Chapter 45 - Compass of Bewilderment (5)
"Major Kirchner."
"Yes, Headmaster Mannheim."
To Armin's heavy voice, Liselotte replied in a gentle tone, wearing a bright smile that seemed far too cheerful in front of the quietly smoldering anger of Major General Armin Mannheim.
"This is the Imperial Military Academy."
"Yes, I'm well aware."
Mannheim faced Liselotte with calm, dark eyes, unshaken by her polite yet disturbingly carefree attitude.
"No matter where you are assigned or what authority you possess, none of that can fully shield you from the consequences of your actions here within these walls. As long as you are inside the Imperial Military Academy."
Armin's voice never rose; he didn't glare at her threateningly.
He simply delivered his warning, composed and unshakeable.
Liselotte, fully aware that this demeanor was far more menacing than any outburst, placed a hand over her heart and bowed her head.
"I apologize, Headmaster Mannheim."
Liselotte sincerely apologized to Armin.
All activities at the Imperial Military Academy are protected under the authority of His Majesty the Emperor.
Every officer is expected to strictly adhere to the schedule, and naturally, every step of the process must be documented in detailed reports and submitted to the higher-ups—in other words, to Imperial Army Headquarters.
But now, thanks to Liselotte's unilateral actions, all those neatly arranged plans had been thrown into chaos.
No matter how much the Central Intelligence Agency is protected by the Imperial family, and no matter that the position of Director is granted only to royals, it still cannot be tolerated for anyone to arbitrarily alter the schedule of the Imperial Military Academy, which is safeguarded by the authority of His Majesty the Emperor.
Even so, the reason Armin had agreed to Liselotte's unreasonable request was because, paradoxically, granting such a blatantly out-of-line favor gave Armin the justification he needed.
"This will never happen again,"
Liselotte assured Armin.
It was a weighty promise—almost too heavy for a mere Major to make. Yet in reality, however powerful the Intelligence Agency might be, they would never wish to challenge the Emperor's authority, so truly, something like this would not happen again.
Still, the fact that Liselotte had dared to do this was significant, and that Armin endured it once and then delivered a courteous warning was equally significant.
There would be no next time.
If anyone attempted to challenge the Imperial Military Academy again, there would be consequences—simply for daring to try.
In the name of His Majesty the Emperor.
"Dismissed."
Armin did not press Liselotte further and issued a formal order for her to leave.
Liselotte saluted him, and Armin quietly accepted her salute with a steady gaze.
"Phew..."
After leaving the Headmaster's office, Liselotte tied up her long blond hair with a ribbon, then wiped the sweat from the back of her neck with a handkerchief.
No matter how powerful a Baltracher Liselotte was, facing the pressure of a seasoned veteran like Major General Armin Mannheim head-on was incredibly difficult.
Above all, she didn't have the Balt Battery with her right now.
She was so conscious of the situation that she'd voluntarily handed over the Balt Battery when she entered the academy headquarters.
In other words, at this moment, Liselotte was nothing more than a small, fragile, ordinary woman.
"Thank you for your hard work."
An agent from the Central Intelligence Agency, officially assigned to the Cadet Corps, was waiting outside.
As soon as Liselotte emerged, the agent handed her a belt fitted with the Balt Battery.
Liselotte accepted it and loosely wrapped it around her hand—she couldn't very well undress here to strap it to her chest.
"You did well too. It was a tough job, but you handled it nicely,"
Liselotte said with a smile, praising the agent who had managed to coordinate the complicated schedule so successfully.
"Honestly, I think it was more thanks to the Headmaster than to me…"
"It's a rare compliment—why not just accept it for what it is?"
Of course, Liselotte fully understood that Armin had allowed this difficult request out of consideration for various political complexities. Still, even approaching Armin Mannheim in person to ask him, face-to-face, to change the schedule of the Imperial Military Academy was an act of insanity that only someone with extraordinary nerve could attempt.
"Only move Ernest Krieger up; leave the others as they are."
At Liselotte's casual command, the agent flinched in surprise. He hesitated, then replied in a careful voice.
"If we move him up from Class 2, that only leaves Class 1…"
"Oh, really?"
"I apologize."
When Liselotte turned with an innocent look of surprise on her pretty face, the officer quickly apologized, chilled by the undertone of menace.
