I Was Mistaken as a Great War Commander

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.