Right before entering the innermost control room, the Regressor and Historia were still unable to reach a conclusion. Anyone else in their place would likely have faced the same dilemma. The Regressor, who had probably repeated the same lines countless times by now, shouted:

“Killing them all without thinking isn’t the answer!”

Historia countered in a similarly sharp tone:

“There’s no other way. What, can’t you kill someone unless they stand up to fight? Are you some noble knight?”

“No, but just delaying their executions like this—it’s not going to end well. If we wipe out the Alchemic Steel Refinery, eventually they’ll start bringing in innocent people!”

“Are you a prophet now? Did you see the future or something?”

“Yes—no! I’m saying nothing will be solved with such simple methods!”

It was an endless debate that wouldn’t lead to a fight. Faced with an issue that had no clear right or wrong answer, the two argued fiercely, but no resolution was in sight.

‘Carrafald’ awkwardly pointed down the long corridor to the iron door at the end.

"That... that's the innermost control room, but…"

As he tried to intervene between the two growling women, Shiati pulled his arm, stopping him.

"Carrafald. Step back for now."

"I don’t think it’s my place to interfere. Should the princess have been here?"

"...It wouldn’t have made much of a difference. They’re not the type to listen to the princess’s orders."

"This is problematic."

‘Carrafald’ smiled wryly on the inside, despite his troubled expression.

The Alchemic Steel Refinery was a place so brutal that even the Military State’s soldiers found it horrifying. The fact that the people being dragged along by chains were considered the lucky ones hinted at the terror of the place. In the next building, what they found were prisoners locked in small cages, screaming in agony. Their left arms, extended outward, were equipped with bio-terminals attached to funnels.

Molten alchemic steel fell into the funnels, dropping with a thud like a stone. The molten metal would spread through their bodies, absorbing magical energy before returning to the bio-terminals, where the steel would solidify on their wrists. The prisoners had to remove it quickly to survive, or their arms would eventually snap under the increasing weight.

The alchemic steel would then fall onto the rails and be carried off somewhere else.

This process repeated mechanically until the labor shifts for the day were over.

‘Please! Save me! I’ll do anything!’

‘Let me go! I swear I’ll never commit a crime again! I’ll live a good life!’

Cries for help echoed around them, but the group, unable to reach a conclusion, ignored them and walked on. When their pleas were ignored, the cries turned into curses. The Regressor and Historia left that hell behind as they arrived at the innermost control room.

Neither of them was so weak as to be mentally scarred by such sights. However, there was enough reason for them to hesitate.

"Most of these people have already paid for their crimes in some way. It doesn’t feel right for us to just kill them off now."

"So, you’re committing terrorism against the Military State, but suddenly you have all these scruples? I can only imagine how much Huey had to suffer putting up with your nonsense."

"Why are you bringing him up all of a sudden? He’s got nothing to do with this!"

Little did they know, all the horrors they had witnessed were meticulously designed by Jiekhrund, playing the role of ‘Carrafald’.

He silently observed their reactions. Without looking directly at them, he read their emotions—this was his specialty. He distinguished between positive and negative reactions, and if one side’s reaction weakened, he adjusted the scenario to maintain the tension.

In the end, the two would inevitably find themselves in direct opposition to each other.

‘Conflict, opposition, and anguish. A perfect narrative. No luxurious stage or grand theater could ever compare to the vastness of this world as the backdrop.’

‘Carrafald’ briefly recalled his old self.

In the Empire, the so-called vassal states were practically colonies. Food, wealth, culture, even people—everything had to be offered up to the Empire for these vassal states to survive. Of all the tributes sent to the Empire, cultural assets were the most cherished. They were cheap, yet satisfied the vanity of the Empire’s elites, and unique cultural works from each vassal state were the most valued tribute.

Theater, in particular, was the hottest topic. In order to win the competition of tributes, some vassal states directly ran their own theater troupes. And the most important aspect of a theater troupe was, of course, the actors.

To play a variety of roles, one needed a certain set of skills: a sharp memory, keen observational ability, physical prowess to reenact heroic tales on stage, and the ability to apply learned knowledge. Before he became Jiekhrund, he was an actor of such caliber that he could excel on any stage.

‘But in the vassal states, always under the Empire’s watchful eye, we could never reflect reality. On stage, I was merely a walking corpse.’

The Imperial officials blatantly accepted bribes, but no one dared to criticize them. In fact, people had to disguise their bribes as "gifts" to avoid offending them. Jiekhrund found it all "laughable."

