I Married the Dragon I Killed
Chapter 88
As the sun dipped completely below the western horizon, night fell.
Leaving behind the group of refugees led by William, Ferda returned to the castle.
Ferda sat on the sofa in the drawing room and looked at the man sitting opposite him.
It was Stefan.
The haggardness typical of someone cornered had faded to some extent, but his eyes still possessed a hollow, sunken quality.
Ferda looked at him and spoke.
“I have good news.”
“W-what kind of good news is it?”
Stefan asked, his face etched with anxiety.
Ferda slowly recounted the gathered information to him.
“Stefan, the mercenaries you hired harbored intentions far more malicious than you imagined.”
They weren’t third-rate mercenaries; they were assassins organized specifically to sow chaos.
They had murdered all the merchants and laborers at the rendezvous point.
They had ransacked the cargo and pulled out some of the contents, attempting to stage it as a simple robbery.
“However, making it look like a robbery carried too much risk.”
“Because of the Anti-Theft Magic, I assume.”
As the head of the company, Stefan knew it well.
Anti-Theft Magic was cast on all valuables.
The moment someone touched them, they would be branded as a criminal—the worst possible scenario for assassins.
For it to be a robbery, the valuables had to disappear, but the irony of an incident where the valuables remained would only further expose it as an assassination.
“So, two of the mercenaries laid the groundwork.”
“How so?”
“They likely pried open and smashed the crates of valuables to take them out.”
“But tracking magic would still be triggered. Why do something so foolish…?”
“They were likely caught in a trap themselves. Whether they weren’t given the full information or were simply blinded by greed, they were probably dealt with as part of the purge anyway.”
Stefan nodded slightly, accepting the logic.
“Removing those valuables was the groundwork, you say. But what was it groundwork for?”
Ferda then brought up another piece of the puzzle. It was the pawn.
“The groundwork to involve the refugees in the robbery.”
Refugees moving while shivering in the early winter cold.
Since the mercenaries had come from the Empire, they would have known that refugees were heading toward the Far East in search of hope.
They had found the refugees led by William.
As planned, they lured the refugees with the promise of food, giving them a glimmer of hope.
“The refugees had no choice but to move there. Regardless of anything else, they needed food immediately.”
Even if it were a lie, for those who were starving, it was information worth acting on, so they moved in haste.
What they found upon arrival was not a generous distribution center, but a scene of horrific slaughter.
“All the refugees had to do was rummage through the scene that had already been set for them.”
Ferda gestured with his index finger as he spoke.
“What would be in their sight? Food, weapons, and precious treasures made of gold that they might see only once in their lifetime. Things they need right now, things they want, and things they desire but could never possess in a lifetime—all laid out in one place.”
It was no different from entering a temple of desire.
Stefan could guess how the scheme was meant to play out.
In that way, the assassination would be camouflaged as a robbery through the element of the refugees.
Since the refugees would have carried out most of the looting, the authorities would naturally assume the refugees were the instigators and massacre them all.
They wouldn’t bother tracking down any troublesome stragglers.
The example made of the others would have been more than enough.
However, one strange point remained the main theme of the story.
The story so far was about an assassination attempt that tried to disguise itself as a robbery.
That meant everything they had tried to do had failed.
“The refugees didn’t touch those jewels, did they?”
“There was a variable.”
Ferda nodded.
“No one could have predicted it. No, it was too improbable and nonsensical to even include in the scope of prediction. It was like being struck by a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky.”
Ferda placed a knight piece next to the leaning pawn.
“A knight who stands by his convictions was the leader of that group.”
William.
The man who could have been a knight knew the meaning of duty and morality.
He looked upon the gold before him as if it were mere stones; he recovered the bodies and prayed for them.
Though they did touch the goods, they only made the minimum choices necessary for survival, within the range of a single golden.
It was an act that could be overlooked with leniency.
“Because of that, we can now firmly confirm it was an assassination.”
