Ernst stared at me, dumbfounded.
His eyes sparkled with unspoken pride—as if to say, "My brilliant subordinate has done it again!" That look alone doubled the pressure on my shoulders.
"How in the world did you get that tight-lipped bastard to talk? Spill it—our interrogators could use some lessons."
At that, Sergeant Bendelin also turned to me with a beaming grin.
To be fair, their curiosity made sense. I had muted the microphone during yesterday's interrogation, so no one knew what had really happened.
Naturally, the interrogators wanted to know how I'd managed to crack someone like Reginald.
But the truth?
All I'd done was have a casual chat.
No secret techniques. No psychological warfare. Just… small talk.
So their questions left me stammering inside.
While I struggled for an answer, Bendelin jumped in with a cheerful tone, probably to ease the tension.
"I've worked in military interrogation for years, but I've never seen someone wrap up a session as fast as Captain Daniel Steiner!"
"Oh? Is that so?" Ernst raised an eyebrow.
"It's true! Right after the Captain left, that stubborn mule Reginald started begging to cooperate in a trembling voice—it was amazing!"
He was trembling? That Reginald?
"Usually, we rely on yelling or pressure tactics, but the Captain? He just sat there smiling and talking calmly the whole time. It was almost... noble."
…Bendelin was a good man, but he clearly had a flair for exaggeration.
I was about to stop him before it got out of hand, but Ernst looked like he was buying every word.
In fact, he now stared at me with even greater admiration.
"Hearing that only makes me more curious. So? What did you talk about with Reginald?"
He was asking again. And ignoring a superior officer twice… well, that'd be a problem.
After a short pause, I reluctantly replied.
"Nothing special. I just… talked about his family a little."
The moment the word family left my mouth, Bendelin and Ernst visibly flinched.
Even some nearby officers who'd been eavesdropping turned to look at me.
A heavy silence filled the room.
Before I could question what I'd said, Ernst nodded gravely and cleared his throat.
"Indeed. That's one of the most effective approaches. Did you hear that, Sergeant? You'd best take notes from Captain Daniel."
"Oh! Of course! I had no idea I was being too soft on the prisoners!"
…Wait. That wasn't what I meant at all.
They clearly misunderstood something, but I decided not to correct them.
Experience taught me that trying to explain myself usually made things worse.
So I gave a small nod, and Bendelin responded with an almost comically formal salute.
His posture was stiff—like I'd just become his commanding general.
"Well then! I'll return to the military police. Enjoy your meal, sir!"
"Thanks. And good work delivering the report to General Staff Headquarters."
Bendelin snapped to attention, spun around, and marched off like a wind-up toy soldier.
Just as I was trying to process his strange behavior, Ernst picked up his utensils again.
"Anyway—congratulations. Getting Reginald to talk earned you another commendation. Honestly, you've been full of surprises lately. At your age, I could barely handle my own tasks."
I wanted to say the commendation had nothing to do with me.
But telling the Chief of Operations that would be digging my own grave.
"You flatter me, sir."
I played it modest and picked up my knife and fork.
As I was cutting into my steak, Ernst suddenly remembered something.
"Oh, right. About your adjutant—they should be arriving today. Maybe they're already at General Staff."
"...My adjutant, sir?"
"Yes. Didn't I mention it? Now that you're officially an Operations Staff Officer, you're entitled to one. I heard the higher-ups pulled strings to get you someone elite."
I blinked, stunned.
Ernst grinned. "I heard you've been buried in paperwork. A staff officer's life is always hectic during wartime, but now you'll have someone to help lighten the load."
"I… suppose you're right."
"This will be your first direct subordinate, yes? Be sure to guide them well."
"Understood."
I responded calmly—but on the inside?
I was practically floating.
I'm getting my own adjutant!
Okay, maybe "finally" wasn't the right word. My double promotion had sped things up quite a bit.
Still—it felt like a reward from heaven.
And someone elite, no less. If they're competent, I won't have to drown in paperwork anymore.
Ever since becoming a full-fledged staff officer, I'd been buried under ridiculous requests.
One division commander even asked for beer to be air-dropped so his troops could drink it cold.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry—but I approved it just to get it off my desk.
A week later, I saw crates of beer being flown in.
That's the kind of nonsense I was dealing with. If this kept up, I'd die of exhaustion before I ever had a chance to desert.
So yeah. Getting an adjutant? Massive relief.
After finishing our meal, Ernst wiped his mouth and added, "This afternoon, stay in your personal office. Spend time getting to know your adjutant."
"…Are you sure that's alright, sir?"
"Of course. You don't want to chat with them in the operations room, do you?"
Fair point.
I smiled faintly. "Thank you for your consideration, Chief."
This wasn't just small talk. If war ever broke out in full, I'd have to trust my adjutant with my life—or at least with my inbox.
Building rapport early on was crucial.
***
Instead of heading straight to the office, I stopped by a bakery near headquarters.
I wanted to get a gift for my new subordinate.
Flowers felt too romantic, so I went with bread.
It was warm, comforting—and more practical.
Armed with a bag of fresh bread, I stood before my office door and took a deep breath.
Alright. Stay calm. You're the senior now.
Whoever was waiting inside was probably just as nervous.
Only five months ago, I had been in that exact position—sweating bullets while waiting for my superior.
In my case, Karl Heinrich had welcomed me with a full-volume string of curses.
I wasn't about to repeat that.
I'll treat them kindly. Ease them in with light tasks.
I smiled like a gentle mentor and opened the door.
"Sorry for the wait! I stopped by the bakery to pick up a little welcome snack—"
I froze mid-sentence.
The person who turned to greet me had shoulder-length silver hair, soft and elegant like sunlight on snow.
Crimson-red eyes. Cold. Deep. Piercing.
Her gaze wasn't hostile, but it carried a sharpness that made my instincts scream.
She was… stunning. Refined. The kind of woman who drew attention without trying.
If I didn't know who she was, I might have admired her beauty.
But I did know her.
Lucy Emilia.
A central character in Empire of Emperor.
Nicknamed the Empire's Nightmare—a mass murderer disguised as a loyal soldier.
And she was sitting in my office… dressed neatly in an Imperial uniform?
"..."
"..."
We stared at each other in silence.
Without a word, I calmly closed the door again.
Nope. Nope nope nope.
Why the hell was Lucy Emilia here?
At this point in the game, she should still be out earning infamy on the battlefield.
Why is someone like her my adjutant?
…Wait. Is she a spy?
Espionage between the Empire and the Allied Nations was common, so it wasn't impossible.
But even then—why me?
Why assign a potential assassin to me, of all people?
Was this some kind of cosmic joke?
I rubbed my temples.
This must be a hallucination. Lack of sleep. Overwork.
With shaky confidence, I opened the door again.
"…Captain?"
I shut it again.
It was definitely Lucy.
Exactly like her in-game portrait.
Why is this happening to me…?
One thing was certain:
This was not going to be easy.