Chapter 281

Whooooo...

On a hill where the wind blew, Yvette stood in the leaf-rustling cemetery, sunglasses on, looking into the distance.

Far away, a coffin had been moved from the funeral hall and was being buried in a sunny plot of land.

"......"

Yvette put a cigarette between her lips.

She had never had a grand cause. From the beginning, she had been someone unsuited to something like revolution.

And she found herself thinking this.

If I had met someone like you a little sooner...

No.

Then I might not have known the gratitude I felt today.

They said people collapsed and rebuilt themselves countless times. But I had been a wreck from the beginning, which was probably why I had grown into nothing more than this. Still, that was who I was, and honestly, I didn't give a fuck anymore.

Whatever happened to the continent. Whether it burned in war or froze over. Whatever the race, whatever it might be.

I just...

"I want to leave now."

She wanted to leave. To leave every place that had endlessly bound her, judged her as it pleased, and tried to possess her.

"Thank you, Sergeant Paul."

She quietly turned and left the cemetery.

"There will be an inspection."

There was an inspection on the way out as well. Only Aran were allowed to enter the facility.

"Here."

She handed over her new family register. The guard skimmed it, then immediately straightened his posture.

"......It is an honor."

The treatment was quite satisfying. One might think she had to be an Imperial noble for it to be called an honor, but no.

Her status was entirely ordinary, but the family register included the signature of the person who had verified it.

[ Maximilian von Albrecht Ebenholtz ]

As Yvette walked out of the cemetery, she thought.

Maximilian might be a devil, just as the Revolutionary Faction claimed.

But everyone had another side to them, and the Revolutionary Faction itself had traits similar to Maximilian's.

Good and evil.

Right and wrong.

Murder and salvation.

In the end, the world was a place where everything was mixed together.

Like the comrade who had tried to kill me, and the enemy who had saved me.

...Perhaps.

Perhaps the time had come for all of us to collapse at least once.

* * *

In Hailand, at an aircraft factory on the southern coast, airframes for new fighter planes were being assembled. Beside it stood a research building where they tested the air-defense network to be built along the coast.

Senator Arthur Winston inspected the site, running his fingertips over an unfinished wing.

"It is not only us. Nearly every nation on the continent is feverishly building up its arms. They have felt the Empire's threat firsthand."

Hailand's Army Minister Leonard spoke.

"Arthur. How is Gary?"

"Gary has not rejected it either."

Tap.

Arthur planted his cane on the concrete floor.

"In fact, he is signing off on the military buildup."

"......What on earth is he thinking?"

Leonard furrowed his brow fiercely.

"Gary must step down. The sooner, the better."

"......Do not say that just anywhere. He is the most popular prime minister in Hailand's history."

"He is now. Before long, he will fall. Or we will bring him down."

The Army Minister's words remained as extreme as ever. Yet Arthur did not entirely wish to restrain Leonard.

"Arthur. I..."

Leonard placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"I believe you must become Hailand's leader. If not now, then someday. Without fail."

"......"

Then Leonard handed Arthur an envelope.

It was an invitation.

"It is a gathering of supporters I attend often. They are people who wish to meet you."

Anti-Imperial businessmen, capital from ethnic minorities, and some labor unions. Most of them were probably Izenheim or Mer capital.

"Whether it is speeches or business, they will provide everything you need. We all want you."

Leonard's eyes seemed to carry even his soul.

Arthur put the invitation into his coat and nodded resolutely.

...

The main auditorium of Imperial Central University.

"......Therefore, those who call the will of the Imperial Aran 'conquest' are exceedingly barbaric."

Leutern II adjusted his glasses and continued the lecture.

"What we seek is restoration. Returning lost brethren and lost land to their proper places. Genson is merely the first chapter..."

Exactly ninety minutes.

After Leutern II finished his script precisely on time, it was time for questions.

"Does anyone have a question?"

The students raised their hands. Quite a few of them did.

"Yes. You first."

"Lord Leutern, now that you have liberated Genson from oppression, I would like to ask for your distinguished opinion on future international affairs."

International affairs...

