Chapter 275

Clatter. Clatter.

At the entrance to the cargo car of the Northern Express Eisenhorn.

"......"

Gewin stared at the corpse casually dumped inside the cargo car. A person until just moments ago.

Pat pat.

The rookie Paul calmly dusted off his hands.

Gewin glared at him and spoke.

"For now, it's certain that suspicious people are aboard this train."

Paul nodded.

"Yes. I think so too."

"......Before that."

Gewin unfolded the family register. It bore the name of the man who had just died, Otto Bell, along with four generations of lineage.

"You say this is forged? How did you know?"

Gewin had taken a forgery-detection examination at the Office of Heraldry and the Appraisal Institute, earning a Level Two appraisal certificate.

Not a professional appraiser, but still someone whose eye was trusted within Georgen.

"You just guessed, didn't you? Be honest."

"Guessed?"

"Yeah. Even if this is fake, it's good enough to require a detailed appraisal. How did you know right away?"

It could not be distinguished by sight alone. At the very least, it was not some shoddy forgery one could identify at a glance.

Paul scratched the back of his neck.

"Ah...... Actually, this is a secret."

"Yeah. Tell me."

"I'm telling you because I trust you, Inspector Gewin. Please don't go telling everyone."

"All right already! Just tell me!"

"But I mean it. If this information gets out, I'll have no choice but to suspect you, Inspector Gewin."

Not that Gewin was about to say, "What would you do if you suspected me......"

Gewin narrowed their eyes as Paul cleared his throat, then opened his own family register.

"Here. Do you see the metal staples binding the pages of the family register?"

The metal pins binding the pages together. Also called staples.

"So?"

"Do these staples look new to you?"

"......What are you talking about?"

Paul lightly flicked a staple with his fingernail.

"Did you know that the Imperial Family Register Administration deliberately uses cheap staples when issuing family registers?"

"......Go on."

"When the family register system began, iron was scarce, so they used cheap ones. It became tradition, more or less. That's why the staples in a family register rust within a few months."

Gewin stared closely at the staples in Paul's family register. They had already rusted somewhat.

"But...... look at this."

By contrast, the family register belonging to the man who had just died looked brand new. Not a single scratch, no rust, gleaming like ice cream.

Gewin looked at Paul with wide eyes.

There had been such an easy method.

"......You knew quite a lot. You pass."

Still, Gewin put a cigarette between their lips as though they had known all along.

"Pass what?"

Paul tilted his head, and a relaxed smile spread across Gewin's lips.

"......Paul. You probably weren't given detailed information about this operation."

Gewin deliberately lowered their voice.

"But now you have earned my trust."

Confidential information within Georgen, given to a rookie who had just passed the test.

"We received intelligence that the Master is aboard this express train. Georgen planted a spy inside the Revolutionary Faction."

"The Master......?"

"One of the people behind the Revolutionary Faction. A key figure."

Paul asked in a serious tone.

"Inspector, can that spy be trusted?"

"You mean, is there a possibility they're a double agent?"

"Yes."

Keeping a grave expression, Gewin let out a faint smile.

"You. Do you know about the Fritz incident?"

"Yes. It's famous."

An agent for the Revolutionary Faction within Georgen. The autopsy had even revealed that Fritz was Izenheim.

"I was the agent who arrested Fritz."

Gewin slowly exhaled cigarette smoke. Paul's eyes widened.

Hah. Gewin crossed their arms and leaned against the train wall.

"It was a hard, grueling job. Fritz had been my senior partner for three years. This is what Georgen's work is like."

One could not help being afflicted by deep loneliness, unable to help suspecting yesterday's colleague today.

"So, double agents. Double after double, double after double after double after double after double......"

Double after double after double after double......

"It means standing still and thinking is nothing but a waste of time. You need to confront things yourself and find the evidence......?"

Gewin turned.

Blink. Blink.

The place where Paul had been standing moments ago was suddenly empty.

"......Where did that bastard go?"

* * *

I walked through the cargo car.

Mail sacks, crates of northern military uniforms, bundles of winter coats, sealed boxes of medicine, and beyond them, mana stone crates piled so high they pressed into the floor.

They bore stamps reading, "Bound for Refinery," and a faint warmth of mana leaked from within.

Most of the cargo was mana stone.

Which meant there were no people hidden away.

"......Hm."

But I was curious.

If the Master truly was here, why would they personally be on the move?

If that person really was the Master, why would such a valuable executive of the Revolutionary Faction be here in person?

At least as far as I remembered, no incident similar to today had occurred before I regressed.

"......"

Then I noticed something.

A thick wooden coffin shoved between the cargo.

"......A coffin."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I tapped the lid with my fingers, then pushed it open.

It was empty, but large enough for a person to fit inside.

I closed the coffin again and sat leaning against it.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Knocking on the coffin lid, I sank into thought.

Something important enough for the Master, the Revolutionary Faction's chief financial officer, to personally handle......

"......A facility attack?"

The odds were low. There were not many important facilities in the north. The harsh, cold climate did mean that there were several Camps and prisons under Georgen's authority.

