WeTried Translations
Translator: Coughing Baby
Editor: Coughing Baby
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Reluctant Imperialist
Chapter 23
──────
What It Means to Be Different
An old underground warehouse somewhere in the Gennen Autonomous Territory.
Investigator Zendo had come down here alone, summoned by someone.
“......”
Silence filled the space. Zendo’s heart pounded heavily. It felt like he had laid his own neck on the guillotine.
Whoever he was dealing with was a giant he could not even begin to measure. If he displeased them, they could dispose of him at any time.
“You came.”
A man stepped out from the deep shadows of the warehouse. Zendo turned to look.
An expressionless man stood there.
“Yes. Why did you call me......”
“I have something to deliver. Open it.”
The man pointed at the boxes stacked to one side of the warehouse. Zendo hesitated, then walked over and lifted one lid.
“......W, what is this?”
Inside were cutting-edge investigative tools that investigators in the Autonomous Territory would never even get to see: latest-model mana trackers, micro eavesdropping bugs, long-range listening devices, and more. There was even a latest-model mana rifle.
“These are supplies the knight is providing.”
“Pardon?”
“Use them in whatever way helps your investigation.”
“......”
As Zendo stood there in confusion, Dieter handed him a check as well.
“This is also operational funding. I will not question how you spend it, but use it properly. Corruption is always found out.”
Zendo stared at the check. The number had a lot of zeros. Ebenholtz’s signature was unmistakably there too. His mind went blank.
“The knight’s message is written on that. I will be going now.”
“......Y, yes. Safe travels.”
Zendo watched Dieter walk away, then flipped the check over.
A sentence was written on the back in elegant cursive.
[Remember this. If you get obsessed with performance and vent your anger by grabbing random people, you will never get anywhere near the Revolutionary Faction. You and I may have the same goal.]
Zendo’s eyes widened. He hurriedly looked toward the exit, but Dieter was already gone.
* * *
A knight’s duties were many and varied, but among them, the most important was dealing with “special criminals.”
Ordinary criminals could be handled well enough by the police. Even thugs who could use mana a little could be turned into bullet-riddled corpses thanks to the development of firearms.
Knights, however, dealt with threats beyond that level.
People professionally trained in mana, or people who had surpassed human limits through some trigger.
That was why a knight had to be a foremost mana specialist, and analyzing evidence in mana-related cases was also part of a knight’s role.
I pressed my fingers to my temples as I looked at the mountain of documents on my desk.
My head throbbed, but I picked one up anyway.
[Case No. 1038077-C0-23: Request for analysis of mana residue in noble murder case on the outskirts of the capital]
A photo was attached to the case file. It had been taken by restoring traces of mana.
“Residue......”
After mana was used, something called residue always remained, and special solutions used in investigations activated that residue so it became visible to the naked eye.
This phenomenon was called activated residue, and it was critical evidence in tracking mana criminals. The nature, traits, characteristics, and patterns of mana differed from person to person.
All kinds of people existed in this world. Not just Izenheim. There were people who abused the mana they had worked hard to learn, criminal organizations, and people at rock bottom who wielded mana like a weapon just to survive.
One of a knight’s core duties was hunting those people down, so activated residue analysis was part of the Order’s core curriculum.
It would not be an exaggeration to call it one of the most important subjects.
“......This is killing me.”
I had failed at that field. I never had talent for it to begin with, and this chaotic activated residue was especially dizzying.
It was the technique of reconstructing a scene by collecting mana fragments scattered even more chaotically than blood spatter.
Anyone short on patience and full of inferiority would naturally hate this kind of analysis and memorization.
“Whew......”
I had to move past that old self.
I stared hard at the crime scene photo.
How did I analyze residue again? It had been a required subject since student days, so I remembered doing it a few times long ago, but I still could not even grasp the basics.
──Thump.
At that moment, the virus inside me reacted. My vision suddenly filled with blue. At the same time, the distorted residue beside the corpse’s fatal wound started moving. As if time had rewound, the form of mana came back to life on top of the photo. Its flow and behavior unfolded in three dimensions.
The situation reconstructed itself on my retina.
“......The hand.”
The culprit had condensed mana in his grip and fired it in one burst. The clump of mana exploded the moment it touched the victim’s body, leaving behind irregular scatter.
The mana’s nature was “dispersive.”
Its density was also very high.
Which meant the suspect was an expert who had cultivated mana for a long time and used the hand as a medium. On top of that, this style of manifestation looked familiar, like I had seen it somewhere before. A group that trained themselves and embraced ascetic discipline.
Monk.
I wrote the report on the computer.
[Case No. 1038077-C0-23: Analysis Report]
[Analyst: Maximilian Ebenholtz]
[The suspect uses a method of condensing mana in the grip and detonating it. The mana nature is “dispersive type,” and control and density suggest a highly trained expert. Canvassing nearby monasteries not far from the scene is recommended......]
“......You’re good.”
I praised the virus. I had no idea what it was, but at minimum, it seemed deeply versed in mana.
There was still plenty of paperwork left.
[Case No. 1038179-C0-19: Serial murder case of back-alley mercenaries in District 23]
The virus reassembled the activated residue without difficulty and projected it onto my retina, and I analyzed the scene based on that information.
[Case No. 1038179-C0-19 Analysis Report]
[The suspect ejects mana in a precise formed structure......]
