Chapter 94: Documents of Intent I sat in a corner of the library with the documents the department head had handed me: Johann's undergraduate thesis and several articles he had contributed to the university press.
「A Study on the Economic Independence of the Aran People and the Parasitic Nature of the Bourgeoisie」
The title alone was seething with rage.
I turned the page.
* * *
...In other words, the Empire takes the survival of the Volk as its banner, not corporate profit. Therefore, financial and comprador capital, which fattens itself by exploiting the blood and sweat of the Aranians, must be eradicated.
* * *
Johann Goetze had pointed out the evils of capital and emphasized the solidarity of the national community, pouring out all sorts of related policies.
Because of this, the future New Cabinet analyzed Johann as if dissecting a specimen. Furthermore, they did not discard the "good" ideas among those he presented. Rather, they adopted them.
Representative policies included withholding tax, restructuring tax brackets, state-led construction of major highways, and the introduction of value-added tax.
Before my regression, the Empire moved according to Johann's will. The Emperor significantly lowered the effective tax rate for Aranians, bought favor by increasing welfare, and provided jobs through large-scale civil engineering projects.
It was a brief period of prosperity that seemed to arrive just before the Empire's fall—a final, brilliant flicker of a dying flame.
The plunder that occurred before the war had made those policies possible. The ruthless exploitation of numerous foreign companies and ethnic minorities within the Empire became the source of those funds.
That is my first step.
Regrettably, Johann was unable to "normalize" the nobility due to realistic constraints. Though he used the power of the Imperial Guard to seize the assets of nobles who fell out of favor and even killed them, that too was ultimately an act performed by borrowing the strength of another noble faction.
But I am different.
As a noble of Ebenholtz, I will cultivate the power to bring them all to their knees.
Under Ebenholtz, all nobles shall be equal...
"I enjoyed the lecture."
Suddenly, a familiar voice came from behind me.
Sonette Kandel. She approached with the rhythmic click-clack of her heels and sat down across from me.
"It was a very aristocratic statement. Quite impressive."
"..."
I looked at her and let out a hollow laugh.
"Are you a stalker by any chance?"
"Oh, that's strange. I was thinking something similar," Sonette replied expressionlessly.
Dumbfounded, I pointed a finger at my own chest.
"Me?"
Then I pointed at her.
"Stalking you?"
"Yes. You seem to be everywhere I go. The Underground City, the Head-Eater incident, the recent Crossing the Forest event, and even the State Council."
Sonette began to count on her fingers, folding them one by one. The order, however, was strange. Somehow, she managed to leave only her middle finger extended.
This woman was doing this on purpose.
"Ha."
I was speechless.
"And today, it's the day of your lecture, at my alma mater's library."
Sonette finally folded her middle finger as well.
"Think about it. In every instance, it was Sir Maximilian who appeared in my sight first."
"..."
Now that I thought about it, she wasn't wrong.
"It seems coincidences have overlapped."
"Yes. But..."
Sonette looked at me and asked tentatively.
"Were you serious?"
"About what?"
"The things you said in today's lecture. They were quite... open-minded."
Open-minded.
The word was amusing, but my mind was certainly open. It had to be.
In my past life, I had witnessed the scene where the New Cabinet soared as soon as they abolished the class system, and the academic and technological advancements they fostered were already etched into my mind to some extent.
"It's simple logic. I am an honest taxpayer, and it infuriates me to see others stubbornly refusing to pay theirs."
The thought of my tax money being devoured by thieves makes my blood boil.
But it can't be helped. This, too, is part of the process of building my justification and qualifications.
As I have said repeatedly, justification is vital in the Empire. Perhaps it is the most important thing of all.
"I see. I am well aware of your diligent tax payments. Is that why you are so intent on hunting corporations?"
Corporate hunting.
I let a thin smile play on my lips. Sonette was likely quite angry with me.
She was the backer of the Imperial Guard, and I was preemptively seizing the things they intended to take.
"It is for the sake of the Empire."
"...For the sake of the Empire."
"Rather than letting riffraff take them and fail to manage them properly, it is far more beneficial to the national interest if I hold them."
Sonette nodded quietly.
Whether that meant she agreed or was simply telling me to keep talking nonsense, I couldn't tell yet.
"How wonderful. I'll be rooting for you."
With those words, she stood up and walked away, her heels clicking against the floor.
"..."
I stared blankly at her retreating back and furrowed my brow.
Dealing with the Kandels is always exhausting. Every single one of them seems to have a screw loose; you can never tell what they're thinking.
* * *
...Johann suffered from a fever.
