That's Not What I Meant

A duel with Byorn, Chief of the Central Police, had been agreed upon.

But first, dinner.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, we settled around an outdoor terrace table.

The appetizer was a sandwich packed thick with ham and pork. Bite into the crisply toasted bread and you got the salt of the ham, a kick of spicy sauce — and then the meat hit back, dense and satisfying, telling you to keep going.

“You can dip the crust in the sauce too.”

Heinkel observed, and tried it just as the main arrived.

Golden-roasted chicken, still coming out in waves.

Heinkel, Garul, and I were grown men with appetites to match. Lang Ei, it turned out, could put away food with the best of them.

“I’m paying, so eat up. Fight better on a full stomach.”

“Yes, Young Master!”

Garul said exactly those words and went back to moving his hands and mouth.

This place could cook.

Heinkel looked well-satisfied.

Lang Ei, though, seemed to be picking at her food.

“Come on, eat properly.”

“……Mmm.”

I slid a plate of stir-fried pork toward her. She hesitated, then reached for it.

Heinkel was working a piece of bread through his soup when he said,

“This has turned into quite the occasion. A duel where the loser gives up his position — the Police Chief and the Railway Military Police commander both on the line.”

“Good. Heinkel, put the word out through the dark elves.”

“Pardon? Won’t that give people a chance to interfere?”

Heinkel had watched me long enough that he’d just assumed I was going to win.

“The window’s too narrow. They won’t be able to act in time.”

Less than two hours until the duel — fast even by dark elf standards. You couldn’t mobilize meaningfully in that span.

Heinkel still looked puzzled, so I explained.

“It’s bait. If they bite, good. If not, fine.”

The Queen of Assassins, Iselen.

Lang Ei had blocked her at the cemetery and she’d withdrawn — but she was not the sort of woman to simply give up.

She would look for another opening.

Better to lure her onto a stage I’d already prepared than to wait and let her pick the moment herself.

An enemy who rushed in underprepared was an enemy easier to counter.

Everyone kept eating. Another round of chicken arrived.

I pulled a drumstick off and transferred it to Lang Ei’s plate.

“……Ah.”

Garul looked briefly aggrieved. I tore off the remaining leg and handed it over.

“Here. You eat it.”

“Ah — no, you should have it, Young Master.”

“I’m fine. If we run short, we order more.”

I said it, then glanced over at Lang Ei.

She had finally taken off the hat. Every time I spoke, the tiger ears on top of her head gave the tiniest twitch.

She was working through something. Trying not to let it show in her expression, but the ears gave her away completely.

“You’ve had something on your mind since this morning. Just ask. I’ll answer.”

“Mmmmm.”

Lang Ei let out a long breath and finally looked up.

“Rigen Librata — are you Sirik Karakas’s successor?”

“……Hm?”

A sound from Heinkel. Not a word — just a sound.

Garul’s eyes went wide.

I checked the surrounding tables on reflex. The other diners were far enough away, wrapped up in their own conversations. No one had caught it.

“Mm.”

If Lang Ei had been trailing me for as long as it seemed, she’d have seen or heard enough to piece together my fighting style.

She’d have known about the telekinesis. She’d have fought alongside me enough times in another life to recognize it.

I picked up my juice, drank, and nodded.

“More or less.”

“……Ah.”

Heinkel made another sound. He was trembling.

Garul’s eyes had gone so wide they might fall out of his head.

“Hey, Garul. Your drumstick’s slipping. Chew.”

Chomp chomp.

Eyes still enormous, but at least his jaw was moving. An impressive feat of compartmentalization.

Heinkel caught himself belatedly and swept the terrace again, then exhaled.

“……H-how did this happen, my lord?”

“Is it true, Young Master?”

Lang Ei answered before I could.

The woman who had been dancing around me all day now spoke with a quiet gravity.

“Sirik’s way of fighting was something no one else could replicate. He was strong in his own right, experienced beyond measure, but there was something else — a power unlike anything I’d seen. I can’t go into detail. But Rigen Librata moves as though he inherited it.”

“WOAAAAH——”

“Garul. Not a word of this leaves this table.”

Heinkel’s voice cut flat and sharp.

“If you let this slip to anyone outside — I will kill you. I say that with regret, but without reservation.”

“……!”

“Hey. We’re eating.”

I frowned.

“Besides — who’d believe it?”

“My lord, the Tiger Immortal just confirmed it. If this gets out…… Those who side with you will be many. But those who move against you will outnumber them considerably.”

He leaned forward.

“The Queen of Assassins alone is enough to think about. And the Noble Assembly, the other twelve houses — what do they do? The empresses?”

“Stop catastrophizing.”

Heinkel subsided — barely.

The man was an intelligence operative to his core. The idea of this getting out was having a visible physical effect on him.

I shook my head.

“Don’t rush it. I’m going to do this one step at a time.”

“……Yes. I’ll remember that.”

Heinkel swallowed.

Understandable, really.

Objectively speaking, this was an enormous development.

