Semi-Coercive Imperialist

The visiting room. In that place, surrounded on all sides by gray concrete walls, I gazed at the man seated across from me.

Oliver Müller. Beside him, looking as wretched as if he’d bee⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌n dragged through every hardship imaginable, sat Imperial Guard Captain Hans.

“Oliver Müll⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌er.”

I murmured his name quietly.

“Is that correct?”

“Yes, yes. That’s right.”

It was Hans, who answered. I furrowed my brow and asked Hans.

“A⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌re you Oliver?”

“…I’m sorry.”

Hans lowered his head. I turned my gaze back to Oliver and thought. I recalled his mother. The way she had wept with joy at my testimony…

“Son of Sara Müller. Oliver Müller.”

Does a person truly need a reason to raise another person?

Perhaps, sometimes, no reason is needed at all.

Just as a child needs a mother, there must surely be times when a mother needs a child.

“…Yes.”

From between Oliver’s teeth came a voice that sounded as if his vocal cords had been torn, choking out in a surge of emotion.

“I am Oliver Müller.”

As I looked at him, a smile I hadn’t intended rose to the corners of my lips.

…….

“We discovered records from the hospital in Sara Müller’s hometown. The hospital itself has closed, but the original medical records remained at the local administrative office.”

The Sentinel Knight Order office. I received the documents I had ‘expected’. This time, it was an old medical record pertaining to Sara Müller.

“…Miscarriage.”

Ezenheim. They burrow into the most vulnerable parts of a person.

And so, to a woman struggling after losing the life she had cherished most dearly. To the side of someone praying desperately to somehow fill that empty cradle.

Perhaps on an autumn day when heavy rain lashed down, or on a winter day when biting blizzards howled.

Beneath a dark bridge, or upon the cold, bare ground.

It had waited in the form of a newborn for the wounded woman.

If Sara Müller bore any sin, it was nothing more than her frail yet fierce heart, which could not bring itself to walk past an abandoned child and instead took it in and raised it with her own love.

“So that’s how it was.”

I organized the documents. The Genealogy Certificate was genuine, but there was a fact more important than that. I now understood Ezenheim’s cunning plot.

From this point on, Oliver Müller could not be allowed to live. At the very least, he could not be allowed to become the ‘focal point’ of this situation.

* * *

Meanwhile, this place was an ancient magical passage.

At the site where an Arcane had been discovered, analysts and researchers of House Ebenholtz traversed the passage and arrived.

“Residual traces of mana can be detected. Further research appears necessary.”

An enormously vast cavern. Not a single trace of human presence, nor any other sign.

They first installed state-of-the-art mana detection equipment and established a base camp. Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army Sebestian Ebenholtz sat in his field tent, attending to various affairs of the Empire.

“A letter sent by His Majesty.”

Couriers traveled back and forth through the passage, delivering letters to Sebestian. Since the Emperor had said he was ‘looking forward to it’, Sebestian was quite pleased with his son’s latest gift.

“Commander!”

Then, a shout came from the lead researcher.

“We’ve found a passage.”

Sebestian stepped out. The researcher’s detector pulsed blue at one point along the rock face. The mana swirled in irregular patterns. The mages hurriedly reverse-engineered the condensed formation and injected magic into the vortex.

Hissss.

The stone wall melted away, revealing a spiral staircase.

“This appears to be it.”

Normally, investigating what lay inside would take priority. But Sebestian did not hesitate.

Thud. Thud.

He simply walked down.

The researchers and adjutants tried to follow, but Sebestian raised a hand to stop them.

“Guard the way above.”

Below, he was more than enough on his own; they were to defend against intrusion from above.

His adjutants accepted the order without question. After all, there was no man stronger than Sebestian in the entire Empire.

Sebestian descended the staircase alone.

Fssshhhh…

He quickly reached the bottom of the stairs, arriving at a flat expanse where dry air lingered. The interior was similarly an empty space, but on the far side, someone had already arrived before him. However, they appeared unaware of Sebestian’s presence.

His mana was as quiet and pure as breathing itself, constantly active and erasing any trace of his presence.

Because of this, Sebestian had to reveal himself deliberately. A surprise attack was hardly befitting of a nobleman.

“…Huh? What the hell.”

The moment Sebestian withdrew his veil of mana, they finally detected him.

“Who else showed up?”

The voice was brusque, as if annoyed.

Sebestian regarded them with his quiet Golden Eyes.

“…”

There were four men draped in ash-gray robes. They glared at Sebestian and let out sneering smirks.

“So a few gnats got here first.”

Sebestian murmured quietly. One of the men, bristling at that arrogance, was the first to unleash his mana. Red mana surged forward in waves.

Sebestian did not dodge. He simply extended his hand, as if shooing away an insect, and seized the incoming flames in a tight grip. Fsshk! He crushed them to nothing in midair.

“…What?”

Crushing high-density mana with a bare fist.

Was that even possible?

In the instant his opponents faltered at the phenomenon that transcended the boundary between physical and magical.

