Chapter 17

Yo, while I was spacing out, Ernst gives me this look.

His gaze is all “My competent subordinate has done it again!” and the pressure’s doubled.

“So how’d you manage to grill that silent dude? Give us some tips for interrogation while you’re at it.”

Ernst’s question makes Sergeant Bendelin crack a smile as he looks my way too.

I get it though. Since I turned off the mic during yesterday’s interrogation, they wouldn’t have known what went down.

The interrogators would wanna know how I got that tight-lipped prisoner to spill the beans.

But no matter how I think about it, all I did was have a normal conversation with Reginald.

There’s no secret interrogation technique here, so answering feels kinda awkward.

As I struggle to find words, Bendelin, maybe trying to lighten the mood, pipes up cheerfully.

“I’ve seen a lot of cases in my time as an interrogator, but Captain Daniel Steiner’s quick-and-clean method? Never seen anything like it.”

“Oh, really?”

“It’s true! After you left the interrogation room, Reginald—what a bastard—was ready to cry and said he’d cooperate with the Empire. So satisfying!”

Wait… He was gonna cry? That stick-up-the-butt Reginald?

“Even more surprising, most interrogations start with yelling or violence, but Captain Daniel just kept talking calmly and smiling the whole time. It was almost dignified!”

Bendelin… This guy’s alright, but his flattery’s getting outta hand.

And yet, Ernst seems to be buying it hook, line, and sinker, looking at me with even higher expectations now.

“Hearing that makes me even more curious. What exactly did you talk about with Reginald?”

He asked twice now. Ignoring him completely isn’t proper for a subordinate.

Guess I don’t have much choice. After hesitating for a moment, I answer.

“It wasn’t much. We just talked about Reginald’s family a few times.”

At the mention of “family,” not only Bendelin but also Ernst flinch slightly.

Even some officers who were eavesdropping nearby glance back.

An eerie silence falls around me.

Just as I’m wondering why the atmosphere’s so weird, Ernst clears his throat and nods.

“The most effective method indeed. Did you hear that, sergeant? Take notes from Captain Daniel.”

“Absolutely! I’ll definitely learn from him. Now I wonder if I’ve been too soft on the prisoners…”

…Something feels off, like they’re misunderstanding something big. But I decide against arguing further.

Experience tells me that starting to explain usually just piles on more misunderstandings.

So I just nod, and Bendelin snaps off a sharp salute—way stiffer than when I first met him.

“Well, I’ll head back to the military police now! Enjoy your meal!”

“Go ahead. Thanks for coming all the way to headquarters.”

With that, Bendelin spins around sharply and marches off like a tin soldier.

Just as I’m wondering why he’s acting so formal, Ernst speaks up while picking up his utensils.

“Anyway, congratulations. You’ve earned another merit by getting Reginald to talk. Honestly, these days, your competence is astonishing. At your age, I could barely handle the tasks given to me.”

I wanted to say this achievement had nothing to do with my will, but speaking out against the head of operations staff would probably earn me a beating.

“High praise indeed.”

So I just humbly pick up my fork as we slice into the steak served for lunch.

While cutting, Ernst suddenly remembers something and starts talking.

“Oh, by the way, about your aide-de-camp. He’ll be assigned to headquarters today. He might already be here.”

Aide-de-camp? My head jerks up, eyes blinking in confusion.

“…You mean an aide-de-camp?”

“Yes. Didn’t I mention it before? When you officially became an operations staff officer, you’d get one. Apparently, the higher-ups pulled some strings to assign you an elite aide who matches your level.”

Seeing my dazed expression, Ernst smiles warmly.

“You’ve been working overtime lately because of the increased workload, right? Of course, being an operations staff officer during wartime is demanding, but now that you’ve got an aide, you can ease up a bit.”

“Certainly… that’s true.”

“To you, this is your first direct subordinate, isn’t it? Make sure to guide them well.”

“Understood.”

I respond flatly to Ernst’s words.

Though I try not to show it, internally, I’m floating on cloud nine.

‘Finally, I’m getting an aide!’

