Why a Request at This Timing

25

Amongst the Information Bureau’s agents, Owl stood apart, a class of his own in strength.

And within even that elite, John, the strongest and their leader, was a force. Though an assassin by trade, he could casually overwhelm an S-rank adventurer in direct combat.

Now, that very John stared blankly at his surroundings.

The sight of his comrades, fallen so wretchedly, registered one by one.

Valdemar, defeated.

Alexander, defeated.

Kristina, defeated.

Sergei, defeated.

And John himself, with little time left.

“Ugh…”

He felt bile rising in his throat.

Muttering something unintelligible, as if in disbelief, John gathered the last of his strength and raised his head, bloodshot eyes fixing on the man before him.

He looked back with the same detached gaze, as if nothing had changed.

No emotion could be discerned within those eyes.

No mockery, no reproach, no pity, no condescension.

Merely a quiet observation of a loser collapsing before him.

“Minister, you are…”

The thread of consciousness he’d desperately clung to finally snapped.

Unable to even finish his last words, John crumpled.

Pathetically, almost comically, defeated.

“…”

The Minister said nothing.

—

ㅡThree hours prior to the incident.

“Hans Wolf originally had a significant legacy in the field of monster research. In other words, if Oracle tried to use him, it’s likely they were searching for a monster, or something akin to one.”

Reading through the report, Celine cautiously glanced at the Minister.

The presence of the ring on the Minister’s right thumb, which he always stroked when their reports or speculations were wrong, had already become a trauma trigger for them.

Thankfully, the Minister remained still, seemingly finding no fault yet.

Even so, Celine whipped herself to maintain focus as she continued with the report.

“Furthermore, we’re investigating artifacts from the Mythic Age, searching for connections based on the information the Minister himself acquired from Jedo University.”

Compiling this, the Intelligence Division suspects that the artifact, this ‘Key,’ resides within the nest of some creature or monster, or perhaps is guarded by a sentinel-like being.

At present, we possess no other basis, so it remains conjecture, yet considering Hans Wolf’s past, we judge the possibility to be far from negligible.

“Lastly, we are endeavoring to restore and analyze Hans Wolf’s research materials recovered from the Nigreo Swamp caves, but currently, there are no tangible results.”

No results. Meaning, despite the time invested, nothing had been discovered.

Tension filled the conference room.

All present were silent, awaiting a verdict.

The Minister rarely, if ever, lost his temper.

He never shouted or raised his voice.

But everyone in the Intelligence Division desperately wished he would just yell.

The silent disappointment, devoid of anger or any outward emotion, was more agonizing than any punishment.

Yet, something was amiss.

The Minister didn’t stroke his ring.

Could this be a positive sign? Someone dared to think, just as the Minister spoke.

“Well done. Continue the investigation and pursuit.”

The matter was settled.

Today was a rare good day, perhaps occurring only once a year.

Of course, the real reason for the elation was something else entirely.

“Minister! Now that the meeting is adjourned, shall we gather at the…place?”

At Christina’s bright exclamation, the Minister silently nodded, and the tense atmosphere vanished as if it had never been, replaced by a palpable excitement.

Indeed.

Finally, the long-awaited company dinner had arrived.

And not just any dinner, but one at the ultra-exclusive restaurant, *The Golden Gryphon,* a place most would never experience in a lifetime!

“Those on duty, or those assigned to upcoming missions, register your names. I’ll arrange a separate visit for you later.”

Such unimaginable kindness from the man of iron prompted tears from several staff members and agents.

And so it began.

The Intelligence Division’s inaugural dinner at The Golden Gryphon!

—

“Uwaaah!”

“Ghk, kheu, khwaaaht?!”

“Hiccup, hiccup, hiccup.”

I’m terribly flustered right now.

I’d chartered the Golden Gryphon in its entirety – a place everyone seemed to covet – and hosted this dinner myself. Now, my subordinates are openly weeping.

One fellow was devouring his meal while bawling like a motherless cub, and another, while gulping down his drink, trembled as if seized by a fit, emitting strange, guttural noises.

Then, of course, there were those who ignored the food completely, lost in the orchestra’s melodies, faces awash with tears and snot.

Perhaps I’m just inexperienced and don’t understand.

Is this how banquets are normally held, amidst such… chaotic atmospheres?

Or maybe it’s more than chaos, more like bedlam.

The owls, stuffing food into their beaks with abandon at the same table as me, almost seem normal in comparison.

“Delicious! Delicious! Delicious! Delicious!”

“So delicious! So delicious! So delicious! So delicious!”

“Mashissuh! Mashissuh! Mashissuh! Mashissuh!” (slang variant of delicious)

“We eat! We drink! We eat! We drink!”

Relatively, of course.

“Gentlemen, perhaps some dining etiquette in a place like this…”

“So, does that mean I can eat the lobster from John’s plate… with proper etiquette?”

“Touch it and you’re dead! I swear it!”

I don’t recall murder being a part of any dining etiquette.

“Heh heh, it’s nowhere near as good as before, but even this is rather pleasant, Minister.”

Even Celine, her cheeks flushed with a noticeable amount of drink, is smiling.

Well, if they’re enjoying themselves, I suppose that’s all that matters?

“Come to think of it, I’ve been thinking this since that time we drank in the Holy Kingdom, but Minister, you can actually hold your liquor, can’t you?”

