IWBNAM Chapter 12 (Part 2)

Nael shook his head.

“Aren’t these the best candidates available? Even if you search again, I doubt we’ll find anyone better.”

Perhaps among the ousted high-ranking Public Security Order Bureau officers, there might have been some vicious hunting dog that suited his needs. But none of them were free of corruption, and cutting them off cleanly had been the correct choice. Feeling regret for those who were executed or exiled would be pathetic.

“Still, who knows what we might find? I’ll widen the search. There might be an ideal candidate working on some frontier planet beyond the capital.”

“Hm, very well. I’ll leave it to you.”

Nael was in no rush to pick someone. This required caution. There was no need to be impatient.

“By the way, there is something else regarding your schedule.”

“What is it?”

It had better not be another summer vacation suggestion. If necessary, he could tell them he’d rest for two or three days over a weekend. Saturday, Sunday, Monday. Three days off. A home-based vacation.

“Your Excellency, your alma mater Gymnasium has requested that you attend the August entrance ceremony.”

An unexpected question. Nael widened his eyes.

“My alma mater? For the entrance ceremony?”

“Yes. They are hoping you will grace the event and give a speech to the students.”

“I’ve been invited a few times before.”

He had always sent polite letters of refusal. He had been busy, and traveling through space often made timing difficult.

“Will you go this time?”

“No. I’ll just send a recorded congratulatory message. I wasn’t even able to attend the graduation ceremony of the military academy, so visiting my old school in person wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Of course, the military academy was much farther away and his old school was within Rosenburg Province, but he had decided to avoid anything that might spark unnecessary gossip.

“Understood. However, you must visit an elementary school.”

“…What? An elementary… school?”

“Every year in September, His Majesty would select one elementary school within the province to visit and observe a class. As Regent Chancellor, Your Excellency is required to uphold this tradition.”

Nael was momentarily taken aback, then remembered that such a tradition existed.

“Then I must. But exclude the Imperial Elementary School and my alma mater from the list.”

He did not explain why. Gilbert did not ask. The story of how Azani had essentially been forced to leave the Imperial Elementary School was quietly known. Although the school had since undergone complete reform and was no longer a place only noble children attended, now serving children from nearby neighborhoods, there was no reason to visit it.

“Yes, understood. And what about visits to the orphanage, nursing home, veteran rehabilitation center, and the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior?”

There were several places the Emperor traditionally visited at least once a year to show the people how benevolent he was. Now, whether he liked it or not, Nael had inherited those duties as Regent Chancellor.

“I’ll go. I leave the choice of place and date to you.”

Nael replied, and Gilbert smiled.

“Why are you smiling?”

“It’s simply that Your Excellency has become the most famous person in the Empire. Wherever you go, that place will surely become the next hot spot.”

“You say it so casually. Stop with the embarrassing flattery. Every time the news calls something a ‘hot place chosen by Marshal Azani,’ I feel like dying from shame.”

Nael grumbled irritably. Gilbert only continued smiling.

“If you’ve finished reporting, you may leave.”

Acting serious, Nael dismissed him. The good-natured chief aide saluted with a grin and left the room.

* * *

On Thursday evening, after finishing some overtime work along with a simple dinner, Nael left for his engagement. It was his appointment with Bertuccio. The car headed not toward his home but toward the Imperial Opera House.

The security was far stricter than anything from his retired-marshal days. He stepped out of the vehicle as the opera house staff, having been informed of his visit, stood at attention and greeted him with the utmost courtesy. Nael returned their greetings with a composed expression and followed their guidance inside.

“Admiral Bertuccio arrived first and is waiting.”

“Alright.”

In front of the VIP suite, the staff bowed deeply, saying they hoped the performance would be to his liking. Opening the door was the responsibility of the Head of Security. Nael walked in slowly. Inside, Bertuccio stood and saluted.

“It’s been a few days, Admiral Bertuccio. Thank you for inviting me today. Thanks to you, I can come to the opera house with my head held high.”

