Translator: Nox

Chapter 12

“Train her.”

The Brothel Madam spoke the moment she stepped into the room. Her assistant, who had been supporting her, immediately asked back.

“The girl who came in today?”

“Who else is there to train but that bitch?”

Having discarded the elegant mannerisms and noble affectations she usually maintained, she finally showed her true colors.

“Unless they crawl in here on their own, they all need training. You know how it is.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Do it right now.”

“Right now?”

“Why do you keep repeating me?!”

“Usually, you’d investigate their background a bit more. Or try to persuade them with words first…”

“She’s got nowhere else to go.”

She cut him off sharply and reached for a cigarette. The hand holding it trembled. Her throat felt like it was parching, so she set the cigarette aside mid-smoke and downed a glass of liquor.

The reason she had sent the coachman away and sought the woman out was to pry more information out of her—to find out if she had any family who might come looking for her if she disappeared.

But there had been no need.

She had seen the woman’s coat as she took it off, her back turned. The pockets inside were bulging with heavy items. It was immediately clear why she hadn’t taken that coat off despite the stifling heat.

The woman knew the taste of misery all too well. Only those who have been driven into a corner recognize the habits of others in the same position.

The scent of misfortune drifting through the air was sweet.

“Don’t leave a mark on her. She’s worth fifty million.”

“Understood. Should I use some anesthetics or aphrodisiacs?”

“If you want to avoid leaving marks, then yes. Watch the dosage. Don’t turn her into an invalid for no reason.”

Then, as if touching upon something she’d rather not discuss, she asked, “What about that man?”

The employee standing by the door answered immediately.

“He left.”

“Did you confirm the carriage is gone?”

“Yes. We confirmed it was heading toward the Ritz Hotel.”

The Madam nodded and poured more harsh liquor down her throat.

She still felt uneasy.

He didn’t seem like he wanted to claim the woman for himself, so was he some hero overflowing with chivalry trying to save her?

That didn’t seem right either.

The fact that he was an unidentified man was deeply unsettling, but if he had intended to do something, he would have done it already. That was why she was more impatient than usual. She was also worried about what the woman might do once she realized she was in a brothel.

“Start the training right now before the girl tries anything foolish. Keep her in the room for now, then load her onto a carriage and send her to Rott before dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Keep her well-hidden and bring her back only when I tell you to. Like I said, watch the dosage. The moment she becomes a vegetable, the bastard who made her that way will end up the same. Understand?”

“Understood.”

She drank another glass of the strong spirit. As the alcohol began to take effect, her heart, which had been fluttering with anxiety, gradually grew calm.

Yes. It was fine.

The night was proceeding without incident, and the woman hadn’t been taken from her.

Perhaps her suspicions were just growing with age.

By the time the trembling in her hands had completely subsided, she looked as elegant as a head maid from the royal palace once more.

---

Around that same time, dozens of Wolves were gathering silently toward a beautiful mansion set against the backdrop of the Daub River.

The grand brothel’s rear garden was shrouded in darkness.

Between the black silhouettes of the garden trees, a shadow moved leisurely.

The unidentified guest, who was reported to have left the mansion, was currently strolling through the brothel’s backyard. With his hands in his pockets and his posture relaxed, he stood in a way that would have made his dear mother shudder with loathing.

Oscar erased the lingering image of his mother from his mind, crushing the thought as if grinding a cigarette butt under his heel.

Even as he did so, he wandered through the trees like a man enjoying a midnight stroll.

The thick grass muffled his footsteps, and the swirling wind masked his presence. His gaze, fixed on a single point, was hidden by the dense leaves of the garden trees hanging overhead.

Moving toward the woman’s room like a predator approaching its prey, Oscar stopped at a suitable spot and leaned his back against a tree.

He had a direct view of her room. It looked like the curtains had been drawn. A sliver of light peeked through the gap in the fabric, and he could see occasional movement.

“I’m told King Felpe has already received the report.”

