[Imperial Security Department -Obsidian]
The air inside was always cold, crisp, and heavy with tension.
The tapping of shoes, the scribbling of pens, and the constant chatter of enchanted communication crystals were the soundtrack of this place.
Behind a large steel-plated door engraved with the empire's sigil, in an office lined with heavy file drawers, sealed scroll tubes, and crystal recording spheres, Senior Manager Phoebe sat at her desk.
The room was filled with organized chaos—thick stacks of documents, sealed folders, and red-marked reports that screamed urgency.
She pinched the bridge of her nose, her red hair cascading over one shoulder like flame.
Her uniform jacket was folded neatly on a nearby coat stand, revealing the tailored white shirt underneath, its cuffs rolled up to her elbows.
A silver emblem, shaped like the wings of the Empire's griffin, gleamed from her collar—signifying her high rank.
Her eyes, a sharp and tired shade of blue, glared down at the latest report she had been reviewing for nearly an hour.
"...I'd rather fight in a bloody war than spend another minute with these cursed folders..."
She muttered under her breath, slamming one document closed and tossing it aside.
She leaned back in her seat—an austere leather chair that seemed as tired as she was—and gazed up at the ceiling, letting out a long, measured sigh.
This was the life of a Senior Manager at the ISD.
She dealt with classified troop movements, emergency war orders, national supply lists, and records of both civilian and military unrest.
She was expected to keep track of multiple departments, organize and verify reports, manage internal investigations, and worst of all—handle budget oversight from the Treasury...
Which had been Noel's position...but he had resigned leaving her to handle it all in the meantime.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to throw one of the crystals out the window.
Just then, a hurried knock—no, not even a knock—came from the door as it swung open.
"Ah! S-Senior Manager! I-I'm sorry for not knocking—!"
Phoebe's eyes slowly turned toward the door, her glare sharp and ice-cold.
Standing there, half-bowed, was a girl in glasses—Melia, her personal assistant.
She looked flustered, strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead from running, and she clutched a bundle of papers tightly against her chest.
"You didn't knock," Phoebe said flatly, her voice as hard as the walls around them.
Melia winced.
"Y-Yes ma'am...
...I-I sincerely apologize."
Phoebe didn't say anything further—just stared.
Melia shuffled inside quickly and laid the documents on the desk.
"I came to deliver the latest reports from the Wall."
Phoebe's brows furrowed slightly, her hand reaching out for the first page.
"What is it this time?" she asked, flipping through.
Melia stood stiff.
"The patrol captains are… having difficulty.
The soldiers stationed there are giving more and more irregular reports.
Unusual activity, sudden drop in morale, unexplained injuries.
But no one's giving solid details."
Phoebe's eyes scanned the words on the page.
Most of them were vague.
Non-committal.
"...Tch," she clicked her tongue.
"What about the Holy Knights? Isn't this supposed to fall under their jurisdiction?"
Melia quickly nodded.
"The Holy Grail Faction has deployed some assistance.
A few paladins and clerics were sent as reinforcement.
But… most of the Holy Grail is currently engaged in other critical territories.
The Church says they're stretched thin."
Phoebe slammed the folder shut and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk.
Of course they are, she thought bitterly.
The Holy Grail Faction—known as the blade and shield of the Church—were the Empire's most elite warriors.
But the Empire, under the Holy Emperor's guidance, had long stopped sending enough support to the Wall.
It was no longer a political interest.
Too far. Too expensive. Too easy to ignore.
That part of the Empire had always been a battlefield—and now it was slowly becoming something worse.
She took another deep breath and then looked back up at Melia.
"What about the report you gave me three days ago?
The one during the Welcome Party… about Manager Noel...
You were to hand it to me the very next morning after the welcome party..."
Melia froze, blinking behind her glasses.
"O-oh… right!"
She flipped through her bag and pulled out another file, hands fumbling.
"So, originally, there were flagged records from the Treasury section.
They had listed a significant gap in funding—massive amounts, ma'am.
The missing amounts lined up with the same period Noel Grenn was assigned to the department."
Phoebe narrowed her eyes.
Melia adjusted her glasses, still flustered.
"But when I submitted the full report to the Minister's office, I received a message back that the record was officially deemed a false entry.
The Minister's own words—
'Noel's involvement in the financial discrepancies was a misfile by junior auditors. The gap has since been accounted for.'"
Phoebe didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stared.
A misfile? she thought.
That amount of money… gone just like that?
She did the calculations quickly in her head.
That sum could've outfitted an entire platoon of Imperial Knights.
Or supplied blessed gear from the Holy Grail's stores.
That wasn't a simple error.
Not something to just brush under the rug.
Her tone turned colder.
"Did the Minister say those words to you directly?"
Melia shook her head.
"N-No, ma'am.
