Chapter 19: To Kill or To Let Live (4) The Genen Central Police Station was notorious throughout the region. This reputation stemmed not only from the aggressive tactical operations of its officers but also from its deep-seated connections with the Imperial Guard Intelligence Department.
They were known for their refusal to bow their heads easily, yet today, for some reason, even the Chief himself had come out to grant someone an audience.
"Sir Maximilian. It is truly an honor to have you visit us in person…"
Maximilian von Ebenholtz. A Knight of the Sentinels and the heir to a prestigious family counted as one of the three pillars of the Empire had arrived.
"But may I ask… what brings you to such a humble place?"
Maximilian remained seated, while the rest of the police, including the Chief, stood before him with their heads bowed low.
Maximilian spoke.
"I received a letter stating that the masterminds behind this recent terrorist incident have been apprehended."
The Chief wore a faint smile.
"Ah, yes, yes. Our investigators managed to track them down."
"Are you certain?"
Maximilian looked at the Chief. The meaning behind his gaze was ambiguous.
"...Pardon?"
The Chief tilted his head. Maximilian asked again, his tone nonchalant.
"I am asking if those culprits are, without a doubt, the true perpetrators."
"Ah, yes! That is correct!"
The Chief answered quite brightly. The investigators cleared their throats, struggling to hide their smiles. No doubt they were expecting some form of commendation.
"If that is the case—"
"We are certain!"
One investigator raised his hand and stepped forward.
"We have obtained confessions."
It was Zendo, an investigator with a remarkably overconfident face. Maximilian looked at him. He was a man whose neck remained as stiff as a bamboo stalk.
Maximilian asked, "And the evidence?"
"...The confessions. They are confessions obtained from the Independence Faction members who participated in the protest."
"Confessions?"
"Yes. We have secured their confessions."
Confessions, confessions, confessions. Zendo repeated the same word. Maximilian's gaze shifted toward him, silent and heavy. Even so, Zendo's neck did not bend.
"It seems you are under a misconception."
Suddenly, the knight's voice turned cold.
"The evidence I am referring to is not a record wrung out of people by beating them. I am talking about concrete, physical proof."
"Ah~ Sir Maximilian."
The Chief let out a hollow laugh.
"Well, you see, these Independence Faction members are incredibly secretive—"
"When and where the bombs were planted, how the materials were procured, and what circumstances led to the discovery of their involvement."
Maximilian cut off the Chief's excuse and continued.
"I am talking about precise evidence that remains untainted under any circumstances."
"..."
The Chief fell silent. The room was suddenly drenched in a heavy stillness.
Numerous investigators stood almost in formation around the seated Maximilian, who had his legs crossed. Not one of them stepped forward. They simply remained silent, glancing at one another.
From their perspective, they couldn't understand why Maximilian was acting this way. He surely had no connection to the Independence Faction.
Maximilian looked at the Chief. His eyes demanded a name.
"Ah, I am Elon."
"Chief Elon."
He arched an eyebrow as he addressed Elon.
"I was at the scene."
"..."
Only then did the investigators realize the true nature of this cold fury.
"None other than myself."
Right now, Maximilian was furious at the incident he had been caught up in. He had come here not just as a knight, but as a 'noble.'
"I was there."
If the true culprit who had nearly harmed him was not correctly identified, it became a matter of pride. Furthermore, the pride of an Imperial noble was something the people of the Autonomous Region could not even begin to imagine.
"Well… that is…"
Sweat beaded on Chief Elon's hands, which were clasped behind his back. His fingers kept slipping against each other.
"I want the absolute truth. Not some fabricated story."
Maximilian, on the other hand, remained calm. He dominated the space and the moment with clinical precision, devoid of any emotion, as if handling a strictly administrative matter.
"Therefore, I will personally interrogate those you claim to be the culprits and uncover whether there has been any perjury."
Maximilian scanned the crowd and asked, "Do you understand?"
"Yes, yes. I understand… exactly what you mean."
The Chief bowed ninety degrees. The investigators remained still.
"No. It doesn't seem like you do at all."
Maximilian waved his hand coldly at their reaction. He gestured to the investigators standing in the back.
"I believe I told you to bring out the suspects."
Maximilian did not raise his voice. In fact, from the moment he arrived until now, his tone had remained constant. It didn't fluctuate, and it held not a shred of emotion.
He simply stared into the Chief's eyes…
"Now."
And delivered a very small warning.
"Immediately."
* * *
One by one, the suspects were forced to kneel on the floor of the Central Police Station. Their faces were all battered beyond recognition, and 'Yan Novak,' who had been identified as one of the primary culprits, was half-unconscious.
"...Autonomy Decree Article 5, Clause 3. All investigative agencies within the Autonomous Region must conduct investigations in accordance with the principle of due process guaranteed by the Imperial Constitution and this Autonomy Decree."
Maximilian recited the Autonomy Decree aloud while his eyes scanned the sloppily written reports prepared by the police.
"In that process, excessively coercive investigative methods shall not be used."
He looked around at the police officers.
"It's a dead letter. With things like this, does Genen even need autonomy?"
"I am sorry."
The Chief bowed his head. He had lost count of how many times he had apologized.
"There is no need to be sorry. I didn't expect much to begin with."
Maximilian's voice was clear. It was sharp, as if piercing the eardrums like a blade. It was likely due to his distinct noble accent and deep resonance.
"The reports are full of fabrications, there are no proper witness accounts, and physical evidence is, of course, non-existent… Since you are only at this level, it's no wonder you can only do your jobs this poorly."