“You honor me with your words. I am grateful Your Excellency accepted my sudden invitation. Please, have a seat.”

“Very well. You sit as well.”

The two distinguished guests sat in the central, highest VIP suite of the opera house. The Head of Security stood back near the entrance to avoid interrupting their conversation.

Seated ten minutes before the performance, Nael looked down at the stage and recalled memories from his retired life. His first time watching from a VIP seat with Lee Juwon’s consciousness had been ecstatic. His whole body had tingled, and he had been completely captivated. The performance back then had also been a play, Shakespeare’s Hamlet, which he had watched repeatedly for several days.

“I thought I was the only high-ranking military officer who enjoyed outings to the opera house.”

Nael spoke quietly. He wanted to hear why the Empire’s first and only Black Senior General had summoned him. And not for just any performance, but Shakespeare’s Othello. It surely wasn’t just to win his favor.

“I do not particularly like the opera house either. But I wanted to watch this play.”

Bertuccio answered calmly. There was a faint sense of old resentment in his voice. Nael did not pry. When the time came, the man would speak his mind on his own.

A moment later, the lights illuminating the audience dimmed. An announcement played, signaling that the performance would begin soon. The audience, who had been turning their heads repeatedly toward the VIP suite out of curiosity, finally settled down.

The curtain rose. Nael focused on the stage with full seriousness.

The play had not been modernized or reinterpreted; it was a traditional period drama. The heavy, resonant dialogue struck clearly in his ears. It was a stage performed by the Empire’s top actors. There was not a moment to feel bored.

Two hours passed in an instant. The story ended, leaving behind a powerful aftertaste. It was a tragedy. No one in the audience could move easily. Each person sat in silence, savoring what this magnificent performance had given them.

Nael applauded as a tribute to the excellent performance. It had been extraordinary. Truly worthy of the Imperial Troupe. It was nothing like watching a film. Living, breathing people poured their emotions out with all their strength right before his eyes. He liked the feeling. Their desperation, their lamenting, their cries…

“I was born in a poor factory district.”

Bertuccio, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly spoke. Nael glanced at him briefly, then looked forward again, deciding to let him say everything he wanted.

“It was a planet with fewer than five hundred million people. Most were Black, and the few whites kept their distance, looking down on us. Because the residential areas were segregated, I didn’t truly understand what it meant to be born a poor non-white citizen in this country when I was young.”

“……”

“Growing up in such a rundown town, I never dreamed of a future. What bright, hopeful future could a third-class citizen ever expect? The best-case scenario was becoming an athlete. Otherwise, you simply lived the exact same life as your parents and neighbors. If you weren’t drafted and killed in war, you were lucky. But many came back crippled. Even though prosthetic technology had improved, if you had no money, it was a pipe dream. Most worked in factories with crude fake limbs, earning barely anything.”

Nael recalled scenes he had seen in the past. Even when someone lost limbs, the compensation provided by the state was minimal. At most, they handed out the most basic low-grade prosthetics as if doing a favor. That was why Nael had personally helped people he was connected to, out of his own pocket.

“It was so common that kids my age reacted indifferently. They understood far too early that this could become their own future. I hated it. Hated it down to my bones. I thought I must never enlist as a common soldier. I didn’t want to be beaten around by incompetent superiors, end up dead or crippled, and return home in disgrace.”

“……”

“So I worked myself nearly to death and entered the army as a noncommissioned officer. With my circumstances, it was impossible to enter the officer academy right away. Fortunately, a superior who thought well of me wrote a recommendation, and I managed to get into the academy. My hometown exploded with excitement. Everyone was proud of me. I was happy, yet I understood once again how cruel reality was… being a Black officer from a poor family…”

His tone was extremely calm. But one could not imagine how much pain he had endured to speak like this so evenly. Those who had never lived through it would only understand the shallowest surface.

“…I managed to rise in rank because of the chaotic times. People began calling me ‘sir.’ But that was the start of another kind of suffering. White superiors disliked me. Many peers were jealous. They always seemed to look for new ways to mock me. And what they settled on was that, Shakespeare’s Othello.”