Leutern II rubbed his chin for a moment, lost in thought.

"That is a good question."

He only said it to buy time.

"......More precisely, the answer would be that no one can know. The Empire is prepared, and those who are prepared do not predict the situation."

He brushed it off like that and moved to the next question.

"Lord Leutern, what do you think of Prime Minister Gary Beaufort?"

This time, he could give a more specific answer.

Leutern II had seen Gary Beaufort in person, and Max had spoken to him about Gary as well.

At least, Gary had looked polite.

"He is certainly someone Hailand can respect, having moved the giant that is the Empire. Well, that is probably why he became prime minister, is it not?"

The auditorium laughed at his words.

Leutern II had only muttered it offhandedly. But the reporters who had been listening in on the lecture copied down that single line, their eyes gleaming.

[ Leutern says the Empire respects Gary Beaufort... ]

Something like that.

"Well then. Good work, everyone."

Leutern II waved and stepped down from the auditorium stage.

Professor Ruben attached himself to him like a secretary.

"You worked very hard, Lord Leutern."

"Mm. Ruben. Does our continental tour start next week?"

"Yes. The schedule is enormous."

The Imperial center, the east, west, and south, even Prozen and Hailand. Stages that wanted only the great man named Leutern.

This time, Leutern II planned to travel with his father. He keenly felt that his father, Leutern, did not have much time left.

He needed to make as many memories as possible before then.

"Oh, right. This is going to the press."

Leutern II handed over a piece of writing.

[ The east trembles in fear. Of what? Of the Empire. The Empire threatens like a lion, and they shudder. The Empire smiles. But it does not let down its guard. For the Empire's deep, deep patience is not infinite. The west watching us would do well to think carefully. ]

It was the finished version.

Not a first draft requiring revision, but the final manuscript.

Once, Ruben might have been flustered, but he accepted it smoothly now.

All of Leutern's writing was like this to begin with. Ruben would polish it himself, and Leutern did not care much either.

"Another masterful piece today."

"Come on, what masterful piece? I just threw it together."

"No, sir. This part, where you say it threatens like a lion, seems to predict the Empire's will with remarkable accuracy..."

Whether it was a paper or a column, Ruben would be listed as Leutern's coauthor. He received a generous salary, access to materials, chances to accompany lectures, and even academic prestige at Leutern's side. It was a perfect win-win relationship.

"Ruben. Let us go."

"Yes."

Just as Ruben was about to get into Leutern's car.

Suddenly.

"Professor Ruben!"

Someone handed Ruben a newspaper.

Ruben's face stiffened as he read the headline, and Leutern II read the front page over his shoulder.

"What?! An Imperial diplomat was shot dead in Prozen?!"

* * *

Bang.

A single gunshot.

A bullet had been fired in Prozen.

An Imperial diplomat stationed in Prozen had been shot dead, and the culprit was identified as Izenheim.

The accomplice who had provided intelligence and weapons was Mer.

That was why, in the future before my regression, the Empire had exploded against the ethnic minorities.

They smashed and burned every shop run by Izenheim, Mer, and Dromon alike.

The riots, which swept everyone into them, raged for three days and nights.

Journalists from across the continent took photographs there.

The devastation was clearly printed and spread across the world.

Thinking about it now, all of that had been Izenheim's intention.

I would not be swept up in their script.

...

"We must use this opportunity. How dare they kill an Imperial diplomat! The Empire must punish them severely!"

In the meeting room where Imperial ministers had gathered, Johann Georg, head of the newly created Ministry of Propaganda, waited a moment as he listened to them.

"They shot the Aran, the face of the Empire. Blood must be answered with blood."

"Imperial citizens demand it. If we do not lead them, they will move first."

The Imperial Guard, regular army, and ministers.

Everyone vented their fury, as though competing in loyalty.

"There is no need to respond to their provocation with violence."

At Johann's words, the room stirred.

Himmler, a key figure in the Imperial Guard, folded his arms and glared at Johann.

"They shot first, and the citizens are furious. Yet you say there is no need to respond?"

Johann nodded.

"There is a better way. A far better one."