The meaning was clear: as if she didn't already know exactly what she was saying.
If he dared reply, "Yes, that's really the case," he'd be in serious trouble.
"Hmmm…"
Liselotte gazed out at the lush green garden, sparkling under the heat of the summer sun, and let out a long sigh. Even her sigh seemed as if it would carry the sweet scent of honey, just like her beautiful blond hair.
"Something just doesn't sit right with me."
"What exactly do you mean, ma'am?"
"Ernest Krieger."
Liselotte spoke the name once more.
"I'll raise the surveillance level."
"…No, don't. Keep things as they are."
"At Level 1… Understood. I'll keep it as it is now."
The agent silently vowed never again to question a word from this lovely, delicate-looking woman.
"That's right, you should do as you're told."
"…"
Liselotte patted the agent's shoulder with her small hand, though he was much taller than she was.
Despite how gentle and fragile this pretty woman appeared, the agent was so terrified he felt almost sick, barely able to breathe.
Anyone who knew Liselotte would understand very well what it meant to be touched by her hand. Unless you were a trained Baltracher, you wouldn't even be able to resist—you'd just become one of her playthings. It almost felt safer to have a loaded gun pointed at your head.
Liselotte strolled out of the Imperial Military Academy with the ease of someone going for a casual walk and approached the officer's car waiting out front. As she drew near, the tall, handsome driver quickly opened the door for her.
"Take me to Baldy."
"Baldy…?"
The moment Liselotte said this after getting into the car, the driver turned around in shock.
"I said, take me to Baldy."
"You mean… Baron Handel, right?"
"Yes, that bald one."
"Ha…"
"What, is it okay to just sigh like that when someone's talking to you?"
With her small, pale hand, Liselotte lightly tapped the sighing driver on the head. Even though she could brainwash someone completely or reduce them to a mindless fool with just a gentle touch, the driver didn't feel a hint of fear—only mild annoyance at her gesture.
There were almost no people who knew what Liselotte was capable of and could remain this unfazed in such a situation.
"Please, I'm begging you, don't ever say things like that anywhere else. It's honestly terrifying…"
"Oh, who cares. He's just some country baron."
"Liselotte Kirchner is just a lowly major, you know."
"Did you just call me 'lowly'?"
"You really have a way with words, don't you?"
"No, I mean, I was talking about Liselotte Kirchner…"
"Are you out of your mind? Right now, I am Liselotte Kirchner."
"Even so, you're a major—you can't just go around calling Baron Handel 'Baldy' or 'some country baron.'"
"So what? It's just the two of us here."
"Good grief."
"You're still sighing? Don't worry. As your senior, I'll take full responsibility for your life. From now on, your life is going to get a whole lot more interesting."
"My life went off the rails the moment I met you, senior."
When the driver muttered this with a sigh, Liselotte, who had been relieving stress by teasing him, suddenly clamped her mouth shut.
Tss!
"Damn it! Don't smoke in the car!"
"Phew…"
Thanks to Liselotte, who had lit up a cigarette in the back seat, the driver felt like he was going to lose his mind.
After all, 'Major Liselotte Kirchner' was supposed to be the ideal woman—always perfect—so she shouldn't even be interested in something as vulgar as cigarettes.
Unfazed by the driver's grumbling, Liselotte continued smoking her cigarette, gazing out the window with a distant look in her eyes as the scenery slid by.
"Damn it! Will you please put out that damn cigarette? Aren't we on our way to see Baron Handel?"
"Just tell them it was you smoking."
"What about my reputation!"
"Your reputation isn't really my concern, is it?"
"…"
He couldn't argue with that—she had a point.
After a brief silence, Liselotte muttered,
"…It's already tangled beyond repair anyway."
She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and then, using Balt, vented the dense smoke from the car, expelling it outside. Despite the presence of the robust, grown man driving, Liselotte ignored him, took off her Officer's Uniform jacket, and slipped her hand under her shirt to strap the Balt Battery belt securely across her chest.
With only the sound of the Balt Engine humming in the air, the atmosphere in the car grew oppressively heavy. The driver hesitated for a moment, then spoke up.
"Did you find anything out?"
"Yeah. Krieger. Do you know what that is?"
"No, I have no idea."
"What do you actually know, anyway?"
"Please, just stop. I'm begging you."
