Ch.509Episode 19 – HELLDIVERS

There is no pleasure without responsibility.

Everything comes with a price.

These two maxims are facts and truths proven by countless historical examples throughout the ages, regardless of time or place.

There were excellent examples proving this: the former assassin who lived with a dog, and the carpenter who exploited an infinite duplication bug with five loaves of bread and two fish.

One died after shooting as he pleased, while the other received a permanent ban for disrupting the market economy and using unauthorized external programs.

(Though he briefly returned with an alt account three days later, it’s said he eventually quit for good.)

Anyway.

When you pursue pleasure, responsibility inevitably follows, and if you commit a crime, you must face appropriate punishment.

Upon hearing news of the reverse-coup, the Abas Ministry of Defense swiftly removed me from my military attaché position.

“What happened?”

“They said I’m relieved of duty.”

This was a decision laden with political, diplomatic, and military implications, while simultaneously being a completely sensible measure.

Would it make any sense to promote someone who staged a military coup and overthrew a local government? Especially someone with diplomatic status.

Even the reckless Kiyen Empire would have had to take action after such an incident. Let alone the Abas Kingdom, which prides itself on being gentlemanly.

Thus, the Ministry of Defense promptly dismissed me and recalled me to my home country.

The problem was…

“How can you even eat after staging a coup?”

“No, sis. I’ve told you many times, I didn’t ask for this to happen.”

“……”

“…Sorry. I’ll shut up.”

This is hell.

Episode 19 – HELLDIVERS

The sky over the Abas capital was cloudy followed by more clouds today.

It was quite different from the bright sunshine and dryness of northern Moritani continent, or the typical African-style climate that the Zamria Federation was famous for. This gloominess could be considered Abas’s true charm point.

It had been a week since I returned to the cool homeland, leaving behind that sweltering hellhole.

What should have been a refreshing homecoming was literally no different from living hell.

“Hey. Rebel.”

As I lay on the sofa staring blankly at the ceiling, an Abas diplomatic officer came to pick a fight again.

“…What.”

“Oh, now you respond when called? You’ve grown up, little shit.”

From the way he stuck his hands in his pockets to his smirking expression, it was an extremely annoying combination.

This diplomat with a face that begged to be punched—my sister Adela approached like a child who had found a toy she absolutely loved.

“Congratulations, congratulations. Our family has produced a rebel, how wonderful.”

“Ms. Adela, why are you being like this again?”

“How could I stay quiet?”

I swallowed a bitter sob. Despite hearing this for a week straight, somehow each moment felt fresh.

“I’m not a rebel…”

“Yes, yes. Oh my, is that so?”

Adela’s uncontrollable mouth corners kept twitching.

“We call it a coup when someone detonates bombs in front of the presidential palace and throws the interim president into a pigsty, you punk.”

This was malicious slander of the worst kind. It was cowardly precisely because it was factual.

“I’m not a rebel…”

Suffering from the diplomat’s malicious scheming (or simply, defamation), I could only cover my face with my hands.

The price for delivering democracy to the Zamria Federation was severe.

Starting with my dismissal, the Ministry of Defense formed a joint investigation team of “Defense Ministry Inspectors-Military Police-Military Intelligence Agency” to beat me down, while investigators from the Foreign Ministry and Royal Intelligence Agency kept me up all night.

(???: I’ve been in military police for 30 years, but I’ve never heard of someone stealing a tank, not just a gun. Is he insane? / ???: What drugs were you on to start a rebellion with a steel pipe? Your urine test came back normal though.)

There were all sorts of false accusations, defamation, persecution, and humiliation. I had to endure countless investigations and inspections.

And I had to do it alone.

This was clearly a targeted investigation.

(Royal Intelligence: What nonsense. You staged the coup alone, that’s correct. / Military Intelligence: When did we ever tell you to stage a coup???)

To think such a terrible outcome would result despite doing a good deed.

Could there be a greater tragedy in this world?