From the moment he fainted in the lecture hall, he wandered through fever dreams where the boundary between reality and delusion crumbled for several days. In those dreams, someone's back was always turned toward him.
A blurred face. Yet, an unmistakably blonde figure.
For reasons he couldn't understand, Johann chased after him, waking and falling back to sleep repeatedly in his pursuit.
"...Were you temporarily insane?"
When he had recovered to some extent, his roommate Liam asked with a hollow laugh.
"Yeah. I must have been crazy," Johann muttered in a cracked voice.
"Sigh..."
He exhaled deeply and covered his face with his hands.
He had babbled nonsensical things to a Knight of Ebenholtz. He had insulted the nobility to the most prestigious noble in the Empire.
What would the price be?
Would the Secret Police or the Imperial Guard burst in soon to hang him?
"...Liam. Can you lend me some money?"
"As if I have any. I wouldn't have a cent even if I were dying. Why? Planning to run?"
"Yeah."
He wanted to go anywhere.
Whether it was crossing the border, hiding in the Underground City, or simply throwing himself into the river to drown.
Knock, knock—
At that moment, the sound of knocking on the door echoed like artillery fire.
Johann and Liam both held their breath simultaneously.
"...Hey."
"I'll open it."
What was meant to come had arrived. Johann stood up with a tone of resignation.
Knock, knock—
"Phew."
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.
Beyond it, surely, would be a policeman in uniform...
"...Dean?"
It wasn't the police, but the head of his department.
Dressed in a suit, the man looked at Johann in silence. His expression was somewhat ominous.
"Am I expelled?" Johann asked first.
The Dean quietly shook his head.
"...Take this."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a white envelope.
"What is this...?"
Johann opened the envelope with trembling hands. It was a check.
A massive sum with five zeros—an amount he had never touched in his life.
"Why... why? Is this blood money?"
"Blood money? Don't be ridiculous. It's a special scholarship."
The Dean placed a hand on Johann's shoulder.
Johann flinched, but the man's touch was strangely gentle.
"Sir Maximilian took a liking to you."
"...Pardon?"
He looked up at the Dean blankly.
"Refrain from such impulsive behavior in the future, but return to your studies as soon as possible. The school has decided to accommodate you as much as possible."
"..."
The words didn't make sense.
More than the return to school or the scholarship, the fact that Maximilian liked him...
"Uh..."
It felt as if his soul were evaporating in real-time, as if his fever were returning.
His head throbbed.
The strength left his legs, making them wobble.
His sense of reality scattered helplessly, and the ceiling seemed to spin.
"Steady. Calm down."
To the boy who looked ready to faint again, the Dean handed another item.
"There's this, too."
"...What is it?"
This time, his roommate Liam stepped in to receive it.
"They are Spirit Elixirs, good for your health."
A box containing ten high-grade Spirit Elixirs. On top of it lay a piece of high-quality parchment.
Liam handed it to Johann.
"Look."
Johann swallowed hard. Wiping the beads of cold sweat from his face, he read the note.
[One who is destined for great things must first look after their physical health.]
A single handwritten line.
Yet, one could tell just by the form of the letters.
It was a script imbued with elegance and grace that those pigs—nobles who were uneducated or negligent despite their status—could never hope to mimic.
"...The semester has already begun, but let me know whenever you are ready. We will keep your spot open."
Pat, pat. The Dean tapped his shoulder and left.
Silence filled the cramped room once more.
"Hey..."
His friend Liam gaped as he stared at the numbers on the check.
"What is this? What the hell happened?"
"..."
Johann couldn't answer. He simply stumbled back to his desk and sat down.
Scattered across it were the materials he had been collecting.
The Genen Suppression Incident, the Gigantes terror attack, and clippings of every incident Maximilian von Ebenholtz had handled.
Johann had, in fact, been studying Maximilian.
When Maximilian saved the lives of Aranian commoners right after the Gigantes attack by saying, "This is not a matter for commoners to take responsibility for," Johann had been deeply moved by his intent.
However, the speech he had witnessed in person today was so ordinary and cliché that all his expectations had momentarily turned into rage.
He had been so foolish as to lose his reason.
—And yet.
'I find myself in strong agreement.'
Maximilian had agreed with his words in front of a vast audience.
'The duty of a true noble. The stance a noble must maintain...'
Every word he spoke mirrored Johann's own thoughts.
'So, one day, everyone—not just me, but all the nobles and bourgeoisie of this Empire—will finally come to realize it.'
Maximilian was not a fake after all.
He was the brilliant "real thing" among the rotten fakes Johann had searched for so desperately.
'The fact that the privileges they enjoy are the weight of responsibility they must willingly shoulder for the sake of the many Aranians.'