Once again, silence fell as the car drove down the street. Liselotte, on the verge of getting lost in her thoughts, suddenly remembered their conversation and continued speaking.
"I raised him to First Class."
"First Class? Isn't he only sixteen?"
"Fourteen. He's a First Year."
"What? Today, the third years… Oh, come on. Please tell me you're joking."
"He had a truly exceptional talent."
Liselotte murmured quietly,
"A truly precious talent, really."
"No matter how talented, this is way over the line. Did Headmaster Mannheim just let it slide?"
"I'll have to be more careful in the future, but it shouldn't be much of an issue."
"His Majesty the Emperor himself is watching over us."
"For heaven's sake! Please, I'm begging you, don't talk like that in public!"
Rena Rosenbauer spoke far too casually about information that absolutely must never be leaked outside, and the driver felt like he was about to lose his mind. He clearly remembered Liselotte warning him during his training never to do such things—so why was Liselotte, of all people, acting like this?
"If anyone hears, I'll just erase their memory."
Liselotte, who could manipulate the human mind like a toy with just a light touch, said this as if it were nothing.
"What if you end up in a situation where you can't erase their memory…?"
"…Well, yes, I suppose situations like that could happen."
At the driver's grumbling, Liselotte murmured almost to herself, recalling Ernest's bizarre mind—a mind she couldn't even bring herself to enter.
How could someone like that even exist?
And how did such a person end up entering the Imperial Military Academy and meeting her of all people?
"Something just feels off."
To Liselotte, it all felt as if someone had orchestrated these events. And if that were true, the one behind it would most likely be His Majesty the Emperor.
Rena Rosenbauer, First-Class Baltracher assigned to the Special Security Bureau—the Emperor's own secret organization—couldn't help but think that way.
"The only thing that feels off is your miserable love life, Senior."
"Pull over."
"Are you crazy? You know exactly what you'd do to me if I stopped the car right now."
"Then just keep driving and pick a spot you like. That'll be your grave."
"Seriously, why did you have to join this place and end up living like this, unable to even date? At your age, too..."
"That's an amusing thing to say. Do you think I joined because I wanted to? And what's with bringing up my age?"
"Why didn't you just run away?"
"To where?"
"..."
As long as you were in the Empire, you could never hide from the Emperor's eyes and ears. No one understood this better than those working at the very heart of the Special Security Bureau.
"But you could have, Senior."
"I was just a ten-year-old girl with big dreams back then."
"Damn. This is seriously too much."
"You're right. They bring in kids who have no idea about any of this..."
"And that bright-eyed, dream-filled ten-year-old girl ended up as this ruthless old maid—aaagh!"
There wasn't much strength in Rena Rosenbauer's small, pale hand, but it didn't take much to grab someone by the sideburns and make them yelp in pain.
"You just passed Baldy's place. Are you even paying attention?"
"Let go! Please let go! Seriously!"
"Still, these days, it's the fun I have messing with you that gets me through the day."
"How is this fun for me! This is just harassment!"
"Then you should've been born earlier and become a stronger Baltracher than me."
The car wobbled as it made a U-turn and stopped in front of Baron Handel's bald-headed estate again. Rena began straightening her outfit.
"Just do it quickly. It's not like it matters anyway..."
"You think I look pretty even without trying?"
"..."
"Yeah, I know."
Rena Rosenbauer gave a brief laugh and tapped the driver's seat. The Baltracher from the Special Security Bureau—or rather, the driver—quickly hopped out of the car and opened the door for her with a crisp motion.
"Ugh, I just want to die."
With a voice as lovely as ever, Rena Rosenbauer let out a sigh and stepped out of the car.
But in truth, that wasn't what she really wanted to say.
I don't want to kill.
Just how many lives must I take, how many souls must I break, before this job ever ends?
By the time she stepped out of the car, there was no trace left of the playfully teasing, seemingly affectionate woman who had tried to put her junior at ease.
All that remained was Major Liselotte Kirchner—beautiful, kind, slight, and delicate—the ideal woman everyone longed to talk to.
Baron Handel would finally get to have that long-anticipated dinner with Major Liselotte Kirchner.
And starting tonight, he would slowly begin to lose his mind, eventually falling completely into madness before summer's end, until he would have no choice but to pass the barony not to his own son, who was much too young and frail, but to his younger brother—who was strong, fully grown, and harbored ambitions of his own.
