Chapter 127: The Fake Play (4) Ring, ring, ring—
In a suite at Volsk's finest hotel, Hannah's terminal went off.
"Ugh, so noisy."
The mana density in Volsk was higher than in the Empire, making the terminal's ringtone piercingly sharp.
"Ugh... Yes. This is Harmush."
She sat up in bed and answered the call. She made sure her voice didn't sound groggy, adopting the professional tone of the merchant 'Harmush.'
—Were you sleeping?
The voice on the other end was gravelly. It was the arms dealer she had met last time.
"Who is this? It's early."
—I'm calling to give you the meeting location. But there's no 'bread.' Only 'scrap metal.'
It was slang. 'Bread' referred to illegal synthetic mana stones, and 'scrap metal' meant untraceable weapons.
Hannah clicked her tongue, feigning disappointment.
"...Hmm. No bread? That's going to be a problem. We'll need to renegotiate."
—Don't make me laugh. You think we don't know what's happening in the Empire?
The man on the other end snorted.
—If smuggling weapons has become harder, the price goes up. That's just market logic. We're both busy people, so let's just meet and keep it honest. I know the bread was just an excuse anyway.
Hannah suppressed a smile and cleared her throat.
"...Fine, whatever. Let's talk in person. The goods are guaranteed, right?"
—Of course.
He rattled off the meeting time and place before hanging up.
Hannah set the terminal down and let out a long sigh.
"Man, those bastards. How did they find out? Do they have connections in the Empire?"
She continued her act even while showering. She changed into a suit, put on horn-rimmed glasses, styled her permed hair, and left the hotel.
"Phew."
Broad daylight in Volsk. The meeting place was a shabby commercial building in the heart of the city.
She climbed the stairs and stood before a steel door on the third floor.
Knock, knock—
She knocked, but there was no response no matter how long she waited.
"..."
Did she have the wrong address?
Hannah went back down and checked the address again.
"This is the place."
She went back up the stairs.
Knock, knock.
Knock, knock.
Knock, knock.
After she knocked irritably a few more times, the door creaked open on its own. It hadn't been locked in the first place.
"...?"
The metallic scent of blood wafted through the gap.
Drip, drip. A red liquid seeped over the threshold.
Blood.
"!"
Hannah immediately surged her mana. She crouched low, gripping the dagger hidden in her clothes.
"...Is anyone there?!"
Silence was her only answer.
She took a deep breath and threw the door wide open.
"..."
The interior was a bloodbath. She swallowed hard as she surveyed the scene.
The man and woman she had met yesterday, the broker who was their informant, and their guards—all of them were sprawled on the floor. Their throats had been slit, and their hearts pierced.
Hannah clutched her hair. She felt a sharp pang of tension in the back of her neck.
"What the hell is this...?"
Who did this? Only they should have known about the deal.
Was there more than one person wiretapping them? Or was it internal strife?
Suppressing her confusion, Hannah began to collect evidence. She took everything from the bodies and their bags, including terminals, wallets, and documents.
"They're still warm."
The bodies still held heat, and rigor mortis hadn't set in. This meant it had happened very recently.
BAM!
Suddenly, the door was kicked open.
"Hands up!"
"Don't move!"
Shouting loudly, uniformed police officers burst in. They were armed with pistols and sabers.
"I-It wasn't me!"
Hannah shouted reflexively.
"It wasn't me! I just got here!"
"What are you babbling about! Shut up! Drop your weapon and get on the ground!"
The police didn't seem interested in listening. In the first place, they didn't even speak the same language.
"Get down! Move and we'll cut you down!"
In that moment, Hannah's intuition flared.
The survival instinct she had honed as a country bumpkin navigating the wild was screaming at her.
If she got caught, it was over.
She would definitely die.
She immediately lunged off the floor.
"Oh, for God's sake!"
"Get her!"
"Fire! Open fire!"
Bang! Bang-bang!
Muzzles flashed. Hannah didn't dodge. Instead, she wrapped her entire body in Aura.
Thud! Ping!
The incoming bullets bounced off an invisible barrier. The police officers' eyes widened in shock.
Taking advantage of their surprise, Hannah kicked the nearest man in the jaw.
Urgh!
With a scream, the officer tumbled backward. Hannah considered using her dagger but decided against causing civilian casualties. Instead, she charged toward the window.