The message was relayed to me through his aide after I turned in the documents.
I didn't get to see the Minister myself."
Phoebe leaned back, silent.
Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the table as her red hair fell gently around her shoulders.
Her green eyes were deep in thought.
Was this a cover-up? A real mistake? Or something else entirely?
Noel's file had always been incomplete. His background, his assignments, his record—it was clean.
Too clean.
And now, even a serious fund report was dismissed just like that.
She closed her eyes briefly, her tone flat and unreadable.
"...Very well. You may leave."
Melia nodded quickly, bowed, and shuffled out.
As the door closed behind her, Phoebe finally opened her eyes again.
There was a flicker of something sharp in them.
***
[༺ Noel's POV ༻]
I didn't expect to find Claire—let alone in the academy, and in my office.
"Claire?... What are you doing here?
I asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind me with a soft click.
She stood near the window, light brown hair tied neatly behind her neck, and those warm, sharp eyes turning toward me with a smile I hadn't seen in a while.
"The Minister tasked me with assisting you here at the academy," she said, folding her hands.
"And also to help with your partial duties back at the Imperial Security Department."
My heart skipped a beat.
So she knew.
That I hadn't officially resigned.
That I was still a civil servant—still tied to that suffocating system—just… hidden from the public eye.
It somehow made me angry my chest tightening.
The Minister had promised me.
Promised to keep that detail between the two of us.
So much for discretion.
But then again, I couldn't complain too much.
Claire was trustworthy. She had always been.
Since we were kids, we'd been by each other's side.
She was one of the few people I could place my faith in without second thoughts.
Even now, her presence felt… grounding.
"I'll be helping you prepare lectures," she continued, her tone shifting to a more professional one.
"Assisting with practical evaluations, scheduling, and if need be, administrative clearance for any restricted materials or classified records—thanks to the Minister pulling a few strings for me to be officially recognized as your assistant instructor."
She smiled as she said it, almost proud.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, thinking—remembering.
Or rather, Ju-won was digging into Noel's old memories.
Claire had always been a scholar, even if she hadn't studied here at Velorian Imperial Academy.
Back then, we'd parted ways during our youth—me attending Velorian, and Claire joining a different institution under the Holy Church of Lumin's direct support.
We met again years later.
By then, she had become my assistant manager at the Imperial Security Department.
I had taken on the position of Senior Instructor at the Imperial Academy alongside my ISD duties.
A bizarre dual life—but we'd managed.
I noticed now that Noel's memories with her together … were intact.
Whole. Almost untouched.
Unlike the fragments I had with others—blurry moments, missing context, bitter exchanges that I couldn't make sense of.
My thoughts drifted to Adel Saint Redwyne.
He said we'd been acquainted because of Claire.
But… asking Claire too much about that now might tip her off.
Might make her suspicious.
That I wasn't really "Noel."
So I stayed silent.
Still, the way Adel had spoken… I could guess they'd met during the years Claire and I were apart.
Only one question was safe to ask.
"Claire… during the attack at the ISD, the Holy Knight—Adel—arrived just in time."
I glanced at her, voice calm.
"That's what I was told. So I wanted to ask how he knew.
How did he show up so suddenly?"
Claire paused, tapping her index finger on her cheek thoughtfully.
"Oh… that's right," she said after a moment.
"It was because of a pen-like device he gave me a while ago.
I press it when I'm in danger—or if I need his help urgently.
It sends him a direct signal."
She chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Well… it used to be for other simpler things too."
My eyebrow twitched, and I leaned forward slightly.
"Secret meetups?"
She flinched, visibly caught off guard.
I could read people like open books.
Claire wasn't that hard to figure out either.
She clutched her hands together, gaze dropping to the floor.
"Yes…" she whispered.
I didn't say anything.
Did they use to date?
Were they close?
Closer than I thought?
I—remembered the name Adel from my sister's playthroughs of the game.
But those were just passing glances.
Peeking over her shoulder as she tapped away.
Sometimes, she'd read dialogue aloud.
I remembered once, hearing her say lines that sounded like poetry.
And there on the screen, I had seen him—a man in white, blonde almost white hair tied back loosely, sitting by a window, writing.
Adel was… a poet?
Poems… for Claire?
I pieced the possibility together, but it felt vague. Incomplete.
I didn't have enough to make anything of it.
So I let it go.
I just smiled. Softly.
Claire eventually broke the silence, snapping her fingers as though remembering something.
"I've already planned your first lecture," she said brightly.
"It starts tomorrow. Everything's scheduled."
I nodded.
"Alright. I'll go check the workshop then."
"Workshop?" she blinked.
"Where the lectures will take place," I clarified.
"I want to make sure everything's in place."
And also…
I wanted to make sure I was in place.
Still myself.