(Ministry of Defense: Starting next month, we will conduct simulated training to prevent armored vehicle theft incidents. Each training staff office is requested to establish and disseminate plans without delay. / ?????: How does a tank get stolen? You need to say something that makes sense, damn it!)

“This is defamation…”

If others heard this, they would insist on filing an immediate appeal, but surprisingly, Frederick was genuinely in an unfair position. He truly believed he was suffering from all sorts of defamation.

The reason was simple.

“How could she kick me out of the house?”

“Is Mom kicking you out such a big deal?”

After giggling for a while, Adela brought up a recent black history.

“You said you’d sneak in avoiding cameras since the investigation was over. But you happened to get caught by Mom and got kicked out.”

“She threw you out so mercilessly.”

“Even the reporters who came to the residence after hearing the commotion ran away, startled by Mom’s voice.”

The atmosphere then was no joke.

Broadcasting staff with their noses twitching at the scent of a scoop rushed into the residence, only to moonwalk away at the lioness’s roar and rebuke from the royal lady-in-waiting.

The problem was that the entire moment was broadcast live.

[What have you been doing all this time when you’re supposed to be working at the embassy? Get out!]

[You shouldn’t be interfering in other people’s private lives either!]

The scene of a royal lady-in-waiting (high-ranking official/mother) scolding a Ministry of Defense major (just an official/rebel/son) was delivered to living rooms across the country through the camera’s manual fade-out with vivid imagery.

The military police in charge of escort, investigators organizing documents, and the director of Military Intelligence receiving IV fluids while lying down.

Foreign embassy intelligence officers who came to watch the spectacle and even people I’d never met.

They all witnessed me being forcibly evicted by my mother who had occupied the residence.

“Are you embarrassed?”

“Do I look like I’m not?”

“Well, the entire nation saw you getting kicked out. Rumor has it that even the royal family and prime minister’s office watched it.”

“…Damn it.”

I shuddered while squeezing my face tight. It was too embarrassing.

“I guess they know about it abroad too…?”

“You’re a world star at this point.”

The Abas Foreign Ministry official snickered, which I interpreted to mean I was thoroughly screwed.

“I’m ruined.”

Since foreign media had reported it, my companions would have heard the news too. My black history would be mentioned whenever people got bored, like a staple drinking snack.

Especially Veronica. Her mouth corners must already be reaching her ears. I could see it without looking.

As I lay in a motel hiding with a serious expression, my annoying family member started poking me with her toes.

“Stop it, you should be grateful it ended there. With Mom’s usual temperament, you might have had both your legs broken that day. Being kicked out was actually fortunate.”

“Bullshit…”

It was comfort that didn’t feel like comfort at all.

As I wriggled deeper into the sofa to avoid her foot attacks, Adela slapped my back hard and grumbled.

“Argh…!”

“Stop whining and come eat.”

*

While I hopped between motels instead of home, eating cautiously, a savage yet sweet game of diplomacy continued in the international community.

A military rebellion sparked by ethnic-political conflict. A reverse coup by foreigners that overthrew it. Two regime changes in just a week, with consequences that were far from small.

Someone had to take responsibility.

Or pass the blame.

A 21st-century modern person who understands the meaning of “politics” better than anyone (???: Team difference is fucked. / ???: So much political bullshit, damn.) could easily predict the outcome of this sweet yet savage game of diplomacy.

“……”

“……”

“……”

But somehow, those who had been barking like dogs in heat had all fallen silent.

“…Well, everyone’s quiet? Feel free to… speak comfortably, haha…”

“……”

“Haha…”

Whether their tongues were tied, their vocal cords beaten, or their lips welded shut.

Those who usually acted like thugs were now sitting quietly like mutes who had eaten honey, failing to live up to their size.

The reason was obvious.

“Is the Grand Duke safe?”

“Yes. He is… completely unharmed.”

The Kiyen Empire was in a very awkward position.

Why? Because the Kiyen Empire was receiving courtship dances from the new Zamria Federation government (2nd regime, military government).

