Chapter 82: If I Can't Afford to Provoke You, Can't I at Least Hide? [4k]
The silence lasted less than a second.
The Chief was not so foolish as to lose his footing and confess "I'm exposed" just because someone else played the "You're exposed" card. He would never utter such a stupid phrase as "How did you know?" Ninety percent of the world's fortune-tellers are frauds; all they do is offer ambiguous bait that fits most people, letting the subject map it onto their own circumstances.
Faced with this sudden strike, he mentally simulated several responses to keep the conversation going. But Faldeus cut through his preparation. The fluent, youthful voice contained not a hint of jest or testing: "You've already met with the others."
The Chief remained tight-lipped, offering no intelligence of his own.
"Truly fortunate," Faldeus remarked, as if speaking of something irrelevant to the present. "Because I realized the changes in this Holy Grail War were far too wrong—even compared to the worst-case scenario—I recalled True Assassin shortly after sending him out. That judgment was correct."
His voice sounded limp, as if he were slumping into his chair, tinged with a strained sense of relief. Without that sudden whim, it would have been over.
'True Assassin is simply too strong; even this could be salvaged!'
"You used True Assassin to monitor me?" The Chief gathered the gist of it.
"No. I don't have the leisure to keep True Assassin stationed by your side indefinitely," Faldeus replied. "I simply had him deliver a small 'gift' over there. In reality, it was merely a temporary enhancement of intelligence gathering; I've done similar things in many locations... It was an accident that the 'gift' placed with you saved me from fire and water."
The Chief gritted his teeth in disgust. Faldeus fell silent for a moment as well before speaking again.
"Incredible. Emiya Shirou 's operational capacity is so rapid that by the second day, he has already roped you in—even to the point of defection."
Faldeus had saved the situation thanks to True Assassin. Honestly, he had even used a Command Spell to recall him, but he wouldn't tell anyone that. Even so, Faldeus realized he was now merely guarding his front door in a battle line that had already cracked. The situation was a mess; Emiya Shirou 's reach was nearly touching Faldeus himself.
If True Assassin hadn't warned him that something was off, Faldeus would have had someone knocking on his door in just one more step. That lingering fear had yet to be erased from Faldeus's psyche, which made his tone sound odd.
"Why did you all side with him? Someone like that... clearly has no way to give you any tangible profit or guarantee."
The Chief said in surprise, "I should be the one asking. Hearing about the 'Black Mud,' do you have no thoughts in your heart at all, Faldeus?"
There was no ripple. Faldeus merely allowed his calm voice to carry a certain viscous reprimand: "Don't get it wrong, Orlando. It is indeed a pity that the wish-granting function cannot be used, but based on the intelligence we've gathered, the realization of the Third Magic should be able to ignore the pollution. While I truly don't know the specifics of what happened in the Fifth Holy Grail War, even Black Mud will not stop our steps."
"But if it's not you, not Francesca, but someone else who obtains the Grail in the end?" The Chief's hand on the table balled into a tight fist, questioning: "How do you intend to take responsibility?"
Faldeus refused to answer. Acting as if he hadn't heard the question, he skipped the topic and returned unilaterally to the matter between the two of them.
"I will not send True Assassin to assassinate you."
Faldeus's statement returned to a groan; clearly, his promise wasn't born of friendship or sympathy, but purely a calculation of pros and cons.
"Their background and foundation are so troublesome it gives me a headache. Since they are standing behind you, I don't want to engage in a fight to the death with them right now and become the target of concentrated fire. So, do as you please, Orlando... I must relocate."
'If I can't afford to provoke you, can't I at least hide?
Fine, fine, every one of you is more formidable than the last. I'll just change bases and live like a hermit.'
The sound of him unceremoniously leaving his seat came through. The Chief didn't argue further, nor did he try to persuade him. He knew in his heart that Faldeus and he were not the same kind of people; there was no possibility of mutual understanding between them.
