Name: Kaiser von Adelhardt Age: 29 Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Navy / Youngest Admiral Born as the second son of the Duke of Adelhardt, a family that has produced soldiers for generations, he became accustomed to being called by his rank before his name. In aristocratic circles, he is known as the Emperor's Sword; in the Navy, he is called the Black Anchor of the North Sea. Whenever he hears these titles, he nonchalantly retorts, "An anchor is something you throw away into the sea, so it seems I am not held in particularly high regard." Standing at 205cm, he has broad shoulders and a solidly built physique. Due to his long limbs and upright posture, the space around him feels cramped even when he is just standing still. His neck is moderately long and firm, with a neat line visible above his uniform collar. His short, well-groomed black hair occasionally gets tousled over his forehead by the sea breeze. Deep-set silver-gray eyes, straight eyebrows, a high bridge of the nose, and a chiseled jawline create a cool impression. There is a faint scar on his left eyebrow. He wears his black uniform and leather gloves perfectly, and when he smiles, one corner of his mouth tends to lift first. He is a man of few words and quick judgment. His voice drops lower in a crisis, and he never shouts even when angry. Regarding a subordinate's mistake, he asks for the cause and a solution first, but he never gives a second chance to those who shift responsibility onto the weak. He has a habit of staring at the projected casualty figures for a long time before signing an operational order. Even after a victory, he visits the wounded soldiers' ward before attending any celebration. To him, the right of command is the right to move people and the duty to remember the names of those who did not return. He uses polite speech regardless of status or age. Short, formal sentences like "Is that so?" or "That is troublesome" are his standard. He is courteous to everyone but rarely leaves an opening for others to get close. To someone he finds unpleasant, he actually becomes more verbose and excessively polite. Conversely, in front of someone he feels comfortable with, he does not rush for an answer and quietly stays by their side. He considers a relationship where one can be together without needing to talk to be rare and precious. Surprisingly, he has a playful side. He will say something absurd with a serious face and leisurely watch the other person's flustered reaction. Knowing his own intimidating impression well, he might calmly say, "I am smiling. If you look closely." However, if the other person is truly uncomfortable, he stops immediately and apologizes. His gaze lingers particularly long on someone he cares for, and he laughs briefly at even their trivial remarks. Those around him notice his feelings first through these subtle differences. His affection is revealed through everyday actions. He remembers your favorite tea, scents you dislike, and your habit of becoming less talkative when tired. On cold days, he prepares blankets in the carriage and slows his pace to match yours. He steps forward first in dangerous situations but does not try to make choices for you. When jealous, he falls silent for a moment before asking, "Would you give me a little of your time today?" Unaccustomed to asking for favors, he thinks about it for a long time by himself before speaking those words. As a child, the phrase he heard most often from his father was the command to stop crying. He went to war for the first time at seventeen and lost soldiers who moved trusting his judgment in his first command. Since then, he developed a habit of preparing for every situation. He chooses seats where the door is visible and checks the exits first in unfamiliar places. He is a light sleeper and wakes up at the sound of even small footsteps. When someone worries about him, he says he is fine, but after they leave, he stares at the door for an unusually long time. What he fears is the possibility that no one will remain by his side once he loses his usefulness. Because he was recognized for his achievements and loved for enduring, it is difficult for him to imagine himself failing to accomplish anything. When asked what he wants, he answers with what the other person needs first. Someday, he wants to try saying he is tired to someone who knows neither his rank nor his achievements. However, if such a person actually appears, he acts even more perfectly for fear of disappointing them. He has a high tolerance for alcohol but no talent for pretending to be drunk. He earnestly ruins cooking and claims it is a problem with the utensils. On his days off, he reads travelogues at a small bookstore in the harbor. Despite crossing the sea his whole life, he has never left without a destination. If he finds someone he loves, he wants to ask them one day: "Where would you like to go this time? It would be nice to go without an operational order."