Bermuda

"Good work."

"Well done, Deputy Commander."

"Deputy Commander, you've worked hard."

After the briefing ended, outside the Grand Conference Hall, greetings commending everyone’s hard work were exchanged. The one who received the most encouragement was Shorendo, who had been pushed around in various ways during this time. Though he was the Deputy Commander, the position was heavy for his years of service, and the past period must have been a considerable burden for him. Even more so because it meant being responsible for a case that was not only stagnant but also like a time bomb, rather than any other role.

If the resolution of a case was delayed in a situation where public attention was focused, the Council would inevitably face public cynicism and criticism. In the midst of this, the main scapegoat would be the investigation officer who publicly showed his face in official settings.

Nevertheless, Shorendo showed no signs of strain as he shook hands with each person and gave credit to the Council members who had worked alongside him.

"Haha, I'm not the only one who worked hard. Everyone has done a great job."

He didn’t forget to ask the newspaper staff who were leaving in a group to write positive articles. They left with formal greetings, perhaps because they hadn’t gotten the content they wanted.

As the procession of people filing out was coming to an end, the last to appear were Hugo and the battalion commanders surrounding him.

"It's fortunate that it ended cleanly."

"The atmosphere was really fierce at the beginning, but somehow this got wrapped up too."

"Time heals. It was too heated back then."

"Commander, you've worked hard."

"You've worked hard. Are we going back to the original system now, without acting authority?"

"That's already been discussed at the council member level."

"Commander!"

In the midst of the battalion commanders exchanging words, Shorendo called out to Hugo in a voice that had not yet fully released its tension.

Hugo, who had been keeping his mouth shut, turned his eyes to him. Shorendo, who had somehow come right up in front of him, finally let out a deep sigh of relief as he faced his superior.

His expression, which looked like it had a lot to complain about, was quite different from the charisma he had shown on the podium earlier. Hugo clasped his hand with a relaxed smile and patted his shoulder a couple of times.

"Good work."

"Ah—, Commander. Please never retire, not even later. Even if there's an offer for a council member seat from above, you shouldn't go, okay? It's only because you helped from the side that I managed; otherwise I would have just taken criticism with no progress... If I’d been alone, it would have been really difficult."

"Are you elaborately telling me to work for the rest of my life, Deputy Commander?"

The one who cut in was Verity Sharma, the 5th Battalion Commander. The battalion commanders burst into laughter without hesitation. 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

"That's right, indeed."

"That's too much."

"No, that's not what I—"

Shorendo waved his hands, saying that wasn’t what he meant, but perhaps because the reaction was amusing, everyone chimed in with a comment. Hugo also let out a low laugh and answered calmly.

"I don't particularly have thoughts about a council member seat, but even I'm a bit... about living as a soldier for life."

"Yeah, Deputy Commander. How long has it been since the investigation ended? Is that what you should say to the Commander who worked hard? And if the Commander goes home early, we can also leave work and date and such, right?"

Andreas added a remark while putting his arm around Hugo's shoulder. Shorendo answered with an incredulous expression.

"Senior, please stop now. That level of philandering is a disease."

"A disease? It's just that my ability is good."

Andreas smiled proudly, which didn’t match the situation. Meterion, with his hands in his pockets, clicked his tongue as if it were pathetic and walked ahead of the group.

Andreas, noticing the action was aimed at him, glared at the back of Meterion's head. Just then, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° Loren, who had been watching, chimed in:

"It seems not even worth responding to today."

"What—?"

"Come on, don't do this here. Let's go eat first—. Lunchtime has already passed by a lot."

At Maria, the 9th Battalion Commander's urging, everyone turned their eyes to the clock hanging in the corridor. Hugo also looked down at his wristwatch and slightly turned his body in the opposite direction.

"You all go ahead. I have something to organize."

"What? Commander, you should eat."

"I want to finish it while I remember. I'll eat separately later."

Hugo nodded and walked briskly in the opposite direction from Meterion. The battalion commanders watched him move away and then met each other's eyes. Their gazes weighed whether they should stop him or not.

Amid the lingering silence, Loren spoke first again.

"I think it's better if we go by ourselves. He must have a lot on his mind."

"Hmm... Yes. He must be tired."

In fact, the person who had suffered the most mental anguish from the explosion incident was none other than Commander Agrizendro. Everyone knew how much he had devoted himself to and suffered over this case, even if he didn’t say it, so they couldn’t bring themselves to stop his footsteps as he tried to hide his weariness.

