Chapter 45: Drawing the Future with a Pen (4) The headquarters of the Zenith Times.
I arranged a meeting with the Editor-in-Chief. It wasn't difficult. As soon as my administrative officer made contact, she replied as if she'd been waiting, saying she would come to me. I simply told her, "I'll go myself."
"My apologies, Sir Knight."
The Editor-in-Chief bowed her head.
"We were not fully aware that the knight in charge of the case was Sir Maximilian."
I watched her silently as she offered the formal apology.
"…Since the reporter is a scion of the Stauffen family, we had no choice but to grant him some leeway until now, but…"
She rambled on, but the gist was clear: because Alphonse was a noble, he operated above the desk's censorship.
"As you can see from the article, there wasn't a single mention of Sir Maximilian directly, so on our part…"
It's a classic media tactic. They chase both conscience and money in equal measure.
To put it another way, conscience only matters when it's profitable.
"It's fine. I understand Reporter Alphonse's perspective. However, those people—the illegal immigrants—were indeed members of the Revolutionary Group."
"So that is the conclusion."
"It's not a conclusion; it's the truth."
"Yes. I will ensure a correction is published as soon as possible. And…"
The Editor-in-Chief placed a worn duffel bag on the table.
"We have decided to part ways with Reporter Alphonse von Stauffen as of today."
It seemed to be Alphonse's personal belongings. I shook my head with a bitter smile.
"No. That won't be necessary."
"Not at all, Sir Knight. It was our oversight, so it is only right that—"
"No. I said it's fine."
I raised a hand to cut her off. My expression hardened into a cold mask.
Alphonse was actually a damn good reporter.
"Reporter Alphonse is a nobleman. The Stauffens are a fine family that has served the Empire for generations. I can certainly tolerate this much."
The Editor-in-Chief stared at me blankly before nodding belatedly. She seemed to have taken the hint.
"I'm glad to hear that. However, let me take a look at the articles Alphonse wrote."
"Yes, they are all inside that bag."
I opened the duffel bag. It was stuffed with bundles of paper. There was even a photo of me he had taken during the Grand Jury. It looked like the bag had been taken from him almost by force.
I skimmed through the various articles Alphonse had written, and my brow furrowed at one unpublished draft.
"Why wasn't this article published?"
── Was 14-Year-Old Kane Romil Truly a Murderer? ──
Last month, a commoner boy named Kane (14) was arrested as a suspect in the serial killings of young girls that occurred in Schiltach, Alteo Province. He was swiftly branded the culprit and is currently awaiting sentencing. However, according to this paper's investigation, unidentified adult male footprints were found at the scene, and aside from the boy's confession, no physical evidence exists...
* * *
"The Kane Romil case."
The Editor-in-Chief answered quietly to my inquiry.
"It was shelved because it relied on speculation rather than hard facts, and because of the reporter's stubborn insistence that there was a different culprit."
I met the Editor-in-Chief's eyes. I could guess the rest. The real culprit was likely the child of a powerful family, a wealthy house, or someone connected to the media outlet's president.
It was predictable. Utterly predictable. But it was these predictable occurrences, piled one on top of another, that made the Empire creak and groan.
"Since when has this paper cared about avoiding speculation? In my opinion, this looks worthy of the front page of tomorrow's edition."
The Editor-in-Chief looked at me with a strange expression.
"May I ask why?"
The reason was simple. The Empire needed to be normalized. At the very least, the gears of this massive nation had to perform their assigned roles properly. Not necessarily out of pure goodness, but simply by not being evil.
Only then could we win the coming war.
Only then could we completely purge the alien species known as the Izenheim from this land.
"I think you already know."
...Explaining all of that would be a chore. Persuading her would be a waste of time.
There was an easier way.
"If you've made a mistake, you should bury it with an even bigger story."
I pulled out my checkbook and scribbled a figure in Imperial Dollars.
"Don't overthink it. This is merely a process to see if we can be friends."
"...."
The Editor-in-Chief stared intently at the amount written on the check. Her face, which had remained expressionless until now, showed a slight crack.
* * *
Inside the Zenith Times headquarters, Alphonse was locked in a small storage room.
—Open the door! I said open it!
"...Hey, kid. Just go home and rest, please. Go back to your nice family estate and get some sleep."
—Open it!
Eddie, the department head, sighed as he watched the door rattle.
—Then open the door first! I'll leave once you do!
