The Future Drawn with a Pen (4)

Janice Times Headquarters.

I had arranged a meeting with the editor-in-chief. It wasn't difficult. When my aide contacted them, he responded as if he’d been waiting, saying he would 'come to me,' but I simply said, 'I'll go there.'

"My apologies, Sir Knight."

The editor-in-chief bowed his head to me.

"We were not fully aware of the fact that the reporter in charge of the incident was Sir Maximilian."

I watched him silently as he offered a formal apology.

---Since the reporter is a child of the Stauffen family, we couldn’t help but give him special treatment until now---

He was talking too much for it all to register, but it seemed Alphonse, being a noble reporter, had been largely free from the desk's censorship.

"As you can see from the article, there was no direct mention of Sir Maximilian, so we..."

The classic method of a media company. They pursue conscience and money in appropriate measure.
In other words, conscience only matters when it makes money.

"It's fine. I understand reporter Alphonse's perspective. However, those people, the illegal immigrants, were indeed members of the revolutionary army."
"So it has been concluded."
"It's not a conclusion, it's the truth."
"Yes, we will ensure a correction article is published as soon as possible. And."

The editor-in-chief placed a worn duffel bag on the table.

"As of today, we are parting ways with reporter Alphonse Stauffen."

It seemed to be Alphonse Stauffen-Verk’s belongings. I gave a bitter smile and shook my head.

"No. It's fine."
"No, Sir Knight. This was our oversight, so it's only right..."
"I said, it's fine."

I raised a hand to cut the editor-in-chief off, my expression turning cold.
Alphonse was, truly, a good reporter.

"Reporter Alphonse is a nobleman. The Stauffens are a good family that has dedicated themselves to the Empire for generations. Therefore, this is something I can readily endure."

The editor-in-chief stared at me blankly for a moment before slowly nodding. It seemed he had reached a suitable understanding.

"I'm relieved. However, let's take a look at the articles reporter Alphonse wrote."
"Yes, they are all in that bag."

I opened the duffel bag. It was filled with bundles of paper. A picture of me he had taken during the Grand Trial was there too. It looked like the bag had been practically snatched from him.
As I skimmed through the various articles Alphonse had written, I furrowed my brow at one unpublished piece.

"Why wasn't this article reported?"

---14-year-old boy, Kane Romil, was he truly the murderer?---
Last month, in the city of Schiltao in the western province of Alteo, a commoner boy, Kane (14), was arrested as a suspect in the serial murder of young girls. He was quickly confirmed as the culprit and is now awaiting sentencing. However, this paper's investigation has revealed that the footprints of an unidentified adult male were discovered at the crime scene, and that no physical evidence exists apart from the boy's confession---

"The Kane Romil case."

The editor-in-chief answered my question in a low voice.

"It was mostly speculation, and the article was shelved due to the reporter's overly subjective conviction that another culprit existed."

I met the editor-in-chief's gaze. I had a general idea of what was going on. The real culprit was likely the child of an influential family, a wealthy household, or had some connection to the head of a media company.
It was obvious. A cliché. But it was the piling up of these clichés that was causing the Empire to creak and groan.

"Since when have you not published speculation? From what I can see, this seems worthy of tomorrow's front page."

The editor-in-chief looked at me with a peculiar expression.

"May I ask why?"

The reason is simple. The Empire must be normalized. At the very least, the cogs of this great nation must each do their part properly. Not purely good, but simply not evil.
Only then can we win the coming war.
Only then can we completely cleanse this land of the Izenheim.

"You should know."

---It's annoying to explain it all. It's a waste of time to persuade him.
There's an easier way.

"If you've made a mistake, you should bury it with a bigger story."

I took out my checkbook and scribbled down a number.

"Don't overthink it. This is just part of the process of seeing if we can be friends."
---

The editor-in-chief stared intently at the amount written on the check. A slight crack appeared on his hitherto expressionless face.


Inside the Janice Times building, Alphonse was locked in a small storage room.

---Open the door! Open up!
"---Hey, kid. Go home and get some rest, for god's sake. Go rest in your nice family home."
---Open up!

His manager, Eddie, sighed as he looked at the thumping door.

---Then open the door first! I'll leave!

Just as the door was being pounded from the inside, the editor-in-chief returned.

