Chapter 242

Chapter 242

I am trapped in a room that feels like an interrogation chamber.  

Whirring.  

A wall-mounted fan was spinning. The metal-bladed fan, seemingly untouched by cleaning, had thick, black dust clinging to it.  

‘It’s stifling.’  

I tapped the rim of the lukewarm glass of water and stared at the wall. Beyond that wall, Federation officials and bureaucrats were likely observing me.  

‘They must be assessing my worth.’  

Time dragged on. I waited for someone to enter.  

‘The Emperor of the Empire wants me.’  

If they handed me over to Ivan, the Empire would make significant concessions to the Federation.  

‘But through me, they could also dig into the darkness of the Empire.’  

The Federation had to make a choice regarding my fate.  

Would they recruit me and take the lead in negotiations, or would they sell me off for passive gains?  

It was only natural that I referred to the latter in negative terms. From my perspective, that choice was far worse.  

The moment I was dragged back to the Empire, I would become nothing more than Ivan Accretia’s trophy and ornament. My free will would never function again.  

The Federation was likely already engaged in negotiations with the Empire. Once those talks concluded, they would make contact with me.  

‘Damn, I really went all in on this one.’  

I was now an undeniable enemy of the Empire. No matter the circumstances, making pathetic excuses was pointless. The fact remained—I had betrayed the Empire.  

‘This is a gamble.’  

Let’s assume the worst-case scenario. That was my specialty.  

‘If the Federation decides to hand me over to the Empire…’  

Even if there was no hope, I would have to struggle.  

Having finished running through these thoughts, I closed my eyes and drifted into a light sleep.  

Creak.  

The door opened.  

Ismael La entered alone. By forgoing security detail, he was indirectly expressing his trust in me.  

‘Ismael La.’  

It seemed the Federation had assigned him as my handler. We were somewhat acquainted, and given the circumstances, Ismael was a competent bureaucrat.  

"First of all, congratulations, Lukaus Custoria."  

"Things must be unfolding in my favor."  

"Yes, that’s correct. Whether you believe it or not is up to you, though."  

"I have no reason not to believe you. I’m simply always cautious."  

"There’s nothing wrong with being cautious. It’s probably because of that mindset that you’ve survived countless situations that would break an ordinary person after just one encounter."  

Ismael complimented my abilities. For a brief moment, I almost felt pleased.  

"I assume the investigation on me is mostly complete."

"The more we investigate, the more questions arise about your background. But that only means you have a great number of secrets. Please review the documents we've compiled, and if you find any discrepancies, let us know."  

Ismael placed a stack of documents in front of me. A record about me.  

I slowly flipped through the pages, reading the text.  

‘There are gaps, but nothing is incorrect.’  

An orphan from a lower-sector orphanage. Selected as a cadet for the Imperial Guard through the screening process. Stood out due to exceptional grades and abilities. Adopted into the Custoria family. Caught the eye of Crown Prince Francec and became a political symbol...  

‘The external details are thorough. They did their homework.’  

After finishing the documents, I handed them back to Ismael.  

He pointed to the last section.  

"Everyone assumed you were either irreversibly incapacitated or dead. So why are you in Border City?"  

A difficult question. I had to answer carefully.  

"You can ask Jafa for details. I got caught up in various incidents myself. As you said, I was in a near-irreversible state, practically brain-dead. My memory cuts off at the Storm Era of Akbaran. When I regained consciousness, I was already in Border City."  

It seemed like a reasonable answer. Jafa was currently in critical condition and unconscious. It was a good way to obscure key details and buy time.  

"Hmm, you seem to have been active in Border City for quite some time. You must have had a purpose."  

"For now, I was working under Jafa’s request. She was searching for someone out of personal revenge. I’m an Akies Victima user. That makes me an excellent detective and tracker."  

"So, in the end, we’ll have to wait for Jafa to wake up to get the full story?"  

"When it comes to why I’m here, Jafa’s answer will be more precise. But right now, Deputy Minister, isn’t your main concern what kind of information I can provide? You’re already well aware that the Empire was thrown into chaos during the Storm Era. The truth behind that is highly complex."  

I noticed a change in Ismael’s gaze.  

‘Focus.’  

It might have been my imagination. But beyond that wall, I could sense a faint stir among the observers—small, almost imperceptible signs that were difficult to put into words.  

"Emperor Ivan Accretia and the exiled Crown Prince Francec have an extremely complicated relationship. Ivan Accretia was never meant to be the official heir in the first place."  

"Are you saying you know the truth behind that?"

"You don’t need to probe so desperately. Given my actions, you must have already realized that I’m involved. That’s why you’ve chosen to protect me from the Empire."  

Ismael pulled his chair back and sat down in front of me.  

Snap.  

He flicked his fingers, and for a brief moment, the machines in the room emitted a burst of static noise.  

"I just disabled all communication and recording devices. From this point on, our conversation stays between us. Now, would you like a smoke?"  

Ismael placed a cigarette between his lips. I had only just learned that he was a smoker.  

"I don’t smoke."  

"That’s surprising."  

Ismael glanced me over. I was used to that kind of look.  

"I hear that a lot."  

