C | Chapter 10.1 | Confession | Crack in the Evasion

“Could it be… that I meant love?”

The Revenant muttered softly, and the CIA agent’s eyes widened in surprise.

“…What? What did you say, sir?”

“You just asked, didn’t you? Why I did it.”

“Yes, I did. Why did you… commit all those unauthorized murders?”

That was the question. The Revenant took a moment to consider his answer seriously. The reason he carried out unauthorized killings alone—sympathy, kindness, guilt. He had always denied these excuses, but now the last reason kept bothering him. Maybe that was the truth after all. The last reason, the one he had never admitted to, no matter how much Eduard or Georg would talk about it beside him.

“For love.”

As he finally acknowledged it and spoke the words, a pang struck one side of his chest. The Revenant let out a thin sigh through his lips and closed his eyes. It was too late. If only he had acknowledged it back then… embraced it back then. If he had, maybe you…

The agent questioning him suddenly yelled in frustration, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Sir! No, damn it! I can’t keep calling you ‘sir’… Anyway! Are you even aware that this is an interrogation?”

The agent’s name was Walter Stone. Despite his tough-sounding name, he wasn’t exactly rock-solid, though his personnel file from last year noted he was competent and diligent. But an interrogation of the Revenant Matthais was hardly ideal, even for someone as capable as him.

The Revenant Matthais, compared to someone deemed “competent” like Stone, was more than a “legend.” Even reading just a third of the files documenting his operations left people with two reactions: either putting the file down in shock or quitting the agency altogether. Knowing such a figure was your superior tended to fill one with despair, realizing your career progression was as likely as reaching the stars.

In Stone’s case, he had chosen to stop reading the file. Instead, he fostered an endless admiration for the Revenant Matthais. He’d been determined to one day transfer to the South Europe division where Matthais had been posted and had even forced himself to study Spanish, a language he’d despised since high school. But as the years passed, admiration turned to frustration, and frustration morphed into obsession. For four years, Stone had been obsessively tracking the Revenant Matthais’ whereabouts. While CIA policy dictated that a missing agent be “archived” as classified and removed from internal records after one year, Stone had never let him go. Whenever he could, he pursued Matthais’ trail.

Yet, even personally tracking the Revenant Matthais was a nightmare. His traces had been erased so cleanly that he seemed like a ghost. Stone believed that not only had Matthais disappeared without a trace, but he was also compulsively wiping any residual trails he’d left in the U.S. Four years later, it felt as if Matthais existed only in CIA internal records. Sometimes, Stone even questioned if the man he was chasing was real or a ghost.

Ironically, Matthais had returned to the U.S., under a new name and passport with a fresh nationality. Stone was so furious he couldn’t even laugh at himself.

Bam! Stone slammed his fist on the table in the interrogation room.

“For love, you say?”

He threw down the stack of documents he’d been holding onto in front of the Revenant.

“Howard Jefferson, Misha Glenny, Andrew Willem, Marcus Winchell, Edward Hopkins… Eighteen people. Did you love them all?”

The Revenant opened his eyes and glared at Stone, chewing his lip with a look of irritation.

“I think I understand why you haven’t been promoted.”

“…What? Sir! Damn it! Just answer me! No beating around the bush!”

“Beating around the bush?”

For a moment, the Revenant truly felt irritated. He wasn’t beating around the bush. To give the answer “for love,” the closest truth, he had spent four years. During those years, he had lived as the Hervaulian Hound, Leo, a name that had killed more people than just those eighteen. He had become a true beast, no longer feeling hesitation or guilt for his actions. All to come to this answer: “for love.”

The Revenant slammed his cuffed wrists down on the edge of the table. A loud bang echoed. He adjusted the angle and strength slightly, then struck twice, creating a clinking sound.

“What the hell are you doing?”

As Stone scowled and questioned, the Revenant struck three more times. This time, the cuffs clicked loose.

Bam! Finally, he brought the cuffs down on the table with all his might. His wrists hurt a bit, but the loosened cuffs were now ready to come off. The Revenant slipped them off skillfully and tossed them in front of Stone, whose face turned pale. The Revenant massaged his sore wrists gently.

“Choose your words wisely when questioning. Do your homework on your subject. Keep the details in your head, not on paper. During questioning, even you should believe you know everything about them. And don’t think a few names will reveal anything. Know what these names mean before you enter the room. And don’t make excuses about security clearance. If you needed to, you should have stolen a superior’s password. Finally, never underestimate your subject. Just because I’m cuffed doesn’t mean you’re safe. You need to maintain caution even if you’re ever promoted to Director.”