Just as the banging continued from inside, the Editor-in-Chief returned.
"Ah, Editor-in-Chief. You're back."
She pointed at the storage room and snapped her fingers.
"Let him out."
"Pardon?"
"The door. Open it."
"Ah, yes, ma'am."
Eddie was puzzled but opened the door. As soon as it swung open, Alphonse burst out and thrust his hand toward the Editor-in-Chief.
"Now, give me my bag! My bag! I have to go back to my investigation immediately!"
The Editor-in-Chief handed the bag back without a word, and Eddie ran a hand through his hair.
"That brat... Investigation, my ass. You're out as of today, kid. Editor-in-Chief, I'll have his desk cleared out right away."
"No. It's fine."
"Underst—... what?"
"Run this article first. Front page. Right under the headline."
── Was 14-Year-Old Kane Romil Truly a Murderer? ──
Last month, a commoner boy named Kane (14) was arrested as a suspect in the serial killings of young girls that occurred in Schiltach, Alteo Province...
* * *
The Editor-in-Chief held out the article Alphonse had written.
"...Huh? This is Alphonse's article."
"What? My article?"
Alphonse, who had been about to leave, rushed back and snatched it. He skimmed it, then asked with a shocked face.
"...You're running this? The desk rejected it just yesterday!"
"Exactly. And on the front page? Nothing he's written has ever made the front page."
Alphonse and Eddie were suddenly on the same side.
"The situation has changed. If I tell you to run it, just run it without the commentary, alright?"
"...Ah, yes, ma'am."
"Alphonse. You go do your investigation or whatever. Mr. Eddie, get back to work."
The department head returned to his desk, bewildered. Alphonse stared blankly at the Editor-in-Chief before furrowing his brow.
"What is this? What did that Maximilian guy say to you? Did he insult you or something? Is that why you've finally come to your senses?!"
"It's the opposite."
"The opposite? What's the opposite? Are you talking about bedbugs?"
Ignoring Alphonse's nonsense, she walked into the Editor-in-Chief's office.
"Sigh...."
The Editor-in-Chief, Celine Dubois, sat in her chair and massaged her temples.
Today, she had faced Maximilian. It was a rare opportunity. Because of that, she had tried her best to understand what kind of person he was in that short time, focusing on reading his expressions and psychology, but she hadn't gained a single shred of information.
"...To bury an article about himself on page two, he pushes another noble's scandal onto the front page."
If it were a matter of being a perfectionist, he wouldn't have defended Alphonse—who had directly attacked him—simply because he was a nobleman.
"Is he incredibly calculating, or just a strange man?"
Celine picked up her terminal. She immediately placed a call to someone.
"Sir Margaret."
—Yes. Speak.
Margaret. She was the true owner of this media outlet. Celine, the Editor-in-Chief, was merely a proxy.
"I have a message from the knight Maximilian von Ebenholtz...."
She relayed everything that had happened today, including Maximilian's proposal.
—...I see.
Margaret pondered for a moment.
The Kane Romil case did indeed have a different culprit, and the parents of the suspected killer were nobles with deep connections in the media and legal circles. The reason the desk had cut the story was precisely because of that external pressure.
However, their opponent was no longer just a news agency; it was Ebenholtz.
From the perspective of Margaret, the owner of Zenith Times, judging the hierarchy between families and the size of their donations was a very simple task.
—Do as he says.
"Yes, ma'am."
Margaret's order was given. Celine put down the terminal and picked up a fountain pen. Resting her chin on her hand, she thought for a moment before placing the nib on a blank sheet of paper.
Tap— Tap— Tap-tap──
She drew something, creating a code.
The code created this way would become a secret letter and be delivered somewhere.
To a place harboring an unwavering ambition──to the group dreaming of revolution.
* * *
The Kane Romil case was something Alphonse had been chasing for nearly a month. The boy had suddenly become a murderer one day, and even though there was other circumstantial evidence suggesting he wasn't the killer, the investigative agencies had completely ignored it all.
But the moment the article hit the front page, the world turned upside down.
The district court, which had sentenced the boy to death only 40 days after the incident, reversed its verdict the very next day. Central police officers from the capital arrived in person. They re-collected the evidence that had been suppressed until now and quickly identified the 'real' suspect.
"Thank you... Thank you so much, Mr. Reporter."
