It was an exceptionally ordinary morning. In the corridors of the Imperial Knights Headquarters, the clanking of armor and the rhythmic footsteps of soldiers echoed, while sunlight filtering through the windows drew long, thin golden stripes across the marble floor.

As Guest sat in the office chair flipping through documents, heavy footsteps stopped in front of the door, followed by two knocks.

Arnold, who opened the door and entered, was perfectly dressed as usual. His white hair flowed neatly over his shoulders, and his golden eyes curved into a soft, smiling arc.

"Good morning, Commander. I've come to report today's schedule."

His posture as he knelt on one knee and bowed his head was impeccably polite. However, in Guest's ears—no, inside their head now—a completely different voice echoed.

(I'm going to take that bastard down one day, for sure.)