WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ The Reluctant Imperialist

Chapter 128

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The Face of the Empire

The Royal Opera House terror incident was wrapped up unusually fast. Press coverage was restricted, and the full truth was trimmed down. The Imperial Household had applied overwhelming pressure.

They made sure the fact that Justine had been involved never became public.

“Tracking the weapons will be difficult. Usually they pass through Atelik in the west or Bolska in the east, but...”

Even today, I was still investigating what remained of Gigantes.

In practice, though, tracking was impossible. The cargo was disguised as ordinary goods and loaded into containers, bribed customs officers looked the other way, and the documents were destroyed the moment it crossed a border.

Payments also moved through untraceable physical assets or borrowed-name accounts...

Bang!

The door flew open.

One of the usually composed operations officers rushed in, pale as a sheet.

“Sir Knight! The field agent we sent to follow the leads has been murdered!”

I stopped my pen.

The other officers in the room held their breath.

“...”

I stayed still for a moment. So did everyone else.

This was ordinary. Nothing special. Just one of the many agents we had scattered in the field.

“...Do not report this outside for now.”

Whoever did it probably did not know he was my man.

If they had known, they would have tried to negotiate, or handled it more quietly.

“Did he leave family?”

“Yes. A younger sibling and both parents.”

“Then today, we rewrite the regulations for employees killed during operations.”

They could die at any time, but loyalty was decided by how I treated those who devoted themselves to me, and how I accepted their deaths.

I needed people who were truly mine, and they had to be willing to die for me.

“One million dollars. A lifetime pension for the bereaved family. Full tuition and medical support for children or siblings. If the family wants it, priority hiring at companies under my command.”

At the very least, until this world ended, those who devoted themselves to me and their families would live well for life.

“Go to the family and deliver it in person.”

Everyone nodded, faces heavy.

“...And Sir Knight, one more telegram.”

The officer shifted the mood and handed me another document.

“The Arte Museum renovation has been completed. Also, writer Victor Heim has finished a new musical script.”

Where art had been shattered, new art moved in.

The Royal Opera House had been destroyed even more violently than before my regression, but a newer facility would rise in its place.

Knock knock.

At that moment, the office door opened carefully.

I looked over.

“Ah, my apologies. I know every minute of your time is precious, but...”

The noble who owned the Royal Opera House and its director stood there with tense faces.

The noble dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and looked at me anxiously.

“W, we received word that... Sir Knight might be willing to purchase the Royal Opera House, so we came in haste...”

The building had been half-destroyed by terror. Repair costs were astronomical, and its reputation had crashed. For them, the opera house was now a burden too heavy to carry.

Not for me.

It was also a bribe to look good to the imperial princess, but it was still a calculated decision.

From the moment I anticipated the terror attack, I had planned to acquire it.

“Yes. I am interested.”

I held out the papers I had prepared in advance.

“This is the contract.”

The Royal Opera House sat on excellent land, and the lot was large. It was not easy to secure real estate like that in the city center.

If I stripped out the old interior and filled it with my capital, Lorenzo’s technology, Dieter’s financial management, and Victor Heim’s content.

It could absolutely become a profitable business.

“What do you think? For form’s sake, I will leave you with 2% equity.”

“Oh...”

The count’s eyes locked onto the amount in the contract. I did not slash it down to a dirt-cheap figure. I set it roughly at the post-terror assessed value.

“This is very, very good. L, let us sign immediately, Sir Knight.”

Only people without money thought like hyenas and hunted for weaknesses. The rich had no reason to make enemies over a purchase.

“Yes, let us do that.”

Just like that, I turned one more noble into an ally.

* * *

Arte Museum. After its renovation, it seemed to have already become a new landmark.

“...”

From the car parked at a distance, Justine watched the scene.

Even with closing time approaching, the entrance was packed. The crowd that had poured in from opening showed no sign of thinning.

“Too many people.”

She frowned and muttered. No answer came. Yanik was dozing in the driver’s seat.

“...Right. Keep sleeping.”

After being torn apart over this whole incident, he must have been exhausted.

