Semi-Coercive Imperialist

「Commoner Nico Beber Exposes Alchemia's Ugly Corruption」

「Alchemia Stained with Filth」

「Who Is Behind the Violation of the Imperial Citizens Act?」

「Izenheim That Fed on Aran Blood......」

As the Jemion Daily and the Empire's other major outlets splashed the Alchemia case across their pages day after day.

"You've worked very hard, Mr. Nico Beber."

Hanna Usar, assigned by Maximilian to handle the aftermath of the case, gave him a gentle smile.

Nico answered with a stammer.

"Not at all. What you did will be recorded as lawful self-help by an Imperial citizen, and as a courageous decision that protected Aran order. Naturally, everyone involved in Alchemia's corruption will be summoned before the Sentinel and punished."

As Hanna organized the papers, she asked as though something had just occurred to her.

"By the way, Mr. Nico. What exactly did you see in that basement?"

"Uh...... well......"

Nico blinked as he searched his memories.

"......A ritual. I think it was a ritual."

Hanna listened closely to his quiet voice.

"A ritual...... Could you first explain how you came to see it?"

"Ah. Yes."

Gulp. Nico swallowed dryly.

"That day...... I was called in for emergency repairs at night because of the stench. My supervisor told me I'd be fired on the spot if I didn't fix it that day."

Hanna checked Nico's profile.

Occupation, plumber.

"I crawled into the ventilation passages and searched around until I found the problem, but I somehow fell asleep. It was the first time in my life I'd ever fallen asleep while working......"

He shrank his shoulders and continued.

"I don't know how many hours I slept, but...... when I woke up and crawled through the passage, I got lost. The ventilation system was incredibly complicated."

"And then you found it."

"Yes. I saw an unidentified basement through one of the vents. There were people standing there, completely still."

Nico's eyes shook as he remembered that day.

"The people gathered underground...... didn't say a word to each other. They didn't chant spells or pray. They just stood there in silence...... so still it was strange, moving nothing but their eyes."

Hanna belatedly pulled out a statement form.

Scratch. Scratch.

She wrote down Nico's words.

"At the time, I had no idea what they were doing. But later, after I studied Izenheim, I realized."

After Maximilian's autobiography was released, Nico had obtained and read Izenheim scripture as well.

"Silent Communion."

Silent Communion, recorded in a passage of their scripture.

An Izenheim ritual where they shared meditation without speaking.

"Hm. I see. Was there anything else unusual?"

"Uh...... there was."

"Please tell me."

"......To be honest, I can't be certain whether I dreamed it or really saw it. All my memories from that day feel hazy, like they were buried in fog."

Even Nico himself doubted what he had experienced, but that uncertainty only made it sound more convincing to Hanna.

"They were holding Silent Communion, then suddenly, one man picked up a huge stone that had been lying on the floor like a gravestone. Then......"

Thud! A phantom sound echoed inside Nico's ears.

"......He beat the person standing beside him to death."

Hanna's brow creased faintly.

Thud! Thud! The scalp split open.

Crack! The skull was exposed.

Splat! The brain was crushed.

Nico watched that grotesque ritual from inside the ventilation passage......

"I couldn't fight off the sleep any longer and lost consciousness. When I woke up, it was already morning."

"......"

Hanna reviewed the statement she had written from the beginning. Slowly repeating each sentence, she reconstructed the situation.

"......I roughly understand now."

"Ah, you do?"

"Yes. This is only speculation for now, but Alchemia handles all kinds of chemical agents, including sleeping gas, with support from the Ministry of Defense. Before holding their ritual, they likely released sleeping gas into the basement to keep out any possible intruders."

She rose from her seat and pinned Alchemia-related reports to a corkboard.

"Mr. Nico was exposed to it and fell asleep. He woke up briefly and witnessed the scene, but the drugs were still affecting him, so he fell asleep again."

Hanna placed Nico's statement, which she had just written, in the center of the corkboard.

"Human sacrifice...... It may have been some kind of ritual like that. Of course, it is possible that Mr. Nico saw a hallucination, but either way, it would have been an act harmful to the Empire. As you know, Izenheim is a cancer cell within the Empire."

Hanna lifted the autopsy reports.

Every person killed by Nico's attack had been Izenheim, without exception.

"Because they're enemies of our race."

Nico nodded fervently.

He agreed with that very, very strongly.

* * *

Caw. Caw.

At a salty tavern near the harbor, gulls flew past the window.

I sat before a plate of food and a glass of beer, looking outside.

TITAN.

A mysterious cruise ship crawling with Izenheim.

The name, at least, was familiar. Its silhouette did not seem unfamiliar either.

"Hey."

"......"

"Hey, mister!"

A rough voice broke through my thoughts. The tavern owner was looking at me, narrowing his eyes.

"You taking that ship too?"

"Yes."

"Hm. You don't look Aran."

In his eyes, I was a man with brown hair and dark, rough skin. My face had become well-known, so I had added another layer to my disguise.

A special dye made by grinding mana stones. The color was perfect, though there were ugly rumors that it caused cancer.

