Of course. Here is the translation of the web novel chapter.


The Semi-Compulsory Imperialist

In the End, People Are the Problem (3)

The Warden’s office of Imperial Prison No. 13.
Warden Ginter was on a call with someone.

“...Yes. Sir Knight Maximilian has arrived.”

Clutching the receiver with both hands, he respectfully relayed the day’s events.

“It seems he intends to use the limited pardon system. He is currently meeting with inmates, including number 330...”

His cautious voice trailed on, but the reply from the other end was short and concise.

—Unavoidable.

The voice was heavy and deep. The warden flinched, his shoulders hunching involuntarily. The person on the other end was a blade poised much closer than the distant Ebenholz, a threat right before his eyes.

—Prepare for the execution tomorrow morning. The formal execution order will arrive from the Imperial Western Court.

“...Understood.”

Click. The call ended. The warden let out a deep sigh and sank into his chair.


I sat on a steel chair in the prison visitation room.

Tick. Tock.

I found myself staring at the analog clock on the stark white wall for no reason.

Tick. Tock.

That sound, the ticking of the second hand, everything that marked the passage of time—at some point, it had all started to get on my nerves.

Knock, knock.

The door opened with a knock. A guard bowed his head and spoke.

“Inmate 7301, Jin Maykop, is entering.”

The inmates were brought in one by one.
The first was a skinny young man. I looked at his file.

[Jin Maykop. Age 27. Death row inmate. Poisoned eight travelers and stole their valuables while running a small teahouse on the outskirts of the capital.]

“Got any candy? The food here is so bad.”
“...”

I glanced at the man for a moment before waving my hand.

“Next.”
“Inmate 172, Geyus, is entering.”

The second was a burly man. A bushy mustache, his entire body covered in scars.
I turned the page of the file.

[Inmate Information: Geyus Penn. Age 42. Death row inmate. Leader of the ‘Iron Fist’ mercenary group. Attacked freight carriages and murdered over ten people after falling into financial difficulty.]

“I’m curious, Sir Knight, why would you want to see someone like me?”

He tried to sound me out with his low, gravelly voice. I didn’t like his attempt at being clever.

“Next.”
“Inmate 370, Eustich, is entering.”
“Next.”
“Inmate 997, Cain, is entering.”
“Next.”

After a few more meaningless interviews, it was finally her turn.

“Inmate 330, Shaz Heiden, is entering.”

Her number was called.
Inmate 330 sat down before me, the shackles all over her body clanking.

“It’s good to see you.”

I was genuinely glad, but she remained silent. She only stared at me, her gaze firm and resolute.

“Shaz. An unusual name.”

It was a very unique name. There couldn't be many people with it.
Of course, even if it wasn’t unique, I would never have forgotten it.

[Case File: Shaz Heiden. Age 22. Death row inmate. Murdered seven employees of Mason Industry during a mana overflow incident.]

She was a central figure in the revolutionary army before my regression. A person famous enough to have feature articles written about her in the newspapers.

“You killed seven people.”

I flipped past the cover of the case file. Inside were detailed accounts of the incident’s progression, Shaz’s background, and other information.

“...”

I looked at her.

Still no words.
From her very first impression, she was stubbornly headstrong. And a taciturn person to begin with.

“Have you felt any remorse during your three years of imprisonment?”
“...”

I let out a small laugh as I turned the pages of the file.
It looked like I would have to be the one to get to the point.

“Unlike the other lowlifes, you received a high-level education. I suppose that was thanks to the efforts of your father, a commoner who became a lead researcher at a major corporation.”

For a moment, a flicker of emotion crossed Shaz’s brow.

“Your father recognized your talent early on and supported you. However—”
“Do not speak any further.”

It seemed her father was a sensitive subject. It was absurd to me, but at least she finally opened her mouth.

“Your father is dead. The official cause of death was ‘overwork’.”

Shaz clenched her teeth. Her lips formed the shape of a curse but stopped short. It looked like she was barely holding back.

“You didn’t believe it, so you started your own investigation and then...”

A photo of Shaz protesting alone in front of some company was attached to the file.

“This was the result.”

I placed my finger on the last paragraph of the case file.

“The murder of seven citizens due to mana overflow.”
“...What is it that you want?”

Her voice was hoarse and raspy, as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time. I leaned back deep into my chair.

“I’m looking for an investigator. A knight’s duties are quite complex, so I need someone with sharp eyes and ears, even in the dark.”
“And you chose me, a murderer of seven?”
“I’m a good judge of character.”

Shaz let out a hollow laugh, as if she found it ridiculous, but it was precisely this kind of ‘information’ that was my greatest weapon.

“...Let me ask you this. Do you even know what my case is tied up with?”
“That’s something we’ll find out in due time.”

The corners of Shaz’s mouth twisted into a cold sneer.

“You’ll regret this later. You can’t handle someone like me.”

Someone like you.
What a funny thing to say.
I smiled as I faced her.

“No. It’s the exact opposite.”

I took out a document and slid it across the table. It was a limited pardon.

“I’m the one you ‘can’t handle’.”

It was a document that even a knight would find burdensome and therefore use very rarely. At the top was the name of the knight responsible for the pardoned individual.

[Maximilian Albrecht von Ebenholz]

Her eyes wavered.
Again, the name Ebenholz was famous enough to appear in the Empire’s textbooks. Any commoner with a decent education would have to know it.

“This is your chance. A chance that will likely never come again.”

I held out a pen to her.

“...What happens if I sign?”

Shaz’s attitude had softened slightly.

“You’ll receive a limited pardon. You’ll be able to walk out of this prison.”
“And after the pardon, what happens then?”
“You’ll be wearing a leash. Your every action will be under my control.”

I didn’t take my eyes off her.

