Semi-Coercive Imperialist - Chapter 124: A Fake Play
Volska Diplomatic District.
Hannah Usar received the schedule and location of the enemy’s weapons smuggling from an informant, and shortly after, made contact with Leon.
“Well, well~”
He entered the office and looked around, letting out a dry laugh.
“A knight set up his office in a place like this?”
The wallpaper had been freshly redone, but the rest of the furniture was old and worn. It looked too pitiful for a place where an Imperial Knight would stay.
“……I had no choice. We ran out of budget.”
Hannah smiled awkwardly and sipped her coffee.
“I see. Since when did knights become so strapped for budget?”
A knight’s salary, of course, is high. However, the budget and salary are separate matters.
They couldn’t just cherry-pick and choose lucrative missions like mercenaries, and any personnel expenses exceeding the budget had to be covered by the knight personally.
In other words, it was like cutting into one’s own flesh to carry out missions.
“Ever since the Imperial Guard started gaining power……..”
Leon trailed off. As the budget from the imperial palace leaned toward the Imperial Guard, the knight order’s budget was subjected only to cuts and freezes.
“We already used up the budget a long time ago. Right now, I’m spending out of my own pocket for the informants.”
Paying informants was essential. Without money, they’d either end up dead or defected before anyone noticed.
Leon looked at Hannah for a moment, then pulled out a sheet of paper from his inner pocket.
“……Try asking Max.”
“Huh?”
“Lately, Max has been running some kind of program inside the knight order. Use this and submit it.”
Hannah took the paper.
[Maximilian Foundation: Knight Operational Activity Fund Application Form]
Maximilian Foundation. Recently, it had become a hot topic among Hannah’s commoner juniors.
“……I’d heard the rumors about him establishing a foundation. That he’s been handing out scholarships at Empire Point too.”
“Yeah. Supposedly, it’s enormous in scale. Apparently, there are tax benefits if you donate for scholarships? Well, I doubt that’s the only reason. Fill it out and send it by letter to the secretary. The funds should come through in no time.”
“Ah…… It applies to fellow knights too?”
“Not all knights are rich, you know. There are actually quite a few who are kept on a tight leash by their bankrupt families.”
Families whose businesses had collapsed and whose only lifeline was the title of ‘knight’ were surprisingly, no, openly numerous. Tiana, Leon’s classmate and friend, was one of them.
“Alright then.”
After placing the application form on the desk of an already-departed officer, Hannah stood up.
“Shall we head out now?”
“Yeah. Grab your gear.”
She opened the wardrobe. Inside hung a dark-hued leather armor. It was the piece Maximilian had issued as supplies back in Zerpha last time.
For reference, Leon was already wearing his.
“We match.”
“……We were on the same operation, after all.”
The two smiled faintly as they stepped out of the office.
Night in Volska was deep, and the fog was thick. They concealed themselves in the shadows as they moved to the rooftop of an abandoned building.
“Remember. More than the remnants of Zentra, we need to catch whoever’s behind them supplying the goods. We need to cut off the source if we want to uproot them.”
“Yes. Are we taking them alive, in principle?”
“Hmm.”
Leon’s voice dropped low. The playful smile vanished, replaced by a numb killing intent that settled over his face.
“Personally, I’d like to kill them all.”
Hannah felt a chill run down her spine.
This was who Leon was. On the surface he appeared warm and gentle, but inside he was colder than anyone. It was as if his cruel nature had crystallized into something solid.
“Well, it depends on the situation, right?”
“……Yes.”
Still, compared to Maximilian, he was relatively easier to understand.
Maximilian never revealed his inner thoughts. So it was impossible to gauge his depth or intentions. He was perhaps a bottomless pit. It made sense why the world called him “The Monster of Ebenholtz”…….
“The Volska scum give off a bad smell. Can’t be helped, I guess.”
Leon, at the very least, was transparently discriminatory toward certain races and ethnicities. He didn’t show it on his face or expression, but occasionally, his words and actions clearly revealed it. Speculatively, he seemed to most despise the Sled tribe from the East and looked down on mixed bloods.
