Chapter 38: The Calculated Bait

“A list?”

Fran drew a sharp breath, yet he forced himself to appear composed.

He had never once anticipated that Quidar would set his sights directly on him.

To facilitate their communication, Quidar had even compelled everyone in the routine meeting to switch from Teutonic to Francian.

When Quidar had initially asked if he had worked at a tavern, Fran had already sensed something was amiss. He had intended to outright deny it, but then a sudden realization struck him: he and Yuli had, in fact, met in a tavern.

With no other recourse, he had merely offered a vague response.

Yet, he never could have imagined that Quidar was playing such a calculated game.

“Secretary Fran, I presume you interacted with quite a few patrons while working as a server at the tavern, didn’t you? Given the number of political figures who frequent such establishments, my request is rather simple. Could you please… compile a list of customers you encountered who harbored pro-Brittany, anti-imperial sentiments?”

As Quidar spoke, he produced a crisp white sheet of paper, laying it flat on the table, and with a surprisingly considerate gesture, offered Fran a pen.

“Oh?” Lyon, who had been observing the entire scene with detached amusement, now perked up, fanning the flames of the idea. “That’s quite a brilliant suggestion! The influence of anti-imperial factions around Purburg has been steadily expanding of late. If we take this list and apprehend a few highly suspicious individuals, the opportunity for commendation would be substantial.”

“We could earn merit?” Yuli, upon hearing Lyon’s words, thoughtfully nodded. ‘So that’s how it is…’

If such an act truly led to commendation, then Fran, as the one providing the list, would surely share in the credit.

Yuli turned to Fran, her gaze filled with anticipation as she gently patted his head. “Why don’t you just write the list, then? Even if we might apprehend a few innocent people by mistake, the chances of catching actual anti-imperial elements are quite high. Fran, you could earn merit!”

However, Fran was no longer truly hearing Yuli’s words. His mind was a tangled mess, and he lowered his head, desperately formulating a counter-strategy for the predicament at hand.

‘Hand over the list, indeed…’

Fran knew with chilling certainty that many of the tavern’s regulars were indeed fervent about politics. While he couldn’t ascertain the exact number, his intuition told him that a significant portion were likely members or collaborators of the underground resistance.

To demand such a list from Fran was tantamount to forcing him to personally betray and apprehend his own comrades.

This was an act Fran found utterly unacceptable, no matter the circumstances.

Yet…

If he failed to produce a list, what would these individuals do?

Fran lifted his gaze, observing the people before him, particularly Quidar, whose piercing eyes were fixed intently on him.

If he refused to write this list, would he become an object of suspicion, perhaps even be expelled from the mansion?

He could not simply forfeit such a crucial opportunity.

Should he fail to earn the trust of those both within and outside the mansion, his future endeavors would likely prove insurmountable.

But…

Fran’s mind raced, frantically searching for an answer. ‘Could there truly be no method to avoid surrendering the list while simultaneously dispelling their suspicions about me?’

‘No…’

‘There must be a way, mustn’t there?’

“It’s been quite a long time since I last worked at that particular tavern,” Fran began, offering an excuse. “I’m unsure how much the clientele has changed since then, and truthfully… with the passage of time, I find I can barely recall the names of most of the old patrons.”

Fran was merely trying to deflect; it wasn’t that he was unwilling to write, but rather that he genuinely couldn’t produce such a list.

‘What am I to do? They can’t possibly force me to just scribble down random names, can they?’

He also considered that Yuli was on his side and wouldn’t deliberately make things difficult for him.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Fran’s lips as he attempted to placate Quidar.

He had fully expected Quidar to display a look of disappointment, but…

Fran’s heart clenched. He observed that Quidar seemed to show little reaction at all. Instead, the man maintained an air of complete assurance as he continued to question Fran.

“Oh? Secretary Fran, it hasn’t been *that* long, has it? And you’ve already forgotten the names of all those patrons who, in their drunken state, loved to spill their petty secrets?”