At Simon’s report as he stepped closer, Oscar gave a faint click of his tongue.

He had tried to intercept the report regarding the vault before it reached the King of Felpe, but he was too late.

Felpe.

A city-state that didn’t even match a typical duchy in terms of land area or population.

Despite the chaotic modern history of Norfolk, Felpe had managed to retain its status as a kingdom. There were several reasons for this, but the decisive one was its bank.

The Royal Pelfe Bank.

Opened about four centuries ago as the first of its kind on the Norfolk Continent, Pelfe Bank was famous for never leaking client information. No matter who opened a vault, the owner’s information was treated as top-secret; there was no history of them ever disclosing it, even at the request of foreign kings.

They didn’t ask about the source of funds when money was deposited, and information on the owner was kept strictly confidential.

It was only natural that all sorts of black money from across the Norfolk Continent flowed into Pelfe Bank. Recently, there were even rumors that the hidden assets of the fallen Polia royal family had found their way there.

Felpe had essentially become a massive vault for the power players of the Norfolk Continent. To protect their secret funds, these powerful figures treated Felpe’s banking laws as sacred.

The primary group doing so was the Nofuk Royal Union.

Only a century ago, the royal families of various nations had been at each other’s throats like a pack of dogs over territory. Now, they absurdly promoted friendship under the banner of a ‘Union.’ It was a clear sign that the era where status and land guaranteed power had come to an end.

However, black money itself could be a justification for assassination. Before the banking laws were established, there were countless cases of children killing their parents to seize the contents of a vault.

Ultimately, to protect both their money and their lives, the powerful exerted great influence over the Pelfe banking laws.

In short, the Pelfe banking law made it easy to deposit but placed enormous restrictions on withdrawals.

A vault could only be opened by the person who opened it or a legitimate heir they had designated. Even if someone possessed the key, they could not open it if they were not the rightful owner.

However, to prepare for cases where the original owner died without proper inheritance procedures, the right to open the vault was granted to the key holder once twenty years had passed from the date the vault was opened.

Vault No. 5555 fell into this category.

To protect the safety of the key holder, the bank would issue an Acquisition Confirmation Certificate to the person who brought the key. This document signified that the holder would become the owner of the vault if the original owner did not appear, and the issuance of such a certificate was limited to once per a certain period.

The claimant would undergo a rigorous screening process, and during the verification period, they would be recognized as the temporary owner of the vault. While they couldn’t open the vault immediately, it meant they were under the protection of the Pelfe banking law. If the claimant disappeared for any reason during this time, the vault would be locked for the next twenty years under the judgment that the key was involved in a crime.

The woman had been issued an Acquisition Confirmation Certificate, and that fact had been reported to the King of Felpe, who guarded the banking laws with his life.

This meant that the woman had become a living key.

Simon held his breath beside Oscar.

Oscar remained submerged in silence, staring obsessively at a single spot.

The woman was unlucky.

She was beyond unlucky for having become Oscar’s target. One might think she was lucky to have secured the Acquisition Confirmation Certificate before he could do anything, but it would have been far better for her to have handed over the key for a large sum of money than to become a target like this.

Just then, Oscar, who had been leaning diagonally against the tree trunk, straightened up. Simon reflexively looked up at the mansion. An agent clinging to the window directly above the woman’s room was pointing downward with his finger.

Oscar glided through the darkness like a moving moonshadow. The Wolves, who had secretly infiltrated various parts of the mansion, watched Oscar with bated breath. The path ahead was cleared in advance so that no stones would catch the feet of their master as he walked.

Oscar climbed the stairs with a casual stride, turned at the landing, and arrived at the hallway. The men guarding the woman’s door were being cleared away by the Wolves. Two large, burly men were dragged away without a single sound being heard.

Oscar passed the men being hauled off and arrived in front of the door.

After staring down at the doorknob for a moment, Oscar raised his eyes to fixate on the door.

From beyond the thin wood, he could hear faint moans, a strange scent, and a low, despicable laugh thick with excitement.