Crash!
She threw herself through the glass. It was three stories up, but she didn't hesitate. Hannah was already well-versed in high-altitude drops.
Thud.
She landed with a roll and immediately sprinted into the alleys.
"Catch her!"
"Request backup! A murder suspect is escaping!"
Whistles and shouts erupted behind her.
"Damn it, this is such a headache..."
Hannah gritted her teeth and kept running.
* * *
The suspects for the Royal Opera House terror attack were all arrested.
They had attempted to blow up their hideout the moment they realized the mission had failed, but the price for their 'script' being torn apart was steep. Because they lacked the time to clean up properly, crucial evidence remained in the rubble.
The police secured it, and I used my authority as a Knight to transfer all evidence to my office.
"A terror attack in the heart of the Empire... Good work, Sir Knight! And to the staff as well! Loyalty!"
Normally, the Police Bureau would have been disgruntled by such a move, but they welcomed it and handed over the entire investigation file. This was thanks to the generous meal allowances, activity funds, and bonuses I had provided.
Performance records are important to the police, but rewards are even more important. They are, after all, subjects living in the Empire.
For the record, money given by a Knight is not considered a solicitation or a bribe. Legally speaking, that is.
"Sir Knight. These weapons are a bit suspicious."
In the busy office, an official suddenly held out a photo of the evidence. They were rifles recovered from the explosion site.
"A mana stone-catalyzed spell was installed inside the weapons."
It was a personal identification spell designed to destroy the weapon if the owner died or if it left their person.
However, there is no world where all such spells work perfectly. Errors and misfires in magic are practically a time-honored tradition.
"These are the weapons we recovered because the spell failed to trigger. There are three in total..."
The official placed the actual weapons on my desk. I picked up one of the rifles.
It was heavy and crudely finished. Many parts had been modified, but somehow, the original components looked familiar.
"...Gigantes."
"Yes. That's correct."
The official nodded. They were modified versions of old Gigantes rifles.
I stared intently at the barrel before looking up.
"It's not like the buried Gigantes can just come back to life."
Gigantes had been completely dismantled with the help of the Revolutionary Group. The production lines had stopped, and the blueprints were lost.
Then where did these things come from?
"Someone embezzled them."
If I had to guess the scenario: stock held in Gigantes' external warehouses or at the docks. Weapons that hadn't been issued yet.
Some 'bastards' had taken advantage of the chaos of the terror attack to write off perfectly good weapons as a total loss along with Gigantes, only to spirit them away.
"Yes. At the time, all of Gigantes' stock and inventory were written off as a total loss."
Blind weapons that didn't exist on paper.
"...Ha."
I let out a hollow laugh.
Because of me, many Imperial nobles had been unable to recover their investment losses from Gigantes. Some of them—or some faction—had sold off the embezzled weapons to make up for their losses, and those weapons had traveled across the continent to end up in the hands of terrorists.
The kind of people who could pull this off had to be, at the very least, from high-ranking influential families. People in positions high enough to directly interfere with Gigantes' inventory management.
"Investigate the flow of these weapons thoroughly."
Whether those bastards are higher or lower than Ebenholtz... we'll just have to see.
"Yes, sir. Understood."
The official withdrew, and a moment later:
"Sir Knight. Mr. Leonard has arrived for questioning as a witness."
Leonard had arrived at the Knights' headquarters.
........
I looked at Leonard in the interrogation room.
He was calm and subdued. It was a stillness that suggested he had already accepted the outcome, as if he had resigned himself to fate.
"Nice to see you."
First, I laid out the evidence.
Many of the captured Revolutionary Group members were employees of the Opera House. I presented excerpts of everything: records of their movements, fragments of letters that hadn't quite burned away, and so on.
"I don't know if reactionaries planned a terror attack on the Opera House, or if the entire Opera House was a den of reactionaries."
Under the pale light, Leonard's handsome features were revealed. His black roots were showing, suggesting his hair was originally black.
"Seventeen armed gunmen were killed, thirty-two civilians were injured, and seven died."
Civilian casualties. Leonard let out a pained groan.
"You are still just a witness, Leonard, but most of those involved with the Opera House will be executed, and that could include you."
Leonard's eyes wavered. He was silent for a moment, but then, as if he had made up his mind, he spoke.
"...I will take the blame."
He was offering to take responsibility.
