I Was Mistaken as a Great War Commander-Chapter 132

Tears welled up in Theobald’s eyes.

He had come here with firm resolve, yet now he faced the bitter truth—his cause would never be realized.

And the fear was creeping in. A single wrong word could cost him his life.

“On top of that...”

Someone who should be here was missing.

As a strange sense of unease took hold, Theobald’s eyes darted around, and then—he realized.

“They’re not here.”

Denders and Kontim, who had left the textile factory with him, were nowhere to be seen.

Before carrying out the operation, Theobald had given clear orders: separate to avoid detection, then regroup at Daniel Steiner’s location.

No matter how sudden the attack, they would need to strike from multiple angles to stand a chance against someone like Daniel, who was capable of neural acceleration.

Even if one of them failed, the other could still complete the mission.

But now, there was no sign of them.

As if they had forgotten the plan altogether, their presence had vanished from this place.

There was only one explanation.

Denders and Kontim had been captured before they even got here.

"If they managed to take down Denders and Kontim in advance, then surely, they could have captured me just as easily. And yet... they let me wander freely on the streets."

This was no coincidence.

It was Daniel Steiner’s mercy.

Or perhaps, his idea of amusement.

A predator playing with a mouse before killing it.

The realization made Theobald’s stomach churn. A wave of nausea rose within him.

“Ugh... hic...”

A choked sob escaped his lips.

His face darkened, his expression twisting with quiet despair.

Now that it was over, he saw no reason to keep up appearances.

Of course, to Daniel, who was watching all of this unfold, the scene was simply baffling.

"What’s wrong with him?"

The old man, who had sat down while chatting about his son, suddenly looked as if he was on the verge of tears. Daniel couldn’t make sense of it.

He hesitated before rationalizing the situation.

"...Could it be that his son is no longer alive?"

Perhaps the old man had coincidentally met someone his late son had admired, and it stirred painful memories.

"That comment about bringing his son along—it could have been a self-deprecating joke."

Thinking this, Daniel gave Theobald a mildly sympathetic look.

After pondering how to approach the matter, he carefully asked,

"Are you thinking about your son?"

His voice was gentle, but to Theobald, it was absolutely terrifying.

Swallowing dryly, Theobald forced out a trembling response.

“...Do you know my son?”

“No. But I could always get to know him.”

Theobald’s pupils dilated with fear.

He had no idea what Daniel meant by that.

But he knew one thing for certain—whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

He opened and closed his mouth, struggling to speak.

Like a fish gasping for air, Theobald silently floundered.

All around him, he could feel it.

The chatting couples, though engaged in conversation, had their eyes on him.

The man reading the newspaper.

The pedestrians strolling by the fountain.

The waiter walking away after taking an order.

They were all watching him.

They were all waiting for his next words.

The weight of it pressed against his throat, twisting into a silent threat.

"Say the wrong thing, and your son will pay the price."

“A... ah...”

A single tear rolled down Theobald’s cheek.

"I was wrong."

Daniel, momentarily confused, blinked.

Wrong about what?

Before he could ask, Theobald continued in a desperate rush.

"I’m sorry. I will never do something like this again. I should have known better than to ignore the warnings—I was a fool. Please! Please, I beg you. I’ll end everything here. Just... grant me a sliver of mercy!"

His head bowed so low that the crown of his head was exposed.

It was a humiliating surrender.

But Daniel still had no idea what was going on.

One thing was clear, though—this man was not in his right mind.

Not wanting to get involved with a lunatic, Daniel cleared his throat.

"I think you should go home now."

Theobald flinched.

“...And my son?”

"To be honest, I don’t care that much. I don’t want to hear about him."

Thud!

Theobald slammed his forehead against the table.

"Thank you! Thank you!"

His pathetic display of gratitude sent a chill down Daniel’s spine.

For a moment, he considered calling the police.

Before he could, Theobald rose from his seat.

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His eyes were hollow as he looked at Daniel, then—without another word—he bowed.

And left.

Without touching his food, he walked away, disappearing into the distance.

Daniel watched the old man’s retreating figure with a puzzled expression.

Then, a waiter approached.

"Colonel Daniel Steiner. Here is a strawberry cake."