The military government that seized power through a coup wanted to entrust major projects like natural resource development and infrastructure reconstruction to the Empire. Not because Kiyen’s companies were exceptionally skilled or solved problems at low cost. Rather, they were known for their excellence in greasing palms for the past 20-30 years.

The problem was that Her Highness Alexandra Petrova had pulled down the military government by its hair.

If this had been done by the Abas people, the Kiyen Empire’s Foreign Ministry would have unleashed harsh statements honed over decades with an “Aha!” But since the Grand Duke was involved, they could only close their mouths like mutes who had eaten honey, thinking “…Again?”

With the Imperial Grand Magician participating in a reverse coup, what could they do?

This was bad news for Kiyen and clearly good news for Abas.

Alexandra Petrova causing a regime change abroad—wouldn’t that make their mouths water?

Indeed.

Not at all.

“I heard there were several engagements on site. Could we inquire about the status of your military attaché?”

“…Well. We’ve confirmed there are no injuries so far.”

Whether they’d lost their minds or were on drugs, a military attaché had participated in the reverse coup, making matters worse.

Not only did he steal a tank from the rebel armored division, but he also fired the tank’s cannon at the presidential palace, and even scenes of him beating local military and police with a steel pipe were broadcast worldwide.

He had certainly done a proper job of promoting national prestige (though in reverse).

“……”

The Kiyen Empire was going crazy because of an accident caused by a royal, while Abas was on the verge of losing its mind due to the dynamic problem caused by a diplomat (who was relieved of duty).

There was plenty to criticize about the other side, but one wrong word could cost them their necks.

Of course, even those two didn’t dare present their business cards before this entity.

“How is the Saint-“

“Let’s discuss that later.”

“…Ah, yes.”

The Order’s gamble, which had mobilized even their souls, failed miserably. Even losing your house on futures options wouldn’t be this serious.

The atmosphere in the Holy Land of Laterano was literally ruined. It was gloomier and more depressing than ever, no different from a drowned corpse stuck in bushes that search parties failed to find.

Having lost both dreams and hope, the Pope gathered the college of cardinals and bishops and silently chain-smoked.

His skill at lighting a new cigarette with the dying ember of the previous one through a self-cigarette kiss when one was almost burned out was quite extraordinary. But the artistry of the black-haired Saint (not a beast) making donuts beside him was no less impressive.

With everyone from the Pope to the Saint, cardinals, and bishops collectively chain-smoking, the ceiling frescoes of the cathedral were obscured, and the smoke made it difficult to tell whether this was an opium den or a religious facility.

*cough cough* Oh my, what is this smell? From the Medius Cathedral, which maintained silence on all allegations related to St. Lucia, mysterious whitish smoke rose in swarms every day.

“……”

“……”

“……”

Even as everyone watched each other cautiously, there were men among men who couldn’t rest until they had said what needed to be said.

Local governments advocating for Moritani continent centrism raised their voices, claiming “Foreign powers interfered in the Zamria Federation’s regime change!”

Of course, they didn’t receive much response.

This was because the new Zamria Federation government (3rd regime) had decided to overlook the “unfortunate incidents” that occurred during the suppression of the coup (2nd regime). Let’s just pretend it never happened, they said.

And Al-Yabud maintained only principled positions from beginning to end, such as “Brothers shouldn’t fight” and “Peace is important.”

Governments that had much to say but didn’t want to get beaten up reached this agreement after long deliberation:

“Shall we call it a draw…?”

*

After a week of eating cautiously while under investigation, the situation had changed somewhat.

Investigators who had pounced like rat catchers were now conducting half-hearted investigations, and interrogators who had meticulously prepared reports were now sprawled in their chairs like dried fish, tapping keyboards.

Sniff sniff. The subtle scent of quasi-dismissal wafting throughout the joint investigation team. What was going on?

After turning my radar in all directions and synthesizing domestic and international news, my animal instinct, honed by experience, whispered in my ear:

‘You’ll get your pension?’

