[Same Time, Free Society Party Headquarters]
Inside the Party Leader’s Private Office.
“…Daniel Steiner turned Belmore Kingdom’s ambush against them and won? And not only that—he captured the Crown Prince of Belmore as a prisoner?”
At the question from Campbell, the head of the Free Society Party, the informant, Platt—disguised as a petitioner and sent by Baron Hendliem—nodded.
“They are currently negotiating a prisoner exchange with the Kingdom of Belmore, using the captured Crown Prince.”
Infuriated by the absurd news, Campbell slammed his desk.
“Idiotic fools! They knew Daniel Steiner’s location and still failed the ambush—only to get captured themselves?!”
Despite Campbell’s outburst, the informant Platt remained unfazed.
“It cannot be dismissed as a mere blunder by Belmore. There are indications that Daniel Steiner anticipated their ambush and acted accordingly.”
“What? How could Daniel Steiner possibly have known about it?”
“We are still investigating. However, the most plausible theory is that there’s a traitor among us feeding information to Daniel Steiner…”
Platt’s hollow gaze landed on Campbell.
Feeling the weight of suspicion, Campbell quickly spoke up.
“If you’re accusing me, you’d best stop right there! I have sworn loyalty to Baron Hendliem all my life. Do you really think I would side with that orphan upstart, Daniel Steiner? Does that even make sense?”
Beads of sweat formed on Campbell’s forehead, and Platt, observing his flustered state, withdrew his suspicion.
It wasn’t because Campbell’s protest was convincing—rather, it was the opposite.
A man who panicked so easily under such a simple accusation could never have had the nerve to commit treason.
“My apologies for doubting you. Now, let me state the true purpose of my visit.”
“...Purpose?”
“Baron Hendliem has instructed me to deliver this message: ‘Campbell, head of the Free Society Party, is to cease all public activities and suspend all political and military maneuvers for the time being.’”
In short, he was to lay low, like a mouse hiding in the shadows.
Campbell, puzzled by the extreme measure, cautiously questioned,
“Is that truly necessary? No matter how much military merit Daniel Steiner has earned, he’s still just a mere officer.”
“You cannot dismiss someone trusted by Her Highness the Princess and hailed as a hero of the Empire as ‘just a mere officer.’ It would be wise to tread carefully.”
Hearing it laid out that way, Campbell begrudgingly admitted the point.
After a brief silence, Campbell swallowed nervously and fixed his gaze on Platt.
“But… it’s truly safe, isn’t it? If Daniel Steiner manages to uncover who leaked information to Belmore, I—”
“You have nothing to worry about.”
Platt’s reply was firm.
“No matter how skilled a negotiator Daniel Steiner may be, he cannot extract your name from Major General Magref. There is no conceivable reason for Magref to betray you to him.”
Buying off an enemy officer or planting a spy within enemy ranks typically required years and astronomical sums of money.
Yet, the one who handed over the Empire’s classified information without asking for anything in return—was Campbell himself.
In such a scenario, it was only logical to keep that asset hidden for future exploitation.
Therefore, it was inconceivable that Magref would have given Daniel Steiner Campbell’s name.
Even Campbell couldn’t deny the logic in Platt’s reasoning, and he felt a flicker of relief.
“Well, that’s a comfort. So, I should simply feign illness and stay out of sight for now?”
“Precisely. Even if Daniel Steiner starts to suspect you, he has no authority to investigate you.”
Campbell exhaled slowly and nodded.
“Understood. All of this… is for—”
As Campbell was about to offer a parting word, Platt clenched his fist and pressed it against his chest.
The two men, their expressions equally serious, spoke in unison.
“For the greater cause.”
To disrupt the imperial order and bring down the man threatening to consume the Empire—Daniel Steiner.
That was the cause they both pursued.
****
[At the Brigade Headquarters Office]
“Why the hell is this happening to me?! What the fuck did I do wrong, you bastards?!”
Daniel, drinking whiskey alone in his office, suddenly erupted in a shout.
The absurdity of the situation had passed the point of disbelief and was boiling into anger.
His hand trembled slightly as he gripped the whiskey glass, his mind drifting into memories of the recent past.
‘All because of that damned Crown Prince…’
His plan to live out peaceful days at a remote forward base had gone up in smoke.
