The metal fixture moved. It was slight. Just a few millimeters. But everyone saw it. Galt's wrinkled hand remained pressed against the edge of the fixture, trembling. The weathered hand of a carpenter who had worked for nearly seventy years was shaking. Whether from excitement, exhaustion, or both, Misaki couldn't tell. "Now is our chance," the old carpenter Galt said quietly. His voice was low and still. Not the clamor of the plaza, not the distant sound of insects—just the cold air before dawn, and his voice cutting straight through it. "If we fail, there won't be another chance. Everyone understands that, yes?" No one answered. That was enough. Reon took the final hammer. A heavy one, passed silently from a soldier. His golden eyes fixed on the fixture. He steadied his breathing. One second. Two seconds. In that moment, Misaki flipped over the leather pouch. "...Oh no," she whispered. It was barely audible—a voice even she hadn't fully registered. She was searching through the leather pouch for the signal fire's ignition powder, but three pieces of parchment had come out with it, and in the darkness, she couldn't tell which was the powder bag and which was the map. Her fingers grasped something. Wrong. She grasped again. Wrong again. Aira glanced over from beside her. Her eyes slowly widened. She didn't open her mouth. But her entire face was saying, "Now?" Misaki flipped the pouch again. Two pieces of parchment fell to the ground. She picked them up. Searched again. A few nearby soldiers looked over. Reon turned once. His golden eyes looked at Misaki's hands, then returned to the front. They returned, but—his ears had turned red, or so Misaki told herself it was just the light before dawn. "...Found it," Misaki said softly. A small leather pouch emerged. Yes, this was it. Misaki took a quiet deep breath. No one said anything. The air in the plaza slowly returned to its original weight. All eyes turned to Reon. Reon raised the hammer. A strike with all his might. Caaang—! The metallic sound split the dawn air. One second of silence. Then came a dull, heavy sound. Giii, giiiii, giiiiii—dragging thirty years of rust and the weight of time, the water gate's fixture slowly began to move. Galt stood up. He placed both hands on the edge of the gate and pushed with his full weight. "Push!" the old carpenter shouted. Three more joined in. The gate creaked. It resisted. Still, it moved. One centimeter. Then another. Relief and excitement spread across the entire plaza at once. One of the soldiers said a low "yes." An elderly woman from the town covered her mouth with both hands. Aira gently grasped Misaki's sleeve. "Misaki," Aira said. "I know," Misaki replied. She opened the powder bag. Approached the signal fire stand. Lit it. Orange flames rose. White smoke climbed straight into the dark sky before dawn. --- Reon gave the order just after the smoke had spread sufficiently across the sky. "Advance!" he commanded. A single, sharp word. The elite unit moved out. The sound of hooves striking stone echoed across the plaza, then faded into the distance. Just before the advance, Reon turned once more on horseback. He looked toward Misaki. There were no words. Just one second. Golden eyes met hers. That was all. That alone was enough for confirmation—or so it felt to Misaki. They hadn't confirmed the operation's procedures, nor had there been any words of encouragement. Just the confirmation of a single fact: that they were facing the same direction. Reon turned his horse. His back receded into the distance. Misaki felt something tighten in her chest. Something she couldn't quite name, but it was definitely there. It could have been nothing more than professional trust. But in this moment before dawn, right after raising the signal fire covered in mud, the gaze that followed Reon's back was something more than that. (Now is the final phase of the operation.) She clenched her teeth and turned her eyes back toward the command post. The roar came less than three minutes later. Zuooooon—! Water awakened from thirty years of sleep rushed through the ancient aqueduct at full force. Water spray rose into the dawn sky. The ground trembled faintly. Feeling it through the soles of her feet, Misaki spread the parchment under the lamplight. "Report!" a lookout soldier called out. The lookout came running in. "The Imperial Army is moving! Water is entering the lowlands!" Misaki quickly spread the supply line map on the parchment. Her finger pressed on the position of the northern exit. "The northern exit—if we block it now, we cut off their retreat. The Imperial Army's main supply warehouses are concentrated in this area. This is their only evacuation route," she said crisply and precisely. Reon was gone. A messenger was needed. Misaki turned to a deputy commander nearby. "Tell Prince Reon. The northern retreat route. Now." The soldier ran. The dawn sky was slowly turning white. --- Cheers erupted in the Portos harbor plaza thirty minutes after dawn. "They're retreating! The Imperial Army is retreating!" a townsman shouted. Residents who had rushed into the plaza raised their fists to the sky one after another. An elderly woman was crying. Children ran in circles. The joy of being able to go outside for the first time in days spread from person to person. "The work from thirty years ago came in handy," Galt said with an embarrassed smile. His voice was half-buried in the plaza's noise, but nearby residents heard it clearly, laughed, and patted the old carpenter's back. He said "ow, ow" while his eyes narrowed in satisfaction. Misaki stood at the edge of the plaza, watching the scene. Mud, soil from the water channels, and sand from the stone walls covered her entire outfit. Her shoes were still damp inside. Her shoulder ached dully. But standing in the midst of the cheers wasn't bad. The calculations had been correct. The fifty-fifty gamble had landed on