I Was Mistaken as a Great War Commander-Chapter 127

As Daniel Steiner urged Platt to take the first sip, an indescribable fear gripped the spy.

For an intelligence agent, the greatest terror was having their deception exposed.

‘But how...?’

How did Daniel Steiner know that the whiskey was poisoned?

‘Was my acting sloppy?’

No. That couldn’t be it.

Platt was an experienced spy, one who had operated among the Imperial nobility for years without ever being detected.

There was no way even Daniel Steiner could have sensed something off.

‘Then...’

Could it be that someone within the Pallentia Branch had leaked information to Daniel Steiner?

If that were the case, then his behavior suddenly made perfect sense.

‘Which bastard...?’

Platt’s mind raced through his possible traitors, but no names came to mind.

The spies in the Imperial Capital were all part of the Pallentia Branch.

And in a world of deception, it was impossible to truly know who was hiding their true allegiance.

‘Damn it...’

Grinding his teeth, Platt gripped the glass tightly.

‘To think that attempting to assassinate Daniel Steiner would be my biggest mistake...’

He stared at the golden whiskey swirling in the glass, a bitter smile forming on his lips.

Ricin wasn’t an instant-kill poison, but it had no antidote. Drinking this would doom him to an agonizing, inevitable death.

Begging for his life was an option—but for someone who had sworn loyalty to the Allied Nations, it wasn’t a choice at all.

‘A long life or a short one, my career as a spy ends today.’

Platt slowly lifted his head, locking eyes with Daniel Steiner.

Deep, abyssal black eyes.

At that moment, Platt understood.

Daniel wasn't just offering him a drink.

He was offering him a choice: Drink and die—or confess and swear loyalty.

‘I will never bow to you.’

Fueled by rage and sorrow, Platt made his decision.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly raised the glass of death to his lips.

Daniel watched, and thought to himself.

‘...What the hell is he doing?’

He had only offered the first drink out of basic courtesy—the whiskey was expensive, after all.

But now, the other man looked like he was reliving his entire life before taking a sip.

Like a martyr walking to the gallows.

‘Was the whole “I love drinking” thing a lie?’

If so, it made sense.

This particular whiskey had an exceptionally high alcohol content.

‘Drinking it straight instead of on the rocks might be intimidating.’

‘If he’s bad at drinking, he should’ve just said so instead of putting on a show.’

Daniel let out a small sigh and grabbed Platt’s wrist just as he was about to drink.

Platt’s shoulders flinched violently.

He had braced himself for death—but Daniel stopping him had completely thrown him off.

“...Why are you stopping me?”

“Nothing much. You seem like you can’t handle strong liquor, so I figured I’d stop you.”

“...Even if you try to spare me, my resolve won’t change. I’ve lived my whole life ready to die.”

All this fuss over a single glass of whiskey.

Daniel scoffed, shaking his head.

“Who’s even going to remember you if you die like this?”

“My homeland—”

“Enough nonsense.”

Daniel cut him off, his voice sharp and cold.

“Just pass along a message to whoever told you to give me this whiskey—tell them to stop sending me bribes.”

There was no way a man who couldn’t even drink properly had picked out such a high-end whiskey himself.

Someone else must have selected it for him.

But to Platt, Daniel’s words sounded like something entirely different:

‘Tell your superiors to stop attempting these pathetic assassination attempts.’

A dry gulp escaped Platt’s throat as he lowered the glass.

“...You’re letting me live, despite knowing everything?”

His dazed expression was so dead serious that Daniel couldn’t help but laugh.

How peculiar.

Satisfied, Daniel gave him a small nod.

“Wouldn’t killing someone at a banquet like this bring bad luck?”

He paused, tapping a finger against his chin in thought.

“...Actually, here’s an idea.”

He snapped his fingers.

“Why don’t you give this whiskey to the person who picked it out for you? I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

Daniel spoke so casually, so indifferently, that Platt felt a chill run through his entire body.

This man was calmly suggesting suicide.

Yet, he had no choice but to accept.

Swallowing his fear, Platt nodded stiffly.

Daniel clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Have a nice evening. And next time, don’t bother lying if you’re going to get caught anyway.”

Platt opened his mouth, intending to reply.

But no words came out.

Daniel Steiner wasn’t just sparing an assassin—he was acting as if nothing had happened at all.

A strange sense of awe settled over Platt.

‘So this is what Daniel Steiner considers a mere inconvenience.’

‘A whole assassination attempt... nothing more than a minor annoyance to him.’

As Platt let out a defeated sigh, Daniel turned away and walked toward the center of the banquet hall.

He had heard Ernst calling his name.

As Daniel approached, Ernst raised an eyebrow.

“Who were you talking to just now?”

“Ah, someone named Viram, I think? Said he works in the palace tailoring department.”

“Hmm. A low-level official, then. What did he want?”

“Apparently, he got his hands on a bottle of fine whiskey and wanted to gift it to me. He must’ve thought I’d help him get promoted if he buttered me up.”

“Hah! High-end whiskey, huh?”

Ernst smacked his lips and glanced over at the table Daniel had been standing at earlier.

Platt was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, he was quickly gathering his things and slipping out of the banquet hall.

Ernst clicked his tongue.