"Ah, Editor-in-Chief. You're back."

The woman gestured toward the storage room with a snap of her fingers.

"Let him out."
"Sir?"
"The door. Open it."
"Ah, yes ma'am."

Eddie opened the door, looking puzzled. Alphonse, who came rushing out, immediately held his hand out to the editor-in-chief.

"Where is it? Give me back my bag, my bag! I have to go cover a story right now!"

The editor-in-chief returned the bag without a word, and Eddie ran a hand through his hair.

"That punk--- still talking about covering stories. You're fired as of today, kid. Editor-in-Chief, I'll clear out his desk right away."
"No, it's fine."
"What--- yes?"
"Run this article first. Page one, right below the headline."

---14-year-old boy, Kane Romil, was he truly the murderer?---
Last month, in the city of Schiltao in the western province of Alteo, a commoner boy, Kane (14), was arrested as a suspect in the serial murder of young girls.---

The editor-in-chief handed over the article Alphonse had written.

"What? Isn't this Alphonse's article?"
"What did you say? My article?"

Alphonse, who was about to leave, rushed back and snatched it. He skimmed it, then looked up with a shocked expression.

---You're going to run this? You shot this down at the desk just yesterday.
"That's right. Page one, no less. This kid's articles have never once made the front page."

Alphonse and his manager Eddie were suddenly on the same side.

"The situation has changed. If I tell you to run it, just run it, no backtalk."
"---Ah, yes."
"Alphonse, you go do whatever reporting you were going to do. Mr. Eddie, you get back to work."

The manager returned to his desk, bewildered, while Alphonse stared blankly at the editor-in-chief before scowling.

"What? What did that Sir Maximilian say to you? Did he insult you? Did you finally come to your senses??"
"It's the opposite."
"The opposite? What's the opposite? Are you talking about bedbugs?"

Ignoring Alphonse's nonsense, she walked into the editor-in-chief's office.

"Haaa..."

The editor-in-chief, Celine Dubois, sat down in her chair, pressing her temples firmly.
Today, she had met Maximilian. It was a rare opportunity. So, for that brief time, she had tried her best to understand what kind of person Maximilian was, concentrating on his expression and psychology, but she couldn't get any read on him.

---He'd have the story of another noble run on the front page just to bury an article about himself that barely made it to page two.

To call it fastidiousness would be one thing, but then he protects Alphonse, who directly attacked him, for the simple reason that he is a noble.

"Is he profound, or just a strange person?"

Celine picked up her terminal. She immediately made a call.

---Margaret-kyung.
---Yes, speak.

Margaret. She was the true owner of this newspaper. Celine herself was merely an agent.

"A message from Sir Maximilian von Ebenholz.---"

She relayed everything that had happened today, including Maximilian's proposal.

---I see.

Margaret considered it for a moment.
There was another culprit in the Kane Romil case, and the parents of the suspected culprit were nobles with deep connections in the media and the legal world. That was why the desk had cut the story in the first place—due to that external pressure.
But now, their opponent was not some mere newspaper company, but Ebenholz.
For Margaret, the owner of the Janice Times, judging the hierarchy between the families and the scale of their donations was a very simple matter.

---Do as he says.
"Yes."

Margaret's order came down. Placing the terminal down, Celine picked up a fountain pen. She rested her chin on her hand, pondered for a moment, and then put the nib to a blank sheet of paper.

Tap--- tap---tatap---

She drew something, creating a code.
A code made like this would be sent as a secret mail to somewhere.
To a place that harbored an unshakable ambition—a group that dreamed of revolution.


The Kane Romil case was one that Alphonse had been chasing for nearly a month. The boy had suddenly become a murderer one day, and despite circumstantial evidence suggesting he wasn't the culprit, the investigative authorities had ignored it all.
But the moment the article hit the front page, the heavens were overturned.
A mere 40 days after the incident, the local court that had sentenced the boy to death reversed its verdict the very next day. Central police officers arrived directly from the capital. They re-collected the evidence that had been dismissed until now and quickly identified the 'real' suspect.

"Thank you--- thank you so much, reporter."

The freed boy's parents thanked Alphonse with tears in their eyes. The uneducated and the have-nots. Alphonse shook his head. He earnestly refused the gifts they offered.

