Project Capital Takeover

Marquis Crocell’s conspiracy. The Imperial Railway bombing. The bloodbath at House Kedrik.

A chain of terrorist attacks.

Any functioning state would have already stood up a joint investigation headquarters — a unified command center to coordinate the response. Instead, the Railway Military Police, the imperial military, and the Central Police were busy squabbling over jurisdiction.

External threats closing in. Internal unity nonexistent.

The empresses who currently held power? Their inner workings were anyone’s guess, and the Queen of Assassins had already written the empire off as finished.

A hundred years of managing an empire without an emperor — and now every flaw of that arrangement was surfacing at once.

And yet through all of it, everyone was deflecting responsibility and angling for personal advantage.

If this kept up?

The military would stage a coup. History said so, every time.

Arsen himself had nearly asked me to do exactly that.

The imperial military had given me absolute loyalty as Emperor — but I was gone now.

The current rulers, the empresses, were under suspicion of having murdered me, and terrorist attacks kept coming. The optics were catastrophic.

They can’t protect the empire. We’ll deal with the empresses who killed His Majesty and take back the realm — that was the speech that wrote itself.

The imperial military’s coup had a low chance of success.

I had trusted my soldiers, but I had also built in safeguards against exactly this scenario, for whatever emperor came after me.

Those safeguards were why I’d been able to take control of the Railway Military Police so smoothly.

But a coup, whether it succeeded or failed, would tear the political landscape apart even further.

Cascading chaos. Unchecked violence.

No matter how great an empire, that was a death sentence.

“The Empire Liberation Army’s endgame is exactly this. They keep stirring up chaos to bait the military into moving.”

I explained this to Heinkel in terms that left out one thing — that I was Sirik Karakas.

Heinkel listened with a blank expression, then glanced around instinctively.

Looking to see if anyone had heard.

“They don’t care about strangers’ conversations. People never do.”

We were on the capital’s public tram — the one running along the main avenue.

One of the city’s landmarks, this street-level car moved not on electricity but on magical current. I had commissioned it near the end of my reign.

A hundred years on, and the citizens of the capital were still riding it just fine.

Heinkel thought for a long moment, then nodded.

“Yes, my lord. You’re right. So the imperial military will move before long?”

“Not certain. But the possibility is real.”

“……How do we stop it?”

“We go step by step.”

I held up a finger for each point.

“First problem: the people holding the swords. There are the knightly orders, the other races, and plenty of other players — but the most pressing right now are the Railway Military Police, the Central Police, and the imperial military stationed in the capital. Get those three together, stand up a joint investigation headquarters, and have them actually respond to the terrorism. That alone changes things dramatically. Public trust stabilizes.”

“That’s what everyone wants, but they keep blocking each other.”

“The Railway Military Police already listens to me. The other two, I’ll persuade — or beat into line. Either way, we get them moving.”

I shook my head.

“No, on second thought — persuasion’s too slow. Beat them into line, then we’ll talk. Then, the situation will improve significantly. Public sentiment will stabilize.”

“Um, I understand.”

Heinkel looked like he’d swallowed something difficult to digest.

His gaze drifted sideways.

To the rear seat, where Lang Ei sat.

Simply sitting there, staring out the window — and still the most striking thing on the tram. Every passenger in the car kept stealing glances at her.

That wasn’t my subjective impression. Every single person on this tram was watching her.

I was curious to see what that handsome, stern woman was thinking.

“She’s probably thinking about how good lunch was.”

“Pardon?”

“So — what’s the situation between Lang Ei and the Central Police?”

Heinkel straightened when I cut to it.

“Other races tend to lump all beastmen together, but it’s quite layered within the community. Dog beastmen, cat beastmen, tiger beastmen, fox beastmen — and then further divisions within each. The Tiger Immortal is a tiger beastwoman, and specifically a white tiger. An extraordinarily rare bloodline.”

“I know that.”

Right now the woman swaying her tail as she gazed at the capital from the back seat was — among beastmen — pure pedigree, the most elevated lineage they had.

Heinkel continued, lowering his voice.

“The Tiger Immortal united the beastmen through sheer valor and force of will. Under the Emperor, she led them in battle.”

“……”

I nodded.

That process had cost her enormously. The beastmen’s internal politics were genuinely complicated — minor clans, old grudges, proud bloodlines. Lang Ei had hammered them all into one through stubbornness alone, then brought them into the imperial military.

“But the Emperor is gone now. The Tiger Immortal stands alone.”

“You’re circling. Get to the point.”

“……Right. Among beastmen, there’s a common belief that a powerful beastman produces powerful offspring. Strong parents, strong children. This is more or less doctrine among them.”

He said it quickly when he caught my look.

“So within the beastman community there is — a sentiment, shall we say — that the Tiger Immortal ought to bear more children. For the race. A great many were lost fighting the Seven Sin God, and the thinking is that strong bloodlines need to be rebuilt.”

“What does that mean?”

Yi Seong-gye dies, so his widow remarries? Unthinkable. That was an assault on imperial authority, on legitimacy, on everything.

