Does He Not Know to Be on Guard?

"My gut says something's off. Rather than the smell of paperwork… how should I put it? I smell oil. The smell of the battlefield."

'Sharp as ever.'

I admired her inwardly. Perhaps thanks to her [Mana Detection] ability, her instincts were practically at the level of a wild animal. She'd picked up the reek of blood from an administrative officer who looked polished on the surface.

But I couldn't say, 'Actually, that guy's a spy from an enemy country.' If I did, Hanna, ever loyal, would draw her pistol on the spot and run to the next compartment to put a hole between his eyes. I couldn't afford to lose my precious asset manager.

I picked up my teacup with studied nonchalance.

"Of course. He's a fellow who's been around the Eastern Front, after all. He's probably had his share of grease."

"Even so, his hands are far too soft. His eyes are much too calm for someone who's done nothing but push a pen. Above all…"

Hanna casually placed a hand on my thigh and narrowed her eyes.

"I don't like that you gave him the role of 'treasurer,' Colonel. That kind of confidential work… wasn't it originally my job?"

Ah, so that was it. I chuckled...