Translator: Nox

Chapter 23

“Yes, Your Majesty. I understand perfectly.”

Oscar reached inside the lapel of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. He approached the foot of the dais, placed it carefully on the steps, and stepped back.

An envelope offered by a man for whom everything was a lure. Even knowing it was a trap, the King’s gaze was drawn to it as if by instinct.

“I promise that Your Majesty will have no further cause for concern. I sincerely apologize for the unintended distress I have caused.”

“What is this?”

“An apology of sorts.”

“I will not open it, so take it back.”

“Then burn it.”

The King glared at Oscar, taken aback by his chillingly calm response.

“Think of it as something brought by a crow. Whether you burn it or read it… does a crow care for such things?”

“…….”

“Whether you use it as a card, ignore its existence, or judge it to be worthless… the choice is entirely Your Majesty’s.”

Eyes as cold as ice, a voice devoid of any trace of emotion.

Even if the King were to burn the envelope right here, the man’s arrogant posture suggested he would simply smile and accept it. That arrogance radiated from his entire being.

The King unconsciously clenched his fists.

This young Marquis, barely thirty, had no weaknesses. Weaknesses only exist when someone holds something desperately dear, but this man had nothing of the sort. His steel company? That was his most powerful weapon; how could it be a weakness?

Whether you use it as a card or ignore its existence? The King felt a surge of silent fury at the man’s dismissive attitude—the blatant indifference toward which path was chosen.

Yet, despite his anger, the King could not bring himself to order the envelope burned immediately. In the end, he was dancing in the palm of Oscar’s hand.

Inside the envelope left at King Pelfe’s feet was a meticulous record of every corruption committed by the Baden Grand Duke during his months as bank president.

To King Pelfe, who wished for nothing more than to eliminate the thorn in his side that was the Grand Duke, it was an offer impossible to refuse.

A secret is only kept when it is not shared.

From the moment he was betrayed, Oscar had no intention of letting the Baden Grand Duke live.

As Oscar walked out of the audience chamber, Simon, who had been waiting outside, immediately fell into step behind him. Oscar pulled out a cigarette and lit it the moment they cleared the doors, while Simon began reciting the schedule.

“You are scheduled to meet with Count Holton in thirty minutes, and the appointment with the Chairman of Titan is two and a half hours after that.”

“And those we captured alive?”

At the question, which arrived amidst a cloud of acrid smoke, Simon leaned in closer.

“They haven’t opened their mouths yet.”

“…….”

“Would you like to pay them a visit later?”

Oscar nodded twice and began descending the long staircase past the palace’s glass gallery. Groups of nobles chatting in the halls fell silent as they watched him pass. Their gazes followed him like iron filings to a magnet, drawn by his striking beauty, yet none dared to approach.

Oscar ignored them indifferently and climbed into his carriage.

To him, the world was divided into two categories.

Objectives, and everything else.

To Oscar, anything that wasn’t an objective—be it a person, an object, or an insect—was all the same.

Settling into the carriage, Oscar leaned his head back against the seat and took a long drag of his cigarette.

“How was the King’s reaction?”

“As expected.”

Seeing the cruel smile playing on Oscar’s lips, Simon didn’t ask further. Soon, news would arrive of the Baden Grand Duke’s ousting or his death. Perhaps both.

Meanwhile, Oscar, who had remained in that same posture smoking even after the carriage started moving, asked in a languid voice.

“Did she go to Pelfe Bank?”

Just in case, Simon had ordered the Wolves to report Seo-ah’s status every hour. Deciding he should tell them to keep reporting at regular intervals, he answered immediately.

“No. I’m told she planned to visit the bank after purchasing some necessities through the merchants. She should be shopping around now.”

At that, Oscar stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

True. It would be a bit problematic to go to the bank in those clothes. He wondered where she had even found an outfit that looked like it belonged half a century ago. Not to mention wearing a mid-winter coat in the middle of summer.

The face of the suspicious woman flickered through his mind like an afterimage. When he recalled her flushing face, the back of her hands, and the series of out-of-context questions about his return time, a laugh—of which he wasn’t sure was mockery or not—escaped him.