"Are you Aran, sir?"

"Hahaha! Pure Aran to the bone, believe it or not."

He chuckled and puffed out his chest. He seemed proud of being Aran, though thankfully, he did not look down on other ethnic groups.

"But be careful. Lately, suspicious people have been coming and going around here. I don't like the smell of it."

"Could it be because this place is so good?"

"What?"

The owner's eyebrows twitched. I pointed my fork at the scallop dish in front of me.

"The scallops' delicate sweetness blends wonderfully with the acidity of the lemon juice. The rich flavor of the brown butter, especially...... The finish lingers. I expected fresh ingredients near the sea, but the cooking is far too good."

"......"

The owner stared blankly at me, then burst into hearty laughter.

"That's true! My wife's cooking is something special. You work in food service, mister?"

"No."

This disguise had its own setting. A profession that would let me make the most natural use of my senses.

"I'm an appraiser."

The virus inside me and I were slowly becoming like each other. We were not close enough to call it friendship yet, but as it assimilated with me, it amplified every sensation I felt.

"Oh, an appraiser......"

"I also have a medical license."

"Oh yeah? An elite, are you?"

"Whiskey. One glass."

A low voice suddenly rang out. I glanced sideways at the customer. The person wore a hat pulled low, but their presence stood out. They had the air of an informant, perhaps an investigator.

"Thank you for the meal."

I left several bills on the table and stood up. The owner added casually behind me.

"They've got a gambling table upstairs too. If you're interested, go have a look."

"......"

I acted uninterested, but glanced up toward the stairs.

Voices drifted down from the gambling room.

"I'm putting this ticket up for this round."

"What is this? Just a scrap of paper?"

"......It's a first-class ticket for the Titan."

I simply went outside.

Sitting on a bench overlooking the harbor, I wrote a letter for a while.

"......A postman?"

Then I stopped a postman getting off at the harbor. I handed over a letter bearing the agreed-upon stamp and a bundle of cash.

"Please deliver this."

"Ah, yes. I'll make sure it reaches them."

Of course, this was no ordinary postman. They were an informant from the Gennen facility. After seeing the particular stamp, they would convey my words to the office.

Afterward, I returned to a cheap hotel room near the sea.

"......"

I sat by the window and stared into the distance.

The Titan, docked at the harbor, still spilling luxurious light.

Was that place an Izenheim escape facility, or a new source of supply?

Either way, as I looked at it, I was considering something quite terrible.

The most efficient scenario, and the most inhumane.

I closed my eyes slowly.

[ Countless pitiful peoples who migrated to escape Imperial oppression...... ]

A scene from a documentary replayed in my memories.

It was a record of heroes from before and after the war, after the Empire fell.

[ Erio, captain of the Titan, and Morgan, the ship's owner, were heroes who risked their lives to help tens of thousands of ethnic minorities escape the Empire. ]

Mer, Izenheim, Yedlem. When the Empire ran wild and tried to seize every other ethnic minority and subspecies to wipe them out, they saved more than tens of thousands of people.

[ "This is the captain's cabin. It brings back memories," Erio said as he gripped the wheel. "There was a time we carried nearly ten thousand people." ]

In the not-so-distant future, the film industry would develop, and a box called a television would sit in every person's room.

Countless documentaries about the Empire's continental war would be made as well.

[ "My wife was Izenheim. I set sail to protect her." Morgan, the ship's owner, smiled. His face as he remembered his wife...... ]

Morgan's interview in that footage moved the entire continent and endlessly branded the Empire's madness into the world.

But now, I......

Knock. Knock.

A sudden sound at the door.

I rose and opened the hotel room door. Nobody stood in the hallway, but a small bag had been left outside.

I picked it up, returned to the room, and sat at the desk.

"......"

I stared at the bag and sank quietly into thought.

I thought.

Until darkness settled completely, and the sun hid itself beyond the horizon once more.

It was a dilemma.

Mine alone.

From the moment I saw the ship called Titan, something had risen from deep within me. Something I could not pass on to anyone else if it had to be done. Something only I could do......

* * *

The day of departure came, and crowds surged along the pier.

"This trip should be wonderful, Lord Lucris."

"They say the Titan's ball is the finest on the continent......"

Imperial nobles dressed in splendid gowns filled the dock, along with wealthy middle-class families on holiday, couples on their honeymoon, and Izenheim rats mixed among them.

Their laughter floated through the air.

Thump.

This ship called the Titan was, in truth, one enormous Izenheim cocoon.

Too many of them were hiding inside.

Thump.

Cut away fewer lives to save more lives.

And by more lives, I meant all of humanity.

That was why.

"Whew!"

An exclamation came from beside me.

I turned to find a young man standing there. I considered appearance one of my greatest talents, but this person was something else. A strikingly handsome man who would draw attention anywhere.

"Wow, it's really huge."

It was the voice I had heard at the tavern yesterday.

I gave a small smile.

"It looks like you won at gambling, seeing as you're here."

The young man flinched and turned toward me.