I had expected as much, given Leonard's character.
"I planned the terror attack. Everything was done under my orders."
He acted his part calmly. Even this mundane acting was top-tier.
"So I will take full responsibility. However, I want to make one thing clear. I had no intention of killing anyone. Those dolls, those killing machines—they were not our doing."
Leonard was a fine actor. There was no falsehood in his attempt to protect his comrades at the cost of his own life.
I placed a letter down in front of him.
"Your father sent me a letter. I heard he kicked out his son for becoming an actor, but it seems he hasn't abandoned you entirely."
Leonard's family was already making moves. They were practically begging.
"...Please ignore them."
Leonard bit his lip and let out a faint sigh.
"I've already given up the path my family wanted for me. I humbly ask that you don't let them get involved with me."
I looked at Leonard. He was a good actor. Perhaps the greatest actor I would ever see in this lifetime.
Even if I was a layman when it came to plays, I wasn't without discernment.
To be honest, he was the first person to surprise me with art since my regression, and more importantly, Justine wanted him alive.
"Hmm..."
Princess Justine.
As I've said before, she is a dangerous person.
Perhaps the most dangerous person on this continent.
Even among the numerous war criminals, Justine was a subject of intense study, and the consistent testimony from scholars described her as paranoid and suspicious.
Obsessed with racism and extermination.
The one-line summary was: 'An aberration born from the demon's den known as the Imperial Palace.'
Before Leonard's death, Justine had destroyed countless subordinates and families out of suspicion; after his death, she had devoted herself to purging Eastern races and sub-species.
That temperament would be the same whether before or after my regression.
Therefore, I could not afford to get on her bad side.
"...Her Highness."
Thus, this was unavoidable.
I said just one thing to Leonard.
"She would not wish for your death."
"..."
Leonard fell silent. For a long time, he stared at me under the flickering light.
Without a word, he gazed into my eyes for a while before saying:
"...Sir Knight. Do you love her?"
What kind of sudden nonsense was this?
My brow furrowed.
"What... who are you talking about?"
"Her Highness."
Leonard looked completely sincere.
I was so dumbfounded that I asked back:
"...I'd rather ask you. Do you harbor feelings for her, Mr. Leonard?"
The play was fake, but were the actor's emotions at least real?
Leonard fell silent for a moment. He swallowed and gave a bitter smile.
"I... wasn't honest about my feelings."
He looked up at the ceiling.
"I knew she was watching me. I knew those eyes that felt like jewels, sometimes pouring down from the balcony, sometimes surging from the general seating. But."
Leonard lowered his head and looked at me again.
"I've finally realized it now."
His eyes held admiration, longing, deep envy, jealousy, and a sense of resignation.
"A man like you, rather than me..."
He pointed at me and gave a refreshed, beaming smile.
"...can probably keep her happy and protected for much longer."
"...I don't know what kind of crazy things you're saying right now, but—"
"You know it too, Sir Knight. How cruel the Imperial Palace is."
A sigh escaped Leonard's lips.
"I... actually saw her when she was very young."
He lowered his voice as if bringing up a story from the distant past.
"It was by chance. A lonely girl hiding by herself at an Imperial banquet."
"...What?"
This was a narrative I didn't know.
Come to think of it, Leonard came from a prestigious family.
His family had deep ties to the Palace, so it was entirely possible he had met the Princess before.
"We spoke then. She said she liked singing. She probably doesn't remember it herself, though."
"..."
I struggled to keep my mouth from hanging open.
Maintain your dignity, Maximilian.
"That single meeting, that memory, was engraved into my soul. Her voice kept echoing in my head."
Leonard had originally trained to be a Knight.
The reason he had abandoned that path and turned his back on his family was nothing more than 'pure devotion.'
"I wanted to be by her side by any means necessary. Because I knew how chaotic the Palace was."
Finally, I felt like I understood the full story from before my regression.
Isenheim's schemes played a part, but Leonard was a man who was destined to be assassinated. Because his feelings for the Princess were so deep and pure.
He had fallen in love with someone he should never have dared to look at—someone far too dangerous.
His grand cause wasn't something like revolution.
"..."
But now, Leonard was staring at me silently. His gaze was burdensome. It was exasperating how he seemed to be saying, 'I'm fine as long as she has you.'
I shook my head.