The investigators pursed their lips, their pride clearly wounded.
"Release these low-lifes."
Maximilian glanced at the Independence Faction members.
"If this is all you could get out of them even through torture, it doesn't seem like they know anything useful."
"...Excuse me."
Zendo stepped forward then.
"The Autonomous Region has independent investigative authority. Therefore, we have the right to conduct our own independent investigations."
"If you can call this an investigation, that is."
Zendo's expression hardened at those words. He let out a heated sigh.
Maximilian nodded as if he understood.
"You still haven't come to your senses."
He reached into his inner pocket. A terminal glinted from within his uniform.
"M-Sir Maximilian!"
In an instant, the Chief's face turned pale as he dropped to his knees.
Maximilian von Ebenholtz's connections reached the very pinnacle of the Empire. With a single word, the head of a mere Autonomous Region Chief would be on the chopping block.
"I am terribly sorry, truly! You—you son of a—!"
The Chief glared at Zendo, cursing him with his eyes. Had Maximilian not been there, he would have unleashed a torrent of profanity.
"Everyone, get on your knees—!!"
"We're sorry!"
"Forgive us!"
At the Chief's outburst, every investigator fell to their knees. No, they slammed their heads against the floor. Maximilian's gaze swept over the crowns of their heads.
He pointed dryly at the false culprits.
"Let them go."
"Yes, yes! What are you doing? Release them at once!"
The investigators scrambled to pull the suspects to their feet. The seven men, who had been wrongfully detained, stumbled out of the police station. Maximilian watched Yan Novak's retreating figure and nodded.
He had achieved his primary objective, but there was still work to be done.
"From now on, I will give you a chance to redeem yourselves."
He stood up, tossing the torture-laden reports into the trash can.
"Find the real culprits."
They were incompetent fools who could do nothing but intimidate the powerless, but he had no intention of hounding them to death. In the end, they were merely working-level officials, commoners.
"I repeat, I want the truth."
Izenheim was undoubtedly involved in this incident.
The comrades of the Sage I had cut down that day would be hiding somewhere.
The Spring of Genen—that event where tens of thousands died—must have been caused by their incitement and agitation.
"If you bring me the 'true masterminds' who planned this terror…"
I will find them and kill them.
I will diligently nip them in the bud and wring their necks so that not even a trace of a threat remains.
"...then my evaluation of you might change."
"—Yes! Loyalty!"
The Chief shouted loudly and saluted.
"We understand perfectly!"
"Loyalty!"
The investigators followed the Chief's salute. With a small nod, Maximilian left the police station with the distinct stride of a nobleman.
The Chief and the investigators maintained their salutes until the moment he disappeared from sight.
* * *
After being released from the station, Yan walked aimlessly along the main road of Genen. His mind was a blur. He didn't know where he was or where he was walking. He simply trudged forward, staggering.
Screeeech—
A car stopped in front of Yan. The window rolled down, and a low voice drifted out.
"Are you Mr. Yan Novak?"
At the same time, the car door opened. Yan waved his hands frantically.
"No, p-please. I didn't do anything. I didn't do it."
"It's alright. I am not a police officer."
Only then did Yan look at the face calling out to him.
It was a man with a straight-laced impression, wearing rimless glasses. From his attire alone, he was at least not a policeman.
"Get in."
Yan swallowed hard. He hesitated, but soon climbed into the passenger seat. The man's aura wasn't bad.
"Um… who… are you…?"
He asked cautiously.
"There is no real need for you to know, but if I must explain, I am a company employee. I am also an administrative official. I have many roles."
The man adjusted his rimless glasses and handed an envelope to Yan.
"This is…?"
"See for yourself."
Yan opened the envelope. Inside were various documents, laminated papers, and even a stack of cash.
"Gasp! Th-this is—"
A bundle of one hundred 100-dollar bills. Ten thousand dollars—an amount he had never touched or even seen in his entire life.
"This is your sponsorship fund and a new identity. A letter of recommendation is also enclosed. You will be able to receive whatever education you desire, anywhere."
"Sponsorship? For… for me?"
"Yes. I was told that you have potential, Mr. Yan."
"Wh-who said that…?"
A certain person suddenly flashed through Yan's mind.
— You will have to hide. Until you become strong enough.
That day, that Sentinel Knight. The blonde man who had saved him during the bombing.
"...Why? Why me?"
"I simply do as I am told; I do not convey any meaning beyond that. You must find the meaning for yourself, Mr. Yan."
Vroom. The man drove the car somewhere.
They soon reached a familiar alley, and the car came to a stop.
Yan was startled. It was right in front of his house.
The man asked, "How was my driving? It's only my second day learning."
"Ah. Ah. Yes. It was… very good."
"Then, please step out."
"...Yes. Thank you."
Yan got out of the car. He started toward his house but turned back to ask the man in the driver's seat.
"Um, by any chance, what is your name…?"
The man adjusted his rimless glasses and replied.
"Dieter. Dieter Schmidt."
He had a very business-like and weary impression. His voice matched that impression perfectly.
"Lastly, there is a message my employer asked me to deliver."
Ahem. He cleared his throat and spoke in a low voice.
"'If you strive diligently from your position, we shall meet again one day.'"
"Ah… yes."
Yan nodded blankly.
"Then, farewell. Do not waste this opportunity."
Dieter drove the car away. Yan Novak watched the back of the car as it exited the winding slums for a long, long time.
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