Heinkel nodded.

“Yes, it makes no sense. But the Millennial Empire is only a hundred and twenty years old, and the beastmen’s history runs to thousands. It’s the same with the other races.”

“……”

The union I had built across species lines was real — but a hundred and twenty years was not long enough to overwrite millennia.

Heinkel pressed on, quietly.

“And beastmen have a remarkably permissive attitude toward remarriage. It’s actively encouraged.”

“So there are beastmen pressuring Lang Ei to remarry?”

“Naturally, the suggestion that an imperial consort would do such a thing is untenable — even within the beastman community there’s strong opposition. But if it actually happened, it would set off the political storm you’ve been describing, my lord. And then some.”

“……”

The military on the verge of a coup, and the Second Empress announces a remarriage.

That was a country actively trying to collapse.

Heinkel’s voice dropped further.

“The Tiger Immortal refused outright and went incandescent with rage, apparently. So out of character for her that everyone’s been keeping their mouths shut about it since.”

“And the Central Police chief is the one who made the approach?”

“……Yes. The current Chief of the Central Police — Byorn — was the one who tried to make that move.”

Heinkel exhaled.

“This may not be simple.”

“This is classified, right?”

Dark elf intelligence. Not in general circulation.

Heinkel nodded.

“Right. Well — let’s go see what we’re dealing with.”

I glanced back at Lang Ei as I said it.

Our eyes met — directly.

She startled and snapped her head back to the window.

Tiger ears folding flat.

Why did this woman go into full panic mode every time I looked at her?

Just then, the passengers around her began murmuring.

“That woman in the back — she’s stunning.”

“Those markings — is she a white tiger beastwoman?”

Right. That profile was too distinctive. She’d be recognized.

The last thing I needed was a scene on the way there.

I clicked my tongue and made my way to the back.

“Hey, Garul.”

“Sir?”

Garul, dozing cheerfully beside Lang Ei, snapped awake.

I grabbed his shoulder, gestured for him to get up, and dropped into his seat.

Thud.

“Hgh—!”

Lang Ei bolted sideways like a startled cat, hip sliding as far as she could go.

I stared at her, incredulous, then pulled out the hat I’d brought.

“Put this on.”

“……Hm?”

“It won’t kill you. Just wear it. Let’s get there quietly.”

Without waiting for an answer, I set the hat on her head and started tucking her hair in.

Lang Ei had never particularly cared how she looked or how others perceived her. Her world was combat, comrades, and family. The complexities of public life and politics bounced right off her.

Heinkel’s worries about the police chief? She’d probably already forgotten the man existed.

Striking, almost terrifyingly strong, and utterly without the social instincts to navigate any of it.

I used to pick up the slack. Keep track of things she’d miss. Fill in the gaps.

Right up until the day I didn’t.

“……”

And now I was doing it again, in a new life.

I shook the thought loose.

“Your hair is too long — it won’t all fit in.”

“I’m not cutting it!”

Lang Ei straightened up sharply and bared her teeth at me.

A low sound escaped her throat.

The entire tram went quiet.

She clutched the hat down with both hands and glared.

Most people would have flinched. I just looked at her.

I knew this woman. Tense to the point of snapping — she’d simplified down to her most direct state. No hedging, no filtering.

“Who said anything about cutting it? Just hold still.”

Lang Ei went slack in the shoulders.

She smoothed her black-and-white hair — the part still spilling out of the hat — with careful hands, the way you’d handle something irreplaceable.

Then, haltingly, as if explaining something to herself,

“……He said it was beautiful.”

“The Emperor?”

The words were out of my mouth before I caught them.

I almost winced. That had come out like I was talking about a mutual acquaintance.

And honestly, I’d been too easy with her from the start. Too comfortable. If someone was watching, they’d think we were old friends.

She was an Empress. I probably should be using formal speech, technically.

“……Yes.”

But Lang Ei didn’t notice any of it.

Her white hands moved over the black-and-white strands, and her face was soft. Quiet. The expression of someone lost in a very happy memory.

No one looking at her now would believe this was the same woman who had charged into formations of the Seven Sin God’s armies with soldiers screaming behind her.

She was just——

“Ah, come on.”

I turned a sharp look on a man who was still craning his neck at her.

He caught my stare, went awkward, and looked away.

Let’s get there without a scene.

Lang Ei said, quietly, almost to herself:

“……Sirik built this.”

“……”

The tram. The one I was sitting in now. I had built it.

Her voice dropped lower.

“I used to think — someday we’d ride it together. I kept thinking if I waited long enough, it would happen……”

“……”

And then I died.

Her hands in her lap.

They looked lonely.

I caught myself staring and moved my gaze elsewhere.

……Anyway. Let’s take a look at this police chief.

Central Police Headquarters.

Chief’s Office.

The dog beastman listening to his briefing clicked his tongue.

Byorn. Chief of the Central Police.

“What exactly does the Railway Military Police think it’s standing on? Are they actually looking for a fight with us?”

“Well — the name Rigen Librata has been making the rounds.”