After offering what he considered kind advice, the Revenant looked at the increasingly pale Stone and calmly loosened his tie, wrapping it around his hands.

“With a weapon, it’ll be twice as fast as using bare hands.”

Stone’s face turned from pale to a sickly oatmeal color.

“Wh-what are you saying…?”

“When you walked into this room alone, you should have expected this much.”

The Revenant added, his voice low.

“Do you think you can reach that door faster, or can I get this around your neck first?”

“S-Sir!”

Stone gasped as he shouted, his body tense, just as the door behind him swung open with a loud bang.

Thud!

Stone stumbled backward into the opening door, releasing a pained grunt as a middle-aged man with glasses entered, clicking his tongue at the sight. His gaze then turned to the Revenant.

“Still holding onto that habit?”

The Revenant, meeting the man’s gaze, raised his now-freed hand in greeting, his manner relaxed, as if addressing an old friend.

“Long time no see, Sherman.”

The man wrinkled his brow, causing his glasses to slide up his nose slightly, giving his expression a faintly amused look.

“How about calling me Director Oakley? Or Lord Josef?”

The man was Sherman Oakley, the current CIA Director. He addressed the Revenant with an oddly formal tone that hinted at a mixture of sentiments rather than hostility. Oakley gave a subtle signal over his shoulder.

“As long as the cameras are on.”

The white camera in the room’s corner blinked its lens in response to his words. The Revenant replied softly, “As you wish,” and Oakley took a seat across from him. Stone, still clinging to his bruised back, hesitated to greet the Director.

“How long are you going to stand there?”

“…Uh, yes?”

“Sit down or get out.”

“I… I’ll sit.”

Stone pulled out a chair roughly and sat down, his clumsy movements betraying his lingering shock. Oakley offered Stone a fleeting look of satisfaction.

He was the one who had dismissed all of Stone’s previous personal requests to search for the Revenant Matthais, though Stone’s persistence had finally brought Matthais into the CIA’s interrogation room. Stone hadn’t found him on his own, but through a report. It was easy for Oakley to think, “It was too easy for him,” as he hurriedly flew to West Branch where Matthais was held. Too easy, indeed, especially for the Revenant Matthais. There might be a reason he allowed himself to be captured quietly.

Not that Oakley would like that reason much.

Oakley began speaking calmly, starting with a seemingly simple topic.

“Don’t be afraid. Scaring rookies was once this guy’s… Lord Josef’s specialty. He might still have that old instructor’s habit.”

Stone immediately protested.

“I’m not a rookie, Director.”

“You were a rookie back when Lord Josef was with the CIA.”

“…Right. So you’re saying it was all a joke?”

Both the Revenant and Oakley shared a faint, knowing look. At one time, the Revenant had been Oakley’s most trusted senior agent. Oakley had even considered calling him back to make him deputy director before he turned forty, given his stellar overseas track record. They knew each other well, and in both work and beyond, they were remarkably alike.

“There were reports that if a rookie didn’t meet his standards, things would escalate well beyond a mere joke.”

“…”

Stone closed his mouth, darkening as Oakley turned his attention to the Revenant. There was a peculiar tension between them, like an electric current. They were close, but their current positions were far from friendly.

“I got a call.”

Oakley spoke first, and the Revenant instantly understood what he meant.

“The Prince must’ve had a restless night.”

Hervaulis and this place had a six-hour time difference. If Georg had called Eduard, he would have been deep in sleep. Eduard, with his low blood pressure, hated being woken up. The thought of Eduard having woken up and called the CIA Director internationally left the Revenant feeling weary about his return to the Principality. Eduard would likely count this as a debt to be paid.

“Yes, he was quite displeased.”

“As expected.”

“Not because he was woken up, but because Edmund Clark refused to give him my direct line.”

The Revenant tilted his chin, intrigued.

“Clark? The White House spokesperson?”

“He’s not the spokesperson anymore; he’s Chief of Staff. He wanted to handle things himself. But in the end, that left the Grand Duke in a rather foul mood. The Grand Duke said, ‘Denying me access to the only person I can’t get mad at for disturbing my sleep? He might as well be telling me to go to hell.’”

Recalling Eduard’s usual attitude, the Revenant chuckled.

“Classic Prince. You should’ve just told him to go to hell.”