“……They’re here.”
“Yes.”
At Leon’s signal, Hannah cleared her mind of all distractions.
Beyond the abandoned factory, through the building’s window, figures in suits were spotted.
“There. Do you see the guy with the blue tie?”
Leon pointed at a man—slicked-back hair, blue tie, gray suit.
“Yes.”
“He’s a weapons broker, but he’s our informant.”
As he spoke, he handed over a small device like a walkie-talkie, along with a pen and notebook.
“It’s for eavesdropping, but it doesn’t record. You’ll have to write everything down.”
“Yes. But they’re speaking Imperial, right?”
“Yeah. They all have different nationalities, so if it’s not Imperial, they can’t communicate.”
Hannah nodded and picked up the pen and notebook.
─This deal was a bit disappointing, I have to say…….
Scratch, scratch. She scrawled down all their conversation in cursive.
***
In the heart of the Empire, I lifted the opera regulations I had promised Leonard.
[Department of Culture and Arts]. This bureaucratic body, which would later be absorbed under the Propaganda Department, outwardly preached the “purity of Aran” and rejected foreign cultures, but in truth, they just wanted a toll fee. I stuffed enough money into their mouths, and translated versions of operas well-received overseas, along with a genre called musicals, were imported.
Additionally, I tracked down a playwright who would rise to become a future master.
His name was ‘Viktor Haim’.
“Why would a knight come to such a shabby place……?”
Running a small-time theater, he seemed quite flustered by my unexpected visit.
“I read your play, ‘The Silence of the Square’.”
“……What?”
At my words, Viktor let out a dry laugh.
“It’s the piece that was banned from performance just a week ago. I also got slapped with a heavy fine.”
“I know. I got a copy of the script separately.”
I shrugged.
A knight isn’t punished for possessing banned literature. Cracking down on such things is our job, after all.
“The reason for the ban was that it criticized Empire’s politics.”
Viktor clicked his tongue.
“Sir Knight, I have neither the leisure nor the reason to discuss politics.”
“That’s how it seemed.”
He’s not the type to embed politics into his works. That was true in the future before my Regression, and it was true now after it.
“It was an interesting script. Presumably, the fact that one of the villains was a noble from the imperial palace must have rubbed someone the wrong way.”
“Ha! The bigger villain was a commoner, though.”
“It can’t be helped. A play changes depending on who interprets it, and that follows the logic of power.”
The logic of power. At the very least, there was no one more powerful than an Ebenholtz among those working across the cultural sector.
Viktor scratched his eyebrow and asked again.
“……So?”
“What I’m telling you, right now, is this. Your work has nothing to do with politics, and you are capable of creating even better works.”
I settled back into my chair. Viktor quietly licked his lips.
“For example…… What kind of themes do you want?”
“Fairy tales. Or love. How beautiful are those? Maybe even something about puppies.”
These were actually the kinds of plays, operas, and musicals he’d written before my regression. They were hugely entertaining and had won multiple awards.
“Well, I mean, that’s the kind of thing that just comes out naturally when I write, but why would a knight be commissioning, well, something like this?”
“Hmm…… Someone once told me this.”
I gave a faint smile.
I have to be careful with my words. Nearly everything I say in public will eventually reach the imperial palace.
“A play, even for a moment, helps people forget reality.”
I agree with that statement made by Princess Justine.
In a world where war was not far off, the public needed to forget reality. The smell of blood, gunpowder, and death was too cruel to take in as it was, given the life that would follow. Behind the battlefields of killing and being killed, there absolutely had to be a place of escape.
That was the role of culture. An anesthetic to sedate the Empire during the process of excising a disease more terrible than cancer, all for the sake of survival.
“Think of this as a commission fee.”
I pulled out my checkbook and scribbled down an amount.
“Don’t you think happy stories come from richer lives?”
Viktor was someone who, even after the fall of the Empire, continued to write fantastical and fairy tale-like stories with no relation to politics.
Surely, he’ll create good works for the sake of humanity.
…….
「Arte Museum」.