"...Don't misunderstand. Emotions are useless. This is a matter of necessity. She wants to hear your singing."
I cut off the romance talk and got back to business.
"Yes, I understand."
Regardless, Leonard seemed to take my words as a mere excuse.
"Look at this list."
I had filtered out everyone from the Revolutionary Group except for those who weren't part of Isenheim's faction.
"I will have these people sentenced to prison for negligence and security failure."
Leonard's eyes widened.
"...Is that possible?"
"Yes. It's necessary to clear you of the charges."
"..."
To the speechless man, I said:
"In exchange, cut ties with these people from now on."
Leonard wasn't a revolutionary to begin with. He had just been enticed into participating in the play.
How could a man who loved the Princess be a revolutionary trying to overthrow the Empire?
"At the very least, stay away from those with impure ideologies. Focus only on your art, and do only what you can do."
Leonard bowed his head deeply. His expression wasn't visible, but it didn't seem like he was acting.
"That is likely all she desires."
* * *
After the investigation, on the way out of the Knights' back gate.
A vehicle blocked Leonard's path. The window rolled down, and a man with a fierce expression poked his head out.
It was the escort knight, Yannick.
"Get in."
Leonard obediently climbed into the passenger seat.
A heavy silence filled the car.
Leonard looked at the back seat through the rearview mirror. A silhouette shrouded in the shadows of a robe—it was likely 'Her Highness.'
"Look straight ahead."
Click.
Yannick tilted the mirror away. His line of sight was cut off.
"From now on, answer only with the truth."
Yannick growled as he asked:
"What did Maximilian say?"
Leonard remained silent for a moment.
What should he say to her?
About his crimes? The severity of the punishment? Or...
"Speak."
Yannick urged him. Leonard suddenly looked at the scenery outside the window. Rows of trees stretching under the veil of night. Above them, lights flickered like stars.
He gave a bitter smile and opened his mouth.
"...A heart of pure devotion."
"What? What kind of heart?"
Yannick asked back as if it were absurd, but Leonard continued seriously.
"It felt like he was telling me about such feelings."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
He recalled Maximilian's cold gaze as he stared him down in the interrogation room.
"Of course, the words he spoke weren't like that at all. They were dry, cold, and businesslike, but..."
Leonard had come to know the man named Maximilian.
The world called him a butcher, a monster, or a hero.
But in Leonard's opinion:
"Maximilian studied operas he didn't even know, imported works, and strove to bring new spectacles like musicals and plays to the Empire—all for her."
All that effort, just for the enjoyment of a single person.
For the happiness of a single person.
"Furthermore, because 'Her Highness' desires it... he is forgiving a man like me and trying to put me back on stage."
The words Maximilian had said to him flashed through his mind.
Leonard's voice trembled.
"If I were him, I would have killed me."
A romantic rival.
A man who had stolen the gaze of the woman he loved.
A being one could never treat rationally.
"But he didn't."
The man his beloved woman wanted to save—he was sending that man away alive, with such magnanimity and without a hint of jealousy.
"He was a magnificent man."
This was Leonard's honest feeling.
"That is all I have to say."
Maximilian had said quite a lot to him, but it was all for Justine's sake.
Therefore, this answer was the most correct.
"..."
A long silence filled the car. The Princess still didn't speak. Leonard had no way of knowing what she was thinking or what her expression was.
".......Get out."
Yannick gestured toward the door. Leonard bowed his head and opened the car door.
Just as he was about to step out:
"When the Opera House is repaired."
The Princess's voice came from the back.
"I shall look forward to it."
It was forgiveness. It was a declaration that she would give him another chance.
Leonard's eyes grew misty.
"...Yes. Thank you. I will focus only on myself."
He bowed deeply in greeting.
After getting out of the car, he stood dazed, watching the vehicle drive away.
Suddenly, a certain tone of voice bloomed in his mind like lyrics to a song.
'From now on, cut ties with those people. At the very least, stay away from everyone with impure ideologies. Focus only on your art, and do only what you can do.'
The advice to do only what he could do.
Because he hadn't done that, he had caused harm to so many civilians and even put her in danger.
He had been given a new life by Maximilian, a man he had once despised as a pig-like noble.
"What... what was I trying to do?"
He felt so pathetic for having been swept up in subversive ideologies and hating the Empire—for trying to win her heart through such means—that he didn't know what to do with himself.
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