“I’ve heard the name. Member of the twelve houses, supposedly resolved the latest incident. So what?”

“He’s quite different from what you’d expect.”

The human subordinate chose his words carefully.

“He showed up out of nowhere, dropped into the Railway Military Police, and secured the special officer position. The special officer — a title the Emperor himself abolished for carrying too much authority, and Arsen went ahead and revived it.”

“He got away with that?”

“It runs against the Emperor’s wishes, strictly speaking — but there are no legal grounds to overturn it. Initially, internal opinion within the Railway Military Police was dismissive. Resentment. Contempt. That sort of thing.”

“And then?”

Byorn leaned forward.

“The Kedrik affair changed it. Significantly. Especially among the officers who deployed alongside him — now they’re saying he deserves the special officer rank. He flipped internal opinion in a single operation.”

“So he’s not just a twelve-house member with a title.”

“No. I’d recommend caution. You know how it is — men who are simply strong are everywhere, but men who can take hold of an organization are rare.”

Byorn nodded.

He knew that better than anyone.

He was not the strongest fighter among the beastmen. Within dog beastmen specifically, top ten by raw combat — maybe. But that was being generous.

Plenty of officers in the Central Police outclassed him in a straight fight.

And yet the Central Police, the crown of the imperial law enforcement apparatus, had him at its top.

Because he was very good at the organizational game.

“Hmm. That makes him dangerous, then. Dropped in from nowhere, flips opinion in one move.”

“Commander Arsen is backing him fully. The capability is there, without question.”

“Any way to bring him over? Why is that level of talent planted in the Railway Military Police?”

Byorn worked his jaw.

“The Railway Military Police is on the decline — budget cuts, dwindling prestige. A capable man should be asking why he’s committed to them.”

“We’ve looked into it from various angles. Not much to work with. There are rumors about women, but nothing substantial.”

“Keep digging, just in case. And put in a request to the Queen of Assassins’ side for investigative cooperation. Rigen Librata is a person of interest in the case regardless — we can just summon him as a witness for questioning.”

“We can’t even open the investigation right now. The Railway Military Police, the imperial military, and our people have been snarling at each other over who leads it. Nothing’s started.”

Clack.

A fox beastman stepped in and reported.

“Urgent matter, sir. The Second Empress, the Tiger Immortal, is downstairs. She’s asking to see you. What would you like to do?”

“Hm?”

Byorn’s expression transformed instantly.

“You — dismissed. Escort the Empress up here, with full courtesy.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clack.

Alone now, Byorn straightened his uniform quickly. Checked himself in the mirror. Opened a desk drawer, pulled out a perfume bottle, and applied it.

“……Lang Ei.”

Strongest among the beastmen.

The battlefield goddess, magnificent in the fight.

White-and-black hair streaming as she drove into the enemy line — how many warriors had screamed and charged in after her?

Byorn had been one of them.

“No. Had been.”

Past tense.

He had been so terrified of fighting the Seven Sin God that he — deserted. In those days, the imperial military was processing enlistments and casualties in such volumes that one desertion disappeared in the noise.

“No, it wasn’t fear……”

There had been no reason to risk his life.

The battlefield goddess he’d fallen for at first sight was utterly beyond reach. Even if the miracle of miracles had happened and he’d struck down a Seven Sin God with his own hands — Lang Ei already had someone whose shoulder she leaned against, whose forehead she pressed to hers.

Sirik Karakas. The Emperor whom everyone revered.

To Byorn, he was simply a rival.

No — Lang Ei hadn’t even known Byorn existed back then, so there wasn’t even a rivalry.

“It’s different now. It’s different.”

The Emperor had died long ago.

Lang Ei was alone.

Byorn had grown strong and risen far. His individual combat strength was lacking, but strength was not the only currency for holding an organization together. He had used his head, built alliances, laid traps, assembled factions — and climbed to the top of the Central Police.

He was someone who could stand beside her now.

“Phew.”

Blood ran hot.

Byorn struck the desk with his palm.

“Yes.”

A hundred years and more had gone around. But the time to claim what he wanted had finally come.

Whatever it took.

Byorn was still savoring the thought when a knock sounded and the door swung open.

“Her Majesty the Second Empress has arrived!”

Byorn rose with a broad smile.

A woman with a hat came through the door.

Her face was partly obscured, but the unusual whiteness of her skin and the black-streaked white hair were unmistakable. Lang Ei.

“Welcome, Your Highness the Second Empr——”

“When are you planning to take that hat off. It’s not earning you any points, you know.”

“……I’ll give it back soon.”

“Why are you covering your face when you’re talking to someone? Are you a baseball fan? Too nervous to watch?”

What the——

The human man walking in alongside Lang Ei was speaking to her with absolutely no ceremony — and Lang Ei didn’t seem remotely bothered by it.

Friends? No. You’d need to be closer than friends to speak like that.

Byorn’s face went rigid.

The human man — Rigen, presumably — turned to look at Byorn.

“Is that what you look like.”

Deeply unpleasant.