By Zephyria 
Loren, arms crossed, stared silently at the clock standing in a corner of the conference room. The current time, based on the Zodiac, was 17:00, minus five minutes.
Since the Legion Commander, the final decision-maker, generally arrived five minutes prior to the start of the high-ranking commander meetings at the central branch, the attendees tended to gather early to match his schedule. The preparation and distribution of materials by the presenters had already been completed thirty minutes ago. Except for those unable to attend due to being away, most of the seats were filled.
Some expressed dissatisfaction that a meeting, which could end at any time, had been scheduled so late; others busily reviewed the agenda for the day to grasp the timeline.
Though their behaviors differed, they were all the same in that they were preparing for the meeting about to begin. Just then, a tall man with his hands in his pockets opened the front door of the conference room and walked in.
“Yo, the menu today was pretty decent, wasn’t it?”
The second hand had just passed the number 1, and the remaining time dropped to the 4-minute mark. The gaze of the commanders shifted toward the 4th Battalion Commander, who entered while making such carefree remarks.
Andreas scanned the room, holding a steaming mug.
“Is the Commander not here yet?”
With a stack of papers tucked under his arm, he gave a slight bounce of his hips and nudged the conference room door shut.
“I told you, didn’t I? He’s 100% going to be late today.”
As the heavy door slid halfway shut, his voice echoed particularly loudly. At his confident attitude, Maria Angel, the 9th Battalion Commander, replied with a worried expression.
“You went to eat at this hour? What if the Commander had arrived first?”
“He’s in a good mood today, so he’d probably let it slide. Besides, I’m not late.”
Andreas arched an eyebrow with a sly tone. He then approached the conference room clock, which was nearly as tall as he was. Looking at his handsome face reflected in the dark glass surface, he took his hand out of his pocket and swept back his hair.
“I actually work pretty well with younger types… She pretended not to be interested, but her skills are quite impressive.”
“Stop talking nonsense and take a seat.”
A cold voice cut through the ambiguous monologue where the subject had been omitted. Andreas looked back at Loren, shrugged his shoulders, and headed to the seat next to her without further word. Venom, the 8th Battalion Commander, and Meterion, the 3rd Battalion Commander—who occasionally clashed over trivial matters—also quietly observed the 4th Battalion Commander today.
Andreas pulled out a chair, flopped down, leaned back, and crossed his legs.
“Anyway. I heard it’s a festival outside right now, so let’s keep things relaxed here. The betting amounts have doubled compared to usual, so the higher-ups are thrilled; why is the atmosphere here like this?”
The one who gave a puzzled look at his remark was Verity Sharma, the 5th Battalion Commander.
“Relaxed, my foot. Why are you suddenly talking so carelessly? At a time like this…”
She muttered in a reproaching tone while scanning the outline. Shorendo, the Vice Commander, who had been watching, intervened with a tactful smile.
“The meal was good today, wasn’t it? It seems the headquarters put some effort into it since it’s the preliminary rounds.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t want for anything more if it were like this every day.”
“But Senior, why did you say the Commander would be late?”
Since the 4th Battalion Commander was the last person to be with the Legion Commander, they wondered if he knew something. Though his behavior seemed promiscuous and light, he was not a man whose words lacked weight.
“Did you hear something?”
“Oh, what? Does no one know yet? This is… I can’t be the one to announce it first.”
Andreas’s lips twitched as if he were itching to speak, but he soon made a gesture of tapping his palm.
“I owe the Commander quite a bit, so I can’t spill the beans when the party involved isn’t here. Ask him directly when he arrives.”
He gave a sly yet uncharacteristically fresh smile with his eyes.
He dropped a huge hint of suspicion and then ultimately backed out. It was a predictable move. His colleagues, already accustomed to this, brushed it off, thinking, ‘He’s probably just talking nonsense again because he doesn’t want to work.’
By then, the clock Loren had been watching had about one minute left until the hour. Just then, busy and heavy footsteps were heard through the gap of the slightly open conference room door.
“He’s here.”
Loren let out a word as she uncrossed her arms. At that, the scattered attendees returned to their seats in an orderly fashion. Those who were sitting stood up from their chairs.
Only Andreas, who hadn’t grasped the situation, remained arrogant before hurriedly standing up.
“He’s here? Already?”
The heavy conference room door opened smoothly, and glossy navy-blue hair appeared. Hugo, looking slightly out of breath, entered while adjusting his tie, accompanied by Flynn.
“Sorry I’m late. Let’s begin immediately.”
