“I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

  Camilla heard the words from a female soldier who looked about twenty, seated in the chair across from her.

  “Liège, to put it bluntly—yes,” Camilla said. “In Avalonia, if those without power talk about justice or human rights, they only get laughed at.”

  “Become strong enough—cunning enough—to crush the superior who assaulted you in the shower. Strong enough to frame him, strong enough to break him.”

  “Is it… okay to do that…?”

  “It is.” Camilla’s voice stayed calm. “Here, power is justice, and rank is order.”

  “Adapt to this organization. Rise within it. If you seize power, that’s enough. I permit it.”

  Camilla let a thin smile form.

  (Pretty words don’t work here. This is a place for dirty work.)

  Camilla Lorenz had been contacting clients and counselors in the psychology association, widening Avalonia’s election support base.

  At the same time, a different job had been handed to her: caring for Avalonia soldiers’ minds.

  It was a direct order from Nox. Camilla had no right to refuse.

  “Avalonia has many who break hearts.”

  “I’m not telling you to save everyone. Protect only those with promise—only those whose potential you judge to be high—so they don’t collapse.”

  That was what Nox had told Camilla.

  (I’m Luna’s. But here, I have to act as ‘Nox’s dog.’)

  “I heard you came to Avalonia as part of cooperation from Luna Nordics,” Liège said.

  She wore Avalonia’s uniform: short blond hair in gentle waves, indigo eyes. A combat operative with a pistol and a knife on her belt.

  “Yes,” Camilla replied, brushing back her hair. “And?”

  “I want you to see if my swordsmanship is crude.”

  Liège’s eyes were earnest.

  “In this counseling room?” Camilla asked, not smiling.

  “Yes. I won’t damage the room or the desk. And I’ll stop short before hitting you, Sensei.”

  Liège rose from the chair.

  “Fine. The back of this room is wider. Yes—here.”

  Camilla walked briskly and placed her back near the wall of the broader space in the rear of the counseling room.

  Liège took distance.

  “You may come at me whenever you like,” Camilla said, sounding bored.

  Liège moved to draw—

  Before strength could even enter her fingers.

  The knife was already gone.

  At the same time, blood dripped from Liège’s throat.

  “Don’t assume your opponent will stay outside your range forever,” Camilla said.

  The knife Camilla had taken had cut a few centimeters under Liège’s jaw.

  (She closed in… and I didn’t see it at all. This is… Sensei’s power…)

  Cold sweat ran down Liège’s back.

  “You said you’d stop short…”

  “And I did. That’s why you’re alive.” Camilla asked, “Continue?”

  “No…” Liège wiped the blood with a handkerchief. “Thank you. Um…”

  “When you have time… could you train me again?”

  Liège looked at Camilla with serious eyes.

  “If I’m free, sure,” Camilla answered. “Though the closer the election gets, the less time I’ll have.”

  Liège left the counseling room, visibly pleased.

  (Showing strength makes things easier here.)

  (But to think someone as pure as her is being dragged into this, too…)

  Camilla sighed internally as she watched Liège’s back.

  At the same time. A certain middle school.

  “Unisex locker rooms are insane.”

  Parents, the principal, the superintendent, and Alicia Werner had gathered in the school’s meeting room.

  “My daughter has contributed to this school’s victories as captain of the basketball team,” a mother said, her voice trembling.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  “And yet… because of the shared locker room, she can’t go to school anymore!”

  “Is this… how this school operates? Isn’t this far too cruel?!”

  Tearful, the mother fixed the principal with a harsh stare.

  Other parents stared too, applying silent pressure.

  “This was issued as a directive from the Board of Education,” the principal said, forcing calm while feeling sweat slide down his back.

  “I am attorney Alicia Werner, dispatched from the city’s Board of Education,” Alicia introduced herself in a composed voice.

  A beautiful appearance around thirty, a black suit, platinum-blonde hair to her shoulders. Deep green eyes and pale, translucent skin that gave her an inhuman beauty.

  “I believe the parents’ feelings are understandable.”

  “However, this measure went through the democratic process: campaign promises executed after the mayoral election, then passed by the assembly.”

  There was no coldness in Alicia’s words—which only made the parents’ despair deeper.

  “It would not be an exaggeration to say that the voters of this city chose this system.”

  “The Board of Education, the school, the principal, and the faculty must comply.”

  Alicia’s calm voice carried, and the meeting room fell quiet.

  “…So the school is going to do nothing?!” a parent shouted.

  “To be precise, there is nothing you can do,” Alicia answered evenly.

  “We’ll recall them. That insane mayor and the assembly—”

  The parents erupted in murmurs.

  “That too is part of the democratic process.”

  “That is all the school can convey.”

  With Alicia’s response, the meeting between the parents and the middle school ended.

  “Thank you, Attorney Werner. We’ll be counting on you going forward,” the principal said.