Tick. Tick.

Time passed, night fell completely, and around the time the museum closed after the last visitor left.

The imperial princess got out of the car with Yanik.

“You have arrived.”

Director Verdi greeted her at the front gate. She nodded silently and walked in.

An empty museum.

With every light off, the interior slept in complete darkness.

“I cannot see anything.”

Justine said it bluntly.

“...No.”

Director Verdi smiled.

“You can.”

Snap.

He flicked his fingers.

Srrr...

Something overhead opened. No, more precisely, it sounded like a wave of countless mana stones suspended from the ceiling waking at once.

Like dawn breaking, or sunlight filtering through clouds. Natural light settled softly across the entire space.

“...”

Justine’s eyes widened slightly.

Perfect natural light, warm and soft, never damaging the essence of color, not artificial in the slightest. Gentle, as if the sun itself had been moved onto the museum ceiling.

“Lighting,” Verdi said.

“The museum in the morning, at noon, and at sunset each has a different face. Works look different depending on the angle and color temperature of natural light.”

He pointed to a painting on the wall.

“But at night, you cannot fully enjoy that beauty. So we introduced this system. An artificial sun that mimics the sun’s path with mana stones.”

Right.

To Justine, Verdi’s words did not add up.

At night, when you could not fully enjoy that beauty, the museum was closed. So this lighting had no practical use.

Which meant this was consideration for one single visitor who could only come at night.

“...I see.”

Justine looked at the canvas drinking in the light.

“You spent money on something useless.”

She said it like a rebuke, but she could not pull her eyes off the painting.

Director Verdi let out a quiet laugh.

“Yes. That is true.”

Justine did not trust people. More than that, she hated humanity itself.

Growing up in the pit called the Imperial Palace had taught her one thing: there was no one you could trust.

Behind kindness there was always a price, and behind smiles there was always a blade.

Maximilian was probably no exception. Maybe all of this was political calculation, flattery meant to win her favor.

But.

She walked slowly through the corridor flooded with light. It had forced its way into a night made of nothing but darkness and lit it anyway.

At least in this moment, that calculated consideration did not feel so bad.

* * *

A shabby inn room in a remote back alley of the Bolska district, without even a proper sign out front.

Hanna spread out the items she had recovered from the weapon sellers’ corpses.

“...”

Forged passports, fake IDs, bundles of cash, the sellers’ terminals, and several weapon catalogs and contracts they had likely planned to hand to her.

That was everything.

“Haa.”

Hanna sighed and pulled her cap down.

It was confusing, but staying locked in the room would solve nothing. She needed to assess the situation.

She went down to the first-floor lobby. The old innkeeper at the counter was tuning a radio frequency.

Kshhh, kshhh.

A static-filled broadcast came through.

[...A suspect in the murder case in the downtown commercial district... believed to be an Imperial woman... witnesses are being sought.]

That was the rough meaning she could piece together from the Bolskan. She had started learning it as soon as this business trip was decided, so she could catch words here and there.

Hanna picked up the hallway payphone receiver and dialed.

Tring tring.

“Hello.”

A familiar voice. Leon.

“Sir Leon. It’s Hanna.”

“Hanna. Thank god. We couldn’t reach you, so I was worried. How are things?”

“For now... I have enough bullets, so I can hold out. But did you hear the news?”

With five million dollars in operation funds, she felt she could survive in any country.

“I know. Which is why you have orders to return to the homeland.”

“What about my staff?”

“I sent them back safely to the Empire. Don’t worry.”

Leon’s tone stayed calm.

“Join up immediately. You still have the forged passport, right? Come to the harbor. I’ll be waiting.”

Hanna almost let out a sigh of relief, then stopped.

“Uh...”

It had leaked.

The meeting place and time she had arranged with those men had clearly leaked to people from an unknown faction.

How?

...There was a traitor inside.

Then even this communication was not safe. It was not that she did not trust Leon. Even the mana waves of this call might be under wiretap.

Instead of heading to the harbor, she said something else.

“...Sir Knight. Then before you leave, please stop by the office.”

