The next day.
After leaving the General Staff Headquarters, I headed straight to a hair salon—with Ernst dragging me along.
I didn't want to go. But, according to Ernst, since we were entering under the invitation of the Imperial Family, looking at least decent was mandatory. I had no room to refuse.
Soon enough, I was sitting in a chair, getting my hair slicked back in the Empire's latest fashion. Before I knew it, I was riding in Ernst's car to the royal banquet mansion.
A mansion—just for banquets.
I couldn't even imagine how much wealth it took to build an entire estate for the sole purpose of eating fancy food with fancy people. It felt… excessive.
We reached the gates, and as I walked up the steps, a well-dressed staff member welcomed us.
"A beautiful evening, gentlemen. May I have your names, please?"
Before I could speak, Ernst stepped forward.
"Ernst Bark. And this fine young gentleman beside me is—"
"Ah! Captain Daniel Steiner, correct? There's no way I wouldn't recognize such a famous figure!"
"...Famous, huh."
Ernst gave me a smug smile, clearly enjoying himself. I knew he meant it kindly, but honestly? It just made my skin crawl.
"Colonel Ernst Bark, Head of the Operations Staff. And Captain Daniel Steiner, Operations Staff Officer. You are both confirmed. Please enjoy the evening."
The staff bowed and stepped aside.
"Thanks. Keep up the good work," Ernst replied smoothly as we walked in.
Inside, waiters bustled back and forth. The aroma of grilled meats and delicate sauces filled the air.
"Let's go upstairs," Ernst said, already heading for the grand staircase covered in red carpet.
At the top was the Great Hall—spacious, extravagant, and packed with people. Everyone was either chatting, laughing, or showing off in some way.
A lot of the men wore military uniforms like ours. Others donned expensive suits or silk garments—likely nobles or financiers funding the war.
As we made our way through the crowd, a scarred, weathered man caught sight of Ernst and approached us.
I knew that face. I couldn't forget that face.
Brigadier General Heinrich Schmidt, Commander of the 1st Magic Mobile Corps.
One of the first people I saw after regaining the memories of my past life.
"Colonel Ernst! You made it! And this here…"
I stiffened, snapped to attention, and saluted.
"Captain Daniel Steiner. It's an honor to see you again, sir."
"Oh! You've climbed a rank since I last saw you? Given your achievements, that's no surprise. Isn't that right, Bender?"
Behind Heinrich stood Captain Philip Bender—stoic as ever.
"Indeed. Captain Steiner, I'm glad you're on our side. If we'd met as enemies... I wouldn't be standing here."
"You flatter me, sir."
I meant that. Most of my so-called "achievements" were happy accidents. Heinrich, however, took it as humility and nodded approvingly.
"When we first met, I thought you were officer material. The Imperial Army will soon launch a northern expansion campaign. Perhaps we'll discuss your role in that soon. Ernst?"
Wait—what?
That sounded like a flag. A giant, flashing, career-altering flag.
"Yes, sir. Please go ahead," Ernst said calmly.
"I need to speak with the Deputy Chief of Staff. But first, I want your opinion on something. Shall we find a quieter place?"
"Of course, sir."
With that, the two of them walked off, laughing like old war buddies.
Philip turned to me before following them.
"First time at a banquet, right? Feel free to grab a bite. The main event hasn't started yet, so just try to endure it."
...Was this man secretly an angel?
I nodded. He smiled briefly and walked away.
Left alone, I scanned the hall.
'Alright… Best find a table and sit down.'
Wandering aimlessly would only draw attention, and attention was the last thing I needed.
That's when I spotted an open seat—right across from someone already eating.
Meanwhile...
Alistair, intelligence officer of the Kingdom of Eldresia, pretended to enjoy his meal while scanning the room.
A royal banquet. Packed with high-ranking officials—military, political, and financial. The perfect hunting ground.
His mission was simple: identify key targets and report their presence to fellow agents. The upcoming assassination strike relied on his intel.
His eyes flicked from face to face—until a slow pair of footsteps approached.
Click. Click.
He froze.
Standing in front of him was a man with jet-black hair and equally dark eyes.
He knew that face instantly.
'Captain Daniel Steiner…!'
The monster who broke Reginald—the Kingdom's master interrogator—in just one day.
Why was he here? Had they been discovered?
Daniel smiled and asked casually:
"Mind if I sit here?"
Alistair forced a calm nod.
"Please, be my guest."
"Thanks. My legs are killing me."
Daniel sat down with a relaxed groan, set his cap on the table, and leaned back.
"Right. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm—"
"No need. Everyone in the capital knows Captain Steiner. Anyone who doesn't must be a spy."
Daniel blinked, taken aback.
"That popular, huh… I wasn't aiming for fame."
He sighed, then glanced at Alistair's plate.
"Oh—is that spätzle? With schnitzel on the side! You must be from the south."
Alistair dabbed his mouth with a napkin, buying time.
"That's right. Spätzle was a local favorite in my hometown."
"Southern spätzle, huh… Let me guess. Baron Betargen's domain?"
Alistair opened his mouth, but Daniel raised a hand.
"No, wait. Specifically, the Balzach region. That's the only place in Betargen's domain where spätzle is a staple."
Caught off guard, Alistair hesitated—then nodded. Denying it now would only raise suspicion.
"Unbelievable! What are the chances? I'm from Balzach too! Ever heard of Fianmari Village?"
Daniel's enthusiasm felt genuine, but Alistair's heart was pounding. The noose was tightening.
"Of course. Isn't there a well-known restaurant nearby?"
He deflected with a half-truth. Establishing a shared connection was safer than getting defensive.
Daniel's eyes lit up.
"Ah, yes! Jack's Restaurant! Cramped, dingy, barely qualified as a restaurant—but I loved it. So many memories…"
Then, he leaned forward with a grin.
"If you know Jack's, you must've eaten there. Everyone in Balzach has. What was your favorite dish?"
The question was lighthearted—but to Alistair, it felt like a blade.
Say the wrong dish, and he was dead.
Frantically searching his memory, he recalled a dessert popular in the Empire's southern regions.
"I always liked the apple strudel. I even visited last year—it still tasted just like I remembered."
Daniel clapped with delight.
"Apple strudel! The soft sweetness, the flaky crust… best with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream. Can't beat it."
Alistair almost sighed with relief.
He'd survived. For now.
But then—Daniel tilted his head.
"Hmm… something feels off."
Off?
Alistair's spine stiffened.
Daniel rubbed his chin, then locked eyes with him.
"As far as I remember, Jack's stopped serving apple strudel three years ago. A customer with a severe apple allergy had a reaction—they pulled it from the menu after that."
His voice dropped. His eyes were unblinking.
"But you said you had it last year."
The silence was deafening.
Alistair felt the blood drain from his face. He couldn't breathe.
Daniel smiled—but his eyes didn't.