Chapter 48: Joke Of An Officer

Chapter 48: Chapter 48: Joke Of An Officer

After sorting through his thoughts, Michael settled on a plan that would have made most geniuses spit out their tea.

It was simple.

Reckless.

And absolutely guaranteed to work.

With his mind made up, he stepped out of the testing line.

Almost immediately, heads turned.

The people in front of him and those behind him stared as the tall, white-haired youth simply abandoned his place and headed straight toward the military camp.

Most of their expressions shifted to confusion, though a few were too busy to care about his strange behavior and merely glanced at him from the corners of their eyes.

Only a broad-shouldered man with a scarred chin reached out and caught Michael by the wrist. "Little brother, are you alright? The line’s this way, not over there."

Michael offered him a gentle, slightly vacant smile before carefully pulling his hand free.

Then he kept walking.

"Stay in place!" a soldier near the back of the line barked. "Didn’t you hear the previous command?"

Michael ignored him.

He lifted his face toward the cold wind, his eyes half-lidded, and spoke in a soft, dreamy voice that somehow carried farther than it should have.

"Ah... the wind feels so damn cold. And my aura is so cold too..."

He shook his head slightly and continued forward with graceful steps. After a few paces, he glanced to either side, and his gaze immediately locked with Emma, who was standing with Raven and Grolm on the far side of the plateau.

Michael’s steps faltered for a moment as he stared at her. Emma’s gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes widening as her expression twisted into one of pure horror.

Michael, however, showed no hint of panic. He maintained his delicate scholar’s expression, turned his gaze forward, and continued walking while shaking his head.

"Ah... even the beauties’ looks are cold today."

As he continued walking, several soldiers shouted at him from behind. Then one particularly booming voice rang out.

"Stop right there! Don’t make me repeat myself, young man!"

Hearing the clear, authoritative command, Michael slowly came to a halt.

He tilted his head back and watched the snowflakes drift down onto his face. The soft, white flakes melted against his skin. Then he let out a sigh.

"Truly a cold day, don’t you all think?"

A young woman standing nearby shook her head with open pity.

"Such a handsome young man. It’s a shame he’s not right in the head."

Her friend nudged her and whispered, "See? That book was right. Most handsome men are either in the grave or in a mental asylum. Looks like this one’s heading for the second option."

The man with the booming voice strode toward Michael, his expression hardening with every step. He seized Michael by the shoulder, firm enough to stop him from walking away again.

"Young man, you’d better explain what you’re doing here. If not, you’ll be spending the night in our custody."

The old man, his hair graying and his face slightly wrinkled, gestured for the younger soldiers—clearly his subordinates—to come forward.

They approached cautiously, their eyes fixed on Michael. One looked ready to grab his other arm, while another kept a wary distance, unsure whether the strange young man was simply being difficult or was genuinely unwell.

As they drew closer, the old man finally got a proper look at Michael’s face. His stern expression faltered, and a deep frown creased his forehead.

"...Is that hair real?"

Michael nodded slowly, his expression serene. "En. I’m a cold person, so isn’t it natural that my hair will be cold too?"

The old soldier stared at him for a moment, then clicked his tongue. "Good grief..."

He turned to one of his men. "Keep an eye on him. And don’t let him wander off again."

The younger officer nodded. He took a step toward Michael, then paused and turned to his superior.

"Sir, you haven’t cuffed him."

The old soldier’s brows knitted even tighter. "Oh, right."

He stepped in front of Michael and held out a hand. "Put your hands forward, young man."

Michael blinked up at him with perfect innocence. "For what... big brother?"

"Cuffs."

Michael’s eyes widened slightly. "Oh..."

He slowly brought one hand toward his lips, lowering his face as a delicate pink flush spread across his cheeks.

For a moment, he looked like a porcelain doll who had somehow wandered into the middle of a criminal investigation.

"Big brother... we’re in public~"

The officer froze.

The younger soldiers behind him immediately looked away, shoulders twitching.

A wave of poorly suppressed giggles rippled through the nearby crowd.

The man yanked the cuffs out with unnecessary force, clearly ready to snap something harsh, but Michael had already extended his wrists, palms up, fingers slightly curled.

"Please be gentle, big bro~"

The officer’s jaw clenched hard enough for a muscle to jump in his cheek.

He snapped the cuffs onto Michael’s wrists, then waved sharply at two of his men while dragging an exhausted hand down his face.

"Elon, please take this psycho away before I commit a crime myself."

The two soldiers nodded and gripped Michael by the shoulders, their faces tense as they struggled to maintain stern expressions despite clearly wanting to laugh.

The lead officer turned to leave, but before he could take a single step, he froze.

His hand slipped into his pocket, and he pulled out a small communication device.

He glanced around first, making sure no one was watching the screen with him before reading the message.

"Huh?"

He read the words again.

Then again.

But no matter how many times he read them, the message didn’t change.

Slowly, his gaze flicked toward Michael, and a strange expression crossed his face. "...You have got to be kidding me."

He rubbed his forehead and released a long, defeated sigh.

After a moment of hesitation, he called out to the soldiers already escorting Michael.

"...Gently."

The two soldiers exchanged confused glances.

One of them opened his mouth, closed it, then finally managed to ask, "Sir... what?"

The officer’s ears burned.

He didn’t know if this young man had somehow known a message would reach him, but if he had, then the kid was truly a fucker.