Turning, Daniel saw the small slice of cake on the tray and tilted his head.

"...I don’t recall ordering strawberry cake."

"It’s on the house. Since you’re visiting, we thought it was only proper to serve you something special."

There was no reason to refuse.

Accepting the plate, Daniel nodded.

"Appreciate it. I’ll enjoy it."

As the waiter smiled and left, Daniel picked up his fork and stabbed the strawberry on top.

Popping it into his mouth, he glanced at the empty seat where the old man had been.

"What a strange man."

That was all.

Nothing more.

Because to Daniel, he was just some stranger he had met for the first time.

****

After leaving the restaurant, Theobald rushed toward the textile factory.

Now that he realized everything was part of Daniel Steiner's scheme, he had to warn the others.

He believed that the sooner he got the word out, the more lives he could save.

But the moment he entered the textile factory, he stopped in his tracks.

The machines—the looms and sewing machines—were completely still.

Of course, Theobald had ordered them to destroy the documents and prepare to flee, but at the very least, they should have been pretending to work to avoid suspicion.

But the factory now appeared to be completely deserted, as though no one was there at all.

As he looked around in confusion, Theobald slowly began to move.

It was only when he reached the far end of the factory that he understood the situation.

Click—

Sparks flew from a small bonfire set on the floor.

In front of the fire sat a black businessman whom Theobald had seen before.

Beside him, a briefcase full of bundles of money rested at his feet.

Around him stood a group of men wearing gas masks, all standing with rifles in hand.

It was all over.

In the midst of his helplessness, Theobald slowly turned his head and saw that the dyeing machine had been moved aside.

This was the only hidden passage leading to the underground bunker, a secret that Hamtal had clearly known about.

For a brief moment, Theobald stood frozen, then slowly turned toward Hamtal.

“How...?”

Hamtal pulled out a stack of cash from the open briefcase and tossed it into the fire.

The flames danced, scattering embers wildly.

“You failed to manage your subordinates properly.”

In silence, the money burned.

As Theobald watched the bundles of cash turn to ash, he finally managed to speak.

“...Was it Rebem?”

Hamtal did not answer.

He merely took another stack of bills from the briefcase and threw it into the fire.

“Are Denders and Kontim safe? What about the others?”

Once again, there was no response.

Hamtal clasped his hands together, staring at the burning money before slowly speaking.

“I gave you a chance. A chance concerning your organization’s survival.”

Every time the flames flickered, Hamtal's shadow wavered.

“But you ignored my advice. You didn’t take this money. Not only that, you even tried to kill Daniel Steiner.”

“......”

“Perhaps, you and I could have had a good relationship. We might have become strong partners, working together without conflict, pursuing mutual success.”

A ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) faint smile played on Hamtal’s lips.

“But now, it’s all over. Just like this money burning to ashes, like kindling.”

He could not use the money rejected by an enemy.

It was tainted, after all.

But to Theobald, it felt as though this was a ritual before the enemy's death.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“That’s a rather simple last request.”

The monotone voice echoed hollowly in the air.

As Theobald resigned himself to his fate, he let out a bitter laugh.

“...You will never understand, will you? The noble heart of dying for one's country. It was absurd from the start to betray my country and join forces with you.”

Hamtal nodded quietly.

“You’re not wrong. But you don’t understand why we do this, do you? You’ve never lived as a slave simply because your skin is a different color.”

Hamtal threw another stack of money into the fire.

“If your organization is supported by the Allied Nations, then ours is supported by Daniel Steiner. We are not so different in that we both act according to our beliefs. The only difference is...”

The flames grew a little higher.

“I was the strong one. And you were the weak one.”

Hamtal spoke the simple truth, his lips barely moving.

“Goodbye. It was a pleasure talking to you.”

Theobald's eyes widened.

The next moment, one of the Black Swans drew a pistol and pulled the trigger.

Bang—

The gunshot rang out, and Theobald collapsed.

Even in death, his eyes remained open, filled with disbelief.

The final image reflected in his eyes was of Hamtal, pulling another bundle of cash from the briefcase and tossing it into the flames.

Whoosh—

This was the farewell money for Theobald, the last bundle of bills left in the briefcase.