So the quiet man finally opened up, and once he started, his words did not stop. It seemed he had been pressing these thoughts down for a long time.

“Othello, the tragedy with a Black general as the main character.”

Nael responded briefly.

“Yes. One day they asked if I had ever seen the play. I said no, and they told me there was a wonderful performance. It was Othello. I sensed something was wrong, but I couldn’t refuse. They stared at me with malicious eyes, asking for my impressions. Again and again. Again and again…”

Bertuccio exhaled deeply, painfully. The memory seemed to remain as a deeply embedded wound.

“Even when I married, nothing changed. If my wife had been white, I can’t imagine what additional mockery would have followed. They would have solidified my nickname as General Othello. They would have called my wife Desdemona. And no doubt, someone would have attempted to seduce her behind my back.”

“……”

“In the end, I displeased a white superior and was pushed into a dead-end position in the rear. When I had resigned myself to that being my limit, Your Excellency recognized me and strongly recommended me.”

“If I judged you unfit after some time, I intended to discard you. There was political benefit in bringing a non-white to my side as well.”

Nael replied with a cool tone, as if to say there was no need to attach lofty meaning.

“Whatever Your Excellency’s intentions, a man’s life was changed.”

“Don’t thank me for it. The one you should honor is His Majesty Sirius. My duty was to find talent worth using for His Majesty. I don’t want praise for that.”

“I know. That is exactly the kind of person Your Excellency is.”

Bertuccio let out a long breath. A breath filled with countless thoughts. After a while, he spoke again.

“I have seen Othello many times, as both play and opera, yet only today do I finally understand.”

“Admiral Bertuccio.”

“So this is what it meant. This is what it was…”

His voice trembled in a sigh. There was a hint of a sob. Nael quietly patted his shoulder twice, then left the VIP room. He sincerely hoped the deep wound in the man’s heart would heal cleanly.

* * *

How frightening it is to have the power to completely change someone’s fate.

Some people enjoyed it. They felt a thrill in confirming the extent of their influence. If a person had ever experienced the power to determine the lives and deaths of countless others with a single gesture or a single word, it would be impossible not to grow addicted. That was why, since the beginning of history, so many had desperately clung to power. Because the moment they could no longer influence anything, they would find it unbearably miserable.

And what about himself?

Nael looked inward. Did he desire power? He did. He wouldn’t deny it. Honestly, he liked being admired. He had grown accustomed to a life of respect and privilege. But with that came great pressure. The fear of what might happen if he made even the smallest mistake. The constant worry that a wrong decision might ruin countless lives.

If only he had something like a status window, he thought. It would make things easier. He wouldn’t wander aimlessly in the wrong direction. But such things didn’t exist. The responsibility for his choices rested entirely on him.

“……”

Nael stared silently at the photos of the five President-Governor candidates displayed on the monitor. The Ministry of State was waiting for his decision. Choosing the leader of a planet was not something to rush, but delaying too long was also troublesome.

“Two of them.”

He removed three photos. Only the first- and second-ranked remained. A white man, a high-ranking Interior Ministry official; and a Black man, a former governor. Either would perform well. He had thoroughly reviewed both their records. Their abilities were exceptional.

“If I had to choose one.”

He lowered one photograph. Only one final candidate remained on the screen.

“Is this your final decision?”

Gilbert asked. Nael nodded.

“Yes.”

“There were rumors among the public that a non-white President-Governor would be appointed.”

“That wouldn’t have been a bad choice either.”

Nael replied, eyes fixed on the remaining photo, a white man in his mid-sixties with a dignified appearance.

“If His Majesty were still alive, he might have dared to make that bold choice. But…”

He had become a coward. Continuously elevating non-white candidates would inevitably provoke backlash, and he couldn’t ignore that. If one of them had overwhelmingly superior ability, he would have chosen them without hesitation. But that was not the case. Seniority was the safer choice. And he must not forget: his priority was the Empire’s stability, not innovation.