the winning side. Then came the sound of hoofbeats. Reon had returned. He was covered in mud. Dirt splattered across the left half of his face, and his right shoulder was soaked. When his feet touched the ground after dismounting, there was a squelch—water in his shoes. Misaki's shoes were also damp inside. The same sound came from her feet. The two stood side by side at the edge of the plaza. The residents began to look their way. Whispers could be heard. "Who do you think looks worse?" "...The prince seems to have more water, but..." "But the mud on the other one's face is more evenly distributed." Aira came to stand beside them. She examined both of them seriously. One second. Another second. Then, in a quiet but resolute tone, she said: "I think it's a tie." Laughter spread across the plaza. Reon said, "Why are you scoring us?" "I was curious," Aira replied without any hint of shame. Reon turned toward Misaki. "The operation went as planned," he said. It was a short statement. Not praise, not thanks, not even an evaluation—just a confirmation. But Misaki understood that this was the maximum Reon could offer in his words. "I'm glad the supply line calculations were correct," Misaki replied equally briefly. They stood side by side, covered in mud, neither saying anything for a moment. The plaza's cheers echoed distantly. The air between them carried a different weight than when they had first faced each other in the abandoned warehouse. But before either could put words to that weight, their gazes drifted apart. Misaki looked at the faces of the celebrating residents. Reon looked at the sky. Yet Misaki knew. They had looked at each other, if only for an instant. And Reon knew it too. Only Aira glanced at the two mud-covered figures standing side by side, then looked up at the sky again. --- The celebration had quieted by the time night fell. Lingering conversations continued in the plaza like dying embers, but Misaki sat in a corner of the room she had borrowed at the harbor inn, with only a single lamp lit. What she had taken from the leather pouch was the final volume of the Gais Documents. The Gais Documents—a complete twelve-volume national reform plan written by the former Prime Minister Gais at the end of thirty years of governance. From the kingdom's water systems and taxation to military supply networks, it was a blueprint of the state recorded in meticulous detail. In it, Gais had written that he had "entrusted the succession to Valner"—Valner, that is, Lloyd Valner, the person Gais had named as his successor. But Misaki already knew. She had witnessed Lloyd handing a sealed letter to an Imperial officer in the moonlight behind the abandoned building. The successor Gais had placed his trust in was selling information to the Empire. And Kasiesu, the nobleman deeply embedded in Reon's court—the person revealed to have made secret pacts between the kingdom and the Empire—also had suspected connections to Lloyd. If all of this was connected, then it couldn't be said with certainty that Gais's documents themselves hadn't been tampered with. Until now, she hadn't had time for the final volume. There had been operation preparations, dealing with Lloyd's betrayal, repairing the dam. But tonight, finally, there was time. The lamp's flame flickered slightly. She turned a page. Read the text. Gais's cipher system was unique, but Misaki had already grasped its structure. She could read it. She could understand it. As she followed the contents of the final volume, her eyes ran to the edge of the page. She stopped. There was faintly written text in the margin. Not Gais's handwriting. Written by another hand. The ink color was subtly different. Text added later. "The water source records from Chapter Eight have already been transferred; the location of the original has been changed." Misaki had seen that handwriting before. In the moonlight behind the abandoned building, the man who had handed a sealed letter to the Imperial officer. Lloyd's handwriting. The lamp trembled in her hand. Parts of the Gais Documents had been rewritten by Lloyd. Kasiesu had made pacts with the Empire. Lloyd had passed information to the Imperial side. And even Gais's legacy itself had been tampered with. The betrayal ran deeper than she had thought. (How much has been rewritten?) Misaki took out parchment and began writing in small letters: "Identify correction points," "Determine which chapters were falsified," "Confirm location of originals." Three tasks lined up vertically. She couldn't use the Gais Documents' information as-is until she completed all of this. She didn't yet know which volumes had been altered. It might not be just Chapter Eight. "The Gais Documents," Reon said. Misaki looked up. Reon had come beside her. She hadn't heard his footsteps. Was she tired, or had she been too focused? His armor was off; he wore only a simple tunic. The mud on the left side of his face had been wiped away, but faint traces remained. Misaki held the lamp steady. "I found alterations," she said. She pointed to the text written in the margin. She explained in order: that it was Lloyd's handwriting, that the content redirected the original's location elsewhere, that there was a possibility other chapters had been tampered with as well. Reon listened. He didn't interrupt. He heard her out to the end. Silence fell. The echoes of the celebration drifted from a distance. The lamp's flame wavered. Reon said nothing for a while. He was looking at the handwriting in the margin of the Gais Documents. He had worn this same silence when learning of Kasiesu, when learning of Lloyd. The silence of enduring repeated weight. The face of someone watching something trusted crumble again. Misaki felt the weight of bringing this news as she watched his face. "Once we leave Portos, we'll verify it together," Reon said quietly. It was a calm statement. Not an order, not a suggestion—