for Pedric."
The tragedy started when his wife caught a simple cold. The medicine arrived, and she seemed fully recovered the first day. But less than a day later, her condition plummeted. Pedric, once a pathologist, started digging into it.
Recalling that time, Freigel muttered bitterly. "Luminot reaction..."
Fever like a blazing fire, then cycles of recovery and relapse dozens of times. He'd recovered and become a proxy. Thought it was normal. Limbs twisting in agony. Fail to accept the serum fully, and you die.
Pedric had analyzed all the causes of death. His final visit to Mordan's bar, those words had shocked Shtafenberk.
So how many had volunteered to become proxies? How many died? And the Management Bureau said nothing, just filmed with those damn drones. To recruit more "volunteers"? The chilling thought hit him.
That drone hovering over his head, filming. How many volunteers had seen his image?
"Hah—even back then, it was about making a choice."
But despite the shocking truth and Pedric's pleas, Shtafenberk hadn't moved. The fear of catching the Grand Marshal's eye the moment he did kept him silent. And Pedric died.
Why was this memory surfacing now? Freigel covered his eyes with his hand and muttered in lament.
"What do you want me to do? It's uncharted territory for me too. What the hell?"
The question of whether Mordan was truly an ally pierced his heart like a wedge.
Yet Mordan's bar carried on as if nothing had happened. "Cheisi..."
Thinking of her, Freigel realized he had to move. The crossroads of choice was looming right in front of him.
He'd thought staying put was sending a warning. To Mordan, the church, the military. But her prodding meant something she couldn't speak of was about to happen.
Adolf and Kelun's words flashed through his mind. The protesters' slogan: "Don't regress."
Was it church members thinking proxies were chosen by God? Dissatisfaction with proxies being manipulated by the military? Or mockery aimed at the Grand Marshal and the power elite?
If the latter, how far had the forces egging them on spread? They knew about Luminot clearly, and how it weakened across generations. But was it just that?
Feeling the tangle in his head, Freigel stood. The floorboards of the ruined gambling den creaked under his weight.
Kseszbet was always thorough in gathering and analyzing intelligence. Yet the situation unfolding before her now was an unexpected development.
The Intelligence Analysis Department office was thick with tension, save for the intermittent hum of the Aria orb. Kyle Walker leaned against one wall, arms crossed, watching her leisurely. His dark-circled eyes looked even more eerie, yet relaxed. Like he knew everything in the world.
Meeting his gaze, Kseszbet felt an unspoken pressure. Just him standing there with arms crossed made her feel like she was on trial.
The analysts inside exchanged uneasy glances, peeking at each other's faces. 'These idiots don't get the big picture... I wish they'd stop meddling, but now that these fools are rattled...'
She shot a cold glare at the analysts. Tapping all communications to surveil Kyle Walker had backfired. She'd mocked their use of outdated intra-barrier comms for easy eavesdropping. But who knew it was bait?
A few who'd conducted the taps and reported were shaken enough. Lin had spotted Kyle's bait immediately, but the others hadn't.
'Luminot leaking out—enough to track and raise suspicion.'
Lin had instantly deduced it stemmed from Lucia's interview in Lumen Guard, prompted by that idiot church leader, making Lumen Guard's analysts curious. But the others? Just idiots, so she let it go.
But it was fine. They knew nothing else. Even Rain Code's Intelligence Analysis Department acting up made them look like worthless pawns who grasped nothing of the cause. Lumen Guard couldn't be much different, she thought.
Then, an agent approached with a hologram panel. "Lieutenant Kseszbet, the last drone deployed by Kyle Walker has been shot down. We've secured related intel. And... it seems two Lumen Guard proxies and Freigel Shtafenberk were together."
Kseszbet narrowed her eyes at the drone footage. 'Freigel? Perfect timing... Still here after all...'
The one piece of good news in this mess. Shtafenberk. Who knew his existence would become this crucial? Stimulate Cheisi, or Freigel. Anything. Plenty of ways to draw eyes.
She smirked inwardly. But no emotion showed on her face.
One thing still nagged at Kseszbet. The Lumen Guard proxy still eyeing her like he was dissecting her.
'Kyle Walker. Picked by Lumen Guard's Deputy Director Phenex.'
She couldn't be sure how deeply he grasped the situation. But he had to be capable and ambitious enough for Phenex to select him.
'This dog's turning the tables—could be useful. Later, drop a hint...'
Contrary to her thoughts, Lin flashed a relaxed smile at Kyle. He remained expressionless. Thanks to the brightly glowing Aria orb, deep shadows cloaked his face.
In contrast, Lin gazed at the Aria orb like it was a steadfast ally.