Sebestian extended his other hand and lightly clenched and unclenched it.

Crack. Whoooosh!

A section of the rock wall, caught by his mana, tore free in a fist-sized chunk. Sebestian hurled it as casually as tossing a pebble.

KRAKOOOM──!

The sound of it splitting the air was nothing like a mere stone. Its speed, too, defied all common sense. There was no time to dodge.

The man who had just unleashed his mana took the flying shard of rock square in the face.

SPLAT!

His skull burst like a watermelon, spraying blood and brain matter.

Less than a second had passed, and four became three. Sebestian fixed his gaze on the remaining three and took a step forward.

“…Major. That guy’s face.”

One of the remaining three spoke to the man beside him. For all his affected composure, the opponent’s overwhelming presence was undeniably bearing down on them.

The Major spoke the name quietly.

“Sebestian Ebenholtz.”

The deepest darkness of the current Empire. A monster of the Imperial House, lauded as one of the finest in the Empire’s thousand-year history.

He had arrived.

“…”

The faces of the Zentra operatives hardened. Sebestian’s Golden Eyes sank to a silvery hue.

If they simply waited, they would lose.

The Major was the first to unleash his mana at him.

KRAKRAKRAK──!

A tremendous blast of pressure swept over the spot where Sebestian stood. But when the dust settled, all trace of Sebestian had already vanished.

The instant the Major whipped his head around.

Sebestian was already there, close enough for breath to touch, right before his nose.

“Separate.”

The Major detonated his mana, forcibly prying apart the very ‘space’ between them. Sebestian’s form was flung dozens of meters away in an instant.

“A Logomancy art, then, commanding mana through spoken words.”

Sebestian murmured, drawing the longsword from his waist. This one was worthy enough to face his blade.

Tap.

Sebestian took another step. His body rose silently into the air. It simply floated, light as a feather, and then in one moment evaporated from sight. A movement as if gravity itself had ceased to exist.

“Deploy.”

The Major hurled bundles of mana at him and retreated sharply. Some of the mana bundles were sliced apart by the sword, but the rest adhered to Sebestian’s clothing.

“Detonate.”

BOOM──! BOOM──! KABOOM──!

The mana clinging to Sebestian erupted in a chain of explosions. Blue smoke and shockwaves engulfed the entire cavern.

The Major crossed both hands and constructed his mana. He raised a lattice-patterned barrier.

“Barrier, form.”

Intent breathed into language. The signal for manifestation.

S⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌CREEEE───!

In that same instant, the enemy’s longsword came hurtling out of the acrid haze. The mana barrier moved as if alive, attempting to defend against it, but…

──CLANG!

The moment the longsword touched the barrier, it burst into silver fragments. Its form disassembled and surged upward in razor-sharp arcs. A single blade scattered into hundreds of fragments, spraying in every direction in a devastating barrage.

Ting─ Ting─ Ting─ CLAAANG──!

The barrier he had built, shattered in an instant, like moonlight scattering apart.

And beyond it, Sebestian, charging forward with his sword gripped in a reverse hold.

“…”

The Major gazed at that blindingly beautiful sight and smiled.

It was a smile of pure awe, or perhaps something closer to helpless resignation.

──!

Sebestian swung his sword.

The Ebenholtz final movement, Full Moon.

The house’s secret art, forged in moonlight, carved through their space.

* * *

The visiting room of the Imperial Guard Special Unit’s temporary Headquarters.

Oswin Mason sat alongside Sara Müller on the metal chairs. This time, Sonnet Kandel, who had helped arrange the visitation, was also present.

“…Why did you bring so much?”

Oswin asked, looking at the lunchboxes Sara had set on the table.

“Oliver must have barely eaten, suffering through all sorts of terrible treatment in prison. I packed some for you too, counselor. And for Miss Sonnet as well…”

Sara patted the cloth bundle from which she’d unpacked the lunchboxes. She glanced at Sonnet with grateful eyes.

“Ahem. Well. Then. Let’s eat when he comes out, when he comes.”

Oswin cleared his throat. Sonnet nodded without a word.

They maintained an awkward silence with one another, simply waiting for someone to appear.

──Creeeak.

Right on cue came the sound of the iron door opening.

Was Oliver finally coming out? Oswin and Sara rose reflexively, while Sonnet remained seated, watching the doorway.

Thud. Thud.

The sound of military boots echoing down the corridor. Oswin looked in that direction. Sara Müller, too, turned with an expectant face.

Thud. Thud.

But the man walking out from beyond that door was not Oliver Müller.

Someone far colder, sharper, clad in an immaculate knight’s dress uniform…

Maximilian Ebenholtz.

Thud. Thud.

He approached with an unhurried stride and seated himself naturally in the empty chair across from them.

“A pleasure.”

With a faint smile, he produced something from inside his coat and set it down with a firm tap, tap.

They were thick bundles of documents.

“…Sir Maximilian. What brings you here?”

Oswin, unable to conceal his unease, was the first to ask in a guarded voice.