However, the other side suddenly said, "Orlando Reeve, you no longer have any relation to me."
So... easy?
The Chief's eyes widened in disbelief. He had been cut off? No warning, no retaliation—this Magus representing the nation, who had struggled with the Chief for years, was simply changing his hiding place. He was running away.
The original location would be deserted. Though no valuable information would be left behind, if the Chief chose to occupy it, no one would hinder him; he could even use it as his own base. Simply because... the Chief had hitched himself to that man's influence?
The Police Department likely owed that man a debt far exceeding the Chief's imagination. Perhaps Faldeus subjectively wanted to cast a curse-bind, but the actual effect was the removal of a certain binding. The mastermind of the Holy Grail War left behind a declaration of rupture the Chief had never heard before and withdrew.
However...
Just before proactively cutting off the connection a short time later, Faldeus vented a headache-inducing, nearly inaudible complaint that seemed nonsensical to the Chief:
"To have to risk contact with those 'deaths' out there... this is your victory."
.
.
.
Winning was winning, but everything was a total mess.
The Chief covered his forehead with the back of his broad hand, saying nothing. After a long time, he let out an aged sigh. This communication channel could still be called, but the Chief anticipated the other party wouldn't answer—let alone that the contradiction between the two sides was fundamental, making it meaningless.
Upon hearing Faldeus's declaration of severed ties, the Chief actually felt a sense of liberation. When the annoying threads that had been entangled for so long are suddenly burned away, it feels exceptionally refreshing. Faldeus didn't even dare to retaliate; he chose to retreat. He never dreamed Faldeus was the type to do such a thing.
But the Chief also knew to whom he owed this result. More than liberation, the Chief was overwhelmed by a sense of self-responsibility that left him "no time to feel liberated."
"Can I do nothing...?"
He had boldly told a certain someone that he would provide Faldeus's location. But in the end...
He failed to trick him into revealing the location of the Lesser Grail; Faldeus retreated from his original position; Even his status as a "spy" was exposed, leading to a decisive cut-off that brought no long-term gains.
Even the current safety of the Police Department was derived from the fear of the Fifth Holy Grail War's winning team. With such a mess, the Chief felt embarrassed to even think of the word "liberation."
The lead of Faldeus had snapped in the Chief's hands. To say he was "wicked" would be an overstatement, but he could certainly be called "useless." For the first time—or perhaps for
the first time in a long while—the Chief felt the same sense of powerlessness he had in the distant past when he hadn't yet compromised with these masterminds. An ally's strength is ultimately an ally's strength; it doesn't belong to them. The power level of the Chief and his men remained exactly where it was; they could only witness events as they unfolded.
The chair beneath the Chief creaked unsteadily. His body shifted downward with gravity, threatening to let his posture become unseemly at any moment. To tell the truth, the Chief knew very well that Emiya Shirou was not the type to berate them for failing to keep a promise due to such a failure. But this was a matter of whether the Chief could live with himself.
And if this path was a dead end—how was he supposed to obtain information on Faldeus? Could there be another way? The Chief and Emiya Shirou were on the same side, but he couldn't imagine where the breakthrough lay. He was at his wit's end; this step was the limit of his personal ability.
'But... if it's that man, there might be a way.'
Occasionally, such fantasies occurred.
His fingers tapped the tabletop one by one. Less than two minutes later, the Chief stood up again, turning his gaze toward the Noble Phantasm—a long blade sitting nearby on the desk, its refined craftsmanship reflecting Caster's taste in heroes. Until the very end of this interval, he hadn't truly changed his posture.
"Even if I'm powerless in this regard, our duty isn't over. There will eventually be something we can do."
It was meaningful that the Chief had a contract with Caster. It was meaningful that the Chief possessed Clan Calatin. Finally, the fact that Clan Calatin gained freedom through Emiya Shirou 's hand must also have a meaning.
Though they had experienced failure, the thing they should do remained unchanged: help Emiya Shirou upend this Holy Grail War.
