Being promoted to Major in occupied territory felt like a dream.

    To be more precise, it was closer to a nightmare.

    What was even more horrifying was that the series of events I was currently experiencing weren’t a nightmare at all.

    This was reality.

    “Congratulations on your promotion, Major Daniel Steiner.”

    Lucy’s voice echoed hollowly within the office.

    “As you know, the General Staff has entrusted you with the position of interim garrison commander. The division commander is leading the unit out of the city, so you’ll be in charge of managing it from now on.”

    I knew. Looking out the office window, I could see the tanks and artillery of the armored division leaving the city alongside the soldiers.

    Heinrich, the one who pinned this Major badge on me, was also leading his brigade out.

    So today was the day they were leaving to join the northern frontlines.

    ‘Isn’t this too much? Handing over the position of garrison commander on the day they’re leaving?’

    I wanted to protest, but no matter how loudly I yelled, Heinrich wouldn’t hear me now.

    A sigh escaped me.

    “...How many troops did the division leave under my command?”

    “A battalion-sized force. The total strength is 950 soldiers.”

    At least the division had left behind a battalion close to full strength.

    Nordia wasn’t a particularly large city, so this number should be sufficient to maintain security.

    But that wasn’t the real issue.

    ‘I gained too many achievements too quickly.’

    Thanks to my rapid accumulation of military merits, I had been promoted to Major in no time.

    An officer of field rank—whose authority far surpassed that of company-grade officers.

    It wouldn’t take long for the Allied Nations to catch wind of this news. Once they did, I’d be branded as one of the “key figures of the Imperial Army’s leadership.”

    If we lost the war, I’d be destined for the gallows after a war crimes tribunal.

    ‘Should I bet my life on the Empire’s victory, then?’

    No. The odds were far too low.

    In a direct, all-out war, no country in this era could defeat the Empire.

    But war wasn’t a fair competition fought under the rules of a referee.

    Just look at how the Allied Nations had roped the Kingdom into their alliance.

    The Empire, enraged by the Kingdom’s refusal to remain neutral, was now striking it down with full force.

    But what would happen when the Kingdom, bleeding profusely under that blow, collapsed?

    The great powers would think: “Is the Empire about to become the dominant global force?”

    Terrified by that prospect, they would start pouring support into the Allied Nations.

    The leading examples were the Socialist Republic to the south and the Veleka Federation to the northeast.

    The moment they joined the war, a global conflict would become inevitable.

    And the Empire would suddenly find itself fighting against the Republic, the Federation, and the Allied Nations on three fronts, with only the sea at its back.

    Betting on the Empire’s victory under those circumstances was no different from a gambler staking their entire life on a long shot.

    ‘The stakes are my life. So I need to be careful...’

    Things were spiraling out of control, but nothing had fundamentally changed.

    Unless the Empire experienced a series of miraculous events capable of reversing its unfavorable prospects,

    I had no choice but to find a way to escape it.

    ‘Of course...’

    With my name already gaining notoriety, defecting through conventional means wouldn’t be possible.

    Even if I could find a place to accept me, there was no guarantee they’d protect me.

    But if I could offer the Allied Nations a deal they simply couldn’t refuse, that might change things.

    “Major?”

    “I’ll relay the directives immediately.”

    Acknowledging her salute, I turned back to the window.

    The Imperial magic armored division was nearly done withdrawing from the city.

    On the streets, citizens stared at the scene with emotions too complex to describe.

    Watching them stirred a faint pang of guilt.

    ‘I’m sorry, citizens of the Kingdom. Life is about to get much harder for you.’

    But there was no malice in it.

    I was simply doing what I had to in order to survive.

    *****

    Late Night.

    Black Crow Council, underground tavern.

    “As you’re all aware, Nordia has fallen into the hands of those Imperial bastards.”

    The middle-aged man sitting at the head of the table spoke, and the room nodded grimly.

    Hamthal, the Black Crow leader, his dark skin illuminated by dim light, continued in the somber atmosphere.

    “It’s been ten years since we started fighting for freedom and equality. We’ve endured countless hardships, but losing our city to war... this pain is new to all of us.”

    He slammed his fist on the table.

    “But we have not given up on this city! If we eliminate that monster Daniel Steiner, we might be able to take it back! Don’t you agree?”

    “Yes!”

    Voices of agreement rang out, echoing Hamthal’s determination.

    Just as he looked around in satisfaction, the door burst open.

    It was Tarkie, a young man acting as one of the Black Crow’s informants.

    He was holding a stack of papers.

    “Everyone! The garrison announced their plans for the city today!”

    “That bastard finally made his move... Let’s hear it.”

    No one had expected the garrison commander to let the city run freely under its old ways.

    As Tarkie scanned the documents, the room fell silent.

    “F-First, they’re conscripting the unemployed for military labor.”

    “They want us to work for the Empire? Unbelievable! What’s the public reaction?”

    “Uh... actually, it’s not bad. They’re offering proper wages—double the average worker’s pay, once you account for exchange rates. People are lining up to enlist.”

    Proper wages?

    Caught off guard, the room fell quiet as Tarkie continued.

    “Next, the tax rates.”

    “Ha! Taxes! Of course! How much are those scum raising them by?”

    “Well... they’re imposing a 30% base income tax, and up to 50% for high earners. They actually lowered the tax rates.”

    Everyone in the council stared, dumbfounded.

    The Kingdom’s old rates had been 45% for base income and up to 70% for high earners.

    With the war, even higher increases had been expected, leaving the citizens drowning under taxes.

    But Daniel Steiner, the Imperial commander, had just lowered them.

    As the council struggled to process this, Tarkie scratched his cheek and spoke again.

    “Lastly, about the administrative recruitment. They’re switching to Imperial standards.”

    “Of course! Now they’ll only hire those loyal to the Empire!”

    “Uh, not exactly. They’re scrapping the Kingdom’s old recruitment perks—like bonus points for being nobility.”

    In other words, candidates would be judged purely on merit.

    The council members exchanged uneasy glances.

    Now should have been the time for revolutionary fervor to ignite,

    yet they remained silent, their tongues tied.

    After the awkward silence dragged on, a man hidden under a hood finally spoke hesitantly.

    “I... I’m not sure if I should say this, but...”

    Fidgeting with his hands, he looked at Hamthal.

    “...Doesn’t it kind of feel like life’s better than before?”

    Ironically, no one could bring themselves to refute him.