"How can you be certain it is better?"

Himmler and the other ministers drew their brows together.

Johann placed a stack of documents on the table.

"Beginning on the first day of next year, Izenheim retail trade, handicrafts, and street vending will be completely banned. Their corporate management rights will be seized, and their remaining businesses transferred to state-designated buyers. At ten percent of market value, twenty at most. The owners will not receive the money. It will go into frozen accounts managed by the state."

His words poured forth as though he had prepared them in advance.

Johann turned the page.

"We will establish an atonement levy for this incident. Izenheim committed it, so they must pay for it. Their assets will therefore be collected. If anything has been destroyed, the state will confiscate the insurance payouts. Stocks, bonds, and precious metals will be forcibly sold. Real estate will be subject to mandatory disposal."

The others were briefly stunned by the unending stream of words.

"......As such, rage is strongest when it is cold."

Crackle.

The heater burned in the meeting room. Outside the windows, it was already dark, and the ministers' faces were stiff in the reflected glass.

"Only fire possessed of reason can burn the continent most righteously."

The moment he finished speaking.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Someone applauded.

Everyone turned toward the sound.

It was Kairon, commander of the Sentinel Knights.

Kairon smiled and nodded.

"That is very true."

Johann was only reading Maximilian's script anyway.

With the weight of the Sentinel Knights' commander behind it, the meeting reached its decision.

...

"I agree with your proposal as well."

The Imperial Princess's hideout.

I received her there.

"But I will add one condition."

The Imperial Princess spoke as she ate.

"It will apply not only to Izenheim, but to Mer, Kenshi, and every heterogeneous bloodline."

She ate her bloody steak with old-fashioned elegance.

She preferred it blue, almost raw.

"There will be no exceptions."

"......"

Like the Emperor, the Imperial Princess wished to exterminate everyone she classified as a heterogeneous bloodline.

The Emperor had a strange sense of mission. The Imperial Princess harbored malice whose end could not be seen.

"As for Yaken, they are hunting dogs, as you said, even if we were to give them time."

Even as she said they could be given time, she was already thinking of boiling the hunting dogs.

"Yes."

For now, we walked the same path, but we were bound to diverge someday.

Even so, it was not yet time to clash.

"I will obey Your Highness's command."

For now, I had no choice but to accept it humbly.

...For now.

After that day, the harsh bloodline law was enacted.

All commerce by heterogeneous bloodlines was prohibited. Those who tried to resist were taken away by the Imperial Army. Their vacant places were put up for auction.

Auction stalls appeared on the streets of Izenheim and Mer neighborhoods, and Imperial citizens took their places.

They praised the Aran. They extolled the Empire. They took pride in gaining businesses solely because they were Aran.

In addition, homeless people, beggars, alcoholics, and Izenheim ex-convicts were all imprisoned in Camps.

"Sir Knight, six Camps have been completed."

I controlled more than half of the Camp industry.

To preserve my direction amid the chaos that would soon shake the continent.

"......Separate the races thoroughly."

Although I would go on as the most vicious imperialist, a racism-crazed man, and a butcher who designed the deaths of tens of millions.

"Even among the heterogeneous bloodlines."

I would surely keep to the true path.

The North Star, just as someone had once told me.

"Do not keep Mer, Yedlem, and Kenshi within the same walls as Izenheim in particular."

Those three races, along with Izenheim, were subspecies despised across the continent.

But they had committed no crime. Being born was not a crime.

I did not yet have the power to stop their persecution. To save them, I needed to own as many Camps as possible myself.

"Yes. And, Sir Knight, a letter has arrived from Halbert Goring."

Halbert Goring. A familiar name I had encountered rather often through various incidents.

I opened the letter.

[ To Sir Knight Maximilian ]

...I believe myself to be a suitable person to manage Camps. Over the past half year, I have sent numerous documents, business plans, estimates, and workforce management proposals...

I trust that you, Sir Knight, know my accomplishments aboard the Titan better than anyone, yet I have not been selected at all.

If you would give me a chance just once...

"What's the situation?"

The letter's tone was needlessly desperate.