“I didn’t think I’d ever become someone who chose the safe and comfortable path.”

“Your Excellency.”

“Inform the Minister of State and prepare the appointment letter. Now that the decision is made, it’s best to let him take office as soon as possible.”

Nael gave the instruction in a businesslike tone and turned off the monitor. Gilbert respectfully accepted the order.

As soon as Gilbert left the office, a junior secretary entered. Someone had requested an audience.

If the visitor was not previously scheduled, the chancellery determined their importance and either arranged a time or sent them away. Someone deemed unworthy would be dismissed immediately. Still, unless the person came from a completely insignificant background, it was rare for the secretariat to reject them outright. Anyone allowed through the palace gates at least met a minimum standard.

“Robert Andersson?”

Ah, that name. He remembered. It was the man who had made a strong impression during the Emperor and Empress’s memorial gathering. Deputy Commissioner of Public Security Investigations, Robert Andersson.

“Yes, Your Excellency. Shall I send him away?”

The secretary asked cautiously, as if worried that a mere mid-ranking police officer was overstepping and might offend the Chancellor.

“What business does he claim to have?”

“He only said it was an urgent matter for the Empire’s security.”

He had no right to request an audience with the Chancellor, but since he mentioned national security, the secretary could not dismiss it. After brief thought, Nael replied:

“I’m busy now. Tell him to wait. And don’t forget the investigative report, bring that to me first.”

If it were something truly urgent, Andersson would have added more information. And Nael had a backlog of issues that needed attention first. A Chancellor was not someone who granted meetings simply because someone wished to see him. Andersson should already feel grateful not to be thrown out immediately.

“Understood, Your Excellency.”

The secretary left, and Nael resumed his work. He remembered Andersson again only after returning from lunch.

“Is that deputy commissioner still waiting?”

There was a small gap before his afternoon schedule began. Ten minutes would be more than enough. He could dismiss him faster if needed.

“There’s no need for Your Excellency to meet him personally. I can handle the conversation in your stead.”

“It’s fine, Gilbert. He seemed capable. He didn’t come here to spout nonsense.”

Nael sat in his chair and quickly reviewed Andersson’s report, his background, career, reputation. Nael’s eyes flickered with interest.

“Send him in.”

The audience was granted. Gilbert stood beside the desk, and Hessler and a few security guards entered and took their positions. A moment later, a man far too low-ranking to step foot into the Chancellor’s office appeared.

‘A sharp-edged man.’

Tall. Not a hulking muscular type. If he had walked through 21st-century Milan’s fashion district in his early twenties, a modeling agency would have chased after him. His name alone marked him as Scandinavian. His looks matched the Western ideal of an elf-like face. But his origins…

“Thank you for granting me an audience, Your Excellency Richelieu.”

From the doorway, Deputy Commissioner Andersson saluted.

“Do not call me by that title. I am Chancellor Azani, Robert Andersson.”

Being addressed by the name of a legendary Earth statesman felt burdensome. It sounded like unwanted flattery. Nael coldly corrected him, watching for his reaction. But Andersson did not falter; he simply stated his own name with the same steady expression.

“I would appreciate it if Your Excellency called me Robert Andersson as well.”

“Very well. Deputy Commissioner Andersson.”

Robert Andersson. An English-sounding name.

There had once been many imperial citizens with Anglo-American names, but after the war with the Union, new English-style names became rare. Only British nobles continued the tradition by proudly attaching a capital B as a middle initial, preserving the British pronunciation. Commoners switched their names, fearing discrimination. Now, only descendants of exiled Union prisoners still bore Anglo-sounding names.

‘A descendant of Union prisoners. A rare one indeed.’

Prisoners of war, rebels, and criminals who escaped execution were exiled to harsh third-class planets. Their fate was to spend their lives in grueling labor, grateful for the emperor’s mercy in sparing their lives.

