I heard a not-so-subtle death threat through the CCTV and immediately returned to my office, ordering Lucy to stop working.
After that, I took her out for lunch, showed her the facilities reserved for officers at General Staff Headquarters, and eventually went back to the office.
I handled most of the afternoon's tasks myself.
The reason was simple:
If I dumped any more work on Lucy, I might actually end up dead.
Of course, the odds were low... but if she ever snapped from overwork and reached for that revolver on her hip?
Disaster.
So, from now on, I decided to handle things in a way that wouldn't provoke Lucy—for my own survival.
"Captain."
Just as I was finishing up, Lucy neatly organized the documents and looked up at me.
"It's time to go home."
Was it already that late?
I glanced at the wall clock—6 PM sharp.
As much as I wanted to hum a happy tune and march straight out of Headquarters, there was one problem.
I wasn't leaving at the same time as Lucy.
Who knew what might happen?
"You go on ahead. I've got some reports to review—"
"In that case, I'll stay and assist you, Captain."
"—Or maybe not. Leaving sounds like a great idea. Let's go."
I cleared my throat, stood up, draped my officer's coat over my arm, and grabbed my document bag.
Lucy followed suit, standing and adjusting her bag with military precision.
As I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, Lucy naturally fell into step beside me.
She tilted her head slightly, giving me a curious glance.
"Captain? You don't look well. Is something wrong?"
It's because of you, you terrifying woman!
That thought nearly escaped, but I held it back with the patience of a saint.
"It's nothing. My stomach's just acting up. Don't worry about it."
And with that, I sealed my lips and walked quietly out of the building.
We'd barely reached the eaves of the entrance when I noticed the rain.
Not a heavy downpour—just a light drizzle. Enough to be annoying.
Lucy glanced up at the sky, her expression mildly puzzled.
"It's raining. The weather forecast said it would be clear…"
"Pathetic."
Even future meteorologists got things wrong sometimes. Trusting a forecast without carrying an umbrella was foolish.
"An Imperial officer must always be prepared for adverse weather conditions."
I reached into my document bag and pulled out a collapsible umbrella.
Then, after a moment's hesitation, I handed it to her.
"Take this. I'd rather not have my subordinate look like a drenched fool on her way home."
"Pardon? But—"
"Don't make me say it twice."
This was the delicate balance: keeping things professional while showing just enough kindness to avoid making enemies.
Lucy blinked, surprised, before raising her hands and accepting the umbrella.
"Thank you. I'll make good use of it. But… are you sure? If I take this, you'll have to walk home in the rain, Captain."
"There's a spare umbrella in my office. I'll grab it."
There wasn't.
But the last thing I wanted was to share an umbrella with a suspected assassin. Hence, the lie.
Lucy gave me a look—one of those I-know-you're-lying-but-I-won't-call-you-out looks—then opened the umbrella.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Captain."
She bowed slightly and walked off into the rain.
Watching her disappear down the street, I let out a long breath of relief.
I survived.
Sharing an office with someone who might kill me at any moment was nerve-wracking beyond belief.
Still… now I was stuck at headquarters until the rain stopped.
Well, maybe I could get a head start on tomorrow's work—
Screech—
A steam-powered vehicle rolled up to the entrance, hissing as it braked.
Its long hood and boxy frame screamed Model E Dobble, a relic from the industrial age. Even in this era, it was 20 years out of fashion.
Only someone either extremely old-fashioned—or incredibly cheap—would still drive one of those.
I already knew who it was.
Colonel Ernst stepped out and was about to enter the building when he spotted me.
His face lit up.
"Oh! Captain Daniel! What a coincidence—I was just looking for you!"
"…You were?"
"Yes! I told you earlier I'd be meeting with some Imperial officials, remember? Well, I've got fantastic news. You'll love it."
A cold sweat began forming on my back.
"What kind of news…?"
"The Imperial family is throwing a banquet to celebrate the Northern Front victory. Naturally, I was invited—but guess what? So were you!"
"…What?"
I blinked.
Me? Why the hell would they invite me?
But Ernst misinterpreted my reaction as modesty and gave me a friendly slap on the back.
"Come now, don't play dumb! After everything you've accomplished, it's only natural!"
This was bad. Very bad.
In the game's timeline, I remembered a small event note:
"A terrorist attack occurs during the Northern Front victory banquet."
The details were vague—but that was enough for me.
I needed to stay as far away from that banquet as humanly possible.
"Sir," I said, desperate, "this may sound strange, but… I have a severe allergy to the Imperial family. The symptoms worsen when I'm near nobles or high-ranking officials. So perhaps—"
Ernst frowned.
The kind of frown people give after hearing a bad dad joke.
"Captain Daniel."
"Yes, sir?"
"Don't talk nonsense."
"…Yes, sir."
Judging by his face, the conversation was over.
In other words, I was going to that banquet.
Meanwhile, at Eisenkrone Palace – Royal Library, Second Floor
"Your Highness."
Selvia raised her head from a thick manuscript surrounded by open books.
Standing before her was Lieutenant Colonel Hartmann Edelstein, the graying chief of her personal guard.
Upon recognizing him, she turned back to her page and answered coolly:
"What is it?"
She clearly didn't want to be disturbed—especially not when she was neck-deep in ancient military texts.
But Hartmann remained firm.
"The head maid asked me to speak with you. She's having trouble preparing for tomorrow's banquet because Your Highness refuses to leave the library or choose an outfit."
Selvia sighed.
"Tell her I find reading about military strategy more useful than playing dress-up."
"Your Highness…"
"Hartmann, I've no interest in being paraded around like a decoration. Celebrating a temporary pushback against the Allied Forces…?"
She shook her head, disapproval written all over her face.
"If it were up to me, I'd use the banquet's budget to reinforce our national defense."
A faint smile crossed Hartmann's lips. She really was serious about leadership.
But isolationism, while noble, could be politically dangerous.
"Your Highness, banquets are politics. They're where alliances form and power shifts. To rule, you must stand above both nobles and commoners alike."
She didn't respond, merely scowling deeper.
Then Hartmann added casually:
"Ah, right. Captain Daniel Steiner will be attending the banquet as well. You're acquainted, aren't you?"
Selvia flinched.
His words echoed in her mind:
"If my death allows you to live, that's enough for me. A soldier's duty is to protect the people."
She still hadn't forgotten him.
If possible, she wanted Daniel at her side.
Clearing her throat, she gently closed the manuscript.
"…Fine. Summon the head maid. I suppose a little effort won't hurt."
Her tone was calm, but Hartmann noticed the blush forming on her ears.
'So you're not as indifferent as you pretend to be, Your Highness.'
With a small, amused nod, Hartmann turned and left.