The parents of the released boy thanked Alphonse with tears in their eyes. They were uneducated people with nothing to their names. Alphonse shook his head. He firmly refused the gifts they tried to offer.
"It's not over yet."
Alphonse turned to look at the central police officer who had taken over the case. What was his name again? Regardless, he approached him and shrugged.
"...I suppose this is what they call 'the power of the pen.'"
"The power of the pen?"
The mustachioed officer furrowed his brow, but then smirked.
"Well, you're not wrong. But, Mr. Reporter. This didn't happen because of your pen."
"What? Then why are you people even here?"
"I'm saying it wasn't because of you."
"So I'm asking, what was it then?"
"...If you're curious, read it for yourself."
The officer tossed a document to him. Alphonse caught it.
On a document that was half-blank, a few short sentences were written.
─ [Sentinel Knights Official Correspondence] ─
From: Sentinel Knights
To: Alteo District Court, Western Empire
Subject: Immediate stay of execution for the Kane Romil case and order for a fair reinvestigation.
As a member of the Sentinel Knights, I raise deep questions regarding the Alteo District Court's conduct in handing down a guilty verdict with such peculiar haste in the 'Kane Romil' case.
Accordingly, I hereby order an immediate stay of execution for the accused until the truth of this case is clearly established, and demand that all investigative procedures be restarted from scratch under the command of the Imperial Central Police.
This order is based on the inherent authority of a knight to uphold the justice of the Empire. Be advised that any judicial or administrative responsibility arising from non-compliance shall rest entirely with the Alteo District Court.
* * *
And, the signature written at the very bottom.
[Maximilian Albrecht von Ebenholtz]
"Maximilian...."
"Well?"
Alphonse looked up with a start. The officer toyed with his mustache, his lips curling into a smirk.
"The weight of the pen is a bit different, wouldn't you say?"
* * *
── [Real Culprit of the Girl's Murder Case Finally Captured] ──
: Alphonse von Stauffen
Following the wise and swift reinvestigation order from Knight Maximilian von Ebenholtz of the Sentinel Knights, the Imperial Central Police re-examined the 'Kane Romil' case from the beginning. As a result, the true culprit was revealed to be Marcus von Baum, the second son of the House of Baum. Without Knight Maximilian's sharp insight, the unjust death of a young boy could not have been prevented. The Western Court is currently discussing victim compensation...
─────────────────────────
One day, a new article graced the front page.
Judging by the awkward insertion of phrases praising Maximilian here and there, it seemed to have gone through special censorship at the desk.
"Good."
It was a necessary step.
Before my regression, the Izenheim had exploited the cracks among the commoners, who made up over 97% of the Empire. They touched the hearts of the lower class, who couldn't even lead a human life. They inflated the distrust and hostility toward the Empire, which was already near its breaking point, and overturned the Empire from top to bottom, bottom to top, and outside to inside, subverting the system and the regime.
Therefore, a minimum level of trust in the Empire had to be maintained.
To achieve that, I intended to utilize the Zenith Times as much as possible. Most of Alphonse's articles would no longer be censored. The justice Alphonse sought would serve as a small comfort and propaganda for the commoners of the Empire.
Except, of course, for articles that defamed my honor.
Alphonse would likely try not to make an exception for Ebenholtz, but that could be controlled at the desk level.
"Alphonse von Stauffen."
I remembered his name.
Both then and now, he criticized the corruption of the Empire, and after the New Cabinet took power, he denounced their hypocrisy.
That meant he wasn't a member of the Revolutionary Group. He was just a good man who cared for the poor to his very core.
Knock, knock.
The office door opened. It was Tiana.
"Max. You've been in the papers a lot lately, wouldn't you say?"
"It's proof that the media is functioning properly."
"Whatever."
I put down the newspaper and asked.
"Why are you here?"
"We've been assigned a joint operation."
"A joint operation?"
Just as I was about to ask what she meant—a certain trauma surfaced from the depths of my memory.
The worst mission of my knightly career, one that had half-broken the old me, and one that even the current me felt an instinctive dread toward.
"I don't know what it is yet. Come on. Sir Julian is calling for us."
Tiana beckoned and left.
"...."
I took a quiet, deep breath, suppressing the nightmares of the past. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced a smile.
There was no need to be afraid. I was no longer the man I used to be. In fact, I should be glad. This was a moment to be celebrated.
Because I had been given the chance to change one of the shittiest parts of my past.
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