Wait.

What if their target was a Camp or prison?

"People."

A Camp ultimately came down to people.

Whether to kill them or save them.

"In the north......"

Was someone important enough for the Master to personally intervene being held captive?

"......"

A strange thought suddenly occurred to me.

Georgen was an imperfect organization. But sometimes luck arose from that imperfection and randomness.

Because tips came in.

Someone was suspicious. Someone went somewhere every night. Some could be false rumors spread to screw over a romantic rival, others to get rid of a competitor.

But sometimes.

Very rarely.

"......Even a cow backing up can catch a mouse."

What if Georgen's Northern Branch was holding the Revolutionary Faction's most important person?

What if Georgen did not even know it?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I stared steadily at the coffin lid.

An empty coffin.

Perhaps a coffin meant to smuggle out a living person.

"It's about time Georgen scored a win too."

Even if ninety out of a hundred were innocent and nine were mere petty criminals, if the remaining one was real......

Then we would ultimately be moving toward the same goal.

* * *

The first-class cars of the Eisenhorn. Among them was the most luxurious compartment, the salon. It was a private car for distinguished guests, furnished like a small hotel room.

Yvette, a member of the Revolutionary Faction, sat with her legs crossed on one end of the sofa.

Clatter. Clatter. Clatter.

As she took in the faint rocking of the train and admired the white scenery outside the window.

Knock knock.

Someone knocked.

"You're resting, I see."

The attendant smiled as they opened the door, exchanged a few words with the person outside, then let someone in.

"My apologies for the sudden intrusion. I am Sergeant Elmer of Georgen."

Georgen. Yvette's eyebrows twitched.

"......What?"

At that moment, a gentleman who had been dozing on the compartment sofa opened his eyes halfway.

"What, who did you say?"

Stroking his mustache, he asked Elmer.

"I am Elmer of Georgen. I am currently inspecting family regis-"

"What?!"

He abruptly sprang to his feet.

"Family register inspection?! You dare inspect mine?!"

"Yes. I apologize, but this is Georgen busi-"

"If you're Georgen, you should recognize my face!"

The gentleman widened his eyes, nose, and mouth dramatically.

"......"

Elmer stared at him.

"Could you perhaps......"

"Yes, that's right! It's me! Halbert Goring!"

Halbert Goring announced his name the moment Elmer seemed to recognize him. Elmer quickly straightened.

"Yes, I know. You're the hero of the Titan."

"That's right! Good grief, and you want to inspect my family register?! It's too precious to show to the likes of you, you punk!"

The Georgen agent gave a bitter smile.

"Yes, that's true. Sir Halbert is fine, but the two people inside......"

The attendant, and Yvette.

"What, you punk?! How dare you inspect my companions! Have you lost your mind?!"

Goring waved his arms around. Whoosh. Whoosh. Like a gorilla displaying its authority.

"Mr. Halbert. It's all right."

Yvette gently soothed Halbert and handed over her family register.

"Here."

"Ah, thank you!"

The Georgen agent accepted it gratefully. Halbert's brow twisted sharply.

"......You punk. Don't get any fingerprints on that."

As Halbert glared steadily, the Georgen agent handed the family register back and bowed.

"It's been checked."

"Thank you."

Yvette smiled brightly, and Halbert looked at her as though he simply could not help himself.

"You didn't need to do that. You're far too kind and beautiful...... Did anything get on the family register?"

"It's fine. It's clean."

"That's a relief."

Halbert pointed at the Georgen agent again.

"Hey! I'll remember your face!"

"......Yes. Then I'll take my leave."

After the agent departed, Yvette returned to the sofa.

"......"

Watching Halbert carefully, she discreetly picked up the small note tucked into her family register.

[ Otto Bell was shot dead by Inspector Gewin of Georgen. ]

[ Gewin is patrolling with a rookie named Paul. ]

[ Information has definitely leaked. ]

[ There is a traitor among us. ]

Sizzle.

Yvette used her lighter to burn both the cigarette and the note at once, then pretended to look outside as she let the ashes scatter into the wind.

"Haah...... Even the sight of you smoking is exceedingly beautiful."

"......Pardon?"

Halbert crept closer and guided her wrist to the tip of his nose.

Hnnng.

He inhaled as though moaning.

"It's like...... the scent of perfume."

Watching Halbert murmur those words, his gaze looking as though his soul had been bewitched, Yvette gave a bitter smile.

......

"That fucking perverted lunatic, seriously......"

Ruuush.

Having said she was going for a brief walk, Yvette washed her hands in the first-class restroom.

Even so, there had to be limits to being perverted. He was far too fucking perverted.

"Ugh, fuck. Filthy bastard...... Hah."

After composing her expression in the mirror, she stepped outside and walked through the train.

She intended to assess Georgen's response.

Click. Click.

Passing through the lavish first-class corridor.

Click. Click.

Just as she reached the second-class corridor.

"......"

She spotted someone wandering around and looking here and there.

Suspicious no matter who looked at him. Was he a Georgen agent?