  “Understood,” Alicia replied.

  Expressionless, she shook the principal’s offered hand and left the school.

  She got into the driver’s seat of an Audi and sent a message to Ethan on her wristphone.

  “Regarding ‘Thorn’ (codename): secured the target in ‘Kin-3’ (Forbidden Zone 3). Waiting on site at 15:00.”

  After confirming Ethan’s reply—“Acknowledged”—Alicia pressed the accelerator.

  Around that time, Gray Archives.

  In Zero Room 500, Isaac sat at a research desk, lifted something like a vase, and turned it over.

  What spilled out were “corpses”—ladybug-shaped reconnaissance drones, melted and dead. Ten in total.

  “Carnivorous plants work well on bugs,” Isaac said with a wry smile.

  He had created and installed something like a pitcher plant—an insect-trapping structure that lured the drones in and dissolved them.

  (I don’t know how much they’ve already mapped, but I’m not giving them any more.)

  After replacing the contents, Isaac left the room to install more.

  Zero Room 100.

  “Fae… did something happen?” Elina asked, worried.

  Faelan was in Zero Room 100 as usual, but instead of sitting at the desk, he sat in a chair with a blank stare, cheek resting in his hand.

  A half-read book lay on the floor.

  “…Nothing. I’m alive,” Faelan said with a smile.

  His eyes didn’t smile.

  Elina recognized it as a forced smile, which only made her worry more.

  “I see… so you’re alive, at least.”

  Elina brought over a chair, set it beside Faelan’s, and sat down.

  “…Why are you sitting next to me?” Faelan asked weakly.

  “Because I felt like sitting here. There’s no reason,” Elina shrugged.

  Faelan stayed silent.

  Elina stayed silent too.

  “…Why are you quiet too?” Faelan asked.

  “Because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here,” Elina answered.

  (Yeah. Me neither… I don’t know what’s right, or what I can believe.)

  Faelan let out a long sigh—but he was grateful Elina wasn’t prying.

  (Elina…)

  For a moment, Faelan felt an urge to tell her how he felt.

  (But if she hears that, she’ll suffer…)

  Faelan himself was suffering.

  The door to Zero Room 100 opened.

  Maya entered—with a woman around twenty.

  A face neither Elina nor Faelan had seen before.

  “Elina, Faelan—sorry for intruding,” Maya greeted awkwardly.

  The woman beside her said only, expressionless, “Hello.”

  Her gaze was locked on the vast collection of books in Zero Room 100.

  “Wouldn’t you write better here?” Maya asked with a smile. “Ria.”

  “Yes,” Ria answered, satisfied. “If you don’t rely only on AI searches and read real books, stories gain a soul. I like it here.”

  “Ah—that’s my novel!”

  What Ria pointed at was the book Faelan had been reading—the one still lying on the floor.

  Ria picked it up and traced the title on the cover with her finger.

  “Proxy of Reminiscence.”

  Alicia and Ethan.

  Alicia silently unlocked security and opened the door to a unit in a luxury high-rise.

  Ethan followed in silence.

  Inside—utterly unlike the building’s exterior—was a room remodeled like a cell. A bearded man sat there, both arms cuffed.

  The cell contained only a crude toilet, a crude bed, and scraps of issued food.

  “This man,” Alicia said, “is the bodyguard of Avalonia’s presidential candidate, Isabel. His name is Leonidas.”

  She handed Ethan Leonidas’s usual photograph and ID card.

  “I see. So he’s someone who wouldn’t look strange at Isabel’s side,” Ethan murmured, satisfied.

  “Correct. I’ll come back in five hours.”

  “Make him talk—habits and secrets—so it won’t be discovered.”

  With that, Alicia left the room.

  Leonidas glared at Ethan with hostility.

  But Ethan’s gray eyes were already lit with a cold gleam.

  “Sing for me. Your habits.”

  “Your catchphrases, your unconscious ticks—everything. And how you normally guard her.”

  Leonidas tried desperately to keep his mouth shut, but it was useless.

  “Five seconds. —After that, your mouth works on its own.”

  Ethan’s gray eyes never left Leonidas.

  At the same time. Victoria in Gray Archives.

  Victoria carried out her defense assignment and patrolled through Gray Archives in silence from start to finish.

  When the patrol ended, she stopped by the medical room.

  “Vic, good work,” Emma and Clara greeted her, and Victoria sat in the chair they offered.

  Even seated, Victoria remained silent and expressionless.

  “…What’s wrong?” Emma asked, worried.

  Victoria let out a deep sigh.

  (I can’t forget what I felt when Mom died… I don’t want to read anyone’s heart anymore…)

  “My emotions and memories can’t be read anymore—my heart is dead.”

  Strength left Emma’s fingers.

  The cup fell to the floor and shattered.

  The dry sound lingered—far too long.