Not unjust or enraging—he wasn’t the type to swallow his rage against power.

It was just absurd to him.

If one felt ashamed, they shouldn’t take the bribes. If they wanted wealth, they should openly take it with pride. But what was laughable to Jiekhrund was the way they acted high and mighty in public while accepting all manner of favors behind closed doors. So, Jiekhrund decided to mock them, crafting a performance where he portrayed one of those officials as a bumbling fool with a ridiculous beard. He made them the laughingstock of the masses.

It was merely the expression of the satirical nature inherent in any artist, but the result was disastrous.

‘Hahaha! How could I have known? Thanks to that, I was destined to wander the world.’

His long career as an actor helped him immensely. He survived several close calls by staying in character, even when facing the terrifying Imperial pursuers. He changed his face, his home, his clothes, his attitude, and even all of his connections.

By the time he had nearly forgotten who he really was, somehow, she found him.

‘She wanted to cleanse the new nation of corruption and asked me to help! Hahaha! What nonsense. I’m not even a fan of being all virtuous and clean!’

But Jiekhrund accepted her offer. After years of being pursued, he was worn out, and it was an offer he couldn’t refuse. The threat to his life was real, but more than that, it was a chance to reclaim his identity. Jiekhrund, the born actor who had taken on countless personas, was beginning to lose sight of who he originally was. His brilliant acting had saved him many times, but after changing his identity so often, his original self was slipping away.

But she, the one who sought him out, acted as an anchor for him—defining his true self not as just one of his many roles, but as something encompassing all of them.

‘Oh no, I’m starting to forget again. Focus. Don’t forget. I’m Jiekhrund, playing the role of Carrafald.’

Settling his mind, ‘Carrafald’ mentally sketched out the figure he had crafted for himself. A plain physique, an ordinary frame, a face with no distinguishing features—a blank canvas of a man. The body he would return to after shedding the role of ‘Carrafald’.

With his myriad personas and identities, he had created this self to anchor his true being.

Resuming his performance, Jiekhrund watched gleefully as the argument he had orchestrated escalated. Typically, at times like this, a third party would step in to mediate. Unfortunately, there was no one here to mediate between them.

The only one relatively calm, Tyr, urged them to make a decision.

[You’d better make up your minds soon. Otherwise, I’ll have to fetch Huey myself. Without him, this discussion is going nowhere.]

“Fine. At least we agree that we’re going to destroy this facility, right? Let’s blow it up and then decide what to do with the laborers…”

As the Regressor came to a simple, violent conclusion, she sensed a presence and furrowed her brow. Instantly changing her expression, she glared at the iron door at the end of the hallway and asked ‘Carrafald’ sharply.

“Hold on. There’s someone inside. Hey, is there a guard unit in there?”

“…Well, it’s an emergency situation, so maybe… I’m not really sure.”

‘A guard unit? Impossible. There would be no point in having Military State troops hiding in here, and they would only interfere with the tension between the characters. The moment for a hidden force to emerge comes much later.’

Everyone was now on high alert. With the unexpected presence of an unknown entity, they no longer had time to argue.

Much to Jiekhrund’s displeasure.

“Let’s go in! I’ll go first!”

The Regressor thrust her dual swords forward and sprinted toward the door. In just two steps, she reached the steel door and kicked it hard. Her foot, coated in ki, easily dented the Level 3 alchemic steel door.

“Who’s there…! Huh?”

The Regressor, ready to strike, froze in place.

The room was filled with the sound of complex machinery and unfamiliar noises. Metal clanged against metal in a loud, chaotic symphony. Unlike humans, machines didn’t need light to operate, and the dim lighting barely illuminated the innermost control room.

Standing at the center of it all, bathed in the faint light, was none other than me.

The same me who had run out earlier, unable to bear the horrors I had witnessed, now stood in the innermost control room.

“Huey? How did you… Did you get here ahead of us?”

[Hue? Perfect timing.]

Tyr, Historia, Shiati, and ‘Carrafald’ appeared one after another. They were all surprised to see me, but only mildly so. After all, I was on their side, so there was no reason to be alarmed.

Only ‘Carrafald’ trembled, sensing that something was terribly wrong.

“Why are you… coming out from there?”

‘Why is a character who already exited the stage reappearing? This isn’t in the script…!’

With all eyes on me, I stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the dim light.

I took a deep breath, tensed my body, and spoke in a heavy, deliberate tone.

“You arrived earlier than I expected. I wanted to finish before you got here.”