“And what do I get out of this?”
“An indefinite stay of execution. And...”

I added the one condition she would want most.

“A chance to achieve what you desire.”


Mason Industry.
A massive corporation based in the western part of the Empire, a leader in magitech engineering.
They had once staked everything on a national project of the imperial family—the ‘Mana Engine,’ which artificially infused the human body with mana. Shaz’s father was a lead researcher on that project.
However, in the middle of the project, her father realized the ‘Mana Engine’s’ design was flawed. He requested a restart of the project, but the company, naturally, refused. Instead, to ensure its success, they pushed forward with human experimentation. The subjects were the homeless or demi-humans.

Her father discovered this and died suddenly one day.

The cause of death was overwork.
Shaz, suspicious of her father’s sudden death, began investigating Mason Industry on her own. She found a great deal of evidence and submitted it to the press, but all of it was thoroughly buried. She was crushed by the power of Mason Industry.
Worse, they came for her. They demanded she hand over the ‘original research’ her father had supposedly hidden somewhere, holding a knife to her throat.
Shaz had no idea what her father had hidden. But the deceit of those men who sullied her father’s name was so loathsome that she fought back against those who would take her life.

And that was how she killed seven people.

By the time she came to her senses, she had been arrested. The process from hearing to court to sentencing was over in just one month.

The sentence was death.

“...Number 330.”

Shaz’s eyes shot open. Her body was drenched in sweat.

“Come out.”

Clang. The door to her solitary cell opened, and the morning sun streamed in.
Shaz silently followed the guard.

An inmate on death row is never informed of their schedule. That is how it should be.
But Shaz had signed the limited pardon. Therefore, this procedure was supposed to be in motion.

—However.

Something was wrong with the path.
The corridor stretched out before her, unfamiliar.
Just now, at the fork, they should have turned right.
The exit was that way.

But this was a different path.
A path she should not be on.
The worst path, the one to the left, which she imagined every morning when her day began.
The path that led to the execution ground.
This isn’t the right way.
This can’t be the right way.
Shaz stopped abruptly. A guard pulled her forward by force.

“What is—”

Could it be?
A dreadful feeling shot through her mind.
They beat me to it. Mason’s hand was faster than the Knight of Ebenholz.
The color drained from her face.

“I am—!”

The moment she tried to scream at the guards holding her arms.

“Shh.”

The guard on the left quietly signaled for her to be silent. He even offered a faint smile, as if to reassure her. The guard on the right did the same.

“Just follow us. You know what this means, right?”

Shaz first calmed herself. The guards walked right past the execution chamber. They calmly left the prison and reached an empty lot out back.
A black vehicle was parked there.

“Get in. He’s waiting.”

A guard opened the back door. Shaz numbly got in and sat down.
The man was in the seat next to her.
The symbol of the Empire: golden hair and golden eyes. Features so sharp they seemed carved with a blade, exuding an overwhelming presence. Maximilian of Ebenholz.

“What’s going on?”
“Your execution was decided this morning.”

Maximilian smirked and held up an ‘Execution Order’.

“But I submitted a limited pardon at dawn.”

The car’s engine started, and Maximilian tore the order to pieces. Shaz stared blankly as the document was ripped to shreds.
The court’s order to execute her was torn apart by the hands of a single man.

“In terms of timing, I have the advantage. And a court in the west is no match for a Sentinel.”
“Then...”
“I saved your life. That’s all you need to know.”

Maximilian quietly closed his eyes. It seemed he didn't want to be spoken to any further.
Shaz looked out the window instead. The prison landscape was already receding into the distance, soon replaced by a new vista.

She silently pressed her eyes and nose against the car window, watching the unfamiliar scenery slide by.

Just how much time had passed?

“There’s a car following us.”

Shaz said quietly. Maximilian gave a slight nod.

“Your senses are sharp. No need to worry.”

In the meantime, the vehicle reached the outskirts of the imperial capital.

Screech.

It stopped in an empty lot.

“Get out.”
“...”

Shaz obediently got out. The car that had been following them also stopped nearby. A door opened and someone stepped out.
Shaz’s eyes widened.
It was the two guards who had released her, and the deputy warden.

“...We meet again, 330.”

The deputy warden approached with a bitter smile. Shaz flinched and took a step back.

“How did this happen?”
“It’s simple. We decided to secure our own connections. We can’t stay under that rotten bastard in that rotten prison forever, can we?”

Wealth is merely wealth. Power is merely power. But honor combined with tradition, a revered lineage stretching back five hundred years, is history itself. It naturally attracts people, becoming an object of admiration.
The deputy warden’s faction had approached Maximilian the moment he arrived at the prison. They had reported Warden Ginter and all the corruption within the prison in detail.

“First, these are the personal belongings you had when you were admitted.”

The deputy warden handed Shaz a bag.

“And this is a communication device for contacting the Knight.”

Shaz took the items and stared blankly at Maximilian.

“Until you receive further instructions, train your body over there.”

He pointed to a lodging in the distance. A single building stood alone on an empty plain.

“Your top priority right now is to get stronger.”
“Yes.”

Shaz turned to go but then paused.

“Sir Knight.”

She posed the same question as before to Maximilian, who was watching her silently.

“Why me, of all people?”

Maximilian seemed lost in thought for a moment, then a smile touched his lips. He let out a breath that was more like a sigh.

“There’s no need for questions. Let’s leave the future buried for now.”
“...The future?”

A future, both radiant and bleak. A future where all of humanity, freed from the shackles of the Empire, was destroyed by some god-awful otherworldly race.
In that future, you killed my father.

“Yes.”

The person who killed the world’s Zephystian was none other than you.

“It means stop worrying about useless things and focus only on the present.”

There was no reason not to have you.

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Pub: 02 Oct 2025 04:36 UTC

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