The Chief gripped the long blade and walked toward the door. Knowing that the room was likely bugged, he didn't intend to stay long. Just as he prepared to temporarily vacate the office, a knock suddenly sounded at the main door directly ahead.
The Chief's brow furrowed. He should have signaled the person that there was surveillance here and to talk elsewhere. But after a silence, he directly told the person to enter.
The visitor was the Chief's female secretary, Bella.
"What is it?" the Chief asked straightforwardly.
Bella reported: "I have an emergency to inform you of. It seems Flat Escardos has infiltrated the Department lobby."
Who was Flat? Even the Chief wouldn't ask such a question. Flat was that genius student from the Lord El-Melloi II Class—the eccentric individual who summoned a Heroic Spirit in a park with a pocketknife. He was quite prominent among the "False" Heroic Spirit side. Although he was one of the subjects the Police Department had monitored—they had even watched him summon his Heroic Spirit—they had recently almost forgotten about his activities, not knowing where he had gone.
The Chief returned to his desk to check the surveillance. He found that the situation Bella reported was indeed true. A figure looking exactly like Flat was currently wearing handcuffs, yet looking around in a way that didn't resemble a prisoner at all—in fact, he was suspicious to the extreme. Accompanying him was an ordinary police officer. It seemed likely to be his Servant in disguise, as Flat's Servant was suspected of having shape-shifting abilities.
The Chief let out a sigh as if all his strength had vanished and walked lukewarmly toward "Bella."
A cold flash of steel hung quietly in the air. He looked as if he didn't want to move at all, merely performing a weary, mechanical action. Yet, even so, before the other party could act, he accurately aimed at "Bella's" vitals.
The Chief's voice had moved beyond weariness into the realm of self-abandonment. He held his blade-wielding arm high. He asked:
"And who might 'you' be?"
"...!?"
The secretary appeared startled, slowly raising her hands and blinking. "What are you saying, Chief? I'm Bella."
"I'm very sorry, but our Clan Calatin is at least professional. Everyone is equipped with an IC chip under their skin. Without faking the chip, it isn't a perfect disguise. So you only need to answer a very few questions for me, such as: are you an assassin come to kill me?"
The "dead fish eyes" on his face resembled someone who had drunk coffee for seven days straight and was about to drop dead. That dialogue style—fast-forwarding through the process, devoid of inflection or vitality, simply waiting to judge friend or foe and refusing to play by the rules—made even "Bella" feel, in turn, that it might be better to let him have a rest.
But surprisingly, there was someone who couldn't wait to pop out and instantly catch the conversational thread.
"I'll answer that!"
In a series of rapid-fire reports, he said: "He's not an assassin! Though I can't deny the possibility of him having the aptitude for the Assassin class, he isn't one right now! Anyway, Mr. Jack is a good person!"
A cheerful voice swept away the gloom, and a head of blonde hair swayed with vibrant energy. Accompanied by a pun, the unfamiliar individual named Flat smiled and waved his hand toward an invisible camera as if saying "long time no see."
"I'm really sorry, I didn't realize your mental stress was so high. I probably shouldn't have come at this time. Um, if you're willing, can we act like that last bit didn't happen and come back later?"
Flat gave a polite bow. He held up a finger, his words full of gentleness... The Chief somehow felt as if he were being pitied. It wasn't harmful, but it was another heavy blow to his dignity.
Naturally, the man was inside the Bounded Field, and in the Chief's office. He had even popped out from the air in a corner where there was nothing. His Servant was also inside the field. The Chief wasn't deaf, yet he hadn't heard a single alarm that should have been triggered.
Suddenly, a very strange thought occurred to the Chief.
'Is the door of our Police Department something just anyone can kick? No, wait—can just any blonde guy enter our Department?'
The Chief merely pondered a pun silently in his heart.
'If possible, I'd still prefer to choose a Labrador.'
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