This was the story of the events grasped so far.
The narrative led to the next question.
“Then, who on earth commissioned that assassination?”
“This man is the most likely candidate.”
Ferda handed over a personnel document from the Pascal Company.
“A man named Frank Fontaine, the only missing person among the twelve merchants.”
“Frank Fontaine.”
Upon hearing the name, Stefan reflexively furrowed his brow.
“It seems he isn’t a man you particularly like.”
“He’s worked here for ten years, and he’s always lamented that he never became a branch manager and only does this kind of coachman’s work.”
“And what was the reason?”
“There’s no grand reason. It was simply poor performance. He just didn’t have the talent to be a merchant.”
Stefan ground his teeth as he looked at the face.
“He acted like a stubborn old man a few times, so we clashed quite a bit. I thought about firing him because I didn’t think he could make it, but I decided against it.”
“Why?”
“He had five children to support.”
“You’re too soft.”
“So it seems.”
Crinkle.
The personnel record was crumpled.
“This man… ordered the death… of eleven of my fellow merchants?”
A bit of compassion.
Was it because of that soft-hearted compassion that this disaster, the killing of other families, had erupted?
“Not quite.”
Ferda shook his head.
“I am certain Frank Fontaine is involved, but he cannot be the mastermind.”
“May I ask why you are so certain?”
Stefan felt it might be overstepping, but he needed something he could accept.
“It is reported that, excluding the refugees’ footprints, the footprints of twelve people came and went. That means thirty-two mercenaries participated in this assassination, correct?”
“That is correct.”
“The amount looted was 200 goldens at most. If thirty-two people divided that equally, it would be about 3 goldens and 25 shillings each.”
Three goldens and twenty-five shillings was a fair amount of money.
But it was a pittance for money earned by staining one’s hands with blood.
“I might understand if they were cheap labor, but these are people skilled at erasing their own traces. Do you know how much men like that get paid?”
“I do not know.”
“They start at a minimum of 50 goldens per person. Even at a low estimate, this is a job that costs well over a thousand goldens in total.”
“A thousand… That’s an amount Frank couldn’t gather even if he scraped his very soul together.”
Stefan set down Frank’s personnel file.
“If there is a mastermind behind this trying to shake me, just what kind of bastard are they…?”
“That is the good news.”
Ferda reached into his inner coat pocket.
“I was able to identify the mastermind.”
Ferda pulled something out and placed it on the table.
It was a green scarf.
It was the item that had been held in the hand of the young refugee boy.
“This is….”
Stefan recognized it the moment he saw it.
“This belongs to the employees of my hyung’s company… why is it in the Regent-nim’s hands?”
“A child among the refugees said he picked it up after seeing one of the conspirators drop it.”
“Don’t tell me the mastermind is… the mastermind is….”
Stefan couldn’t finish his sentence.
However, both Ferda and Stefan knew exactly whose name was about to come up in that conversation.
Overcome with shock, Stefan finally dropped the glass he was holding.
Smash!
It shattered and the contents spilled, but he didn’t care.
And Ferda left that trivial matter alone.
Stefan covered his face with both hands.
He didn’t even know what kind of expression he was making right now.
“…Are you certain?”
“So it seems.”
Stefan reached out and took the scarf.
His pupils, shrunk from shock, carefully scanned the embroidery on the scarf.
What his gaze fixed upon was the crest of House Pascal.
Behind it, two swords were crossed.
He checked it several times, but there was no mistake.
It wasn’t a fake; it belonged to the Pascal Mercenary Company.
“My hyung’s company is….”
Stefan, looking down at it, spoke.
“There is a saying that a contract with the Pascal Mercenary Company is like a contract with the devil. Do you know what that means?”
“I do not.”
“It means that once you contract with them, you can never get out.”
A hollow laugh escaped Stefan’s lips.
Then it quickly twisted.
It seemed that every emotion swirling in his mind was bursting out onto his face.