That was the steep price he paid for taking the hand of "Major Liselotte Kirchner"—who was, in truth, the interrogator Rena Rosenbauer in disguise—just for the chance to flirt with her over dinner.
***
The evening after meeting with Major Liselotte Kirchner, as free time was drawing to a close, Ernest finally relaxed a little, relieved at the realization that the military police almost certainly weren't about to come bursting in and arrest him.
For reasons he couldn't fathom, it seemed Liselotte hadn't read the parts of his mind that were filled with suspicion about the Emperor and the Empire.
That was a huge relief.
At last, Ernest was able to stop agonizing over the utterly impossible idea of escaping from the military police—especially in Grimman, the imperial capital, and within the Imperial Military Academy itself, one of the most strictly guarded places in the city.
"I should've held onto her a little longer."
"Robert, seriously, can you just stop? It's disgusting."
"But! She was unbelievably beautiful! I mean it! Ah, surely someone like Major Kirchner is the type who'd stay graceful and demure even when there's nobody around. I wish she'd hold me around the waist from behind while I'm riding a horse…"
"..."
Ever since meeting Liselotte, who embodied his ideal type perfectly, Robert seemed to be only half in his right mind.
No, actually, the real problem was that he was still in his right mind. How could that possibly be called sane?
What am I supposed to do?
Ignoring Robert, Ernest stared at the bottle of tonic, deep in thought.
I just don't have the nerve to take a whole pill anymore...
After gradually reducing his dosage over the last few days—cutting it down by half—Ernest realized he simply couldn't bring himself to take a full tonic pill and endure the same agony he'd faced today.
Looking back, it truly was insane.
How had he possibly managed to survive taking these things for the past four years?
Alright, I'll just take two-thirds. Half feels like too little… But wait, even when I only took half, nothing really bad happened.
Ah… but I haven't even asked Father for permission yet...
Caught in an endless struggle with himself, Ernest eventually decided on two-thirds.
If his heart didn't give him any trouble, he could always try cutting back a bit more next time.
Only down to half.
No less than half.
That's the line.
He firmly promised himself never to cut the pills into anything less than half. It was the last bit of conscience he had left, now that he'd broken his very first promise to the Father he admired more than anyone in the world. ······At this point, after already cutting the pill in half, there really wasn't much room left for conscience or scruples.
When you think about it, all of this happened because the environment Ernest was forced to endure at such a young age was simply too harsh—so it hardly seemed fair to judge his conscience too harshly.
On the other hand, if you remembered it all stemmed from his heart condition, maybe it was fair to worry about his sense of right and wrong after all.
Either way, Ernest began cutting his tonic into smaller pieces and taking it again.
Thanks to this, his terrible headaches subsided greatly, and even his faltering concentration started to bounce back.
"Your judgment has gotten sharper lately. You're reacting faster, too,"
Thomas said to him during Mock Combat.
"Thank you," Ernest replied.
To be praised by Thomas in a mock battle was no small thing.
On top of that, even during the rigorous, physically demanding Mock Battle Training, he was performing better than ever before.
Not even two weeks after he'd started splitting his tonic, Ernest—already a standout among the first years—had become, without question, the top cadet in his class.
Everyone thought Ernest had rapidly grown in a short span of time.
There was simply no other way to explain this.
But the truth was, Ernest hadn't grown at all.
He was simply free from the shackles of headaches and poor focus, and was finally able to put Haires's teachings into practice as they were meant to be.
Ernest felt like everything was going well.
He really believed it couldn't possibly get any better.
"Krieger, you've got a letter."
"Huh?"
"It's from your father."
"······"
And finally, the long-awaited reply from Haires arrived.
But Ernest couldn't simply be happy about it.
The memory of secretly cutting and taking his tonic behind his father's back made him tense up and freeze.
With trembling hands, Ernest accepted the letter from his father.
The Disciplinary Officer tilted his head, looking puzzled, but didn't say anything in particular.
Ernest agonized over whether he should just be honest with Haires.
Hiding it was impossible.
There was no way he could pull that off.
Ernest knew better than anyone just how perceptive Haires was.
The moment they made eye contact, Haires would instantly realize Ernest was hiding something.
Now, reading the letter from his father—someone he'd longed to see so much—felt frightening.
All of a sudden, it seemed like everything had fallen apart.