Sergei’s rather abrupt statement prompted nearby fellows, including the owls, to nod in agreement.

“That’s right. You’ve been drinking since earlier, but your face is perfectly fine.”

“Doesn’t he get drunk?”

“…I want to see him drunk.”

“…Me too.”

“…Curious.”

“…Seriously.”

Hm, the atmosphere is shifting here.

These b*stards, why are they slinking towards me with bottles in their hands?

“Minister, how about we have a drinking contest on a day like today?”

“You’d be wise to refrain.”

“Oho! The Minister is throwing down the gauntlet!”

No, what gauntlet? I’m telling you to stop. Why are you even suggesting something as pointless as a drinking contest?

“Alright, alright! Hey! Everyone listen up! It’s a drinking contest against the Minister! All challengers, gather over here!”

Don’t do it. Don’t gather.

“The victor gets a wish granted by the Minister!”

When did I say that?

“Really?! I’ll do it with my life on the line!”

Don’t waste that kind of resolve on something like this.

It’s no good. They hardly ever listen to me even when sober, but with alcohol in their system, it seems their self-control has completely vanished.

“I’ll join!”

“Me! I want to join too!”

“I’ll participate…!”

Cristina, Celine, Lisana, plus the Owls and a few others were making a real mess of things, and now there’s no escape.

Fine then. I shall show you all.

Why the Empire has a saying: ‘Never drink with Barmut.’

—

The Emperor, upon hearing the rumor that the Intelligence Department had requested a drinking contest with their Minister at a company dinner, simply uttered ‘Those madmen’ before summoning Erwin to the audience chamber.

“Not as the Emperor, but as a father, I have a request to make of you.”

“From my perspective, those are one and the same.”

“Just listen.”

Even after dismissing the others, the Emperor glanced around, worried someone might be listening, and whispered softly to Erwin.

The problem was, the Emperor’s throne was in a rather high position.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. If you speak that softly from up there, I can’t quite hear you.”

“…want to know.”

“Pardon? What is it you want to know?”

“Ah, I want to know about Elise’s friendships.”

Erwin blinked, then carefully answered the Emperor, whose words were laced with annoyance.

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to ask her directly?”

“If I could have learned it that way, I wouldn’t have bothered summoning you.”

A fair point, that.

“Shall I unleash the agents of the Information Bureau to investigate?”

“I considered that initially… but what if Ellis were to discover the truth? What, then, would you imagine her reaction to be?”

“A perfectly normal shuddering, I would expect.”

“Hmm. Ergo, that course is untenable.”

Erwin felt a premonition of ill fortune rise within him, beneath the Emperor’s unwavering gaze.

“I cannot.”

“I have yet to task you.”

“As of this moment, I tender my resignation as Director of the Information Bureau.”

“Denied.”

“I speak with utmost sincerity.”

“What do I care? I am the Emperor.”

Having blocked all avenues of escape, the Emperor, in a voice heavy with authority, issued an imperial edict to the Director of the Information Bureau.

“Erwin Barmut. I hereby appoint you as a Special Guest Lecturer for a day at the Imperial Academy, to observe and guide the scholars there. And while you are about it, discern what that curious air is I’ve been sensing about my daughter of late… ensure no strange insect has taken a liking to her, you understand.”

The latter was, for all ears, the crux of the matter.

“Understand? Subtly, subtly. Ask as if it were a passing remark, something light, without a second thought. Above all else, it must never, *ever*, come to light that it was I who sent you.”

Erwin felt a sudden urge to enlighten the Emperor as to the realities of the situation.

“Your Majesty. The Princess is fifteen years of age this year. I understand that it is difficult for a father to accept, but at that age, their interest in the opposite s*x heightens. It’s not unthinkable that she might have a boyfriend, or perhaps even two…”

“Umerghhh! I do not wish to hear it! I refuse to hear it! Cease speaking!”

Seeing the Emperor covering his ears with both hands, as if genuinely desperate not to hear a single word more, Erwin sighed.

“Should I also assess the Crown Prince’s social relationships, then?”

“That is not required.”

“Not required, your Majesty?”

“Not required.”

So be it, then.

—

This is a disaster.

A true, multifaceted disaster.

If I’d had even a single day, I could’ve rummaged through the archives and scraped together some harmless information, enough to play the role of guest lecturer or whatever it was.

But His Imperial Majesty commanded me to go immediately.

Thanks to that, I was desperately wracking my brains in the jolting carriage.

However, no answer came.

Because I knew nothing!

How am I supposed to teach, even pretend to, when I don’t know a single thing? What do they expect of me when I’m completely ignorant!

Ultimately, I hadn’t come up with any decent ideas by the time we arrived, so I was stepping out of the carriage, thinking that in the worst case, I’d just have to demonstrate some traditional folk dance I learned back in my teens when I noticed something was off.

Something felt strange.

Was the barrier around the Imperial Academy always this visibly thick?

“H-How…? How did you know?”

Someone appeared as I tilted my head, perplexed.

Huh? Who is this? A school guard?

“Impossible! It’s impossible! Eighteen years! I’ve spent a full eighteen years here for this very moment!”

Eighteen years as a school guard? That’s quite a long time.

I was impressed and admiring him when the middle-aged man who’d been shouting reached out towards me.

Uh, why is there fire coming from his hand?

“Answer me! Tell me how you figured it out, Minister!”

“……..”

He knows me?