When he heard those words, Johann felt as if he were dreaming.
Was this a continuation of that dream?
Incredibly, Maximilian had reached out to him first.
"..."
He picked up his fountain pen. Staring intently at a blank sheet of paper, he pressed the nib down firmly.
[ On the Nobility ]
He began to write.
[ ...Is a noble entitled? ]
He didn't know what or how to write yet.
Should he write a novel? An essay?
[ Regarding the Nobility. ]
[ A noble is... ]
He struggled from the very first sentence. Phrases came to him in a tangled mess. Countless words collided and fused in his mind.
All sorts of flowery metaphors tried to swell from his fingertips, but that wasn't noble. A noble does not show off. Their grace and the weight they carry are visible even when they are simply standing still.
[ On the Most Beautiful Things. ]
[ Precious Values That Must Be Protected in the Empire. ]
[ For Aran, by Aran, of Aran... ]
After repeatedly crumpling, tearing, and discarding paper, a thought suddenly struck him.
"...A noble of the Empire bears a duty."
The words "that man" had spoken during the lecture replayed in his mind, and a phrase assembled itself.
It was only one sentence, but it was the most important introduction to a book.
A single proposition that would pierce through everything he would write from now on.
[ A noble of the Empire bears a duty. In Ancient Aran, this is called Noblesse Oblige... ]
* * *
Sentinel Knights.
One day, Hannah suddenly knocked on my office door.
"...I would like to ask for your review."
She looked terrible. Her eyes were sunken, and her lips were parched. It seemed she had been studying Active Residual Traces far too intensely.
"..."
I took the stack of documents she offered.
Rustle. Rustle.
From the first page to the last. The logic of back-tracking mana flow, and the insight into the culprit's psychology through the colors of the traces.
"Hmm."
It was still immature by my standards—or more accurately, by Virus's standards—but the direction was correct.
If she continued to put in the effort, she would be able to build her skills sufficiently.
Honestly, she was doing much better than I had been before I had Virus's help.
Thud.
I closed the report and handed it back to her.
"Good work. Keep at it."
Hannah let out a long breath and tucked the report under her arm.
"...Thank you."
She bowed and left.
Trot, trot, trot.
Her footsteps were much lighter than when she had entered.
As soon as she left, Chiron entered as if they were switching shifts.
"Max. Are you busy?"
It was a day with many visitors. Unlike his usual self, Chiron had a heavy expression.
"No. I'm fine."
"..."
He closed the door, approached me, and gestured toward the window with his chin.
"Can we talk for a moment?"
As he spoke, he pulled out a small slip of paper and pressed it into my hand.
[ We might be being wiretapped. ]
Wiretapping.
As far as I knew, the only one capable of that in here was Yukia.
I nodded. I stood up and followed him out.
We walked through the hallway in silence and went up to the rooftop.
Under the wide-open sky, the entire view of the Knights' headquarters was visible.
"Phew..."
Chiron leaned against the railing and lit a cigar.
"Try to use the rooftop often. Even His Majesty cannot hear the sound of the wind here."
He said it like a joke, but the truth behind it was sharp.
The Emperor's ears were planted all throughout the Knights' headquarters.
"Max."
Chiron spoke as he exhaled a long cloud of cigar smoke.
"I have informants."
Today, he looked unusually arrogant. He had the face of someone who was about to give me a very big gift.
"The scale and depth of my network are likely far more vast than you imagine. That being said..."
He leaned against the railing and whispered softly.
"Among your employees who frequent the Knights' headquarters, there is a mole for the Revolutionary Group."
My expression didn't change.
Yukia. He was talking about her.
The scenario was easy to guess.
That day, the day I was almost hit by the truck. Yukia had refused the Revolutionary Group's orders. In return, the Revolutionary Group—likely Izenheim—had decided to cut her loose.
A spy who betrays even once can no longer be trusted.
"...Is that so?"
"It seems you didn't know either. Well, it's always darkest under the lamp."
Chiron nodded, seemingly satisfied with my reaction.
"I haven't heard the full details yet. You should probably meet the informant yourself to hear the explanation."
He handed me another slip of paper. A meeting place and time were written on it.
It was a quiet fishing spot on the outskirts of the Empire.
"Go and listen."
Chiron's method of operating an information network was quite sophisticated.
He didn't try to know every piece of information himself. Information, after all, only needs to be delivered to the right person at the right moment.
Therefore, most of Chiron's informants moved without knowing who they were working for, and Chiron only controlled the flow of those isolated cells.
"Yes. Thank you."
I needed to confirm if the information Chiron obtained was truly about Yukia, and if so, who was trying to sell her out.
I needed to check the details.
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