"It's not over yet."

Alphonse turned to look at the central police who had taken over the case. What was his name again? Anyway, he approached the man and shrugged.

"---This is what they call 'the power of the pen,' isn't it?"
"The power of the pen?"

The mustached officer frowned, but then let out a smirk.

"Well, you're not wrong. But reporter, this wasn't because of 'your' pen."
"What? Then why are you people here?"
"It's not because of you, reporter."
"So what is it because of?"
---If you're curious, read it yourself.

The officer casually tossed a document at him. Alphonse picked it up.
On the document, half of which was blank, a few short sentences were written.

-[Official Letter from the Sentinel Knight Order]-
From: Sentinel Knight Order
To: Western Alteo Provincial Court
Subject: Immediately halt the execution of Kane Romil and order a fair retrial.

As a member of the Sentinel Knight Order, this officer raises deep questions about the manner in which your court reached a guilty verdict with such unusual speed in the 'Kane Romil' case you presided over.
Therefore, I solemnly command that the execution of the suspect be immediately halted until the truth of this case is clearly identified, and that all investigative procedures be restarted from scratch under the direction of the Imperial Central Police.
Be advised that this order is based on the inherent authority of a knight to protect the justice of the Empire, and that any and all legal and administrative responsibility arising from non-compliance will rest entirely with the Western Alteo Provincial Court.

And, the signature at the very bottom.

[Maximilian Albrecht von Ebenholz]

---Maximilian...-
"How is it?"

Alphonse flinched and looked up. The officer was stroking his mustache, the corners of his mouth twisted into a smirk.

"The weight of the pen is quite a bit different, isn't it?"


---[Culprit in Girl's Murder Case Finally Caught]---
By: Alphonse von Stauffen

By the wise and swift order for a retrial from Sir Maximilian von Ebenholz of the Sentinel Knight Order, the Imperial Central Police reinvestigated the 'Kane Romil' case from scratch. As a result, the true culprit was identified as 'Markus von Baum,' the second son of the Baum family. Without Sir Maximilian's sharp insight, the unjust death of a young boy could not have been prevented. The Western Court, regarding compensation for the victim---

A new article graced the front page one day.
Phrases praising Maximilian were awkwardly inserted here and there, suggesting it had gone through special censorship at the desk, but still.

"Nice."

It was necessary.
Before my return, the Izenheim had exploited the cracks in the Empire, where over 97% of the population were commoners. They prodded at the hearts of the lower class, who couldn't even live a decent human life. They further inflated the distrust and hostility towards the Empire that was already near its breaking point, and upended the system and regime from top to bottom, bottom to top, outside to inside.
Therefore, a minimum level of faith in the Empire had to be maintained.
To that end, I intended to make the most of the Janice Times. Alphonse's articles would now go largely uncensored. The justice Alphonse desires will serve as a mild comfort and propaganda for the commoners of the Empire.
Except, of course, for articles that tarnish my honor.
Of course, Alphonse would try not to make an exception for Ebenholz, but that could be controlled at the desk level.

---Alphonse von Stauffen.

I remembered his name.
Then and now, he criticized the corruption of the Empire, and after the new cabinet took over, he criticized their hypocrisy.
This meant he was not a member of the revolutionary army. Just a good person who cared for the poor to his very bones.

Knock, knock.

The office door opened. It was Tiana.

---"Max, you're all over the news these days."
"It's proof that the press is functioning properly."
"Whatever."

I set the newspaper down and asked.

"Why are you here?"
"We've been assigned a joint operation."
"A joint operation?"

Just as I was about to ask what she meant--- a certain trauma from deep within my memory rose to the surface.
The worst mission of my life as a knight, the one that half-broke my old self, the one that makes even the current me feel a primal fear.

"I don't know the details yet. Come on. Sir Julian is calling for you."

Tiana beckoned and walked out.
---

I suppressed the nightmare of the past and took a quiet, deep breath. My heart was pounding, but I managed another smile.
There was no need to be afraid. I am not the me I was before. So, I should be happy. This should be a moment for celebration.
After all, a chance to change one of the shittiest parts of my past has returned to me.

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Pub: 25 Oct 2025 19:51 UTC

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