Still stable.
The workshop was located at the Magic Engineering Tower.
Where I had spent most of my early teaching days.
Where I had built a reputation.
I left the office and stepped into the corridor.
***
Claire left in Noel's office had a memory resurface
---
The steam from Claire's teacup drifted lazily into the afternoon light, curling and twisting like her thoughts.
She sat across from Melia in the quiet lounge of the Imperial Security Department, the rare silence offering them a much-needed break from the chaos of their paperwork-ridden lives.
Melia sighed and took a delicate sip of her own tea, her shoulders visibly relaxing for the first time that day.
"I was supposed to take this to the Minister," she said, tapping a folded document beside her saucer.
"But he's been unreachable all morning.
Apparently he's in another closed-door meeting with the Church auditors again."
Claire's gaze casually flicked toward the file.
Her eyes lingered for a second longer than necessary.
That signature.
Noel Grenn.
A neat, familiar flourish on the lower page.
Her heart gave a slight tug, a discomfort she couldn't explain.
"I can take it for you," she said, setting her teacup down.
"I'm seeing the Minister after this anyway."
Melia hesitated, blinking.
"I—really? Are you sure?"
Claire gave her a knowing look.
"It's either me or you'll have to go through Linng."
The effect was immediate.
Melia paled.
"Oh no. Not Linng.
Last time I bumped into him in the hallway, he followed me around for twenty minutes talking about his pet cat and asking if I wanted to go see his succulent collection."
Claire nearly laughed.
"And don't forget the time he sent you a birthday cake shaped like a scroll."
"Claire," Melia groaned, hiding her face, "he said it was 'symbolic of our shared professional passion.'
It had my name spelled wrong!"
"Well then," Claire said, standing and reaching for the folder, "save yourself the heartbreak and hand it over."
Melia sighed in defeat and handed her the document.
"Alright. Just tell the Minister that this is about the revised financial report from the Treasury sub-section.
There were inconsistencies in fund allocation across several quarters.
I had the auditors double-check it.
It's probably nothing, but—well, it needs his attention."
Claire nodded and tucked it under her arm, the moment still oddly serene.
It wasn't until she stood outside the Minister's office, waiting for an audience, that curiosity got the better of her.
She opened the folder.
Eyes scanning.
Figures. Dates. Allocations. Projected expenditures.
Then... gaps.
Big ones.
Whole sections of finances unaccounted for.
Budget meant for logistics and field operations simply marked as "processed," but no linked receipts or requisition logs.
And Noel's signature… three times.
On three different months.
She stared, jaw tightening.
Something was very wrong.
Later that day, she passed Melia again in the hallway and told her simply, "The Minister said it was a false alarm. No follow-up required."
Melia blinked. "That's all?"
Claire nodded with a tight smile. "That's what he said."
But even as she walked away, something in her gut wouldn't settle.
---
Now—
Back in the present, Claire stood in Noel's office at the Imperial Academy.
The room was filled with the scent of old parchment and chalk dust.
A place of learning, of theory, of calm.
Yet the storm inside her mind hadn't faded.
Her expression, once gentle, shifted into a colder resolve as her eyes traced the man she had once known so well.
"Noel…" she said, voice low and sharp now,
"did you really embezzle funds?"
Her question wasn't asked aloud.
She held it behind her eyes.
But for what?
She'd done her digging. Quietly. Carefully.
And it hadn't just been a one-time discrepancy.
The pattern repeated.
Over time, in different departments.
Small enough to avoid alarm. Large enough to make her wary.
And now, he was acting like none of it had happened.
Noel Grenn—the same man she'd known since their youth—he stood before her now with eyes that always seemed to be looking somewhere else.
Somewhere far.
He wasn't stupid.
If anything, he had always been the clever one.
But now… he seemed distracted by the smallest things, confused at moments he used to own.
He was always lost in thought, like the present didn't belong to him.
Yet his demeanor remained the same.
That quiet intensity.
That way of folding his arms.
Of listening, even when he said nothing.
Had he really changed?
Or was she just overthinking all of this?
It had been years since they last saw each other.
Time changed people. That was natural.
But still…
It wasn't just the numbers.
It was his behavior.
The way he moved, hesitated, reacted—didn't react.
It felt like Noel. And yet, it didn't.
Maybe that was why she had taken the financial matter personally.
Why she'd insisted to the Minister that she'd be the one to assist Noel here at the academy.
To watch him.
To read him.
Because something didn't sit right.
He was Noel Grenn.
And yet… he wasn't.
And the question kept burning at the back of her mind, growing louder each passing day—
Why did Noel embezzle funds from the ISD?
Was that what led him to step down from his civil servant role?
Had he been preparing for something?
Or had someone else been pulling the strings?
Whatever it was—
She was going to find out.