Generations passed, yet their lives remained the same. Only after three generations did they receive even a sliver of opportunity, mere elevation from fourth-class to third-class citizen. Most never left the planets where they were born and died. Only a few, those exceptionally ruthless, climbed upward, selling either their talent or their comrades. Earning the contemptuous label of traitor, a mangy cur with no loyalty.

Andersson was one of those few. Born Robert Anderson, he had become Robert Andersson. He alone knew what unpleasant things had happened along the way.

“If you have something to say to me, speak. But be brief. I do not have much time to spare for you.”

Nael spoke arrogantly, in the tone of a typical authority figure. If Andersson tried buttering him up with long-winded flattery, he would be thrown out immediately.

“Before that, I request a private audience.”

Gilbert reacted faster than Nael.

“You really don’t know your place. How dare a mere deputy commissioner request a private audience with the Chancellor? You should be grateful you were even allowed into this room.”

Gilbert smirked coldly. Hessler looked displeased, and the guards gave Andersson looks of disbelief. Unless someone was a minister or a top aide, a private audience with the Chancellor was nearly impossible. And this low-ranking officer was demanding one on their first meeting?

“I won’t get angry, Andersson. From your perspective, this must be urgent, which is why you’re asking for a private audience. But I cannot grant it. I do not know you. And I do not consider you valuable enough to dismiss even my chief secretary and chief of security. So just say what you came here to say. Why are you here?”

Andersson looked straight at Nael without the slightest change in expression. Nael judged that he was not some worthless piece of trash. Anyone without nerve would have shrunk the moment they stood before the grand palace building. Many people struggled to walk straight under the oppressive stares of the soldiers stationed everywhere. At the very least, Andersson met the minimum standard. Even now, he did not avert his gaze at all.

“I’ve received information that the Imperial Security Bureau is being established. And I know you’ve spent the past few days meeting ten candidates.”

Andersson spoke.

“You have good sources. That wasn’t publicly announced. And?”

Word that the Imperial Security Bureau would be created had quietly circulated among high-ranking officials, but the interviews for the Bureau Chief were not disclosed. For one among ten division chiefs within the metropolitan police security investigation unit, Andersson’s information network was impressive.

“I wish to put myself forward as a candidate for the inaugural Security Bureau Chief. I believe that someone as insightful and wise as Your Excellency will surely recognize my true worth.”

Nael had expected perhaps a recommendation for someone else, not self-nomination.

“You’re unbelievable. Are you serious? You’re nothing more than a division chief, and you dare to desire a position several ranks above your head?”

Gilbert let out a dry laugh in Nael’s place.

“Yes, I am serious. I, Robert Andersson, desire to become the first Security Bureau Chief.”

Andersson’s eyes gleamed. He didn’t even glance at the chief secretary. His gaze rested only on the Regent Chancellor, as if no one else existed. If Nael generously asked him to state his reasons, Andersson looked ready to confidently present whatever speech he had prepared.

‘How arrogant.’

Nael looked at him with cold, sharp eyes. He recalled the report detailing Andersson’s background and measured the sharp, blade-like energy the man carried. Worth using, yes. But too stiff. Too much ego. What the Empire needed right now was a loyal hound.

“Repeat my words, Andersson.”

Nael spoke in an indifferent tone. Andersson was expecting a question like whether he believed himself qualified to be Bureau Chief. He hesitated for a brief second, then nodded.

“Please speak, Your Excellency.”

Nael stared at him without blinking and spoke.

“Fourth-class citizen. You, descendant of the unruly.”

For the first time, Andersson’s face cracked. Those steady eyes that hadn’t wavered even when denied a private audience finally shook. His hand trembled for a moment.

“Did you not hear His Excellency? Repeat it exactly, Deputy Commissioner Andersson.”

Gilbert urged with a cold sneer. Andersson finally regained himself and, as if nothing had happened, repeated the words.

“Fourth-class citizen. You, descendant of the unruly.”

He tried to sound calm, but the faint tremor in his voice betrayed him. Nael observed him and continued.