“I…” Fran furrowed his brow, then pressed on. “I was typically there merely to serve drinks and cultivate a pleasant atmosphere. Most patrons I only encountered once or twice, and it wasn’t as if every single one introduced themselves to me. Furthermore…”

“I’m hardly some kind of secret agent; where would I find the leisure to meticulously catalog who was involved in politics and who wasn’t? I was simply a server. The only faces I made an effort to remember were those of contented customers who might offer a generous tip. *That* was my priority, Captain Quidar. Do you understand?”

Fran’s tone had grown noticeably agitated. Yuli, standing nearby, also interjected on his behalf.

“Ahem, if he truly can’t produce a list, then let’s just drop it. Forcing him to fabricate one could lead to the wrongful arrest of individuals and stir up unnecessary trouble, which would hardly be ideal…”

Quidar merely sneered. Fran’s refusal to comply was precisely the reaction he had been anticipating.

To be blunt, he had never genuinely intended for Fran to produce such a list. For one, given his existing suspicions about Fran, how much credence could he possibly lend to a list supplied by a suspect?

Even if Fran were to provide a genuinely accurate list, assuming Fran truly was an anti-imperialist, those named on the list would undoubtedly receive prior warning. By the time he moved to apprehend them, they would have long since vanished.

Failing to capture anyone, or capturing individuals who weren’t anti-imperialists, would yield no evidence whatsoever against Fran. Moreover, with Yuli providing cover for her little secretary, how could he possibly undermine Fran, and by extension, Yuli herself?

No, what he truly desired was Fran’s reluctance.

‘If you are unwilling to proactively submit the list, then I shall present an even more compelling alternative – a compromise you simply cannot refuse!’

“Oh, is that how it is…” Quidar nodded with a chilling smile, then immediately pressed on. “In that case, Secretary Fran, if you can’t recall the names of the patrons, that’s quite alright. I imagine… there will undoubtedly be many customers who fondly remember the ‘little fellow’ who once left them with such pleasant memories at the tavern, won’t there?”

“You… what are you implying?” Fran felt his breath catch in his throat. He clenched the corner of his garment, his eyes fixed warily on Quidar’s expression, desperate to glean some hint of his intentions. Yet…

‘Why isn’t he pressing the issue of the list any further?’

Fran found himself momentarily at a loss, unable to decipher Quidar’s true objective. He could only listen as the man continued.

Quidar: “Heh, just imagine this: who would ever suspect that such a charming ‘little fellow’ was, in reality, a spy covertly dispatched by an anti-imperial faction to the Imperial Army Intelligence Department’s Purburg station mansion?”

Quidar: “That innocent child, who once graced everyone’s nights and offered everything for the motherland, has now been apprehended! They are currently confined within a prison, enduring daily torment.”

Fran: “You! What utter nonsense are you spouting?!”

Quidar: “Oh, Secretary Fran, please calm down, haha, everything I’m saying is merely a fabrication!”

He waved a hand apologetically, appearing somewhat embarrassed for not having articulated his thoughts more clearly. Then, he elaborated:

“This is merely a persuasive tactic, designed to lure your old acquaintances at the tavern into taking the bait! Consider this: if one of our agents, during a tavern search, were to ‘accidentally’ let slip to the patrons that ‘Secretary Fran has been apprehended,’ and then mislead them into believing you were a spy sent by an anti-imperial organization…”

“If there are indeed many people in that tavern who know and genuinely care for Secretary Fran, and they were to hear this tale of Secretary Fran’s unwavering loyalty, his wrongful arrest, his humiliation, and his steadfast refusal to yield even unto death, then it’s highly probable… that some would genuinely seek an opportunity to mount a rescue, wouldn’t they? We could then seize that moment to…”

“Are you implying… that we should spread rumors and then use Fran as bait?”

Yuli mused for a moment before posing the question.

“Heh, precisely!”