A crisp white shirt without a single wrinkle, and pomade hair swept back exceptionally neatly. A refreshing yet dignified scent of perfume spread throughout the conference room. From all sides, they greeted their superior in unison, chanting, “Welcome, sir.” While doing so, they occasionally glanced back at the 4th Battalion Commander who had been so boastful.
“You weren’t late. You arrived exactly on time.”
Vice Commander Shorendo corrected him while gathering the briefing materials. Hugo gave a slight nod without saying much and sat in the seat of honor.
Following him, the attendees sat down in a crowd. Except for the fact that his usual navy blue tie had changed to gray, there was no great difference from the morning. Since he was a Duke who valued cleanliness above all else, even that wasn’t strange.
‘He left in such a rush, and nothing happened?’
Only Andreas followed Hugo with a look that said, ‘This can’t be right.’
It seemed his superior was a much tougher man than he thought. Rolling his eyes, Andreas clumsily took his seat. Hugo, who had cast a brief glance in that direction, gestured toward the podium as if to say to start without making a fuss.
…A clear handprint was stamped on his wrist, which was momentarily revealed, but unfortunately, no one noticed.
“As a result of the detailed autopsy of Marcus Servan’s body, the cause of death is presumed to be a self-inflicted wound through the orbit area, rather than the previously known suicide by glossectomy. Minute scars were found inside the eyelids of the corpse along with conjunctival hemorrhage.”
Today’s meeting was originally scheduled to proceed with agenda discussions, starting with the monthly report. However, upon Vice Commander Shorendo’s suggestion, it was agreed to prioritize the results of Servan’s autopsy. This was because an urgent report he received before the preliminary matches began had once again thrown the clues of the internal investigation into a labyrinth. Since this was a major cause of the current depressed atmosphere within the Council, there were no particular objections to his proposal.
“During the initial investigation, it was judged to be a secondary finding caused by a momentary increase in pressure during the process of the deceased biting their tongue. However, during the autopsy, irregular arrangements of the optic canal and superior orbital fissure were confirmed. This appears to be a phenomenon that often occurs during the process where soft tissue is injured and then regenerated through recovery. Therefore, there were circumstances suggesting an attempt to conceal the actual cause of death, and since the possibility that this was a clue appearing in that process could not be ruled out, further investigation was conducted based on this.”
Hugo touched the corner of his mouth, which was still stinging, while listening to the briefing from the medical examiner attending as a witness. Even then, he occasionally stared sharply forward and left brief notes on the summary paper.
Introduction of old-fashioned handcuffs, Leonardo Blaine, his unstable magic control.
The start of the league, the sudden testimony, the death of the witness, and the attempt to conceal the cause of death. The tangled thread stretched long at his fingertips.
“As a result, we confirmed a small amount of blood pooling inside the skull, leading in a straight line through the optic nerve above the eyelid. On the other hand, as mentioned previously, although a large amount of bloodstains were detected in the oral tissues, vital muscle reactions were still not detected.”
“In other words, based on the circumstances revealed so far, there is a high possibility that it was disguised as a suicide immediately after homicide.”
“Yes, it seems it can be viewed that way.”
Hugo, taking over from the medical examiner, concluded the briefing with a short summary. Consequently, the atmosphere in the conference room froze desolately.
Soon, as the medical examiner stepped down from the podium, Shorendo, who took the baton, stood before the rostrum.
“Synthesizing the news received during the morning, we met with the bereaved family of the late Company Commander Marcus Servan and shared the results of the first detailed autopsy. In response, the family expressed deep shock and sorrow, but unlike before, they expressed a strong will to uncover the truth of the incident. Regarding this—”
“Isn’t that only possible when they respond to the request for cooperation?”
The one who interrupted in a chilly tone was Meterion. The battalion commanders focused their gaze on the cold-blooded man who never failed to disappoint.
“With the attitude they’re showing now, nothing that can’t be solved will be solved; I don’t know how they expect the truth to be uncovered.”
It was a remark perfect for a villain, but strictly speaking, it wasn’t wrong.
Until now, separate from the testimony regarding the introduction of old-fashioned handcuffs that Company Commander Servan had confessed, the bereaved family claimed that his suicide was due to the Council’s harsh coercive investigation. Thus, even after his death, they had strongly refused the Council’s requests for investigative cooperation, which they believed were attempts to gather evidence that would tarnish the family’s honor and prestige.
Therefore, it was natural that some reacted with a sense of relief at Meterion’s sharp point about the contradiction.
“Ah… regarding that point, there are some materials submitted as of today.”
Just then, the Vice Commander’s adjutant, Erdin Shirley, handed a yellow envelope to Shorendo at the rostrum in accordance with his superior’s gesture.