The battalion commanders, led by Loren, continued on toward the dining hall. Shorendo, who had been staring at the Commander's broad shoulders, hesitated before following his colleagues.

At that moment, Hugo stopped, turned around, and called out:

"Ah, make sure all the backlogged reports are submitted by this afternoon."

Groans of suffering echoed from the end of the corridor.

*****

The leather-lined door of the Commander's office opened and closed silently. Hugo, who had returned to his office, deliberately did not turn on the lights.

Instead, he went straight to the window and drew the curtains to darken the interior. As the deep wood tones filled his vision in the quiet, his mind eased.

He approached the large desk that occupied almost an entire wall. He pulled back the heavy chair, turned it forty-five degrees, and sat down with a thud, as if collapsing.

The bulky, sturdy chair gently embraced Hugo's stiff body. As he took a deep breath, surrendering himself to gravity and going limp, his upper body, which had bulked up excessively lately, swelled against the backrest. The overfilled chair creaked, groaning laboriously.

With his eyes closed, he emptied his mind for a moment, then felt across the desk with his left hand. What Hugo picked up was the first news article about the case that had just concluded with the final investigation results announcement. Just as he was staring at it with lowered eyes, there was a knock from the door connected to the adjutants' space.

Knock knock—

"Commander, may I come in?"

Hugo set the newspaper down, straightened his posture, and answered:

"Come in."

The one who immediately opened the door and entered was Flynn. In his hands were a wooden tray bearing a teapot and a stack of documents.

Flynn crossed the spacious room, approached Hugo, and placed the documents on the tabletop. Then he lifted the warmed teapot and tipped it over the teacup.

"They say herbs refresh the mind. I thought this would be good today."

A clean herbal scent spread subtly through the air with the hot steam. Hugo nodded without responding. His hand, already holding a pen, mechanically signed the documents, then turned to the next page again and again.

However, the motion didn’t last long. A document requesting permission to conclude the investigation of the explosion incident was placed before his eyes.

As the tip of the pen hesitated over the signature line, Flynn, who had been watching closely, added casually:

"Even though we held onto it for quite a while, no evidence came out. The announcement has been made, and I think you've done as much as you could."

Flynn's voice was calm, but it was tinged with concern. Hugo, unable not to notice, couldn’t press the pen down for a while.

Shorendo's straightforward briefing indicated the conclusion of the case, and within the Council, all battalion commanders and council members had already agreed to conclude that the incident was an accident. However, Hugo still had too many unresolved questions. A prime example was the cause of Richard Duncan's death.

The burned man that Hugo and the knights had witnessed on the terrace was, according to the analysis, the last appearance of the late Richard Duncan.

He had swayed precariously with his body hanging over the second-floor railing before falling headfirst and dying instantly at the scene from brain damage and a fractured skull. The head-shattered corpse was grotesque enough to traumatize many during the recovery process, and the damage was so severe that it was not disclosed to the bereaved family.

If there was one question, it was that the scene just before his death was quite unnatural.

To Hugo's eyes, the moment his head suddenly bent looked like the result of some external force rather than his own will. For instance, as if his head had been pierced by something flying at high speed.

'But....'

No bullets were found inside the body or around the scene. Due to the severe damage to the skull and cerebral cortex from the fall, it was difficult to determine the exact cause of death.

The blue eyes dryly scanned the analysis results contained in the document.

Some, after hearing Hugo's eyewitness testimony, expressed the opinion that Richard Duncan might have lost his footing while writhing in pain. They said it wouldn’t be strange if he’d suffered sudden cardiac arrest, given that his facial skin had been completely peeled off from being caught in the explosion.

It wasn’t wrong, but it was an uncertain assumption. And there was one more unclear assumption like that.

"Flynn, one of the final three people the Count's family servant narrowed down—has the investigation result come out?"

"Ah, that."

Flynn went out to the adjutants' workspace and quickly returned with a two-page sheet. Though it wasn't an official document, it contained the results of the investigation Hugo had personally ordered.

As he looked at the small letters that read "Henry Digliff," Flynn raised the brightness of the desk lamp embedded with a light stone and answered:

"He's in a lord-knight relationship, appointed as a knight as soon as Baroness Penrod received her title, but as you know, he's not a formal knight. When we showed the servant the photo registered in the personal information document at the time of appointment, he just kept saying the face seemed different. He couldn't remember the exact impression."