Knock, knock.
Cedric looked up from his desk, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand and documents in the other.
The clock on the wall showed it was exactly 5 p.m.
'…That must be Captain Daniel Steiner.'
Earlier that day, around noon, Daniel had requested a meeting regarding support for the Northern Front. Cedric, who had been wanting to speak with him anyway, told him to come by at five. Now, Daniel had arrived right on time.
"Come in."
At Cedric's command, Daniel stepped into the office.
It was his first time inside the Deputy Chief of Operations' office, and he was hit with a wave of quiet intimidation.
There was no clutter—only the bare essentials: a coat rack, bookshelves, a fountain pen, a telephone, a desk, and stacks of documents. Not even a single decorative item or hobby trinket.
The only thing that stood out were the walls lined with bookshelves stuffed full of classified files.
"You're here."
A low, sharp voice.
Cedric sat behind an elegant mahogany desk. He barely glanced up as he took another bite of his sandwich.
Daniel walked to the center of the room and saluted, clearly nervous.
"Apologies for interrupting your meal, sir. But I came because the matter is urgent."
Cedric finished his sandwich, wiped his hands with a handkerchief, and finally looked at Daniel. His cold, pale eyes signaled him to speak.
"…I'll be direct, sir. I'd like to request the removal of my adjutant, Second Lieutenant Lucy Emilia, and Cadet Frien from the Northern deployment."
To Daniel, both were walking disasters. He wanted them as far from the front lines—and from him—as possible.
Cedric, unaware of Daniel's internal thoughts, raised an eyebrow in mild confusion.
"Why?"
Oh, how Daniel wished he could just say, "Lucy's a spy and Frien's insane."
Suppressing a sigh, he quickly came up with a more diplomatic excuse.
"They're both barely adults. I can't, in good conscience, bring young women with barely any combat experience to such a dangerous battlefield."
"Second Lieutenant Lucy might be one thing, but didn't you already have Cadet Frien with you during earlier missions?"
"That was when we were defending our own territory. This time, we're going deep into enemy territory. The risk is on a whole other level."
Cedric blinked in surprise.
'Interesting…'
He had assumed Daniel was the cold, career-driven type who'd do anything for promotion. Yet here he was, protecting his subordinates.
'Even a hedgehog loves its own.'
Looking after your team—now that was the mark of a good officer. Cedric found himself liking Daniel even more, but he still shook his head.
"I must decline. The Empire operates on meritocracy. Denying deployment based on gender or age contradicts that principle."
Daniel had expected that.
"Then at least exclude Cadet Frien. She's still in training. I don't see why she needs to be deployed to a live combat zone."
A valid point. Sending an untrained cadet to the front lines made little sense.
However, Cedric saw something exceptional in Frien's uniqueness.
"Captain Daniel, you know better than anyone that she's not an ordinary cadet. Frien's mana—it's not like the others. It has color."
Daniel couldn't deny that. He had seen Frien shoot bullets infused with black mana during the operation against Colonel Jeremy.
"Her mana is pitch black. Most soldiers' mana is transparent or faintly blue. Hers is a complete anomaly."
Cedric removed his monocle and set it on the desk.
"Let me go off-topic for a moment. Black has long symbolized bad omens—crows, black cats, devils. All superstitions, of course. These days, calling someone cursed for having black hair or eyes would get you laughed at."
"Yes, sir."
"But mana is different. If someone born to a priestly family has black mana, they'll face religious condemnation."
Daniel slowly began to understand.
"She didn't enlist willingly, did she?"
"You're sharp. She was abandoned by her family. Sent to the army to prove her loyalty and rid herself of the label 'child of Satan.' In short, they sent her to die."
"And you're telling me this because…?"
Cedric opened a drawer and pulled out a letter.
It was Frien's deployment request.
"She's found someone new to rely on. According to this letter, that person is you."
"Sir, that's absolutely a misunderstanding. I'm not someone she can depend on."
"Really? She wrote that you comforted her in the detention cell and didn't discriminate against her mana in the field."
Daniel was speechless.
He had talked to her out of boredom and didn't react to her mana because he already knew about it from the game.
But Cedric didn't care about intentions—only results.
"Let me make this clear. Religious doctrine may reject black mana, but the military values it. Strategically, it's useful. Black mana absorbs light. It creates natural cover. Think what that means for combat."
In short, Cedric wanted Daniel to train her.
'Why me…?'
Daniel wanted to dump the responsibility on someone else, but Cedric's sharp gaze made that impossible.
If he kept pushing, he'd only make it worse for himself.
Eventually, he bit his lip and saluted.
"I'll follow your orders, sir."
Cedric returned the salute with satisfaction.
"Good. You're dismissed."
Daniel lowered his hand, turned, and exited the office.
As the door shut behind him, Cedric leaned back and chuckled softly.
"He reminds me of the old Chief of Staff… nervous around his superiors, but never afraid to speak his mind."
He knew men like Daniel couldn't be controlled with power alone.
It had been a long time since someone so promising came along.
Meanwhile…
In Daniel's office, Lucy and Frien sat in awkward silence.
Lucy was calmly organizing documents near the end of the workday.
Frien, leaning against the wall, shot sideways glances in her direction.
'I should've been his adjutant…'
She didn't know why, but it bothered her—a lot.
As if Lucy had taken something from her.
Feeling Frien's eyes on her, Lucy finally looked up.
Their gazes met.
"..."
"..."
After a long pause, Lucy broke the silence.
"What's bothering you?"
Her tone was detached, professional. Frien answered coldly.
"Just wondering why you wanted to be Captain Daniel's adjutant."
"No real reason. If I had to give one… for the glory of the Empire."
A quick answer. Too quick.
In truth, it was the perfect cover for her espionage—but she couldn't say that out loud.
Still, Frien squinted at her, unconvinced.
It wasn't logic. It was instinct.
Her uncanny sense—vague but often right—tingled.
"Lieutenant Lucy… I was raised by a priest. I went to church every day. And after every service, someone always wanted to confess."
Lucy paused.
"So, I made a little game of it—guessing who would confess. I was usually right. No matter how much they prayed, if they were hiding something… there was always a shadow on their face."
Thud.
Lucy closed the folder she'd been working on and stared directly at Frien.
Frien didn't flinch. She walked up to Lucy's desk, leaned forward, and placed a hand firmly on it.
"And yet, something seems strange."
Their eyes locked, cold and unmoving.
In the tension-heavy silence, Frien leaned in closer.
And then, in a whisper barely above a breath:
"There's a shadow on your face, Lieutenant."