With a face like that, how much could she possibly hide?

“You said the translation of the ID would take a week?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Bring it to me as soon as it’s ready.”

With those words, Oscar held out his hand to Simon, who handed him a thick stack of documents as if he had been waiting for the signal.

There was always an immense amount of work to be done.

Oscar, who had been an insolent and troublesome visitor to the King of Pelfe, wore the face of a charming business partner by noon, and as the sun began to set, he expanded his business ventures while wearing the face of a friendly confidant.

In between, reports on the woman’s movements continued to arrive.

By the time he finished his final appointment, it was late at night.

Climbing into the carriage, Oscar held out his hand, and Simon naturally handed him a note.

No movement after dinner.

As Oscar crumpled the meaningless report and tossed it aside, Simon added.

“I’m told she asked if Your Excellency would be returning to the hotel.”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“When will you be coming back?”

The memory of her question, which hadn’t even been worth answering at the time, resurfaced. No one else would dare be so curious, and even if they were, they wouldn’t dare say it aloud. Yet, for some reason, that hesitant question asked with clear brown eyes nagged at the edge of his mind.

“She asked if I was returning to the hotel?”

“Yes. The agent said it didn’t seem worth reporting, but since it was the first time she had spoken to them, they included it.”

The peculiar question, which felt as if she were standing in a different world entirely, made the faint afterimage of the woman linger a little longer. The strange distraction only vanished when the carriage came to a halt in front of a derelict building.

Oscar pulled on his gloves—which he usually found stifling and rarely wore—and stepped out of the carriage. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he strolled through the darkness, skipping several steps at a time on the cracked, jagged stairs.

“Your Excellency.”

The men standing at intervals along the basement corridor immediately bowed their heads, and Oscar passed them without a word.

“Ugh, aah, augh….”

Groans that would make anyone’s skin crawl shook the already eerie air.

The Wolves continued to bow as Oscar walked past. As the man at the very end opened the door for his master, a grating metallic screech rang out, piercing the eardrums. Simultaneously, the stench of thick, clotted black blood wafted through the dismal air.

Oscar took a deep drag of his cigarette as he stepped inside.

A man who looked more like a corpse than a human was tied to a chair, stripped bare. But the man who had ordered this remained unmoved.

There was a wooden chair opposite the prisoner, but Oscar kicked it aside and stopped in front of the man’s knees, where the raw flesh was exposed. His expensive shoes were submerged in a pool of blood, but he didn’t care.

Oscar stared at the assassin through the smoke. Then, he reached out with his left hand and gripped the man’s sagging chin, forcing it up. The once murderous assassin now had eyes that had lost all will to fight.

“P-please… spare… ugh….”

Oscar took the cigarette from his mouth with his right hand and spoke flatly.

“The secret collaborator of the Luxen Royal Palace.”

The man’s eyes, swollen like a fish’s, flew open.

“What…?”

Enveloped in smoke, Oscar nodded. His grip tightened, and the assassin realized in an instant that his one remaining bargaining chip had vanished.

“The one who sees the world even with eyes closed.”

The assassin opened his mouth to say something, but no coherent words could come out.

After blinking once, then twice, Oscar suddenly released the chin he had been gripping so violently.

In the blink of an eye, every possibility of staying alive had completely disappeared. Realizing this instinctively, the assassin began to thrash convulsively.

“I-I-I only did what the Beta Mercenary Corps told me to! Please, spare—mph!”

As the Wolves stuffed a cloth into his mouth to cut off his screams, Oscar pulled off his gloves and tossed them onto the floor.

“I already knew that.”

He walked out of the interrogation room without a backward glance.

“Finish it and bury him.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

Leaving behind the thick scent of iron and the final muffled groans, Oscar exited the building, which looked like a remnant of a fallen kingdom, and climbed silently into the carriage. Simon followed after giving the Wolves more detailed instructions, and the carriage began to move soundlessly.

The two men, bringing with them the smell of acrid smoke and blood, picked up their documents to review as if nothing had happened.