"What? Who are you? Do I know you?"

"I watched yesterday's game from the corner."

"Ah, so you were a spectator. What, jealous? I got a little lucky, that's all."

He waved his first-class ticket around. I answered flatly.

"They say great fortune is followed by great misfortune."

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

"If I were you, I'd sell that ticket. The sea is more fickle than you think."

"Ha. Guess you're really jealous."

Bwaaaaaaah!

The ship's horn sounded.

The distinguished passengers of the suites and first-class cabins boarded first, followed by the middle-class passengers in second class. The unnamed man hurried away as well.

"Tickets, please! Tickets!"

I handed my ticket to a crew member and stepped through the entrance to third class.

"Open your bag, please!"

"......"

When I handed it over, they turned it upside down and emptied everything inside. Appraisal equipment, a music box, cigarettes, clothes, and more spilled out.

"What are these machines?"

"Equipment. I'm an appraiser."

"......An appraiser?"

I handed over my Master-level certificate. The crew member's eyes widened.

It was a sophisticated forgery, impossible to distinguish from the real thing with the naked eye.

"Eli Zella. A real Master-level appraiser...... But why are you in third class......"

"I'm Mer."

"......Ahem."

The crew member cleared their throat and gestured for me to proceed.

Just as departure time approached.

Bwaaaaaaah!

The ship sounded its horn.

Once it left the harbor, I would have to remain here for nearly a week.

"Everyone, attention!"

A crew member shouted through a megaphone in the center of the deck.

"We will now announce the rules for third-class guests!"

Rule 1. Entry into the first-class and second-class areas is strictly prohibited.

Rule 2. Entry into crew-only areas and the engine room is strictly prohibited.

Rule 3. Curfew begins after 11 p.m.

Rule 4. Deck access is prohibited when sea fog rolls in.

"This is bullshit. I paid for this."

The man beside me grumbled, but most people stayed quiet.

Their purpose was not sightseeing or travel.

They were ethnic minority immigrants willing to endure any treatment if it meant safely leaving the Empire. Ideological and political criminals traveling under false identities.

"And please fill out this questionnaire and return it before nightfall! It is for any potential emergency, so answer honestly!"

The questionnaire asked for ethnic background, profession, age, gender, name, and more.

"You may all proceed to your rooms!"

I carried my bag over my shoulder and went down the stairs.

"......Room 303."

The moment I opened the door to my assigned four-person cabin, I set down my bag and lay on the bed.

Quietly, I thought of the Izenheim lurking throughout this ship.

I stared at the ceiling, sinking deep into thought.

There was equipment in my bag.

What I had to do with it was simple.

Sink this entire ship called the Titan into the depths of the sea.

* * *

The bridge of the large passenger ship Titan.

"First Mate. There's an appraiser too?"

At a crew member's words while reviewing the third-class questionnaires, the first mate asked back.

"An appraiser?"

"Yes. They're even Master-level. The name is...... Eli Zella."

"Really?"

The Appraisers Association, based in neutral states, issued appraiser credentials under an extremely strict grading system.

A Master was among the best at reading the currents of mana. Across not just the Empire but the entire continent, there were only around two or three hundred of them.

"Why is a Master in third class?"

"They say they're Mer."

"Ah, is that so? Then fine."

The first mate nodded. Tickets for the Titan's suites and first-class cabins could only be purchased by people who could prove their status and wealth. Even second and third class required rigorous screening. They had to make certain ethnic minorities and criminals barred from entering or leaving the country did not slip through.

"All right, good work. Radio in right away if anything happens."

"Yes, sir."

The voyage had entered a stable stage, so the first mate left the bridge.

They arrived at the Prestige Lounge, where high-ranking Imperial nobles and top corporate figures had gathered.

At one of the splendid room's tables, nobles appeared to be discussing something placed in the center.

"......What seems to be the matter?"

When the first mate approached politely and asked, one of the nobles answered with a small smile.

"We're betting on whether this pocket watch is genuine or fake."

It was a mana stone watch with exquisite craftsmanship.

"I hear detecting forged family registers is all the rage in the Empire these days. It seems the paranoia has spread to collectibles too. Ha ha."

At that moment, the owner of the watch frowned and looked at the first mate.

"First Mate, can you read the currents of mana at all? You're a mage, aren't you?"

"Uh...... My specialty is navigational magic, so I apologize, but I have no knowledge of appraisal."

The first mate politely shook their head, then remembered what they had just heard.

"Still, there is a Master-level appraiser among the passengers."

At the word Master, the nobles' eyes gleamed.

"Oh, a Master?"

"They're Mer and staying in third class, but......"

"What does it matter if they're Mer? This gentleman keeps babbling that it's fake. What do you say? Shall we settle the bet?"

The man on the opposite side, who had insisted it was fake, smiled and nodded.

"Very well. Let's do that."

"Yes. Then please wait a moment."

The first mate quickly turned and ran toward the bridge.

This kind of service was also the duty of a top-tier crew member attending distinguished guests.

Footnotes:

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