“I wish. But in diplomacy, finesse matters more than boldness. I held back.”

“Which is why the Prince figured he’d rather deal with the CIA Director than a sly ex-spokesperson.”

Oakley grumbled.

“Pass on a ‘go to hell’ if I get the chance.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Do it yourself. That sly Prince is my superior now.”

“……”

Oakley pondered for a moment, then gestured toward the mirror. A moment later, someone entered the room and handed him a blue file folder. Oakley opened it and slid it toward the Revenant.

“Full pardon. Only one condition: rejoin. Just sign in the blank.”

The Revenant remained silent.

“……”

The document Oakley held contained a chance to erase the past completely, including his reason for abandoning the name Leo. Yet, the Revenant didn’t even look at it. After a while, he spoke again.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Are you seriously asking?”

Their eyes locked, each observing the other intently. Oakley knew even while offering the pardon that this was too late. Matthais likely saw himself as having crossed the point of no return when he changed his nationality. Even with the eighteen unauthorized killings, there was still a way; it was Matthais who hadn’t chosen it. He had chosen to leave the country rather than remain as Leo.

“So, you’re choosing to live as a man of Hervaulis?”

“Yes.”

The curt response was tinged with a frustration that bordered on anger. Oakley extended a hand toward the fleeting regret.

“I don’t think it’s money. What’s your reason? It’s not for the sake of preventing diplomatic friction with Hervaulis.”

“You have plenty of agents. If I rejoin, it adds one more agent to the CIA. But as the head of the Hervaulis Royal Guard, the U.S. has much more to gain. Let me ask a question, Director Oakley. What are you hoping to gain with that document?”

Knowing each other too well, neither man budged an inch. Oakley sighed first. His displeasure showed, and the Revenant grimaced in response.

“It’s not working. But it wasn’t my idea. The Attorney General thought a bait like this might help gauge your potential hostility. I opposed it, but… I admit I had my hopes. I thought you’d succeed me here.”

“Both of you can go to hell.”

The Revenant leaned back loosely in his chair. The phrase meant he didn’t care about either side. Oakley folded his arms, clearly displeased.

“Do you know what’s truly hellish?”

“…What are you trying to say?”

“Unless you at least pretend to sign that document, the Attorney General and the Department of Defense will always oppose your release. The White House will just fold its arms. To them, holding this leverage over Hervaulis is a boon. Unless that fox Prince of yours flies over here himself, you’ll be staying in the detention room downstairs rather than a ten-thousand-a-night suite. And no matter how your bear-like international lawyer digs around, the U.S. has the conveniently superb Patriot Act. And I’m one of the best at exploiting it.”

Oakley’s gaze fixed on the Revenant, his words a thinly veiled threat.

“So if you plan to use me, be straightforward. There must be something you want; otherwise, you wouldn’t have come quietly. But no matter how much I owe Lord Josef of Hervaulis, I don’t give favors for free. Explain to me why you can’t come back here. Convince me. Make me give up.”

The Revenant, silent, finally opened his mouth.

“So… if I convince you that I can’t come back, you’ll grant my request?”

“If I can be convinced. Then I’ll give up on you without going as high as the Attorney General.”

“Fine.”

The Revenant looked over at Stone.

“Turn off the cameras. Not just the one on the ceiling, but the one behind the wall, too.”

Stone instinctively rose, only to realize that it was the Revenant, not Oakley, who had commanded him. Awkwardly, he glanced at Oakley.

“Um, Director…?”

Without a word, Oakley simply nodded. Once Stone returned after turning off the cameras, the Revenant set a condition.

“From now on, nothing I say should be recorded. No security level is high enough to keep it from being found. Can you manage that, Director Oakley?”

“Explain your reasoning first, so I understand.”

“Ian has acquired an annoying skill. If there’s a record, he’ll find it someday.”

“…Ian? Who’s Ian?”

Stone asked, but Oakley, rather than asking the same question, hardened his gaze. He knew who Ian Winchell was, though not through the Revenant. He remembered that name as that of a victim in an incident.

“So… that’s how it was.”

The Revenant and Oakley exchanged a glance. The moment Oakley saw the name Ian Winchell, he could piece together a rough outline of the unauthorized killings the Revenant had committed. Now, he wanted confirmation. Among the sanctioned killings carried out under CIA orders, he needed to understand why that particular murder had driven the Revenant to a place of no return.

“Yes.”

The Revenant’s low response followed.