Despite my refusal, he lit his cigarette. I resisted the urge to snatch it from him.  

"I ask for your understanding. Right now, I need something to take the edge off. The situation is extremely complicated. The Empire is applying more pressure than expected."  

"I’d prefer to think that means I hold significant value."  

"Yes, that’s how I see it. But the higher-ups, desperate to keep their positions, don’t necessarily agree."  

Ismael exhaled a puff of smoke and chuckled. It seemed he had truly shut down all monitoring systems.  

"The leadership is scared, aren’t they?"  

It was obvious.  

"Exactly. The balance between the three powers is delicate, but in terms of sheer military strength, the Empire is dominant. Their system is simply better suited for war. Given the Empire’s aggressive stance, many officials are in favor of handing you over. Especially the old men who can’t even get it up anymore."  

I suppressed a laugh and took a sip of my lukewarm water.  

"The Empire won’t start a war just over me. If anything, they won’t want this situation to escalate. I was quite popular among the lower-class citizens of the Empire. If word gets out that I defected and sought asylum in the Federation… that wouldn’t be good for their rule."  

"I agree. If we grant you asylum but refrain from using it for propaganda, the Empire will likely stay quiet. The Emperor won’t risk massive political losses just to come after you. There’s plenty of room for negotiation."  

Ismael was a rational man. The more I thought about it, the more I was reminded of the late Nikolaos Custoria. Competent bureaucrats all seemed to share a similar aura.

"Even those cowardly, foolish old men should be able to understand that much. After all, they were once bright young men themselves."  

"Probably. But I’d still like to have one more solid guarantee—proof that you can bring us tangible benefits."  

Ismael pulled a portable ashtray and a deodorizing spray from his pocket. He crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray, then sprayed the deodorizer over his mouth and body.  

‘Smart move, Ismael.’  

I couldn’t help but be impressed. He was cursing and blaming his superiors while securing practical gains for himself.  

‘If you really want asylum, give us something valuable.’  

That was the real meaning behind Ismael’s words. He planned to extract information from me before I even secured my asylum.  

‘If it were Kinuan in my place…’  

Kinuan was a good mentor. Whether he was my enemy or not didn’t matter. Even from an enemy, you had to learn what was worth learning.  

‘Don’t panic. Always act as if you have the upper hand. Even if you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, make it seem like you have a hidden way out.’  

If I caved to Ismael’s tactics and handed over information now, I’d be at their mercy forever.  

Think of Hemillas. He crossed countless perilous bridges in pitch darkness, relying on sheer nerve. My pride wouldn’t allow me to be a fool who sells himself short.  

"If circumstantial evidence isn’t enough, then so be it. Being taken back to the Empire would be bad for me, but not the worst outcome. Even if the Federation abandons me, I won’t die. The Empire still sees value in me."  

Ismael flinched. He must have expected me to give up at least one secret easily.  

‘Sorry, but I don’t plan on handing over a single thing for free. I have no room for that kind of generosity.’  

Ismael pulled out another cigarette and lit it. Smoke swirled between his fingers.  

"Luka, are you serious? I’ll do everything I can, but…"  

"Up until now, you’ve been testing my value and putting me to the test. It’s only fair that I test your capabilities as well. If you can’t even persuade your superiors with this much leverage and end up being swayed by them… then my fate is obvious."  

I spoke firmly.  

"Luka, if I fail, you’ll be sent back to the Empire."  

"Whether I’m handed over to the Empire or drained dry by the Federation, it’s all the same to me. I trust you won’t insult me with nonsense about the Federation being more ethical than the Empire."

I crossed my arms, legs, and tilted my head slightly. They knew it too. Anyone at the level of the Imperial Guard had enough pride to risk death for it.  

According to Ragnata’s classification, I was an honor-seeker. A man whose pride was the only thing keeping him from being a corpse.  

‘If you want to send me to hell, go ahead. I’ll die laughing.’  

To put it bluntly, negotiation was all about nerve. It came down to how much you were willing to lose.  

"Luka, you’re clearly not just a soldier. The way you carry yourself now—it’s the attitude of someone who’s navigated countless political schemes."  

Ismael chuckled. This time, he flicked his cigarette butt onto the floor and reached out for a handshake.  

"Is this a deal?"  

"Yes, it’s a deal. Truth be told, your asylum process is already underway. Convincing the old men was taken care of long ago. I talked a lot of shit about them, but they’re not that stupid. At any rate, you can trust my competence."  

I took Ismael’s outstretched hand.  

"I hope we can have a good working relationship, Deputy Minister."  

It had been a while since I’d said something so formal. Then again, in the Empire, dealing with superiors I had to respect had been part of daily life.  

"Shall we issue your new identification under Lukaus Custoria?"  

Ismael asked as he stood by the door.  

I hesitated for a moment. Lukaus Custoria—yes, that was a name that referred to me. It wasn’t wrong.  

I liked the Custoria family. For Hemillas’s sake, I wanted to ensure their survival and prosperity.  

But I wasn’t bound by the Custoria name. It alone couldn’t define me.  

Who was I, really?  

"…Just put Luka."  

I still didn’t know.

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