After the Golden Star Tournament ended.
I moved even more busily than before.
Because there had been an unexpected windfall.
'I never imagined Roman would have photographs.'
Treating the lance fighter Sian had partly been because I was the one who'd hurt him—but mainly because his skill was useful.
'What matters is his ability. Heal him and hire him, and he becomes a valuable asset.'
I'd made him potions, given him expensive herbs, and diligently assisted his rehabilitation.
That was all I'd done.
I truly hadn't expected things to fall into place like this. I couldn't help but laugh.
House Daikah had historically managed the Northern liquor distribution network. So much so that the saying went: "If you want to run a liquor business in the North, get House Daikah's permission first."
I pulled out a sheet of paper and listed the brands I wanted. First, Iruna Noble. Then a couple more fine liquors.
I'd need to ask my brother, Roman, and Krombell for recommendations later.
At any rate. I finished the backlog of tasks. Straightened my clothes.
Tidied my hair.
Checked one last time that there was no scent of blood on me.
Once everything was confirmed.
I went to the Lord's study.
Standing before that particularly massive door today, I gulped down a dry swallow.
Before the regression, standing before this door had been so terrifying, so burdensome. But.
The me before the regression and the me now were different.
What was the difference?
Back then, I never knocked. Now, I do.
KNOCK— KNOCK—
I knocked and said:
"Father. I'm here."
"Come in."
The instant permission was given, I opened the door. When something feels burdensome, you must not hesitate.
Otherwise, you'll never get past that wall of burden. And so I walked in with bold steps.
Father was still looking at documents.
When I actually faced him and tried to speak, my mouth moved but nothing came out.
But I had to keep chipping away at moments like this.
Partly because Father and I were flesh and blood, but also because I would need to persuade him on many matters going forward.
"Father. I've won and returned."
"I saw."
"......!"
For a moment, I thought I'd misheard. You saw? You saw it? You really watched?
Father simply said he'd seen.
He didn't praise me.
Well done.
My son.
I always believed in you.
None of those words came.
Only his expression had softened ever so slightly. I looked at Father and said to myself:
'For now, that's more than enough. Father. Please open your heart, little by little.'
The possibility that this stiff father-son relationship could gradually improve. That alone lifted my spirits.
Of course, that was that.
And work was work.
"Then, does this mean you grant permission?"
With the Lord's authorization, an organization of Knights within the Inspectorate that could streamline all procedures—and conduct evidence gathering, investigation, searches, and if necessary, enforcement. A Special Investigation Unit.
The authority I wanted more than anything right now.
Father opened his mouth slowly.
"If you can convince the Inspectorate Director as well."
An unmistakable approval.
"Leave that to me."
Father nodded. I bowed again. And walked out of the Lord's study with a slightly lighter step.
***
After Sion Karsen left the Lord's study. David Karsen paused his paperwork and stood.
He walked to the window and looked out. He heightened his vision. The grand mansion built on the hill. The Lumenia River passing right before it. Beyond the river, Seiren, the Northern capital.
The vast city spread out before him in a single sweeping view.
There was a time he'd poured everything he had into making this place fit for people to live.
He'd built it hand in hand with the woman he loved, spent happy days with her, and before he knew it, children he'd cherish with his life had been born.
After she died.
Everything looked black and white.
Like an empty snowfield. All he could see was the white snow and his own faded self.
Was there meaning in living?
He'd considered letting go of life and walking toward death. But how could he abandon those children—those tiny bundles of flesh and blood?
He'd clung to life. Barely. Precariously.
The eldest had grown into a powerful Knight to fill his absence. The second had been born with business acumen. So the child he'd worried about most was the third.
But unlike his late wife, he'd never known how to handle children—so he'd only watched. Never intervened, no matter what happened. And then.
One day, the third son's demeanor had changed.
His every move was different.
David Karsen looked up at the distant sky.
'Was it you who helped him?'
No answer came, of course. He sat back at his desk. He took out a crystal orb from the drawer.
That day. The moment Sion had felled Silvia was still vivid in his memory.
The Golden Star Tournament could not be won on luck, and Silvia was not an opponent who could be beaten by tricks.
And yet. Sion had won. He had changed. And he was trying to change even more.
David Karsen said quietly:
"Zephyr."
And then, from beside the bookshelf, a shadow crept out like smoke and took human form.
Jet-black hair. Sharp features. Sunken but blue eyes. A black uniform.
Every aspect of his appearance combined to create an edge that seemed it would cut at a touch.
"Yes, my lord. You called."
David asked with an impassive gaze.
"What do you make of it?"
The man called Zephyr answered without hesitation.
"He seems like an entirely different person."
"Any idea what caused it?"
"I have seen him going in and out of the hill behind the mansion. If there was a catalyst, that would be it."
"......"
David fell into thought.
'The hill behind the mansion. The ruins of Lumen. And the mythology......'
This hadn't originally been where the mansion stood, but the territory itself had always belonged to House Karsen.
The hill, the ruins, and the mythology passed down through the ruins were all deeply connected to House Karsen.
He was a man who relied solely on his own strength and effort, regardless of ruins or mythology. He'd never paid them much mind. But his wife had once said this:
—When I read the myths related to the dead gods, I get a strange feeling. Romantic yet tragic, perhaps? I should pray that this mythology doesn't come to pass in our children's generation.
