Julian Askar preserved the scene of the summary execution.
The child's decapitated body lay in the park…
and the fragment inside me silently absorbed a small part of it.
I didn't understand the mechanism…
but I felt my mana core grow slightly.
—…
I looked at Julian.
With that composed expression, he had probably intended to let the child go.
Then as now… he was always a man who wrestled with what was right.
—Click. Click.
Before I noticed, several reporters had arrived and were taking photos of the scene.
Julian made no attempt to stop them.
—Good work. The detailed results will come from the forensic team. Loyalty to the Empire.
The police pushed the reporters back and retrieved the body.
Only Julian and I remained.
There was a silent tension between us…
but neither of us stepped away.
***
A cold night wind blew.
We walked side by side through an alley untouched by the capital's lights.
Gas lamps flickered faintly above us.
—Good job… for your first day.
Julian broke the silence.
—Thanks to you.
Julian was a pure imperial.
Shining golden hair.
Sharp golden eyes.
Every gesture of his embodied nobility to the core.
That was why he was my superior.
And, in a way… my mentor.
In front of his strength, I had always been aware of my own weakness.
That was why I once felt petty jealousy toward him.
Julian was everything I lacked.
***
—How do you feel? For a first mission, it must have been rather underwhelming.
—I'm fine. It was manageable.
But Julian was too upright… for this rotten Empire.
And the Empire didn't need someone like him.
Once… I saw him sentenced to death.
He had lost everything.
And yet… he smiled.
And said to me:
"…Max. I would have rather died by your hand."
***
—Good work.
His voice pulled me out of the memory.
—You'll have to attend the committee tomorrow. Summary executions go through post-review. You knew that, right?
I would likely face an internal investigation.
Annoying… but brief.
—I don't mind.
***
By the time we returned to the Sentinel headquarters… it was already dawn.
I went back to my office and wrote the report.
Using the memories from before my regression, I structured it perfectly.
The final paragraph read:
"—As there was clear evidence that the suspect had murdered a noble, summary execution was carried out on site in accordance with imperial law."
A knight is a prosecutor, a judge… and an executioner.
Even killing several commoners by mistake could be dismissed as self-defense.
Still… the Empire was a strict bureaucracy.
Summary executions required post-review.
***
That very morning…
I was summoned to appear before the evaluation committee.
***
The room was cold.
Silent.
Across the table sat two high-ranking knights.
A sharp-eyed woman.
A stern, expressionless man.
—A well-written report.
The woman said, closing the file.
—The forensic analysis confirmed the victim's blood and mana traces on the child's body. With that, there's no need for further speculation.
She shut the dossier.
And stared directly at me.
Evaluating me.
—But that makes two kills already. You weren't like this at Empire Point. I used to teach there… I've seen you before, haven't I?
—…I remember.
Adria von Hardenberg.
There was no way I could forget her.
Now, she sat before me as a high-ranking knight.
But in the future…
she would become a traitor.
Her codename: Blue Owl.
A core figure in the revolution for decades.
More dangerous than the Empire itself.
Someday…
I would cut off her head.
***
—This case might go to a Grand Jury. There's been a complaint.
—A complaint?
—Yes. You killed a fifteen-year-old… and an eleven-year-old.
She smiled faintly.
—The press loves this kind of story. "The cold-blooded Ebenholtz." They always say the pen is mightier than the sword… yet never consider the weight of what they write.
She pointed at me.
—Of course, if you want, we can bury it. The Grand Jury is just a formality—
—No.
I cut her off.
—I acted correctly. There's no reason to hide it. Proceed according to proper procedure.
Her eyes widened slightly.
—…Very well. We'll notify you.
***
The other knight spoke for the first time.
—Aren't you curious? About who filed the complaint?
I remained silent.
He placed a photo in front of me.
—This man.
Alphonse von Stauffen.
A journalist.
Born into a respectable family… yet chose to descend.
A man who exposed the Empire's corruption.
***
I knew him.
***
Even in a world like this…
there are people who are truly righteous.
Some wield a pen.
Others wield a sword.
But in the end…
their righteousness was not truly right.
Because those very ideals…
led the world to destruction.
***
—I don't know him.
I lied.
I stood up.
***
—I'm curious.
Adria spoke again.
Her voice… soft.
But sharp beneath the surface.
—What would an Ebenholtz do to him?
It was a test.
I thought of my father.
Sebastien von Ebenholtz.
The revolution executed him…
but even that was a form of respect.
They feared him.
They respected his conviction.
***
—Ebenholtz do not crush personal beliefs by force.
Those who waver for their own gain… disappear.
But those who uphold their convictions until the end…
deserve respect.
Even if they are enemies.
***
Adria fell silent.
With a single word to Engi,
Alphonse would be found dead by tomorrow morning.
But that…
would only create a martyr.
***
—Then what is the Ebenholtz method?
—Let them come to understand it on their own.
***
Killing him would only damage my image.
And raise suspicion.
I needed to appear…
as a rational noble.
***
—A journalist won't change anything with a few lines of ink. The Empire is not soft enough to bend to words.
I looked at her.
—I executed a noble's murderer. That fact will not change.
***
—If you'll excuse me.
I left.
***
As soon as I exited…
I got into a car.
My destination:
The forensic institute.
***
[Etten Forensic Institute]
The air reeked of disinfectant.
I entered a room.
On a metal table…
a small body lay beneath a white sheet.
The coroner removed his gloves.
—What are the results?
—As expected. Not imperial.
—Ezenheim?
—Hard to say. Could be Edelrem… or a mixed Elina.
Too young.
Impossible to determine precisely.
—But not imperial.
—That's certain.
***
The Empire had stopped calling them "races."
Now they were…
"subhumans."
A label.
A tool of control.
***
—A great achievement for your first mission. Congratulations, Sir Maximilian.
I clenched my teeth.
—I merely fulfilled my duty.
The coroner stepped back.
***
I left.
***
—What an unsettling boy…
The coroner muttered.
Maximilian von Ebenholtz.
Only twenty years old.
Known as weak…
incompetent…
a stain on his lineage.
***
But that wasn't true.
***
He resembled Sebastien von Ebenholtz.
***
Cold.
Like a blade.
***
—Of course… someone soft couldn't have done this.
He looked at the body.
The neck… crudely stitched together.
***
—…
He sighed.
The child had killed a noble.
But his body…
was covered in wounds.
Wounds that could not be spoken of.
***
—Sometimes… I wonder if this is truly the right path.
Forty years serving the Empire.
Always loyal.
Always professional.
***
But now…
he felt compassion.
***
—Rest in peace.
He gently closed the child's eyes.
Turned off the lights.