I Must Be Incompetent

49

After the Minister left for the Imperial Palace alone, Celine, left alone in the office, put the blood-soaked shirt in her bag as she thought.

‘He really is pushing himself too hard lately.’

There had been times before when the Minister hadn’t been feeling well, but lately it felt like it was getting progressively worse.

‘He’s been getting nosebleeds more often, and he spends more time just staring blankly like he’s worn out…’

It was worrying to watch from the sidelines.

She wished he would at least say he was struggling, but he didn’t even talk about himself much, so she couldn’t even ask him to rely on her.

All she could do was to distribute the work as much as possible to reduce his burden and to fill his lunchbox with more nutritious food.

‘What a useless woman I am.’

Even though she was doing everything she could, she was still berating herself as she tidied her desk, seeing the Minister looking more tired every day.

Then she saw something odd.

“Huh?”

What made Celine tilt her head, studying it with a frown, was the chessboard the Director had left out.

It was three small chessboards connected together, and though she couldn’t decipher the rules governing its strange movements, something about it felt off.

‘Not that I’m much of a chess aficionado to begin with… but how on earth does a king end up all alone in enemy territory like that?’

There were three distinct factions at play, two of which were currently engaged in battle.

And yet, inexplicably, the king of one faction was isolated, completely surrounded by the opposing forces.

Had the king, like a fool, charged headlong into the enemy?

Or perhaps…

“Was he… kidnapped, perhaps?”

Celine chuckled softly at her own absent-minded mutterings, then turned her gaze from the chessboard, finishing her desk cleanup before returning to her duties.

Therefore, she did not see.

The bishop, waiting in the wings only a few steps away from the cornered king.

—

When the world is viewed through this lens, every piece of information received can be recreated within the mind.

However, simultaneously, my thought processes simplify.

Detailed emotions or trivial worries are automatically filtered out by the brain.

It must be that way.

Otherwise, I would be swept away by the overwhelming flood of information and driven to madness.

Thanks to this, I have, at some point, forgotten how to deeply contemplate myself.

I don’t believe that’s a problem.

Not pondering is simply more efficient.

Even a single moment of doubt complicates the thought process.

A complicated thought process clouds the eye of the heavens.

Therefore, one must think simply.

Thus, I am incompetent.

Only then can this ability be properly utilized.

ㅡThis has been the fundamental premise.

The minimum requirement for deriving the optimal answer at every moment.

However, at some point, the answers I could derive ceased to be singular.

Or rather, to be precise, a number of possibilities began to emerge.

That juncture – it was from after the false star appeared at the Shadow Auction.

This matter was no different.

I felt, with a gut-deep certainty, that the most correct, yet most dreaded, of the possible scenarios had come to pass. I returned my gaze to the present.

Then, to Prince Martin of the fallen kingdom of Klamore, I posed the question:

“Tell me, as precisely as you can, what transpired.”

The prince, trembling, glanced between myself and His Imperial Majesty. Instead of him, one of the retainers he’d brought along cautiously spoke.

“Grand Duke. Our prince is in a state of profound shock. Allow me to explain…”

“Silence. Who permitted you to speak?”

The retainer immediately clamped his mouth shut. The prince’s tremors intensified.

Unmistakable. This prince wasn’t merely shaken by the destruction of his nation.

If my instincts served me, Prince Martin had witnessed something.

I needed to ascertain it.

What occurred in Klamore could very well occur within the Empire.

No, it nearly did during the Shadow Auction.

“Prince Martin. Tell me. What did you see?”

Even with the repeated question, the prince could only tremble.

At this, another retainer stepped forward, exclaiming,

“Even if you are the Grand Duke, is it not cruel to treat those who have lost their nation and come seeking refuge in such a man-”

Unlike the first, this retainer did not manage to finish his sentence.

Owls, perceiving the meaning in my gaze, appeared and severed his neck, butchering the corpse.

To decapitate and then butcher was, of course, meant to inspire terror.

In response, Prince Martin prostrated himself before His Majesty, crying out,

“Your… Your Imperial Majesty! Sa… Save me! The… the Grand Duke will kill us all!”