It was laughable enough that the prince had managed to ambush him during a training exercise, only to get himself surrounded. But when the prince pretended to surrender, only to pull a hidden pistol and aim it at him—Daniel’s heart nearly stopped.
The only reason he wasn’t shot was because he had the presence of mind to feign composure, taunting the prince with, “Go ahead. Shoot, if you dare.” The bluff worked. If it hadn’t, he’d be riddled with bullets.
‘Of course, if it came to that, I would’ve accelerated my nerves…’
But dodging the bullet would have meant leaving his men behind to be slaughtered. That, too, would have haunted him.
‘Reckless bastard…’
If the prince weren’t royalty, Daniel would have beaten him senseless for his idiocy.
Suppressing his anger, Daniel took a slow sip of whiskey.
He exhaled a low sigh as he gazed out at the nighttime city beyond the window.
‘The prince isn’t the real problem now.’
The name he heard during the negotiation—Campbell—was gnawing at him.
The head of the Free Society Party had sold him out, and that was something Daniel could not let pass.
He had long suspected that Campbell was entangled with the nobility, but now he had confirmation.
With a weary frown, Daniel walked to his desk and sat down, needing a moment to collect himself.
Placing the whiskey glass on the desk, he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and pulled out a photograph.
It was an old, faded black-and-white image of a golden retriever, its mouth wide in a joyful grin.
‘Those days… those were the best…’
The simple, carefree memories of his childhood—playing with his dog without a worry in the world—washed over him.
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While he was lost in his memories, Lucy arrived outside his office, carrying a tray with dessert.
She knocked lightly, but Daniel, half-drunk and lost in his thoughts, didn’t hear it.
“Lieutenant Colonel Daniel?”
No reply.
Puzzled, Lucy blinked her red eyes a few times before carefully pushing the door open.
Inside, she saw Daniel seated at his desk, quietly staring down at a photograph.
His eyes, filled with sorrow, lingered on the image as he muttered softly,
“…Kelly. I miss you.”
Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise.
She had never seen Daniel speak with such tenderness—let alone call out a woman’s name with longing.
Her curiosity kept her still as she watched, unnoticed.
Then, Daniel’s lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile.
“Everything was perfect when you were with me. I wonder if you’re happy up there, in heaven.”
Hearing those words, Lucy instinctively covered her mouth with her hand.
To her, it was unmistakable—the sorrow of a man mourning a lost love.
Unintentionally, she had glimpsed a side of Daniel’s past—a side steeped in pain and loss.
Strangely, the sight stirred something familiar in her.
Lucy, too, carried memories of losing people she held dear.
The realization that Daniel might have experienced a similar kind of heartbreak brought a raw, unexpected empathy to her chest.
‘So even he…’
From his expression, his voice—everything told her Daniel had lost someone precious.
The kind of loss that leaves scars too deep to heal.
Her lips pressed tightly together, Lucy felt her heart ache as she watched him.
Yet, she chose not to intrude.
This was a man lost in his memories, and she knew such moments should not be disturbed.
Without a word, she quietly stepped back, gently closing the door behind her.
‘There’s still time to offer comfort—once he’s ready to receive it.’
Meanwhile, Daniel remained unaware that Lucy had come and gone.
His gaze stayed fixed on the photograph, his voice low and soft, as though speaking to the memory itself.
“You remember how much trouble I got into with the abbess for insisting on keeping you?”
A small, wistful chuckle escaped him.
Tucking the photo back into his coat, he reached for his whiskey glass once more.
The amber liquid swirled as he turned the glass slowly in his hand, the reflections dancing in his dark eyes.
‘I thought the coronation would bring me safety within the capital…’
But the nobles and politicians had made it clear how naive that hope was.
‘It was never the emperor…’
‘It’s the aristocrats and politicians—the real players—who act on their own whims.’
He had made a critical mistake—believing that by staying out of politics, he could avoid being pulled into their power struggles.
‘But no—they’ve decided to drag me into their mud pit regardless.’
His hand stilled, the swirling whiskey settling with it.
The fog of alcohol had cleared just enough for his mind to crystallize a single, unshakable resolve.
‘You started this fight—’
His grip tightened on the glass until his fingertips blanched from the pressure.
His eyes sharpened, cold and lethal.
‘So I’ll end it—’
‘And I’ll crush you with everything I have.’