Chapter 28 - A Night of Counting Stars (2)

Eugene was desperate. He kept talking, determined to prove his usefulness.

“That one?”

“Lily Downer. Second-year Knight Department student! Level 32. Perfectly average, Boss!”

“Then that one.”

“Who? Oh, the black-haired one next to her? Marie Philipson, also a second-year Knight Department student! Level 29. Guess she’s not doing so well in her studies!”

Ivan regarded Eugene with newfound appreciation. While searching for Possessors, he had reviewed the profiles of every undergraduate at Jansk University. He could not remember every detail, but his long years in the Extermination Unit had made him adept at memorizing personal information.

He realized that Eugene’s accuracy was close to one hundred percent.

'A walking profile page...?'

Ivan and Eugene were walking through campus. With the semester in full swing, the grounds teemed with students. There were plenty of test subjects, allowing Ivan to examine the capabilities of Eugene’s status window in greater detail.

'It organizes information he can perceive.'

The boy was, in a sense, a database with restricted access levels. It displayed information Eugene could know or access at the present moment: someone’s level, name, position, and so forth.

Further details required an “understanding” of the subject. In other words, the closer he became to someone, the more detailed a profile he could obtain.

Which meant this boy...

'He was born for intelligence work...?'

He had an excellent background. A clergyman from a ducal house. Someone who could travel to any of the United Kingdoms without raising concerns.

If mere “closeness” was all he needed to obtain high-level information about someone, that made things even easier. He would not even need to conduct intelligence operations; simply entering high society would provide a stream of information.

There was one more way to exploit this status window’s “restricted information access.” It could not perceive information beyond Eugene’s reach.

Turn that around, and it meant that information he could not perceive concerned subjects beyond what a student could uncover. How many people at Jansk University could possibly be beyond a duke’s son’s ability to identify?

In other words, this boy...

'Within the school, he specializes in rooting out spies.'

Once he had established that much, Ivan took Eugene on a thorough sweep of the university. As a result, he discovered roughly seven people whose names differed from those on their enrollment documents.

“Their levels are either way too high or invisible, their names don’t match, and I can’t see their positions at all.”

“Good.”

As he walked, Ivan considered the results. Fewer than expected.

There were three broad categories of people likely to plant personnel at Jansk University: the Crown Prince’s Faction, spies from allied nations of the United Kingdoms, or demons.

All three would have infiltrated with their own objectives, so seven exposed agents was hardly a large number. The United Kingdoms alone comprised ten countries, after all.

'They’ve planted agents among the ordinary students, too.'

Raised as agents from childhood, or planted without even realizing they were serving a government.

Excluding a few countries on that basis...

'Those with excessively high levels are likely demon collaborators.'

The core members of the Crown Prince’s Faction who qualified as powerful fighters were already under Counterintelligence Command surveillance. Given Princess Elizaveta’s capabilities, there was no way the faction could cultivate powerful fighters in secret.

“Uh... Boss. But that girl’s actual name is Yuri. She really is Yuri Frank.”

“That’s no obstacle. Didn’t you say my name comes up as Ivan, too?”

“Oh, true. Then how do we find out?”

“Persuasion.”

Ivan nodded and headed into the campus courtyard. Three female students were eating sandwiches on a bench beneath a roadside tree.

“Oh, mister!”

“Eek!!”

The two students’ contrasting reactions deepened Ivan’s suspicions.

There was still a very real possibility that she was not a Possessor. Suspecting someone over nothing more than a name was pure conjecture.

But that student’s reaction was clearly suspicious.

As a thoroughly trained former agent, Ivan was highly skilled at assuming an unremarkable appearance. In other words, it was suspicious to be frightened by what anyone could see was an ordinary, harmless gardener.

“Isabelle. Have you been well?”

“Ahaha, has it really been long enough to ask that? Our first class was only the other day!”

“Mm.”

“Have you eaten, mister? Does anyone make sure you get your meals? The food here is awful. Would you like some of this?”

“Ah, oh...”

As Isabelle took out a sandwich and handed it to Ivan, Esidisi let out a dismayed sigh. He accepted it from Isabelle and took a bite, standing before the girls.

“Oh, you know her, right? Yuri Frank. She’s in the Knight Department. And this is Esidisi. She studies music.”

“Mm.”

“Ahaha, right. Mister, could we... um.”

Isabelle narrowed her eyes at Eugene, who stood beside Ivan.

She had never seen him before. Who was he? Another government agent?

“Could we talk alone?”

“Eeeek?! B-Bella! Wait!”

Dodging Yuri’s strange, flailing attempts to stop her, Isabelle walked away with Ivan. She waited until they were some distance from the others before speaking.

“I wanted to talk to you after class, but you suddenly disappeared. Are you out of your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, you’re a government agent! Weren’t we supposed to keep that between us?”

Isabelle glanced around, her expression serious, and whispered.

“I don’t know who else Thilles sent besides Sir August. But they must have sent at least one more person. How could you give yourself away so openly at a time like this?”

“Give myself away?”

“Your skills! You’re a secret agent!”

Ivan tilted his head and looked down at Isabelle. Even standing perfectly straight, the little girl only reached his chest. She ducked her head slightly and kept scanning their surroundings as she spoke in a tense voice.

“I don’t know what the Krasilof government is hiding here, but I owe you, so... well. Should I look into things for you?”

“What things?”

“Oh, come on. The spies Thilles sent! I don’t know if any are freshmen, but I can try to find them!”

Isabelle gave a firm nod, her eyes full of assurance. Ivan shook his head at the sight.

Betraying her homeland so easily. Did she have no patriotism?

Then, after a moment’s thought, he realized he had never acted out of patriotism himself. He had never been loyal to the Krasilof monarchy. He had simply respected the former king as a person.