“If you value your life, then you would do well to answer the question quickly.”

“Y… Yes?”

With his chin resting on a hand that was posed upon the arm of his throne, His Imperial Majesty’s disinterested expression drained the color from the faces of Prince Martin and the remaining retainers.

Truthfully, it would be faster to drag them all to the Intelligence Bureau. But for the moment, I decided to exercise the last dregs of my patience.

“Prince. What you saw holds the key to unraveling the reason for Klamore’s destruction, and the nature of the threat looming over the Empire. Tell me.”

“I… I…”

Even now, he’s still prevaricating? Such a display of vacillation is quite something.

No choice then.

I hadn’t wanted to go this far, but if words were proving so difficult, I had to craft an environment conducive to easy speaking.

“From this moment on, each time you utter a word other than an answer, one of your retainers will die. You seem to have about twenty left, so you can hesitate twenty times.”

“Wh, what is the mean…!”

One head flew.

The prince’s retainers emitted piercing screams.

“W, wait a seco…!”

Another one gone.

The retainers pleaded with the prince.

“P, please sto…!”

Yet another.

Just as I began to suspect this prince intended to have all his retainers slaughtered, a useful piece of information finally surfaced.

“Oblivion! They called themselves Oblivion!”

Oblivion.

Forgetfulness?

If they referred to themselves as such, were they proclaiming themselves the forgotten ones?

“Continue.”

“That…well, as you know, Klamore was a petty kingdom lacking in both resources and talent. So, it was forced to collaborate with various powers from outside…”

I sighed.

“Enough of that. I know all that already. I also know Klamore was in league with the Oracle. All you need to tell me, Your Highness, is how and why these Oblivion fellows approached you and what they did.”

The original plan had been to use Klamore as a trap to lure out the Oracle.

The deeper they were entangled, the harder it would be for the Oracle to detach itself from Klamore. So, we were letting their relationship strengthen over time before crushing them both in one fell swoop.

Of course, that plan was now reduced to nothing but vapor.

“How could you…?! W, wait! I’ll talk! I’ll talk, so please! Th, they approached us saying they could make Klamore a great power!”

The prince, about to veer off-topic, snapped to attention the moment I raised my hand, spilling out the proper story.

A truly infuriating character.

“Did they happen to promise to create stars for you?”

“Ye…if they could create stars, they said w, we would become a superpower that even the empire could not handle…”

That confirmed it.

The ones who had created the fake star at the dark auction were the same individuals who had brought Klamore to ruin.

“The materials for making stars? The process? How many stars did they create?”

“I… I don’t know. I truly don’t know…! All… all I saw was a single violet star swallow the kingdom of Clamor…!”

A violet star. So that was a false Lars, then.

It seemed the thing that destroyed Clamor was the same one I’d shattered.

His ignorance beyond that seemed genuine enough.

“I have but two more questions. Firstly, did you share the fact of Oblivion’s approach with the Oracle?”

“Ah, no. I did not share it, but the Oracle had already vanished from the kingdom sometime before that.”

Tch. She sensed the danger and pulled out early, I suppose.

I’d likely have done the same.

“Final question. It’s clear the violet star you saw destroyed Clamor. So then, why are *you* still alive?”

The Owl’s blade, lunging from behind Prince Martin, emerged from his stomach.

“…Huh?”

As the sword was withdrawn, Prince Martin fell, looking up at me.

“They told me…to lure the Empire…to lure the Empire and they would…spare me…”

They used Clamor as an experiment and the prince as bait?

Efficient, I’ll grant them that.

Prince Martin died then and there, and the remaining retainers’ heads, too, fell beneath the Owls’ blades.

Immediately after, the Owls and I bowed toward His Majesty.

“We belatedly offer our apologies for daring to defile His Majesty’s audience chamber.”

“It matters not. So what will you do now? I hear these…Oblivion…individuals have set a trap where Clamor once stood.”

That, of course, was already decided.

“If they’ve laid a trap, it would be impolite not to spring it for them. I shall briefly visit Clamor.”