So what if I was relieved of duty? As long as the salary comes in regularly and the pension accumulates steadily, it’s all good!

I might miss promotions, but I can still fulfill the pension period, so that’s great!

“Yes, that’s enough. Please sign and go home.”

Anyway, the investigation was over. They said it would take some time for the results to come out.

I might face disciplinary action, or I might not. To be honest, it seems highly likely that the disciplinary discussion itself will fizzle out.

Outside, Jerry was waiting for me. He waved at me and started speaking.

“Fred. Is the investigation over?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. You’ve been through a lot.”

Jerry pointed to the car and told me to get in.

“What’s this? You got a car?”

“The commute is inconvenient. To use public transportation, I first need to leave the embassy compound, which is quite a large area. So I got one.”

While our parents have official vehicles due to their positions, Jerry and Adela don’t. They tried to endure at first, but there were too many inconveniences, so they had to get a car.

Family members who entered the residence for safety were still staying there. For reference, I still can’t enter the residence. The lady is thoroughly upset.

I got into the back seat and grumbled.

“Come on, how old am I to not have a home?”

“You should have bought one earlier… Mom seems to be calming down, why don’t you come back?”

“No thanks.”

It’s not my house anyway.

Rush hour traffic cutting through all directions. The crowds and vehicle lines gathered in the center felt like watching a giant ant colony.

As the car smoothly navigated the roads amid the struggle to escape to the suburbs from downtown, we looked out the window and chatted about various things.

“I hear foreigners frequently go to the Moritani continent?”

“Private companies? Many are expanding there these days. Undeveloped land is like an unscratched lottery ticket.”

“Mining minerals, extracting oil and gas. Are they planning to suck out magic stones too?”

“There’s no basic industry there. They have to live off resources. But why are you suddenly asking about private companies?”

“Just wondering if there are any noteworthy businesses.”

“Hmm…”

Jerry, who had been tapping the steering wheel, listened to the radio and spoke.

“There are regional differences, but mining companies have expanded the most. Many countries have entered, but Kiyen companies like Ludakov and Garnyak have the largest presence.”

“Both are state-owned enterprises, right?”

“Strictly speaking, they’re not state-owned…”

“You know that about half the companies listed on the Petrograd Stock Exchange are essentially state-owned.”

“Right, they’re nominally private but half-owned by the imperial family. Especially those related to magic stones.”

It was a familiar story.

Opening the newspaper, I found a small article. It was about a new resource discovered in Umsalga, the capital of the Zamria Federation.

“What kind of resource comes from a capital city?”

“They say an oil well erupted.”

“…Oil was found? Really?”

“Yes. It apparently burst up from below during the capital’s reconstruction.”

I threw down the newspaper in disbelief.

“This is insane.”

After driving through rush hour traffic, we arrived in front of the Foreign Ministry headquarters. There I met Adela.

She seemed to have just finished work, as she quickly ran down the stairs when she saw the car and opened the back door-

“What’s this?”

“…Is that how you address your brother, ‘what’s this’?”

Adela frowned when she saw me in the back seat. I frowned back and made a sour face.

“Get out quickly.”

“Fine. I should get out of this filth anyway…”

“Who are you calling filthy! Just get out, you rebel!”

Here we go again.

After making a scene and throwing a tantrum, Adela finally succeeded in claiming both back seats.

“Ahh~ comfortable.”

Jerry smiled at his sister sprawled across the back seats, while I gathered my things and slightly bent my waist.

“Go ahead with her, bro.”

“Huh? Why are you getting out here? Aren’t you coming home? Ayla is coming today too.”

“I have someone to meet.”

Jerry poked his head between the driver’s and passenger’s seats, smiling curiously.

“Oh, are you perhaps going to meet a woman?”

As if he’d found something to tease about, Jerry showed a mischievous smile for the first time in a while, and Adela, as always, shamelessly scratched her calf with her foot while snorting.

I kicked away that dirty foot, closed the door, and answered.

“Yes.”