“Be grateful for the Emperor’s grace. His Majesty took pity on your wretched self and granted you the chance to serve the Empire.”

Andersson clenched his fist tightly, as if trying to control his emotions. The guards watched him sharply. If he acted out, bullets would come faster than words.

“Be grateful for the Emperor’s grace. His Majesty took pity on your wretched self and granted you the chance to serve the Empire.”

“You must always discern the will of that supreme one and devote your body and soul in loyalty to the Empire. Only that is how a fourth-class citizen like you repays the Emperor’s grace.”

Nael finished the last line in a flat voice. Andersson repeated every word without a single mistake.

“Hm. Your memory seems acceptable.”

Nael leaned back arrogantly as he evaluated Andersson. Though he faltered at first, he quickly regained his composure and did as commanded. If graded solely on emotional restraint, he’d score high. But that was all.

“When the Security Bureau is established, I’ll guarantee you a good position. Now leave.”

At least his time hadn’t been wasted. A few more years of grinding would do. Nael waved him away carelessly.

“Fourth-class citizen. You, descendant of the unruly.”

It happened then. Andersson, still standing in place, began repeating the line Nael had forced him to say. Nael looked up from his papers.

“Fourth-class citizen. You! Descendant of the unruly!”

Andersson shouted, staring straight at Nael. His voice held unmistakable emotion, far more than before.

“Be grateful for the Emperor’s grace!”

His voice rang out like a cry of anguish.

“His Majesty took pity on your wretched self and granted you the chance to serve the Empire!”

“……”

Each word carried a heavy, grave weight. The chief secretary and chief of security made no move to stop him, only watched.

“You must always discern the will of that supreme one and devote your body and soul in loyalty to the Empire! Only that is how a fourth-class citizen like you repays the Emperor’s grace!”

“……”

Andersson repeated the entire passage. A thick, heavy silence settled over the office. Everyone’s attention was fixed on him. Andersson ignored the existence of every lesser figure in the room, his eyes locked only on Chancellor Azani. His eyes were bloodshot, his fists tightly clenched, his mouth pressed shut as rough breaths escaped between his teeth.

“Fourth-class citizen, you Robert Anderson!”

Andersson shouted.

“Your loyalty to the Empire is truly admirable. To think you sold your neighbors, your teacher, and your friends. I’ve never seen garbage like you before!”

Who had said that? Someone had mocked Anderson as he struggled desperately to escape his reality.

“I find your pitiful eagerness quite pleasing, so I’ll give you a chance to serve the Empire even more. Go on. Climb upward and prove you were worth the trouble. So that those who were branded as vile reactionaries and cast to the very bottom won’t feel wronged!”

“…….”

“Give thanks, again and again, to His Majesty the Emperor, who grants even trash like you a chance.”

“…….”

Nael tilted his head, watching the scene unfold as if watching a play. He thought the actor who played Othello the night before had been excellent, but this performance before him was a hundred, a thousand times more intense. Yes. Show me, Robert Anderson. Show me every bit of your desperation, so I can reassess your worth.

“I sold everything I could sell to come this far.”

“…….”

“I even sold my own name. I am Robert Andersson.”

“…….”

“What remains to me now is only my loyalty to the Empire, Your Excellency. I want to prove it. I want to show how much I wish to devote myself to this Empire, and how deeply grateful I am for the Emperor’s grace.”

Nael clasped his fingers together and only stared at him coolly. The subordinates in the office looked at Andersson with faint astonishment.

“Please give me a chance! Give Robert Andersson the chance to devote himself to the Empire! If you trust me just once and entrust me with the task, I, Robert Andersson, will live faithfully as Your Excellency’s shadow!”

Andersson snapped his heels together and shouted in a voice filled with fierce resolve.

“May the Empire walk forever on the path of glory! Long live the Empire! Long live His Majesty the Emperor! The Empire alone is the one true order of the universe! I swear to devote my body and soul in loyalty!”

The passionate cry, so unfitting for a man with such a cold image, filled the office. He did not offer a logical explanation for why he deserved to be the Bureau Chief. He simply gathered all his emotion and threw it forward.