—Why is that?
—Because I don't want their lives to be arduous.
—It shall not be.
David had a feeling her prayer would go unanswered. He couldn't be certain of anything yet, but somehow, he just felt it.
And. If that was the case.
"Where is the man Sion brought?"
"Waiting in the reception room. Shall I bring him here? Or shall I turn him away?"
"Bring him."
"Yes, my lord."
"And. Cancel all my appointments. It has been a while since I last trained."
"......!"
Zephyr was genuinely startled. He was normally a man of almost no emotional variation. But this time, he couldn't help it.
After all. The lord who had lost his lady and secluded himself for so long was going to begin training again?
Shock and deep emotion washed over him unbidden.
"......Yes, my lord. I will prepare the training hall."
"Thank you."
With a gust, Zephyr vanished into the shadows. David looked at his dust-covered fine sword in one corner of the room.
If fate led his children's lives into treacherous mountains, his only duty was to be a steady pillar for them to lean on.
Somehow, it felt as if a small flame had bloomed in the black-and-white snowfield.
***
With Father's permission secured, I went straight to the Inspectorate. Stepping inside the building, the Director's secretary came out and guided me to a reception room.
'Did Father notify him in advance?'
I followed the guide into the reception room. Inspectorate Director Midgal Rau. The man called the Iron-Blooded Knight was waiting for me with light refreshments prepared.
I immediately bowed at the waist.
"Good day, Director."
"Yes, Young Lord. Please, sit down."
"Thank you."
After taking my seat.
We exchanged simple pleasantries.
Director Midgal's gaze was as gentle as could be, and I knew his courtesy wasn't directed at me.
His courtesy was aimed solely at House Karsen. There was no reason for him to respect a greenhorn like me in the first place.
After warming up with light conversation, he got to the point.
"I have heard the authorities you wish for your Special Investigation Unit, but...... I believe this goes too far."
I could hear the discomfort in his voice. The atmosphere had shifted. He was a completely different person from a moment ago.
Right.
This was the Knight named Midgal Rau.
He was a Knight who welcomed my growth—but not my arrogance.
'And that's exactly why I trust him.'
Knights lived and died by their pride. Because of that, they valued procedure more than anyone.
The Special Investigation Unit was a division that bypassed those procedures, so of course there would be pushback.
But. I wasn't simply throwing a tantrum about ignoring procedure. If following every procedure still produced results, why would I ignore them?
"Let me ask you one thing. In your view, Director, is the North clean?"
"......What are you trying to say?"
"The price of goods coming into the North is double that of the West, South, and East. Meanwhile, goods leaving the North are sold at absurdly low prices. Do you think the Trade Administration Bureau is unaware?"
"......"
Midgal's eyes wavered. This was precisely why. Because he was just and upright. I was confident I could convince him.
And. Midgal Rau was weak to valid arguments and quick to concede.
"What about liquor—essential to the North? House Daikah has a stranglehold on it and extorts obscene profits. Mining goes without saying. House Paiel is notorious for exploiting their miners. You know how many have died. And the Land Administration Bureau? They've colluded with nobles and merchants to run all manner of construction projects using territory taxes. Not proper projects, of course—just tax money funneled away."
"Follow proper procedure and investigate."
"Have you not been investigating by proper procedure all this time?"
"......"
Midgal couldn't answer. Any response would amount to admitting that the Inspectorate had failed to function properly—admitting his own incompetence.
In truth, the Inspectorate had almost certainly been investigating more diligently than anyone.
But the criminals had exploited the Inspectorate's procedures with surgical precision, slipping through the cracks like eels, and here they were.
An absurd situation, but one that arose with depressing ease.
I drove the wedge home.
"Director. The territory residents are starving. Meanwhile, the Northern nobles and corporations live in lavish estates and throw parties of unspeakable excess."
"The reckless investigations you conducted in the past let even more of them escape."
Midgal cut me off. A line drawn: go no further. But I wouldn't be stopped that easily.
"I was reckless. I admit it. But I have changed. I caught the Hashman brothers, demonstrated results through the Red Fang subjugation, and cared for the victims afterward. You know all of this."
Midgal's eyes wavered. Just once—but in that single moment, I'd touched on everything the Inspectorate had been negligent about.
"To catch rats spreading plague, someone has to open the filthy sewer and climb inside. Even if it means being covered in filth. I am volunteering for that role."
Midgal said nothing for a moment. The silence meant deliberation, and the deliberation was brief.
The Golden Star Tournament finals must have helped.
"Young Lord."
"Yes, Director."
"Very well. But a launching mission will be assigned."
A launching mission. In other words.
A mission to establish the Special Investigation Unit's legitimacy.
Only natural.
To clean up the North, I needed commensurate authority, and such authority required promotion—both externally and internally.
'Good.'
If the launching mission wrapped up successfully and word spread across the North, the Special Investigation Unit would become a channel for the territory residents' voices.
A last resort for citizens driven to the brink by exploitative nobles, corrupt power brokers, and systemic rot—a place where they could file their grievances.
At any rate. It was an unmistakable approval.
I smiled brightly at him and said:
"Thank you, Director."