I visited the place again and met with Director Verdi. Inside, remodeling construction was in full swing. It was entirely at my request.
“Haah…….”
Director Verdi, for his part, looked at the walls being torn down and let out a sigh.
“It feels like my skin is being ripped off.”
“It’s being repainted. To look younger.”
I smiled. Verdi’s wrinkled hand trembled.
“……I’ve never seen a museum like this. The walls, the ceiling, everything is just white, without a single decoration.”
“That’s proof that you’ve grown old, Director.”
“But still—”
“I invested to keep this place alive.”
I cut him off coldly.
“So you should listen to what I say.”
The motif for the remodeling was the ‘white cube’.
An exhibition method where the entire space is emptied to white, so that visitors focus solely on the artwork itself. A modern exhibition concept that didn’t even exist yet in the Empire, one that would first be introduced in the Republic of Prozen after the Empire’s fall.
“Arte Museum was a place my mother cherished.”
The essence lies not in the interior, but in the space itself. I hope this place survives for a long time and inspires many.
For my mother’s sake, if nothing else.
“So it must not become a mere warehouse where paintings are simply hung. It needs to showcase the Empire’s unique dignity.”
I gestured as I walked down the corridor.
“There needs to be a story. A narrative.”
A mere ‘arrangement of art’ would not suffice.
“After passing through the dark corridor at the entrance.”
Thud. Thud. Walking through the passage deliberately rebuilt to be narrow and dark.
“The view suddenly opens wide.”
Vision expands and the space opens up. The artworks come flooding into view as if rushing toward you.
“The passionate works of the masters once called ‘Impressionists’, from two hundred years ago when the Empire’s art was at its peak, will greet us.”
Verdi followed behind, leaning on his cane.
“Everyone will feel as though they’re walking into the very history of the Empire.”
This was knowledge drawn from ‘The Aesthetics of Space’, which I had read before the Regression, as well as stories of museums that frequently appeared in newspaper editorials and columns.
“A museum is only complete when the space, artwork layout, and visitor flow all come together.”
I turned to Director Verdi.
“In times like these, when reality is harsh, people don’t come to museums just to see a few paintings. That’s why you have to offer them an experience.”
The Empire’s economy was slowly reviving. Thanks to the exploitation of foreign companies and immigrants, and the boom of the military industry.
Once money started circulating in people’s pockets, they would seek out culture. I would show them the Empire’s strength and elegance.
“But if it’s too overt, it becomes pretentious. The Empire’s majesty and Aran’s purity… are dazzling and beautiful enough just subtly revealed.”
This was the Empire’s art, carrying a thousand years of history. The sheer weight of time layered upon it was something no other nation could imitate.
Director Verdi looked at me with a complicated expression.
“I still find it difficult. Either I’ve grown old as you say, sir knight, or……”
“It must be your prejudice against me.”
In his eyes, I was a murderous maniac who killed people without a second thought. A butcher who had trampled on Genen.
That someone like me was discussing art must have seemed laughable, or absurd, or frightening.
“That is why I won’t take no for an answer.”
I understand those who do not understand my intentions.
“This is my way.”
Because I would continue to be, perhaps forever,
misunderstood.
***
Princess Justine looked up at the new posters hung on the wall of the [Royal Opera House]. They were for new operas, and a foreign genre called musicals.
“…….”
At the main entrance stood Maximilian. The director was greeting him, sweating profusely.
Every time Maximilian said something, the director reacted with exaggerated enthusiasm, and when offered a handshake, he clasped Maximilian’s hand with the reverent face of someone receiving the Emperor himself.
‘That person would want to see a new kind of stage.’
Suddenly, Maximilian’s words came back to her mind.
He kept his promise. She didn’t know what the promise had been for, but still…
“Hah.”
She scoffed and turned away.
As she wandered through the city, she soon arrived at the nearby Arte Museum. The museum had no visitors at all. It was because of the construction and remodeling.
As always, she paid no mind and stepped inside.
“……?”
Her brows furrowed.
The interior felt strange.