Well, technically, calling it “finally” might be a stretch since I’ve already received two special promotions, which is way faster than expected.

Still, such minor details aren’t important.

What matters is that I’m getting an aide.

‘And they’re an elite selected by the top brass… No more drowning in paperwork!’

Since I became a deputy operations staff officer, the biggest thing I’ve noticed is how overwhelming the workload is.

As a junior staff officer primarily responsible for reviewing documents and forwarding them to superiors, reports and approval requests fly in from everywhere.

Sure, the truly important ones go straight to the boss, but during wartime, there are far more bizarre requests and reports than you’d expect.

For example, there was this lieutenant colonel who requested fighter jets to deliver cold beer for his troops. Though unsure, I forwarded the approved document to my superior, and somehow it actually went through—I ended up seeing jets carrying kegs of beer.

With countless similar requests pouring in, I barely have any free time.

Days where I leave work on time, like yesterday, feel like winning the lottery.

At this rate, I’d probably die from overwork before escaping the empire, so when Ernst mentioned my new aide, I couldn’t help but feel relieved.

Lost in thoughts about my aide, I notice Ernst finishes eating first and wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, and spend this afternoon in your personal office instead of the operations staff room.”

“…Is that alright?”

“Yes. You should take some time to bond with your new aide, right? It’d be awkward to have private conversations in the staff room anyway.”

Ernst’s suggestion makes perfect sense.

I nod lightly in agreement.

“Thank you for your consideration, sir.”

Though the staff room isn’t a battlefield, in case of emergencies, I’ll need to trust my aide enough to rely on them.

Building rapport is crucial.

*

After finishing lunch with Ernst, I decided not to head directly to my office but to wander around outside the headquarters instead.

I wanted to grab a gift for my new subordinate.

After some deliberation, I bought a few loaves of bread from a bakery near headquarters instead of flowers.

Flowers may look nice, but bread fills stomachs better.

Arriving back at the entrance to the headquarters offices, I take a deep breath, clutching the paper bag of bread.

‘A little nervous.’

The aide waiting inside must be feeling the same way.

Five months ago, I was the one sweating bullets while waiting to meet my superior.

That memory is still vivid.

When I first joined, instead of receiving a gift, I got yelled at by Karl Heimrich, that bastard.

Thinking about the humiliation and trauma, I resolve to treat my subordinate better.

I plan to start with simple, manageable tasks to help them adjust.

‘Alright.’

Equipped with the mindset of an excellent mentor and superior, I smile and open the door to my office.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting. I stopped by the bakery near headquarters to grab some snacks, so I’m a bit late. Of course, I brought some for you to share…”

As I greet them warmly, I catch sight of my aide and freeze.

Turning her head slowly toward me, her hairstyle is tousled short hair.

Her silvery-white locks cascade down past her neck, like sunlight falling onto a pristine snowfield.

Her eyes, starkly contrasting with her clean and beautiful hair, are a blood-red hue.

Though her gaze is sharp, there’s no hostility; she just appears expressionless.

She’s an elegant and refined woman.

If I didn’t know who she was, I’d have thought that.

Lucy Emilia.

She’s the protagonist-level character from the game *Empire of Emperor* and known as the empire’s nightmare—a mass murderer.

Why is Lucy sitting in my office wearing a neat imperial army uniform?

…

…

After staring silently for a moment, I close the door.

‘Hold on.’

Why is Lucy here? Shouldn’t she be actively fighting on the front lines at this point?

How did someone from the Allied Nations end up as my aide?

‘…Spy?’

Both sides engage heavily in espionage, so it’s not impossible that she infiltrated the general staff headquarters as a spy.

‘But why?’

Why out of all possible assignments would she end up as my aide?

Shaking my head in disbelief, I mutter to myself.

‘I must be hallucinating from all the late nights recently.’

No way Lucy could possibly be here. Definitely not.

Regaining confidence, I reopen the office door.

“…Captain?”

And immediately shut it again.

It’s definitely Lucy. She looks exactly like the character illustration in the game.

‘Why is this happening to me…’

This is seriously not easy.