“Tsk. Should’ve just taken it! Good whiskey’s hard to come by these days. Costs a fortune unless it’s military supply.”

“The moment I accept bribes, problems will start piling up. I already have enough people watching my every move—I don’t need to make it worse.”

“Hah, fair enough. Living as a war hero isn’t easy, huh?”

Ernst chuckled.

“Still, it’s a shame to let good whiskey go to waste. But you know what’s even better than whiskey?”

With a playful whistle, Ernst motioned to a nearby waiter, who approached with a tray of champagne.

Grabbing two glasses, he handed one to Daniel.

“The best part is, thanks to our Emperor’s generosity, all the drinks here are free! So, how about it? Wanna drink with me until morning?”

Daniel sighed.

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“Sir, while I do enjoy drinking, I don’t particularly enjoy drunken revelry...”

Daniel started to speak but shut his mouth mid-sentence.

The pleading look in Ernst’s eyes was more overwhelming than expected.

“...Did you have a fight with your wife recently?”

Nod.

“And you’re trying to stay out late so you don’t have to go home and hear her nagging?”

Nod, nod.

“But if you just say you were drinking alone, you’ll end up with no breakfast tomorrow morning, so you’re trying to use me as an excuse?”

Nod, nod, nod.

Faced with the suffering of a married man, Daniel pondered for a moment before sighing.

“...Fine. If not tonight, then when else would we drink as much as we want?”

At that, Ernst burst into hearty laughter, slapping Daniel’s back.

“Good! Good! I knew you were the best subordinate I ever had! Oh, and while we’re at it, there are quite a few generals who want to meet you! Use this chance to build your connections! I’ll introduce you to all of them!”

As Daniel let out a sigh and nodded, Ernst raised his hand and shouted.

“Waiter! On a joyous night like this, running out of alcohol would be an insult to Her Majesty the Emperor! Bring more drinks at once!”

It seemed going home early tonight was no longer an option.

****

Meanwhile, at the textile factory that served as the Pallentia Branch’s base, the reception hall was bustling with preparation.

“I told you to prepare the most expensive refreshments! Not this cheap garbage! The businessman visiting us tonight is a major player. We need this investment!”

At Branch Chief Theobald’s orders, intelligence agents disguised as factory staff moved swiftly to prepare.

With his arms crossed, Theobald observed his subordinates with a thoughtful expression.

‘We must secure this investment to ensure the branch’s survival.’

The Pallentia Branch received funding from the Allied Nations, but because it was located deep in the Imperial capital, receiving large sums at once was impossible.

The larger the transaction, the higher the risk of Imperial surveillance.

Thus, the branch had to generate part of its own operational funds.

Running the textile factory was not just a cover—it was a real business that kept the branch running.

Lately, however, profits had declined, causing financial strain.

So, when a businessman suddenly appeared, offering to invest in the factory, it was an opportunity Theobald couldn’t afford to miss.

‘They say he’s a relatively new player in the business world...’

The investor was someone who had heavily financed the war industry at a time when anti-war protests dominated public opinion.

Then came Daniel Steiner’s Total War Speech—and thanks to it, this investor made profits tens of times his initial investment.

After lying low for some time, he had recently begun expanding aggressively, investing in various industries.

And one of those investments was this very textile factory.

Not willing to let the chance slip, Theobald personally invited the businessman.

A proper business presentation was necessary to secure the largest possible investment.

‘Five minutes left.’

Checking the wall clock, Theobald adjusted his suit.

Just then, his radio crackled with static.

Startled, he quickly picked it up.

A familiar voice came through.

─ “Blue Wall reporting. The mission has failed. Daniel Steiner saw through me.”

The codename ‘Blue Wall’ referred to Platt.

─ “I’m going into hiding for the ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) time being. Be cautious, sir. There’s a chance Daniel Steiner knows about the branch. I’ll explain more when I get the chance.”

With those final words, Platt cut off communication.

“Daniel Steiner knows about the branch?”

Shocked, Theobald pressed the transmitter button.

“Blue Wall? Respond! What do you mean by that?!”

Silence.

Platt had changed radio frequencies to prevent interception.

‘There’s no way Daniel Steiner could know about the branch...’

‘Lucy? No, she hasn’t fully betrayed the Allied Nations yet. She wouldn’t have exposed us.’

Theobald dismissed the thought.

Platt must have misunderstood something.

Just then, a subordinate approached.

“Sir, the investor has arrived.”

“...Understood.”

For now, securing the investment took priority.

Pocketing his radio, Theobald adjusted his collar.

A few moments later, the reception hall doors opened—

And in walked a man wearing a fine vest, his dark skin contrasting with his sharp attire.

He wore a fedora atop his head and a monocle over one eye.

A successful Black businessman in this era was an uncommon sight.

As Theobald curiously observed him, the man strode forward with a measured, dignified pace.

Despite his calm demeanor, he radiated an aura of authority—one that made refusing a handshake seem impossible.

After a brief hesitation, Theobald forced himself to relax and took the man's hand.

“I am Velter, the owner of this textile factory.”

At the alias, the man offered a smooth smile.

“A pleasure to meet you.”

Then, his eyes narrowed slightly—

And in a level, unwavering voice, he continued.

“You may call me... Hamtal.”