“Interesting.”

At last, Nael spoke. His face remained expressionless.

“Gilbert.”

Still looking at Andersson, he called for his chief secretary. Gilbert stiffened for a moment, then understood his superior’s intent and brought over a document. Nael picked up a pen, wrote a name at the top, and signed at the bottom.

“Come closer, Andersson.”

Nael crooked his finger. Andersson steadied his breath and approached the desk.

“Take it. I’m entrusting you with the detailed structuring of the Security Bureau.”

Andersson received the document. It was an appointment letter.

“Thank you, Your Excellency.”

A rush of emotions flickered across his face. With trembling hands, he accepted the letter, then suddenly gripped Nael’s hand and pressed his lips to the back of it.

“Do not forget this, Andersson. The one you must give your loyalty to is the Empire.”

Nael did need a hound to use for his own purposes, but strictly speaking, the object of loyalty was indeed the Empire.

“I will remember, Your Excellency.”

Returning to an upright posture, Andersson replied with formal respect. Nael suddenly felt he should grant him a special courtesy. Changing “you” to a slightly more respectful “you” wasn’t enough. He selected an old-fashioned second-person pronoun no longer used for anyone else, a word only elder gentlemen used when addressing someone below them with elevated respect.

“I expect great skill from you, my worthy one. Do not disappoint me.”

He spoke with a faint, private smile. Andersson’s expression went blank for a moment, then he quickly pulled himself together and vowed with determination.

“I will devote my life to meeting Your Excellency’s expectations.”

“Good. You may leave now.”

The play was over. Andersson backed away, clutching the appointment letter as if it were precious.

“Your Excellency, this will not be easy.”

Gilbert said quietly. A man born a fourth-class citizen, scorned from all sides, and a mere deputy commissioner by rank, suddenly elevated several steps at once to become the first Security Bureau Chief. Could he withstand the jealousy and obstacles that would follow?

“If he fails, I’ll simply replace him.”

Nael answered, brushing his hair back. Inwardly, he expected that this fierce man would perform well.

“Frankly, I don’t quite understand. What did you see in him that made you entrust him with such a position?”

“Desperation.”

“Desperation?”

“I actually like that sort of thing. A cry born of deep resentment, a scream that feels like it tears the soul apart, a sorrowful wail…”

“…Is that so?”

Gilbert looked puzzled. Even if it suited Nael’s tastes, to grant someone the Bureau Chief position for that reason…

“Just trust me.”

Nael smiled with his eyes as he looked at Gilbert. Gilbert lifted his shoulders.

“Yes, yes. I will.”

“What is that tone? You don’t sound convinced.”

“It must be your imagination. I always trust Your Excellency.”

“I appreciate that.”

Nael answered warmly. Gilbert grinned at his superior, mood restored.

* * *

Rain began in the afternoon. Back on Earth, late June meant monsoon season. Hot, sticky days so humid that surviving without air conditioning was difficult. On those days, he would come home, turn on the AC immediately, and put an ice cream bar between his teeth. There had been a time when he lazed around comfortably in that cool house.

But Rosenburg Capital enjoyed a west-coast oceanic climate. Summers were not humid here. Rain was scarce. There was no such thing as a monsoon to worry about. The daytime heat was intense, but stepping into the shade brought cool relief. It was a region perfectly suited for large populations.

So why, he wondered, did he miss those sweltering, suffocating moments from before? A season he used to dislike for being so hot and humid.

“I’ll head home.”

Nael stared at the rain outside and decided to leave work. Perhaps the summer rain had made him sentimental. He no longer wanted to work. Saturday, 4:57 p.m. Quite early, but today’s shift would end here. Ah, the benevolent superior who lets his subordinates go home early on weekends, himself. Excellent. Generous. Splendid. Magnificent. Praise be.

“Shall I inform Admiral Kranaha that you’re departing now?”

Hessler asked.

“Yes. Tell him I’m on my way.”