Tick.
[Case No. 1038352-C1-25: Analysis Report]
[Analyst: Maximilian Ebenholtz]
[The suspect......]
Tick.
[Case No. 1038995-C1-59: Analysis Report]
[Case No. 1038995-C1-93: Analysis Report]
[Case No. 1038995-C1-99: Analysis Report]
Tick.
I looked at the clock. I came in at 8 a.m., and now it was noon. In just four hours, I finished a week’s worth of desk work.
Knock knock.
Someone knocked on my office door.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Yulian walked in.
“What brings you here, Knight Yulian?”
Yulian swept his gaze around my office once.
“You don’t decorate.”
He seemed surprised. Well, before regression, I had filled my office with all kinds of nonsense. I decorated it in northern snowfield style, then got bored and changed it into a southern resort style, and so on......
“How is the Head-Eater case going?”
“Yes. I identified the culprit.”
“Impressive.”
Yulian showed little reaction. He looked half convinced I was bluffing, half willing to accept it as fact.
I could never read what was inside him.
Yulian said, “We have a place to go. Change into plain clothes and follow me.”
“Yes.”
We met in plain clothes in the parking lot. By chance, our color schemes were similar. Yulian wore a black leather jacket, and I wore a black coat. We both hid our conspicuous blond hair with hats.
“We are going by car.”
“Yes.”
There were separate vehicles for knight dispatches. We could have gone on horseback if we wanted, but these days that stood out too much.
Out of habit, I got into the passenger seat. Seeing that automatic move, Yulian paused as he was about to get into the driver’s seat.
“......”
Then he stared at me.
“?”
I blinked, then realized my mistake too late.
“Ah.”
I moved to the driver’s seat.
“It shows in moments like this.”
Yulian got into the passenger seat.
“District 43.”
“Yes.”
I gave a bitter smile and stepped on the accelerator. Vroooom! The Order-exclusive vehicle had excellent output.
“Is it just the two of us?”
“Yes.”
A knight was top-tier force, each one at least equivalent to a military company. Two knights meant the force of hundreds of military police.
We arrived at the slums of District 43, on the outer edge of the imperial capital’s center.
“Get out.”
“Yes.”
We got out and walked down the street. Not long after, a foul smell hit us. Filth clung to every corner of the pavement like living organisms, and things that looked like either people or corpses were sprawled around.
“There is a drug cartel based here.”
“Your specialty, Knight.”
“It happened that way.”
Yulian’s voice was flat as always. He always kept the same tone, but deep fatigue sat underneath it.
M’lord...... M’lord......
Just one coin...... Please, just one coin......
I’m hungry......
Begging voices came from the street. There were children. There were old people. All of them had faces drained by hunger, or faces dulled by drugs.
District 43 was always like this. It was the Empire’s worst slum, adjacent to the underground city.
“When I come here, I sometimes think about this.”
Yulian spoke suddenly.
“What went wrong for these people, and where it started.”
He looked ahead. His gaze did not waver because of the drifters.
“That they ended up in lives like this.”
I knew why Yulian had brought me here. He wanted to show me something. Probably the reality of people whose lives were far removed from the nobles’ world.
“They might have been one of us, and we might have been one of them.”
Yulian was a man of firm convictions. That made him unyielding. I would never persuade him, but even that side of him deserved respect.
Yulian stopped near a ruined building.
“Maximilian. What do you think?”
I answered him.
“I think nothing.”
Without speaking, Yulian asked what I meant.
“I do not have time to care about the bottom. No world can eliminate hunger and evil in the first place. Counting each one of them is nothing but counting grains of sand while walking the beach.”
The mindset I carried as a noble......
That had already shattered before regression. I was not a chosen man, and Ebenholtz was not a noble house.
“We have a purpose. We have to move toward it.”
What I had now was a purpose.
It was a grand ambition to survive, and a great cause not to be annihilated.
“If we worry about trifles, the world ends, Knight Yulian.”
A faint smile spread at the corner of Yulian’s mouth. Maybe he liked my answer.
Probably not.
What I said was the opposite of his convictions.
Still, Yulian never judged others carelessly. He never tried to force-change them either. He simply accepted people as they were.
“I see. That could be true.”
Yulian signaled with his eyes.
“Get ready, Maximilian.”
“Yes, Knight Yulian.”
I called to Yulian. One hand resting at his waist, he turned toward me.
“You can call me Max.”
Yulian was a true noble. A man born into an upper-tier house among nobles, raised only on an elite track.
Even so, he looked down from above and still tried to understand those below. He wrestled with it. He built convictions different from the life he was born into, and at the most decisive moment, he threw himself into what he believed was right.
His unwavering goodness was the decisive reason I could break free from the Empire’s brainwashing.
──And that was how the world ended.
“......Max.”
Saying my name, Yulian raised his weapon. It was a broadsword whose blade had grown thin from cutting down so many.
“Now draw your sword.”
I nodded and drew mine. Yulian pointed at a wall offset from the building entrance.
A knight was tougher force than most tanks. There was no need to enter honestly through a door.
“Go.”
“Yes.”
At Yulian’s command, I swung my longsword.
Slash!
As I split the building wall apart in one stroke, one thought crossed my mind.
Could I, someday, cut down Yulian?
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