Chapter 35: The Enigma of Fran’s File

Upon entering the room, Quidar surveyed his surroundings. Once he confirmed he was alone, he closed the door and cautiously drew out the dossier Lyon had handed him.

‘What exactly could be inside?’

He wasn’t the type to run errands out of pure goodwill; his desire for this dossier stemmed from his own motives.

Swiftly, he tore open the dossier and extracted the files hidden within.

‘Fran?’

He paused, momentarily stunned by the subject recorded in the file. For a moment, he couldn’t recall who this person was.

Soon enough, however, Fran’s image materialized in his mind.

‘Fran…’

He pondered, then a realization struck him. ‘Right, I remember now!’

‘Didn’t that young girl, Yuli, have a little secretary by her side? That blonde girl, wasn’t she named Fran?’

‘But…’

As his gaze descended the document, he saw the word “Male” clearly emblazoned across Fran’s file.

‘Male?’

His mouth fell open, and for a moment, he struggled to process it.

‘How could it be male?’

‘Strange…’

He even wondered if he had misread it, checking twice to confirm he hadn’t. After verifying that “Male” was indeed written, he concluded…

‘I must have mistaken them for someone else!’

‘This couldn’t possibly be the blonde girl’s file, could it?’

‘Hmm…’

Yet, upon seeing the photo, he realized…

‘This is the person.’

‘Oh, this…’

The middle-aged man’s brow furrowed, then he let out a laugh born of exasperation. There were truly more and more things he couldn’t comprehend.

“Heh, it’s not exactly a rare occurrence. The station chief of Purburg is a young girl, and now she’s paired with some ambiguous individual as a secretary. What a grand spectacle the Army’s intelligence system has conjured…”

He continued reading with a sneer, his desire to unearth information that could benefit him growing increasingly urgent.

Then, he was immediately shocked by the contents of the file.

The subject’s origins were unknown, their guardian was suspected of political involvement, and they worked at a tavern frequented by political groups. Furthermore, they were allegedly connected to the assassination of a councilor who collaborated with the Empire.

‘This…’

His brows furrowed. This was no trivial matter.

‘Suspicious… far too suspicious…’

Quidar meticulously scanned the file’s contents, wary of missing any crucial clue. As he read, he was in fact continually seeking to confirm his existing suspicions and reinforce his preconceived notions.

Soon, he had memorized all the information and solidified a conviction.

‘This individual named Fran is highly suspicious.’

‘How could someone like that be allowed to serve as the station chief’s secretary?’

‘This…’

He stomped forward in indignation, nearly bursting out the door to confront Yuli directly in her office.

‘This is sheer dereliction of duty, utterly preposterous!’

However, just as his hand reached the doorknob of the archives, he suddenly regained his composure.

He released the handle, then turned and re-entered the archive room.

Pacing back and forth, Quidar pondered.

‘No, that young girl Yuli must have already seen this file. Rushing to confront her without concrete evidence would accomplish nothing.’

‘On the contrary, suspecting a colleague would only put me in a disadvantageous position.’

‘Instead…’

‘Heh, if you don’t care about the backgrounds of those around you, then I’ll investigate myself.’

He placed Fran’s file back into the dossier, sealed it, and then carefully stored it in the archive cabinet.

As he closed the cabinet door, a sinister smile crept onto his face.

‘It would be best if I don’t uncover anything.’

‘Otherwise, I don’t care who your father is. With a traitor by your side, Yuli, Station Chief, where will you run?’

‘Tsk—’

At this thought, Quidar couldn’t help but grin arrogantly at the cabinet. His laughter, however, was silent, a mere contortion of his features.

He swiftly exited the archive room, picked up his briefcase, called for the few subordinates he had brought, and then quickly departed the mansion.

Only after stepping out of the mansion did he begin to excitedly consider where to start his investigation.

‘Fran’s doctor-teacher?’

The information provided wasn’t detailed enough; he likely wouldn’t find the teacher anytime soon. To truly locate them, he’d have to ask Lyon, which might alert Yuli, and that wouldn’t do.

‘The deceased councilor? How could he investigate someone who was already dead? There would be no proof.’

After much deliberation, Quidar concluded that the tavern would be the easiest target. He knew its name and could ask for its specific location.

With his target set on the tavern, he led his squad there, launching a sudden, unexpected raid.

Dressed in Teuton military uniforms, the entire group followed Quidar. He kicked open the tavern door, startling the patrons inside, who promptly set down their drinks.

The tavern owner was equally startled, not daring to ask Quidar what was happening. He simply watched as the group strolled into the establishment.

Quidar, speaking in his unpracticed Francian, shouted at the crowd:

“Squat beside your seats, hands behind your heads! Nobody move! This is a routine inspection!”

The group of Francian men in the room remained impassive, neither speaking nor moving. Quidar glared fiercely at them, then roared:

“Are you deaf?! All of you, hands behind your heads and squat!”

Several Teuton soldiers stepped forward, pointing their rifles at a table of men and yelling in Teuton:

“Squat!”

At this, the men targeted by the rifles finally squatted. The soldiers immediately moved in, searching their pockets for suspicious items.

The search progressed laboriously, man by man, yet the soldiers found little of use. As one soldier after another reported no anomalies, Quidar grew increasingly annoyed.

“Report!” The soldiers reassembled, saluting Quidar. “No anomalies detected!”

“Hmph—I refuse to believe there’s absolutely nothing wrong here!”

Quidar, turning his head in exasperation, fixed a fierce gaze on the tavern owner. “You’d better not play games with me. Tell me, are there any suspicious individuals in your establishment?”

“Ah, well… Officer, you can’t just arrest people without cause, can you? We are all law-abiding citizens here. This is just an ordinary tavern, please don’t…”

“Heh…”

Quidar was losing his patience. He looked at the few people in the tavern; though their eyes brimmed with dissatisfaction, their attire suggested they were indeed ordinary citizens.

Nothing had been found either. This…

And there were so few people…

‘It seems I’ve arrived at the wrong time, then?’

Indeed, it was almost curfew. Even if there were suspicious individuals, they wouldn’t be here at this hour.

‘Hmm…’

Having drawn a blank, Quidar exited the tavern in frustration.

Not wanting to alert his target, he feigned routine inspections at several nearby shops.

Quidar and his men departed, empty-handed and disgruntled. He would have to devise another plan.

****

As night fell, Fran exited the tavern through the back door, preparing to head back to the mansion. Turning his head, he spotted a line of Teuton soldiers.

That wasn’t important. What *was* important was… wasn’t the leader of this squad the very man he had seen earlier today?

‘Special Forces Captain, Quidar?’

He quickly found a corner to hide in, watching Quidar and his men depart, clearly disappointed. Fran’s brow furrowed.

‘Why would that man be here?’