The knight’s uniform. He had come here on ‘official business’.

“Ah, there’s no need to be so tense. It’s nothing serious.”

Maximilian replied quietly, neatly arranging the documents.

“Before we begin the formal visitation and meeting, I’d like to sort out a few very minor matters of fact.”

Oswin looked at Sonnet. Sonnet, her expression equally tense, met Oswin’s eyes, then turned her gaze back to Maximilian.

Oswin replied.

“What matters of fact would those be?”

Maximilian leisurely interlaced his fingers and turned his gaze to Sara Müller.

“…Sir. I am Mrs. Sara Müller’s legal counsel.”

Maximilian nodded at Oswin’s words, but his eyes remained fixed on Sara Müller.

Maximilian opened his mouth.

“First, let me say this in advance. As I testified in court a few days ago, the Müller family’s Genealogy Certificate is indeed authentic, with no forgery. You may rest easy on that count.”

The Genealogy Certificate ‘is’ authentic. But it was too soon to rest easy. To Oswin, the seams between those words felt subtly off-kilter.

“However, there is one matter I need to ask and confirm with Mrs. Sara Müller personally…”

Then, Maximilian glanced down at the lunchboxes carefully laid out on the table, their warmth not yet faded, and asked.

“Would you mind if I had a bite?”

Sara Müller nodded before she could think.

“Thank you.”

Maximilian picked up a piece of meat with a neat, precise motion and tasted it.

“Mm. Excellent. Truly delicious.”

Sara let out a small, relieved smile at the gentle compliment, and as he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin, he abruptly posed a question.

“According to the records I’ve investigated, you lost your husband twenty-seven years ago. Is that correct?”

It was a sudden dredging of the past. Sara flinched and answered.

“Yes… There was a terrible acci⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌dent at the factory where he worked…”

“Moritz Müller. You lost your husband in that sudden accident.”

Maximilian continued the conversation as if merely discussing everyday matters, but,

Lap- lap-

an unease rose as though water were steadily creeping up from beneath their feet.

“At that time, you would have been pregnant with Oliver Müller.”

Sara Müller’s shoulders twitched. Oswin stretched out an arm toward Sara to stop her. A signal not to answer.

“Sir. Why are you suddenly bringing up such old stories…”

“I’m merely asking.”

Maximilian smiled once more. A bright smile spread across his entire face. Sonnet quietly swept her hair aside, and Oswin lowered his arm.

Sara Müller swallowed and answered.

“…Yes. That’s right. I was with child at the time.”

It was in that moment. Every expression vanished from Maximilian’s face, as if wiped clean.

The water that had lapped at the visiting room’s ankles had already risen past the knees.

“Mrs. Sara Müller.”

Golden Eyes, sunken cold as unyielding stone. He slid one of the documents on the table toward her with a tap of his finger.

“In a small hospital in your hometown, a rather interesting medical record was left behind.”

It was a copy of a worn-out patient record. Sara Müller’s face turned white as a sheet as she read through it. Oswin’s eyes widened.

Maximilian parted his lips and uttered a cruel word.

“Miscarriage.”

A wave that struck without warning crashed against Sara’s chest. Her eyes trembled violently.

“E-excuse me, Sir Maximilian-“

Oswin tried to say something urgently, but Maximilian raised a hand to silence him. He pierced only the wavering pair of eyes belonging to Sara Müller.

“As the record shows, a child that was clearly lost to miscarriage decades ago, a child that never saw the light of day, suddenly appeared alive and well, and grew up under the name Oliver Müller.”

Maximilian tapped the documents and drove the nail in.

“From this point forward, I intend to visit every single person from that village during that period and conduct a thorough investigation.”

They would surely know. About the newborn that a wife who had lost her husband, and then lost even the child in her womb, had one day suddenly brought home.

“If they knew and either overlooked or tacitly condoned this fact, it becomes a matter for which the entire village could face punishment.”

He held an entire village hostage and turned the blade on a single person once more.

“So now, I will ask you, Mrs. Sara Müller.”

That chilling voice steeped the visiting room in a suffocating weight.

Sara Müller’s breathing grew ragged. Her limbs trembled with a pounding headache. Her vision blurred for a moment, and everything grew distant, as if she had gone deaf.

“The Oliver Müller currently imprisoned here.”

Maximilian leaned his upper body forward.

“Is he the child you gave birth to?”

Sara’s throat constricted. A suffocating anguish and torment flooded through her entire body.

From her wide-open eyes, thick tears fell, drop by drop, but she could not bring herself to open her mouth, only sobbing.

To her, Maximilian left his ultimatum.

“Remember this well. There will be no second chance.”

…For a long while, silence hung in the air.

Neither Oswin nor Sonnet could speak a word in her place, the stillness stretching on, until.

At last, Sara Müller’s hoarse, shredded voice spilled out.

“…No.”

Sonnet lowered her gaze. Oswin bit his lip and closed his eyes. Maximilian leaned back in his chair.

“Thank you for your honesty.”

With those words, he concluded.