“There’s no need.”

“Huh? This is a really valuable opportunity. You’ll regret missing it. Once I graduate, I’m going to hold a very high position in Thilles, you know. Don’t you cultivate human assets? And you call yourself a government agent?”

Just what did this child think the word “agent” meant?

He knew she had grown up spoiled at court, but wasn’t this a little too far removed from his first impression of her?

Ivan nodded expressionlessly.

“If you want to that badly, go ahead.”

“... That’s a pretty lousy attitude.”

Isabelle shook her head, then abruptly asked,

“Anyway, what on earth are you hiding here that has the elves still doing that?”

She tipped her chin toward the sky.

It had been over a week since the new semester began, which meant nearly a month had passed since the entrance ceremony. Yet Kallion’s warship remained moored above Jansk University.

Initially, it had caused confusion, but most students now shrugged it off as “elves being elves.”

Ivan, however, found it somewhat puzzling. That ship was, after all, a foreign warship. And Jansk University stood in the middle of the capital.

The Crown Prince might have ulterior motives, but Elizaveta would never have stood idly by. The Palace Ministry and the capital region were both within her sphere of influence, too.

“Who knows? Who can fathom what elves are thinking?”

* * *

“Well, Sir Veilchest. What is today’s report?”

“We have failed, Your Excellency.”

“I see. Failed again today.”

Onest nodded with an inscrutable smile.

“And what does the Krasilof court have to say?”

“They threatened to shoot us down if we don’t leave within three days.”

“They said exactly the same thing three days ago. Pay them no mind and carry on with your work.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

After dismissing the engineering officer, Onest took out a handkerchief and dabbed away his cold sweat, alone in his cabin.

“Why in the world...?”

Every warship underwent a thorough technical inspection before departure. His own vessel, the Glory of Boil, was no exception.

Granted, they were not at war, nor had they been bound for the front. This was merely a show of force—a minor one, not even enough to spark a diplomatic dispute—so the inspection had been limited to routine peacetime maintenance.

Even so, this was a Kallion aerial battleship.

A ruler of the skies that had struck terror into demons during the last war. Minor malfunctions might occur, but nothing had ever interfered with a ship’s ability to sail.

Then came a knock at the captain’s cabin door.

“Your Excellency, a visitor from the Krasilof court.”

“Tell them I will visit this evening. Didn’t I say I had engagements this afternoon?”

“W-well, I did explain that...”

A commotion rose beyond the door. He heard the officer’s frantic protests: “You cannot do this!” and “This is a breach of diplomatic protocol!”

Elves naturally had keen hearing. All the more so indoors.

A metallic click accompanied approaching footsteps. Sharp heels clicked against the deck.

Realizing who had come, Onest heaved a deep sigh.

“Come in.”

“I intended to.”

The door flew open without the slightest courtesy, revealing a woman whose silver hair flowed beautifully.

Elizaveta. Leader of this country’s monkeys.

Onest cleared his throat, struggling to keep his expression under control.

“How rude. Are you aware that a warship constitutes foreign territory?”

“Of course. That is why I haven’t shot you down despite your presence in our airspace.”

Elizaveta strode over and dropped into the seat opposite him. Her ornate Krasilof general’s uniform gleamed beneath the cabin lights.

At a flick of her gloved hand, the man attending her stepped forward and opened a black case. He took out a cigarette, placed it in her hand, and respectfully stepped back a couple of paces.

Before Onest could protest the effrontery of smoking in the captain’s cabin, Elizaveta’s sharp eyes flashed.

“Then tell me. How should we... no. How should I deal with you?”

“What...?”

“You have already received our government’s official position. ‘We give you three days.’ But that is not my position. Elf, you have two choices.”

Elizaveta flicked her fingertips. A reaction of mana lit the tip of her cigarette with a hiss.

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. White smoke spilled out, briefly thickening into a cloud through which her violet eyes gleamed like a predator’s.

“One: explain what you are plotting, right now, and ask for our cooperation.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I will send a woodsman.”

As the cigarette smoke dispersed, it revealed the beautiful royal’s face, wearing a gentle smile. As though her menacing presence a moment ago had been an illusion, Elizaveta said pleasantly,

“Fortunately, your country’s warships are made of wood.”

“You dare insult...!”

A woodsman, against elves...? Within the bounds of diplomatic rhetoric, there could be no greater insult.

As Onest erupted in fury, Elizaveta shrugged and stood.

“An insult, is it? I believe I have your answer.”

“You alone cannot speak for the crown. Do you truly think you can get away with this?”

The conflict between the Crown Prince and the Princess was already internationally notorious. It had gone beyond a simple struggle for power; civil war was considered imminent.

Was it wise, under those circumstances, to turn one of the United Kingdoms’ great powers into an outright enemy? If Kallion sided with the Crown Prince, the Princess’s position would inevitably be shaken.

As he growled those implications, the Princess smiled faintly.

“You dare threaten the Palace Minister here in Prizhenkaya? An amusing joke, Captain.”

“Grr...!”

“And, Captain. Remember this.”

Elizaveta opened the cabin door and glanced back. Her violet eyes gleamed like those of a bird of prey.

“I am the will of the crown.”

* * *

“Your Excellency, the Foreign Minister is reportedly hurrying back to the palace.”

“Such impatience in a man of royal blood.”

Elizaveta gave a soft, derisive laugh as she walked across the deck. That brother of hers never failed to meet her expectations.

“We proceed as planned. Summon Vanka.”

“Will you meet him in person?”

“Sir Cherkatov. Haven’t I told you? Our reunion must take place at a more fitting time, in a more fitting setting.”

No sense of romance.

Elizaveta shot Dmitry a reproachful glance and walked on.