“There’s too much work to do,” Frederick muttered, keeping his head down. His pen hadn’t stopped moving since Richard woke up.

“General Hawthorne, you’ve been in charge of the Kingstown Security Department for so long. You know this department always has an overwhelming amount to handle, and the trivial matters alone are endless,” Richard said, trying to dissuade him. “Even if you worked nonstop for three days and nights, you couldn’t…”

Before Richard could finish his sentence, a knock came from the door.

“Come in,” Frederick said without looking up.

“General Hawthorne, the terrorist we brought in has confessed,” one of his subordinates reported as he entered.

“Good. I’ll go with you now,” Frederick replied, setting down his pen and heading toward the detention area. Richard sighed and followed behind him.

Once again, what started as a simple task turned into an endless cycle of busy work.

From the moment Frederick opened his eyes in the morning, he worked relentlessly until noon and continued straight through the evening. However, unlike the previous day, Frederick managed to eat all three meals on time. It somewhat eased Richard’s concerns. That evening, Frederick didn’t stay late in the office. When the day ended, Richard drove him back to the Halfmoon Manor.

The next morning, Richard arrived as usual to pick up Frederick. He found no signs of anything unusual. For the next few days, Frederick followed a predictable routine. Everything appeared normal, leaving Richard to gradually relax.

One day, Richard overheard a group of soldiers chatting in the restroom.

“Hey, have you noticed that General Hawthorne’s temper has improved a lot recently?”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that too. He hasn’t gotten angry in quite a while.”

“Maybe General Hawthorne’s in a good mood these days.”

“Pfft, isn’t it better this way? Less yelling means less grief for us.”

“Well, I see things a bit differently. Doesn’t it seem like General Hawthorne has become like a puppet? I mean, sure, he used to lose his temper and be terrifying, but at least he felt alive. Now it’s like…”

“Come on. Do you have a persecution complex or something? Do you enjoy getting scolded? We’re all happier this way.”

Richard stopped paying attention after hearing one phrase—“General Hawthorne seems like a puppet.” He replayed the events of the past few days in his mind. Scene by scene, memories flickered like frames of a film. When his thoughts settled, his phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

Frederick had been composed, going about his routine as usual. But ever since the day Claire died, he hadn’t displayed a single emotion. No outbursts. No smiles. Not even the faintest hint of expression. He wasn’t like a machine performing its duties. Most people might not notice the difference. They only knew Frederick as the fearsome man prone to outbursts. But Richard had served Frederick for years, long enough to witness every side of him. Frederick had never been like this before. He was so lost.

Richard smiled bitterly. It was just as he had suspected all along. It was because of Claire’s death. He had been right. Frederick would never admit it, but Claire had unknowingly become an irreplaceable part of his life. The realization made Richard anxious.

He picked up his phone from the ground and slipped it into his pocket, ready to confront the situation. He quickly washed his hands and left the restroom when a soldier rushed toward him.

The soldier reported, “Adjutant Parker, something’s wrong. General Hawthorne is in trouble.”