"It’s impossible. To send someone who has recklessly torn through Gun-guk, causing enormous damage, as a diplomat? He isn’t qualified. He can’t be trusted. Judging by his actions, he likely has no knowledge of diplomacy or politics. He’s the type of person who spreads chaos everywhere he goes—a perfect representation of the kind of people he seems to admire."

Well, not really. I do find him somewhat agreeable, but I wouldn’t say I like him. The regressor is something more than just chaos.

"It’s against Gun-guk’s principles. It’s irrational. But... that’s what a king is. Someone who moves the nation on a whim. Whether the decision is right or wrong doesn’t matter; a king’s judgment stirs unease. If Aby is accepted, this nation will eventually be shaken…"

When or how that happens, I cannot say. But it’s inevitable.

"But, at this point..."

Faced with an inevitable future, those who cannot overcome the present must accept their own destruction. Yuel, overwhelmed by disillusionment, had no will to overcome the current situation. Like many prophets before her, she quickly resigned herself in the face of impending fate.

"...I curse you, Aby. I hope you are consumed by regret, drowning in the deepest remorse you can feel."

Humans don’t curse what they can control. When they have the power to change or fix something, they don’t waste time on curses. Curses are what people resort to when all they can do is express resentment. In other words, Yuel’s curse was essentially an agreement to accept the proposal—though not without bitterness.

"...So, you’ve succeeded in the end. You’ve made Gun-guk no longer Gun-guk. Siaty, when you couldn’t bear your rage, you found someone to take revenge on. The Grand Princess found someone to demand kindness from. A perfect outcome! You’ll all be satisfied with this, even though it will lead to destruction in the near future. But you, who can’t see beyond the immediate, won’t care!"

She accuses us of short-sightedness, simply because we don’t agree with her. But I’m the kind of person who listens patiently to the desperate cries of the defeated. Under my passive observation, Yuel continued.

"Aby, one day Siaty will tear you apart in a fit of rage. The Princess will dig into your heart and use its blood to quench the thirst of others! Both of them know what you are and where you are. Whenever they want, they will come for you!"

In contrast to Yuel’s passionate outburst, Captain Aby remained relatively calm. She asked Yuel for clarification.

"Does that mean I can take this as your agreement to cooperate?"

"It means I won’t interfere. I have no reason or desire to cooperate with you."

"There is a need for your cooperation. Your power—"

"Oh, I almost forgot. I shouldn’t exist. I’m the only one who could replace you, after all. How could a king have a substitute?"

Mocking, Yuel waved her hand toward the door, signaling for Aby to leave. With a face filled with disdain, Yuel said:

"I’ll watch, Aby. I won’t even need to intervene. This nation is filled with people who want to kill you. I’ll watch and laugh when you die, so go and find your grave."

Receiving her dismissal, Captain Aby glanced around. The dim, underground mausoleum had the solemn atmosphere fitting for a tomb.

Though there were many decorations meant to signify this place as a burial chamber, there were only two empty stone coffins. Their owners were clear. One was meant for Gunwoong, and the other for Yuel.

Yuel had no intention of leaving this place. She planned to stay here until death, to be buried alongside him. That way, Gun-guk’s secrets would be buried forever beneath the earth.

Yuel, consumed by despair, had decided this. But for Captain Aby, it seemed to spark a realization.

"I will not leave."

Captain Aby spoke as if entranced.

"I must become a ‘special’ communications officer. I must be their liberator. I cannot be liberated like they are. Just as the headquarters did... I, too, must remain unseen."

"Unseen? So how is that any different from before?"

If Aby hides in a secret place, pretending to be the headquarters while giving orders, nothing will have changed from before. Yuel pointed that out mockingly, but Aby had an answer.

"Other communications officers will no longer be confined."

"...What?"

Gun-guk’s secrets were kept by locking the communications officers in windowless rooms, isolating them to preserve their purity. They gained objectivity and security at the cost of their freedom. Captain Aby’s declaration signaled the abandonment of all that.

Aby looked up at the ceiling. Tiny buds bloomed from her hair—purple morning glories—lifting their heads and conveying her will upward.

Aby imbued her message into the flowers.

『Communications Officer Aby reporting to Module I. Significant internal conflict has occurred. There’s a high probability that more problems will arise. If evacuation does not proceed, we predict a significant loss of Module I’s functionality and a substantial communication blackout.』

"Aby…"

『In accordance with Emergency Evacuation Protocol Level 2, Disaster Avoidance Manual, all personnel should evacuate to safe locations. No objections will be accepted. Over and out.』

The unilateral command ended. Captain Aby took a deep breath. After a moment of silence, her morning glories fluttered as if caught in a whirlwind. Multiple communication requests came through, but Aby stood firm, repeating her previous command.