The elegant wallpaper and decorations had all been stripped away, and everything was coated in white paint. The floor, the ceiling, the walls. So blindingly white it stung the eyes.
“You’ve come.”
Sensing her presence, Director Verdi approached.
“It’s changed a lot?”
“Yes. It’s under construction.”
“Did you tear it all down because you ran out of money?”
“No. It’s remodeling.”
“What kind of ridiculous remodeling is this?”
The Princess gave a dry laugh, and Verdi remained silent in agreement.
“You didn’t throw away all the paintings, did you?”
“No, please come this way.”
The director guided her.
Step, step.
The two walked together through a narrow, dark corridor. A bodyguard knight followed a few steps behind her.
As she walked through the unlit hallway, Justine felt a strange tension. A stifling sensation, as if someone might suddenly lunge out with a dagger to stab her in the throat.
At the very moment the corridor came to an end—
Whoooosh──
The space widened abruptly, and her vision opened up.
“…….”
It was a pure white space.
Without a single decoration or obstruction, the white emptiness alone allowed the canvases of the Imperial Impressionists to radiate with a powerful presence. A breathtaking beauty, as though time stopped for a moment. Natural light pouring in through the windows illuminated the frames, giving the illusion that the entire area was basking in sunlight and that the paintings themselves were floating.
“……!”
Justine involuntarily drew in a breath.
“Whose idea was this?”
“……It was Knight Maximilian. He called it the ‘White Cube’.”
The director added an explanation.
“He said that a museum should be like a story. That the works exist in their place but breathe together with the space, and are only completed by the audience who watches over them.”
And truly, those words rang true.
Justine wandered through the interior as if spellbound. Passing the grand canvas depicting the Empire’s founding myth, the path leading to paintings portraying the lives of the subjects felt like a single act of a play.
She was awestruck.
At the same time, it felt strange.
Maximilian had been persistently following the path she walked. He was the one who had revived this museum by investing money into it.
“It’s beautiful.”
At the princess’s reaction, Director Verdi belatedly realized that he had indeed grown old.
“Your High-“
Behind her, the guard knight Yannick suddenly approached. Justine lightly gestured.
“You may call me by name here.”
“……Lady Justine. An enclosed space like this is dangerous.”
Justine no longer intended to hide her identity, and this was the first time Verdi had heard it directly.
“Security is also weak because of the construction.”
Yannick always wore a face full of dissatisfaction—especially whenever she went out for external activities.
“Yannick.”
Without taking her eyes off the paintings, Justine asked,
“If all of this was for me, would you believe it?”
“…….”
Yannick paused for a moment before replying dryly.
“Knight Maximilian is praised as a loyalist, but… who knows. I’m not so sure.”
Justine, on the other hand, was beginning to suspect Maximilian. Though he was the son of Sebestian, the man the Emperor trusted most, she was more unwilling than anyone to trust him.
Because the wings that seemed to soar too perfectly… were, to her, far too suspicious.
“Yannick. Who do you serve?”
She asked, out of nowhere.
Yet Yannick bowed as if he’d been waiting for the question.
“A man of the North swears loyalty to only one lord.”
Yannick met her gaze and made a formal gesture of Northern salute.
“For me, that is you, Your Highness.”
Justine stared at him. She didn’t show her emotions.
Men of the north are all talk and no substance.
That was the truth.
Yannick had already aligned himself with the Imperial Guard.
His so-called loyalty was not to her, but to the Imperial Guard and its orders to watch her.
This was the state of her surroundings.
Everything around her was a chain binding her.
“……Loyalty, huh.”
Justine let out a bitter smile and closed her eyes.
In this suffocating Empire, she had not a single true ally. Even her own father was jealous and envious of her Aran-like beauty.
She began walking again.
“Let’s continue through the museum.”
The pure white space stretched on, then was suddenly blocked by a temporary wall. Beyond it, workers were bustling about.
Justine’s mood sank.
“My deepest apologies. It is still unfinished.”
“When will it be finished?”
Director Verdi answered carefully.
“Soon, it will be completed.”