“They say that as soon as a contract with the Pascal Mercenary Company ends, bandit groups that had been quiet immediately target the wagons. As if someone had informed them on purpose.”
Stefan’s voice trembled thinly.
“It was strange. The first departure of merchants after a contract expiration always goes wrong. Whether they get robbed, the mercenaries turn into bandits, or they flee… eight out of ten times, they meet with disaster, and seven out of those eight come back to sign a new contract with my hyung.”
“Do you think that’s Merchit’s own doing?”
“There is a saying that necessity creates demand. In the security business, one must appeal that necessity to the other party.”
Stefan recalled the recent friction he’d had with Merchit.
He had said it.
That he would wait and see how well Stefan would eat and live without him.
This was an act so malicious it was far removed from the mere rumors of raids.
They were like family to Stefan.
They were seniors and fathers, juniors and brothers, colleagues and friends.
Merchit had taken them away.
Simply because he had been crossed.
The scarf in Stefan’s hand was crumpled.
He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip.
It was painful.
He wanted to cry, but no tears came; he wanted to scream, but his throat was choked.
It was maddeningly painful, and because he didn’t know what to do with this pain, he only felt more stifled.
It was then.
Ruri entered the room and stood beside Ferda.
“Ferda-nim. You have a visitor.”
“At this hour?”
Her eyes flickered toward Stefan, who was clutching his head.
“Yes. It is someone who specifically wishes to see both Stefan-nim and Ferda-nim.”
“Me?”
“Who is it?”
The name that came from Ruri’s mouth shocked them both.
“He asked me to tell you it is Merchit Pascal.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Regent-nim.”
Merchit Pascal sat across from Ferda in the drawing room and offered his greetings.
Looking at the two brothers, Ferda thought to himself:
‘Are they really of the same blood?’
Stefan, with his smooth, jade-like skin.
He was the scholarly type, exuding the wealth of a merchant, the kind of man whose chair would likely bear the mark of a large, soft frame.
But Merchit had bronzed skin and a short, rugged-looking regent cut.
With a thick neck, broad shoulders, and although he wore a formal uniform, the lines of his intimidating muscles made him feel like a gang leader.
If their hair and eye colors had been different, Ferda would have surely taken them for strangers unless they were introduced as brothers.
“Welcome, Sir Merchit.”
“Sir? I’m just a nobody at the level of a decurion leading a few grunts.”
Merchit feigned humility with an awkward face.
He exuded a sense of bravado that was far removed from the appearance of a cold-blooded villain.
Ferda could feel it clearly.
This man currently had no idea that he had been singled out as a suspect.
No, he was acting as if he assumed no one here could possibly suspect him.
“I heard my little brother was going through a very difficult time, and while looking for him, I ended up coming all the way to the castle. Thank you for such a warm welcome late at night.”
“Not at all. It is a good thing to seek out family in times of hardship.”
After finishing the light small talk, Merchit rolled his eyes to look toward Stefan.
Stefan’s eyes were cold.
Whether he realized Stefan’s feelings or not, Merchit offered his condolences.
“Stefan. I heard the news. I heard the Eastern merchant group was wiped out?”
“…….”
“It is truly a tragedy. I know how loyal those fellows were to you; the void they leave must be immense.”
“…….”
“For now, I’ve had our people deliver the sad news to their families. I’ll see to it that the funerals are prepared on our end as well. For now, try to pull yourself together.”
The words he spoke were those of the best brother in the world.
But that was only for those who didn’t know the truth.
Stefan was neither blind nor deaf.
He was a human who saw, heard, and thought, and thus he knew what was hidden behind that thick-skinned face.
“You are… truly shameless.”
“Hmm?”
While indignation seethed within him, Stefan spoke again calmly.
“Hyung, you sent people to kill them all, so why are you sitting there acting like a good man?”
“……What?”
One of Merchit’s eyebrows shot up.
The spark within Stefan’s heart flared up violently.