She needed to confirm it.

Click. Click.

As he approached, she deliberately bumped his shoulder.

"Ah, I'm sorry."

In reply to the man's apology.

"......You're making it far too obvious."

The man's expression went blank for a moment.

"......Pardon?"

"You're a Georgen agent, right?"

The man flinched.

"How did you know?"

"Shh."

She put a finger to her lips.

A fellow foolish enough to ask outright. Bronze skin, black eyes, brown hair. His looks were not bad, but he seemed somewhat slow-witted.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Yvette Markel."

"......"

When she smiled, he stared at her without a word. The feeling in his gaze was familiar.

Yvette. The codename assigned to her for this operation was Lily.

"......What is it?"

In Yvette's own opinion, her talent was her appearance. With an inborn beauty, she could make herself alluring, sensual, innocent, delicate, sickly...... molding herself as needed, with an outward appearance lacking nothing in any regard.

"It's nothing."

The man forced himself to avert his eyes and scratched his cheek. Yvette smiled faintly.

"Actually, I've already been inspected. They inspected the passengers in the salon too."

"Ah, I see."

"It seems someone dangerous or important is aboard?"

"......I don't know."

Of course you don't.

Clatter. Clatter.

The train trembled. The two stood a single step apart.

"I'm sorry, but......"

Paul held out his hand.

"May I see your family register?"

He was slow-witted, but at least he was trying to do his job. She could not let down her guard. At the very least, he was better than Halbert Goring.

"......Before that."

Yvette smiled.

"May I make a request too? Your identification and family register."

"Uh...... Um......"

Paul hesitated briefly, then reached inside his clothes.

If he drew a weapon, that would be a problem. She was beginning to tense up.

"Here...... you are."

Fortunately, he handed over his Georgen identification and family register first.

"Thank you."

She examined them.

Georgen Sergeant Paul Berg. A Georgen rookie.

His family address was in an affluent district. He was even a third-year at Empire Point.

It was an uncommon background. Empire Point was considered nearly impossible for outside agents to infiltrate.

Anyone from that organization, indoctrinated from the pliable ages of twelve or thirteen, was practically the worst possible opponent for the Revolutionary Faction.

But if he had dropped out, there was enough of an opening.

"......Here you are."

She smiled and returned them. Paul put away his identification and spoke.

"Ms. Yvette's family register......"

"Unfortunately, I left it in my coat. Shall we go to the salon together?"

"Uh...... Yes. All right."

"Follow me."

She smiled faintly.

At that moment, someone passed between them. Paul's gaze briefly followed the person, but Yvette suddenly reached out and redirected his attention.

Toward herself.

"You have something here."

She pretended to brush dust from his cheek.

"Ah...... Thank you."

His cheeks flushed red. At his rather innocent appearance, Yvette smiled.

"Have you eaten?"

......

At the same time, someone else sat beside the Master in a second-class seat with its curtains drawn.

"Lilac has withered, but Lily has hooked one. I think we can get a progress report from Lily later."

They handed over a note.

[ Paul, Georgen Sergeant, Empire Point background ]

Lily had hooked someone in that short span of time.

Lily's shortest record for fleecing someone was two hours and twenty-three minutes. Whether man or woman, there were no exceptions as long as their preferences suited her.

"So, when is the operation?"

"Not yet. They won't be able to move rashly either, so we'll proceed carefully."

The Master handed the note to Thistle.

"Burn it as soon as you read it."

Thistle nodded briefly, tucked the paper into their clothes, and rose.

* * *

......As Paul, one of dozens of identities created by the Knights, I faced a woman named Yvette.

"Why did you drop out of Empire Point?"

"Um...... I don't think life there suited me."

A peerless beauty and spy of the Revolutionary Faction.

Before I regressed, I had met her briefly as well. We had exchanged only a few words, but the Maximilian of that time was not someone she would have taken an interest in.

Even a man counted among the greatest figures of the time had gone to every length just to exchange a word with her.

"You dropped out of Empire Point because it didn't suit you? Even though you had good grades?"

Before I knew it, we were sitting across from each other in the dining car.

She truly suited that reputation. Every passerby stole glances in our direction.

Naturally, because of the woman sitting in front of me.

"Well...... I just didn't want to do it."

"I see. That's a shame."

Still, I had seen all there was to see in this sort of situation.

Personal beauty was meaningless before the fate of humanity.

"......The sun sets so early in the north."

She looked out the window as darkness fell, tilting her head slightly. The angle was calculated to show her profile in the glass. Every pose and every length of silence was utterly natural.

And yet they were clearly calculated gestures.

"Would you like a glass of wine?"

Even the color of this woman's voice passed the test. Every part of her was certainly perfect.

"W, wine......"

Her appearance posed no danger to me whatsoever, but I could certainly pretend to be taken in.

No, I had to.

"Would that be all right?"

There was a very high probability that what they were seeking was not on this train.

That was what my intuition told me.

"Hehe."

She smiled and rested her chin on her hand.

Tapping her cheek with a finger, she spoke in a whisper.

"What would not be all right?"