Someone who had inherited the Emperor’s abilities — and with the Empress herself as witness. On top of that, from one of the twelve houses?

If word got out, there would be factions calling for me to be crowned as the second emperor.

“I can already see how it plays out.”

And equally, there would be those who insisted I must never take the throne — those who doubted my identity entirely.

If things went wrong, the result would be a collision between the two sides. Bloodshed.

That couldn’t happen.

Every citizen of this empire was my subject. How could I be the one to bring chaos upon them?

I would untangle this step by step, through proper order.

And since things had already come this far, I intended to use the time to repair what had been broken in the empire while I was gone. If someone had sinned, they’d be punished. If someone had rotted through like Bjorn, they’d be cut out.

Heinkel asked carefully.

“Who currently knows about this? I’d like to be informed, in case of a slip.”

“Not Roderic, not my father — no one else. For now, only the people in this room.”

Lisera and Arsen were different cases, of course.

I tapped the table to wrap things up.

“Keep your mouths shut for the time being. When the moment comes, I’ll reveal it myself, and everything will fall into place naturally.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Heinkel gave a solemn bow.

Garul had a drumstick clamped in his teeth and was nodding along vigorously.

I laughed — couldn’t help it — and looked across at Lang Ei.

“You’ve killed everyone’s appetite. If there’s anything else you want to ask, go ahead.”

“Sirik……”

Lang Ei pulled the words out with visible effort.

With longing in every syllable.

“Sirik — how is he?”

“……”

Garul stood up with the drumstick still in his mouth, grabbed Heinkel by the arm, and hauled him to his feet.

“Huh? What? Garul?”

“We’ll take a walk.”

Heinkel got dragged away looking thoroughly confused.

Of all the things — turns out he had some social instincts after all.

Once they were gone, I set down my knife.

I’d make sure to buy them a separate meal later.

“What exactly do you want to know?”

Lang Ei hesitated, then shook her head.

“……No. Never mind. It’s fine.”

There was too much she wanted to ask, and she was afraid of the answers.

She gathered herself and went for brightness instead.

“Right. I’ve confirmed what I needed to know. From now on, I’ll support you with everything I have. You can count on it.”

“I don’t need it right now. If I do, I’ll say so.”

I said it cleanly.

Lang Ei wanted to help Rigen — Sirik’s successor — as a way of making up for what she couldn’t give back. A kind of offering.

But I was Sirik.

And even setting that aside——

“Your Majesty Lang Ei.”

“……I’m listening.”

“You’re welcome to stay at the manor. But look after the children while you’re there.”

Lisera and Miriel.

Lisera already knew I was Sirik, but there were things a daughter couldn’t easily bring to her father. And Miriel was still emotionally raw, still finding her footing after everything she’d been through.

Both of them needed a mother. Someone who could fill what even a father doing his best couldn’t reach.

Security was a factor too.

All of it pointed the same direction — Lang Ei staying nearby was the right call.

“Better you than the Queen of Assassins.”

For watching over the children, at any rate.

Lang Ei went still.

I moved on.

“What do you know about Byorn?”

“Fifth rank. But I’ve heard he can’t actually use his rank ability.”

“No, I mean——”

Combat. That’s always where her mind went.

What I actually wanted to know was what was driving Byorn’s behavior. What made him so bold about pursuing Lang Ei. What he thought he had to stand on.

Remarriage? Impossible while the Millennial Empire still stood.

Which raised an uglier question — was Byorn’s interest in Lang Ei connected to the terrorists somehow?

A Police Chief running the capital’s security while secretly aiding terrorists, all because he wanted a woman — it sounded absurd.

But Byorn read as a small man, and small men did absurd things.

“So what I’m wondering is——”

I started to bring it up, then stopped.

Byorn had been making his designs on Lang Ei painfully obvious, right there in the room.

Asking Lang Ei about it felt suddenly strange. Like an estranged couple meeting after years apart, sharing a dinner, and one of them carefully probing whether the other had seen anyone since the separation.

That wasn’t what I meant by this.

“Have you — was Sirik ever——”

No, wait. What was I even asking.

If I was going to probe what Lang Ei thought of Byorn, I should just establish where things stood with Sirik first.

Except — I was Sirik.

I swallowed the question before it finished forming.

Lang Ei answered anyway.

“I love him.”

“……”

The woman who had been flustered and tiptoeing around me all day said it without a single moment’s pause.

I stared at her.

“— N, not you. That’s not what I meant.”

“……I know.”

“Sirik. I cannot forget him. I have no intention of ever forgetting him. That’s what I mean.”

An imperial consort holding feelings for another man — of course that wasn’t it.

But Lang Ei felt the need to be thorough about it anyway.

“There is far too much I owe him. A lifetime’s worth I couldn’t repay. And he left before I had the chance.”

“Alright, I get it——”

I moved to cut in, and Lang Ei’s face fell slightly.

She’d found a thread back to Sirik, and she thought she was being brushed aside.

Seeing it, I hesitated — and she jumped back in before I could say anything else.