"I said..." he replied slowly, "take him inside gently."

Not only the soldiers, but everyone within earshot stared in disbelief.

The two escorts recovered first.

"Uh... yes, sir!"

They immediately adjusted their grips and began guiding Michael toward the base as though they were escorting some priceless artifact rather than a suspicious young man in handcuffs.

Behind them, the crowd’s whispers followed like a second wind.

"Looks like that little brother is done for."

"Idiot. Can’t you see how they’re treating him? He’s clearly someone of status. They’re just keeping face."

A girl nearby covered her giggle with one hand.

"No, no. This is definitely an enemies-to-lovers trope!"

Michael’s lips twitched. ’Looks like this old man is in for a lecture once he gets back home.’

If someone had asked Michael whether any of this had been necessary for his grand scheme, his answer would have been an obvious no.

So why had he done it?

Nothing in particular.

He’d simply felt that it would be strangely satisfying to cause a little misunderstanding for a fellow man.

Perhaps it was a little evil of him.

But come on.

He hadn’t destroyed an entire civilization.

That had to count for something.

As they began walking toward the long, high-tech building, Michael decided to turn his attention to the younger soldiers.

He suppressed a grin and spoke softly. "Please, brother... could you not hold me so tightly? My master has always said I’m rather fragile."

A visible shiver ran through one of the soldiers holding him.

He leaned toward his companion and muttered, "Man... this kid is really weird."

The brown-haired soldier glanced at Michael, then at his companion. "Truly strange, brother. I feel like I’ll get corrupted if I touch him for too long."

The first soldier immediately loosened his grip. "Should we hurry, brother?"

"Yes. Let’s hurry, brother."

They increased their pace.

After a few steps, the black-haired soldier glanced down at Michael. "Little brother, can you walk a little faster?"

Michael blinked up at him innocently. "If big brother wants me to go faster, I can do that too."

The soldier’s expression froze.

The brown-haired soldier beside him visibly flinched.

"Little brother..."

Michael looked at him. "Yes?"

"Can you not talk normally? This big brother of yours is getting scared."

Michael tilted his head. "Why?"

"That voice..." The soldier pointed at Michael’s face, then shook his head. "...is far too strange for a man."

Michael’s eyes widened slightly. "Is my voice really that strange?"

The two soldiers exchanged a long, silent look.

"Yes."

"Very."

Michael lowered his head, with a pout. "How cruel..."

Both soldiers shuddered.

The brown-haired soldier grabbed his companion’s arm.

"See?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "He’s doing it again."

The other soldier nodded gravely. "I know."

They immediately picked up the pace.

Michael was dragged along between them, his wrists cuffed and his expression perfectly innocent.

The moment they reached the front of the military base, one of the soldiers stepped forward to a reinforced door and entered a passcode. The lock flashed green, and the door slid open with a faint hiss.

Once they stepped through, Michael’s eyes flicked across the spacious entrance hall with genuine curiosity.

Smooth metallic walls.

Glowing panels.

Embedded displays.

Advanced security systems.

He had never expected his first visit to an active military base to feel quite so surreal.

’So this is what a real military facility looks like.’

The soldiers continued escorting him through the base until they eventually reached a door at the far end of a long corridor. A simple nameplate reading [Lieutenant] was fixed beside it.

The brown-haired soldier hesitated before knocking gently.

It barely took a second before the door slid open by itself, and the two soldiers led him inside.

Michael immediately took in the room before his gaze finally settled on the handsome young man sitting behind a clean metal desk. A thin scar ran through his left eyebrow, giving his otherwise composed features a slightly dangerous edge.

The moment the soldiers entered fully, they released Michael and snapped to attention.

"Lieutenant, this man violated the—"

The lieutenant waved a hand without looking up. "I know."

The soldiers fell silent.

Michael kept his face lowered, maintaining his delicate expression. If he was already playing this game, then why not keep the act going until someone called him out?

Apparently, the lieutenant had no intention of playing along.

He leaned back in his chair, finally lifting his gaze toward Michael as a faint smirk curved his lips. "Isn’t it about time you quit the act, Michael Kaiser?"

The two escorting soldiers glanced at each other.

"...Act?"

The lieutenant sighed. "Still not going to say anything?"

He tapped one finger against the desk. "You’ve already embarrassed my soldiers enough. Don’t you think that’s sufficient?"

A long stretch of silence followed.

Then Michael slowly raised his head.

The vacant, porcelain-doll expression melted away. In its place settled a confident, slightly amused smile. "Happy now?"

The lieutenant snorted. "Hardly."

He waved the two soldiers away.

"Leave us."

"Yes, Lieutenant!"

The soldiers saluted and hurried out. Only then did the lieutenant casually prop one leg on the desk and cross it over the other.

"So..." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Why did Her Highness’s little boy toy come all the way here to make trouble for me?"

Michael shook his head.

He walked forward without waiting for permission, pulled out the chair opposite the desk, and sat down.

The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the casual move.

Michael only smiled wider.

He lifted his own leg and casually propped his foot against the tip of the lieutenant’s raised boot.

"If Mister Lieutenant already knows my identity," he said lightly, "then I doubt you don’t know whether I’m a boy toy or not."

The lieutenant’s jaw tightened.

Michael’s smile widened.

"So..." He tilted his head playfully. "Was that supposed to be rage bait?"

He leaned back in his chair, looking completely amused. "Because I’m quite good at that too."