There’s Something Special About Her - Chapter 88

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 88.
The reason I suspected that the other spy was not a mere accomplice but a spy director came down to one thing: what Buzz-cut had said when he was arrested.
“You showed up way, way later than the agreed time! And you said you had brown hair, but that wasn’t even—!”
Felix Melcher had received information about his contact from someone.
Moreover, given how clumsy his actions had been, it was clear this was his first time carrying out that sort of mission.
Which meant the remaining spy wasn’t a simple accomplice but a commander who had orchestrated Felix Melcher.
“Ah, this doesn’t sit right with me.”
So much so that I wondered if it might be better to simply observe the trainees more carefully instead.
It wasn’t an emotional reason—something like how I could dare to suspect people like these.
It was the scale of the fallout I’d have to account for the moment I put any of them on the spy suspect list.
If someone who’d belonged to the organization for decades defected for any reason, the damage they could inflict on Nox would be beyond imagination.
“For now, I’ll keep this to myself.”
I slipped the file folder back into its original place and left the Document Storage Room.
And as I walked through the Secret Passage heading back to the Training Ground, I reminded myself:
‘Don’t hastily conclude there’s only one spy left.’
I’d already wasted enough time in the humiliation of thoughtlessly assuming the accomplice was one of the trainees.
There could be one remaining spy, or there could be more.
This time, I wouldn’t jump to conclusions about anything.
Not even their positions.
‘I’ll have to go back to the Nest once more.’
I hoped it would be empty again today, just like now.
I needed to find the records on Padilla Bondez, who held an administrative position.
***
D-65.
According to the information I reviewed at the Nest, two instructors maintained closer relationships with Padilla Bondez than the other two.
They were Wilfred Kessler, who taught theory, and Otto Grau, who taught Martial Arts.
Of all people—a perfectionist and a sadist.
An odd pairing that both fit and didn’t fit with Padilla Bondez, who seemed endlessly cheerful yet had a clearly unhinged streak.
‘Even if they disliked each other, they’d have had to stay close.’
A spy director would necessarily have had to maintain good relations with the Training Ground commander herself.
A spy’s value is determined by the intelligence they can provide and the missions they can execute.
In that sense, every move Padilla Bondez made—being an administrator—would be a valuable asset to the spy.
A means to prove their usefulness to outside forces.
Of course, all of this reasoning only made sense under the assumption that Padilla Bondez herself wasn’t the spy.
“Today I’ll teach you about the characteristic behavioral patterns of spies.”
I watched Instructor Wilfred Kessler, who was teaching the Nox Inspector class.
“These characteristics divide into four major categories as follows. First: behavioral patterns. Second: control obsession. Third….”
Kessler looked like a typical scholar now, but he’d originally belonged to the Administrative Division.
Ten years ago, Padilla Bondez had freed him from the Underground Prison, where he’d been locked away on suspicion of corruption.
She’d heard whispers that his superior’s spending had become suspiciously lavish, and instead of ignoring the rumors, she’d used her authority as an administrator to clear his name directly.
And her helping hand didn’t end there.
She suggested he leave the Administrative Division and join the Training Ground as an instructor.
Either way, having once been tarred with corruption charges and made his position unstable within the Administrative Division, Wilfred Kessler must have felt her intervention as divine salvation.
But that was all in the past.
‘Ten years is enough time to change even a convict.’
Let alone the fragile human heart.
They say humans repay grudges even when they forget favors.
So I evaluated Instructor Kessler through the lens of Helena, the Information Unit chief at Wickes.
‘I’d rate him mid-tier, or maybe mid-to-low.’
Wilfred Kessler already held a stable position as a Training Ground instructor.
If I succeeded in turning him to our side, I’d gain a piece I could use for the long term inside Nox.
But his rating hovered in the middle precisely because a theory instructor’s access to information had clear limits.
I could receive trainees’ grades and department assignments quickly each year, but that sort of information was merely time-consuming to verify—it could be confirmed through other channels without much difficulty.
The most valuable intel he could offer would be knowledge of the relationships and rivalries among trainees gleaned from observation.
That might prove useful ten or twenty years down the line, once the newcomers rose to high positions in their respective departments.
If my subordinates in the Information Unit reported that they were trying to turn Wilfred Kessler, I’d have told them to reconsider.
‘Unless he could extract information beyond his authority—then it might be worth it.’
Would that fastidious man really go that far for an outside organization?
Why?
While my mind ran through various scenarios and my eyes worked to glean whatever might be visible in Wilfred Kessler’s appearance and behavior, the three-hour class ended in a flash.
“Sigh.”
It had been easier when I was weighing the forty-two trainees against each other.
Then I could approach them using the pretext of being classmates, strike up conversations, share drinks, and take my measure.
But now I had no such excuse.
‘Should I go to his office claiming there’s something in the lesson I didn’t understand?’
I was thinking that very thing when I headed toward the Dining Hall for lunch.
“Rookie, hold on a moment.”
Instructor Kessler gestured to me from the podium.
Jackpot, jackpot!
Last time Bertolt Klaus had approached me, and now Instructor Kessler was calling me out first!
I managed my expression, restraining my excitement as I walked toward the podium.
A trainee beaming at an instructor who’d called them out would look suspicious to anyone watching.
“You called for me, Instructor?”
“Hold on.”
Instructor Kessler organized his books and cleaned the blackboard, dragging out the time until the last trainee left the Classroom, only then broaching the real subject.
“How’s Hanno Becker doing these days?”
“Hanno?”
“I thought you and Hanno Becker were close. Aren’t you?”
“Well, we are fairly close. We shared Room 402 for a while, and we’re in the same training group. But Hanno—do you know him, Instructor?”
The question tumbled out naturally, prompted by genuine curiosity, but behind his glasses, Instructor Kessler’s gaze sharpened.
“Do I look like someone who’d develop personal ties with a trainee?”
“No, I’m sorry! I misspoke, Instructor!”
“Mind yourself from now on.”
After delivering that sharp rebuke, Instructor Kessler seemed to deliberate for a moment before speaking again.
“As an instructor, I don’t form personal bonds with trainees, but there are occasionally ones that concern me. This time, it just happens to be Hanno Becker.”
‘Just happens’ seems wrong.
I chose my words carefully, abandoning my usual obliviousness.
Why had Instructor Kessler called me out alone?
“Hanno is a friend I’d like to help too. I was rash just now. Please, speak freely, Instructor.”
“…You’ll understand as his friend, but Hanno Becker originally wanted to pursue the Literature Department. His test scores were solid, and his desire to undergo Literature training was strong, but the director decided he had greater potential to develop in the Martial Arts Department and assigned him there instead.”
“The director herself.”
When I thought of Padilla Bondez—sharp-eyed and perceptive, able to see through people—it seemed like something she would do.
And I could now infer why Instructor Kessler had asked me about Hanno Becker’s recent circumstances.
“Hanno does seem to be struggling a bit, that’s true.”
It wasn’t something I’d fabricated.
Just as he had in the recent Martial Arts class with Kaspar Eschbach, Hanno was having difficulty adapting.
“Yes. Even from his records in other classes and conversations with the other instructors, it seems that way.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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