“Hm? Why?”

“I think I left something important in my desk drawer when I rushed out. Please check for me.”

“...”

Leon was silent for a moment. He seemed to understand.

“Okay.”

Click.

The line disconnected. She put down the payphone receiver. Back in her room, she checked the evidence again.

“...”

Hanna’s gaze slid to the weapon catalog the sellers had brought.

Rustle. Rustle.

She flipped through it and paused.

Photos of rifles and explosives printed in crude quality. The designs looked very familiar.

She ran a hand over the pages and looked closer.

“...What was it.”

Not from seeing the real thing, from textbooks. Crude, but solid finishing. A level of completion impossible to imitate with improvised weapons.

A current flashed through Hanna’s mind.

“...Gigantes.”

Srrr.

At that moment, she sensed a presence outside. Hanna’s brow twitched.

She quietly closed her eyes. In that state, she spread her senses.

Step. Step.

They were hiding their footsteps, but faint steel clattering leaked through.

Step. Step.

Hanna moved well away from the door.

A door was not a wall. So...

KWAKWAKWAKWAKWAK!

Rifle rounds poured through and shredded the door. Hanna gripped her dagger and stilled her breathing.

Pusss.

Presences pushed through the debris and advanced.

Once they had all stepped inside, Hanna moved in an instant and slit every one of their throats.

...

In the dark night at the Bolska border, in a corner of the humid dock where sea wind blew in, Leon received a message from his house.

“...Really?”

He asked dryly.

“Yes. From now on, the direct agency will handle activity there. The mission suits them better, and knights should be doing bigger work.”

His father’s voice came through the terminal.

Leon stayed silent for a moment, then asked in a detached tone.

“Then what about the rookie?”

“Leave her. Since when did you care about some commoner like that?”

“I mean, true, but...”

Leon pressed his lips together.

“Hm.”

House Askar was prestigious, but it seemed the other side stood even higher than us. Someone who could make demands of my father like this...

“Looks like an order came down from above.”

The Imperial Palace, or perhaps an even greater house.

“...”

His father fell silent as if displeased, but did not deny it.

“You will understand someday.”

Click. The communication ended. Leon gave a bitter smile.

So the rumors about palace bastards recording the Knight Order were true.

Wiretapping was real, and this operation had leaked from the start.

The force behind the weapons was not far away. It was inside the Empire.

“...”

Leon looked at the cityscape where Hanna was hiding.

A stubborn monster who had clawed through a backwater and made ten thousand dollars with nothing. If it was her, she could survive this.

“Yes, well. Understood.”

Leon turned around. Men in ash-gray coats stood there. Two agents from the Imperial direct agency. One of them pocketed his terminal and scratched the back of his neck.

“To be honest, Sir Leon, we actually suspect this Hanna person.”

“...Hanna?”

“Yes. She received a huge five million dollar fund from Sir Maximilian, and then a murder happened during a deal only that person knew about.”

The agent continued.

“Five million dollars from Sir Maximilian, and then a strange murder case.”

Leon smiled for a moment. It was a habit of his.

When a situation was messy enough to twist his expression, smiling got him halfway through it.

“If that knight got hold of five million dollars and their weapons, isn’t that enough to start a small revolution?”

“Knight Hanna is a commoner. She has neither the nerve nor the scale for that.”

At Leon’s rebuttal, the agent pressed that exact point.

“Come on. Because she is a commoner, she is even more likely to do it. In this era, a commoner with no backing becoming a Sentinel knight is strange from the start, isn’t it?”

Leon asked calmly.

“Are you a noble?”

At that moment, the agent’s lips twitched.

“Haha...”

The agent forced a laugh and replied.

“Not exactly, but we still show proper respect to nobles. To people like Sir Leon.”

Leon read their disgusting ambition. He hid a sigh behind a smiling gaze.

The Imperial Guard and the direct agency. The two groups were slowly fusing. Commoner-born men gathered, coveted noble privilege, wielded power, and tried to act like nobles.

There was no value in talking any further.

“For now, understood.”

Leon shrugged.

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