“Let me tell you about when we first met. The very first time. It was in——”

“A restaurant. All three of us were starving.”

“……Hm?”

“……”

That slipped out.

Lang Ei tilted her head.

“Did you read his biography?”

“……More or less, yes.”

I grabbed the nearest distraction and placed another piece of chicken on Lang Ei’s plate.

“Eat. You need the fuel.”

“Mmm.”

Lang Ei looked unconvinced, but she started eating.

Watching her — something in me eased.

Whatever the circumstances, whatever the old weight between us — seeing her eat well was enough to make me feel better.

“Good. That’s the way.”

Ask what you want to ask. If you can’t find the words, just act.

“Once the match starts, don’t say anything. I’ll handle how it plays out.”

“Mm, I’ll do that.”

Not a flicker of hesitation.

Good. First order of business — crack Byorn’s skull open.

Central Police Headquarters. Chief’s Office.

Chief Byorn was pacing the length of the room.

“What do I do. What do I do……”

This duel had come out of nowhere, and it was happening in an hour.

Rigen Librata, by reputation, was fourth rank.

Byorn was fifth.

A rank’s difference usually meant the odds tilted heavily toward the higher. Most people would call it in his favor.

But.

“……I can’t use my fifth rank ability.”

Reaching a new rank wasn’t enough on its own. Timing, insight, a deeper understanding of one’s own body — all of that had to come together before the higher rank could be fully drawn on.

Byorn held the fifth rank in name but couldn’t bring its full power to bear.

That still put him ahead of a true fourth rank — probably.

“But what if I lose?”

He had too much to lose.

How had he climbed to this position in the first place?

The crown jewel of the police force — the Central Police Commissioner, nominally the top of the entire organization — being a pathetic fifth-ranker was laughable.

Not that the police handed out positions based purely on combat ability, of course.

But the First Emperor, Sirik Karakas, had been the strongest man in the empire, and he had forged it with a sword. Because of that, even within law enforcement, the fighting strength of those at the top was still measured and weighed.

The Eastern Police Commissioner alone was a proper fifth-ranker. The Northern Police Commissioner was sixth.

Bjorn, lacking in raw strength, had risen through political savvy, administrative competence, and knowing exactly which strings to pull.

Nothing to be ashamed of. Political acumen was a skill too.

“Ugh……”

But if, by some disaster, he lost to Rigen — a fourth-ranker — his reputation would crater.

Even if he merely struggled. Even if Rigen just managed to keep up.

“No. I have to win. Not just win — dominate. Completely. That’s the only way to protect my position, and to get——”

Knock knock.

A knock at the door.

A fox beastman subordinate stepped in and reported.

“Commander Arsen of the Railway Military Police has arrived at the training hall.”

“……Anything to say for himself?”

“He seemed to be in excellent spirits, sir. Said he was looking forward to the match. Also, an urgent letter has arrived for you.”

“Right.”

The subordinate handed it over and withdrew. The door closed.

“What does that lunatic Arsen think he’s——”

Byorn was sputtering.

If Rigen lost, Arsen would lose his position too — why was he showing up looking happy?

“Phew. Phew……”

He loosened his collar and tried to think again.

How had it come to this?

Ah. Lang Ei.

Originally, he’d had no intention of accepting this absurd duel. But the moment she said coward —

He’d had to show her.

That he was worthy of becoming her man.

“Right. That’s it. I can’t lose. Not even close.”

If he won — if he dismantled Rigen completely — Arsen would have to step down, and Byorn’s reputation would soar.

And then he would finally, finally, put his hand out to Lang Ei.

“Right. Win and it’s all mine. Even the Emperor did it that way.”

He was muttering to himself when he remembered the letter.

Urgent letters were never opened by anyone else — protocol he kept strictly.

He examined the seal.

The outer line of the imperial crest was subtly, cleverly wrong.

“Counterfeit. From whom?”

He opened it. The message was short.

If you want to win — the evidence storage room. The mana potion.

“……A mana potion? Don’t tell me that’s the one.”

The mana potion.

It had come in during the search of Luke Kedrik’s residence. Listed as evidence, still being analyzed. Early reports suggested it might be Grade One or above — possibly a special-grade potion. A genuine rarity. The kind of thing you called in a dragon specialist to assess.

A special-grade mana potion was the sort of thing people called a treasure among treasures. Drink it and your rank went up by one, no exceptions.

The analysis team had flagged it for dragon consultation, but——

“……It’s still in the evidence storage room.”

Something lit up in Byorn’s eyes.

Not that he’d decided to take it. Obviously not.

It was evidence from a terrorist. You didn’t tamper with evidence.

“……Just as a backup. That’s all.”

He’d win on his own. Of course he would.

But the Central Police’s chief suffering an embarrassing performance would reflect on the entire organization, wouldn’t it?

He checked the time.

And turned toward the evidence storage room.

The duel between Rigen and Byorn was drawing near.

A match where the loser — and his commander — would hand in their resignation.