The administrator answered.

"He is currently on the verge of bankruptcy. The reason is..."

Halbert Goring had spent heavily to enter the Camp business, but trouble had arisen with his relatives.

Hagmunt Goring, Halbert's uncle and a direct-line member of House Goring, was an Imperial Guard executive. He took Halbert's money but used his connections to put forward only Imperial Guard men for the Camps.

"......Halbert Goring."

But in my opinion.

"Tell him we will entrust a Camp to him."

He was, rather, exactly suited to this sort of business.

* * *

"Haah..."

Halbert Goring had been wasting away lately.

Every day, he looked over real estate prices and wondered whether he should sell his house. Sometimes, thoughts of Yvette even brought tears to his eyes.

"Still, I got to spend almost a month with a woman like that."

It truly had been like a dream...

One day, as he repeatedly drank and cried over old memories.

"Are you Sir Halbert Goring?"

Someone came looking for him with news.

"......Who are you?"

"Congratulations. You have been selected as the manager of Devrans Camp, which is currently under construction..."

"Whaaaat?!"

"You have been selected as its manager."

"Really? Really?!"

"Yes. Come with me."

He immediately ran off.

The destination was quite far from the Imperial capital.

It was an industrial zone farther east, near Yursled.

It was farther than expected, but he had no time to feel disappointed.

"What do you think?"

"......"

His mouth fell open at the sight of the sprawling, sophisticated factory.

"It will produce military supplies, including ropes and parachutes. Mer will likely be interned here..."

Mer?

Halbert Goring grinned.

"Yes! I am very good at managing Mer. I even know one."

"Oh, do you?"

"......Not many. Ha ha ha. I just used one like a lackey... He is dead now. Ha..."

His laughter faded for a moment. Without realizing it, he lowered his head.

He had suddenly remembered the last thing that lackey had said to him. It was still carved into his memory.

Afraid the administrator might notice, Halbert quickly composed his expression.

"Sir Halbert. This is the acquisition price."

The administrator handed him a document.

The acquisition price.

The factory was larger than expected, so it would probably require a great deal of money. Should he borrow more money from Nils?

"Yes. If I sell my house later, could I then..."

Could he pay afterward?

The moment he saw the document while saying this.

"Um... It says one hundred imperial dollars?"

The administrator looked at Halbert and smiled.

"Yes. That is correct."

"......Excuse me?"

"Sir Knight Maximilian instructed us to treat the hero of the Titan appropriately."

In other words, it truly was one hundred imperial dollars.

"......"

In that moment, Halbert Goring felt a strange joy.

Was it ecstasy?

It was an emotion he had never experienced in all his decades of life, as if starlight had poured down from above, as if lightning had struck his hair and made it stand on end, making his whole body sway with the feeling.

"With the capability you showed in preserving order aboard the Titan and rescuing survivors, we ask that you manage this Camp without losses."

"O-of course! Of course I will! For the rest of my life!"

Halbert Goring firmly grabbed the administrator's hand.

"I will devote my entire life to building this place up!"

"Please sign first."

"Yes, yes! Yes!"

Halbert hurriedly signed, then received a thick envelope containing the documents proving ownership of the Camp.

"Then I will be going."

He did not know whether it was a dream or reality, but the administrator left first.

"......"

Halbert stood alone in the center of the factory.

It was empty, yet full of machines...

Beautiful.

"Haah..."

This place was his now.

He wondered if it was real.

But even after slapping his own cheek again and again, he did not wake from the dream.

That meant it was real.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!"

It meant this whole place belonged to him.

"Ha ha ha ha ha! This is my home now!"

He spun around and around in the empty factory as though dancing a waltz.

After spinning for a long while, he suddenly stopped.

"......"

Empty worktables lined up beneath the high ceiling.

Soon, people would stand there.

Skilled Mer who put their work first. Faces like that lackey's. People of the same ethnicity as that lackey.

"......Eli Zella."

He quietly repeated the name, then shook his head.

Do not think unnecessary thoughts.

For now, enjoy this moment alone.

Halbert began spinning around the factory once more.