Soft threads can wind around a stiff rod, but the reverse is not true. The network that the communications officers had built was based on their extreme objectivity, but Aby’s firm will swallowed all of their reports.

The chaotic communications soon subsided. It seemed the communications officers had accepted her order. After all, they had little reason to argue. With two Six-Star Generals engaged in a fierce battle, it was only natural to evacuate from a collapsing building.

When the communication ended, the morning glories stopped fluttering and calmed down. Captain Aby controlled her power and took a deep breath.

"...From this moment on, I will free all the communications officers within Gun-guk. I will command them to step out into the world. Not a single one will be left behind."

This was both an explanation of her plan and a bold declaration of intent. Having finished the communication, Aby spoke clearly.

"The communications officers' identities have been revealed. With Module I’s officers now liberated, communications officers are no longer a secret of Gun-guk. The only remaining secret... is me."

The duty that had once rested upon the communications officers—to remain unseen, to watch everything, and to pass along information and orders—was now hers alone.

The communications officers would no longer be forced into isolation. They would have lives and freedoms. They wouldn’t have to become lonely, objective cogs or suffer to hide their identities.

But Aby would have to bear even more.

Duty comes with authority. Aby had freed the other communications officers from their responsibilities, taking all the authority upon herself. An invisible, but heavy, crown now rested on her head.

The morning glory vines that encircled Aby’s head would never wither again.

A coronation had taken place in the darkest, lowest place.

There was no applause, no celebration. Only Yuel’s dry prayer welcomed the birth of the new king.

"Oh Saint, who first blessed me... was this also your appointed destiny?"

Her prayer was more of a lamentation than a blessing, but it was still the sincere prayer of a saint. A royal succession blessed by the saint herself. I approached the newly crowned king with a grin.

"Congratulations, Captain Aby! Or, should I no longer call you captain?"

I had half a mind to start calling her "Your Majesty," but Aby firmly rejected it.

"My title and rank are unimportant. What matters is what role I play and what duty I fulfill."

"Hmm. That’s quite the right answer, Aby. But what about us?"

I shrugged and gestured to myself, Siaty, and the princess. We had no particular attachment to Gun-guk, and the three of us had no loyalty to keep its secrets.

"You plan to protect yourself with secrecy, don’t you? But secrets have a way of isolating you, especially when you lack personal strength. Secrecy is crucial to you, Aby. If you want to maintain it, wouldn’t it be necessary to silence us?"

The obvious way to silence us would be, of course, murder. Dead men tell no tales. A highly logical solution.

Not that I had any intention of dying, but it’s not entirely up to me to decide my own fate. I probed Aby’s intentions a bit further.

"And?"

Aby smiled serenely and replied.

"I trust you."

"Me?"

She didn’t respond with a confirmation, but simply nodded.

It feels uncomfortable, like wearing clothes that don’t fit. Trust? That’s probably the word least suited to my life, which has been built on deceit and lies. Considering all I’ve done, what makes her trust me?

"What if things change? What if I change in the future?"

"I trust you, including whatever changes may come. No matter how you change, you won’t abandon me."

Such irresponsible words. Now that Aby had revealed the other communications officers, her life was no longer her own. If she disappeared, even Yuel would struggle to restore this country to its former state.

This was a true sandcastle. A flimsy, hastily constructed structure. But…

"Fine, I’ll give you that. But what about the princess or Siaty? You’ve only just met them today. They both despise Gun-guk. Can you trust them too?"

"I will."

"And is that really okay?"

"Their actions were caused by Gun-guk’s failure to meet their expectations. Or rather, Gun-guk’s inability to trust them. I will trust them first, and in turn, I hope they will come to trust me."

It may not be beautiful or intricate, but…

Sometimes, it's better to preserve a carefully built sandcastle, a precariously stacked tower of stones, or a newly bloomed flower than to crush it. After all, I’m not the type to take pleasure in destroying something delicate just for the fun of it.

Well, even so, letting them focus on a futile goal without helping seems cruel. Maybe I’ll offer a bit of advice, just out of kindness.

"It’s going to be hard, you know. I wouldn’t recommend it. You can always give up if it gets too difficult. No one will blame you."

Aby looked at me intently and answered.

"Counterpoint: I have you."

"Me? You’re fine disappointing me. I’ll be leaving this country soon anyway."

I don’t really care what happens to this country. I can just move on to the next one. For me, a homeland is easier to discard than a pair of shoes.

"That’s a reasonable decision. The current Gun-guk is not a suitable place for you to stay. Your choice is logical."

Even with my declaration of intent to flee the country, Aby didn’t show disappointment. She accepted my words and steeled herself, speaking with determination.

"I will create a place where you can stay. Not now, but someday. I will build a place where you can return and feel at ease. So, when the time comes, please evaluate me."