Chapter 21
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 21
“I know you intend to open one of the Pelfe Bank’s vaults. And I know that’s why you made the Grand Duke its president.”
“…”
“That’s where it ends.”
“…”
“No matter what you do, the Pelfe Bank will continue to operate according to its principles.”
If necessary, the King had intended to bring up the Norfolk Royal Union, an entity he knew Oscar found troublesome. But Oscar, whom he had expected to feign ignorance or deny everything, surprised him by nodding placidly.
“Yes, Your Majesty. I understand you perfectly.”
Oscar reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope, and approached the foot of the dais. He placed it gently on the steps before retreating.
An envelope, left by a man for whom everything was bait. Though he knew this, too, was bait, the King’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to it.
“I promise you will have no further cause for concern. I sincerely apologize for inadvertently causing you to worry.”
“What is this?”
“A token of my apology.”
“I will not open it. Take it with you.”
“Then burn it.”
The voice was so calm it was devoid of emotion, and the King shot Oscar a glare.
“Consider it brought by a crow. Whether you burn it or read it, the crow would never know, would it?”
“…”
“Whether you play it as a card, remain ignorant of its existence, or decide it isn't a card at all—the choice is entirely Your Majesty’s.”
His eyes were as cold as ice, his voice utterly empty of emotion.
An arrogance radiated from the tall man, a silent promise that if the King were to burn the envelope right here and now, he would simply smile and say, very well.
The King unknowingly clenched his fists.
The young marquis, now thirty, had no weaknesses. After all, weaknesses are born from things one holds desperately precious, and this man had nothing of the sort. The steel company? That was the man’s most powerful weapon; how could it be called a weakness?
Whether you play it as a card, or remain ignorant of its existence? The insolent implication that he couldn't care less what the King chose made him want to curse aloud.
And yet, the command to burn it at once would not leave his lips. In the end, he too was merely dancing in the palm of Oscar’s hand.
Inside the envelope at the King of Pelfe’s feet was a complete record of all the corruption Grand Duke Baden had committed during his few months as the bank’s president.
For the King of Pelfe, who desperately wanted to dispose of the thorn in his side that was Grand Duke Baden, it was an offer he could never refuse.
A secret is only kept when no one else knows it.
From the moment Grand Duke Baden betrayed him, Oscar had no intention of letting the man live.
* * *
As Oscar walked out of the audience chamber, Simon, who was waiting outside, immediately fell into step behind him. The moment they were clear of the palace, Oscar pulled a cigarette from his coat and lit it. Simon recited his schedule.
“Your meeting with Count Holton is in thirty minutes, and your appointment with Chairman Titan is two and a half hours after that.”
“And the ones we captured?”
As the question drifted out with a cloud of acrid smoke, Simon moved closer to Oscar’s side.
“They haven’t talked yet.”
“…”
“Would you like to pay them a visit later?”
Oscar nodded a few times and descended the long staircase, passing through the Pelfe Palace’s glass corridor. The palace nobles, who had been gathered in small groups chatting, fell silent and watched him. Their gazes followed the strikingly handsome man like iron filings to a magnet, but no one dared approach.
Oscar passed them without a glance and boarded his carriage.
To him, the world was divided into two simple categories.
His objective, and everything else.
As for everything else—be it a person, an object, or an insect—it was all the same to Oscar.
Once in the carriage, Oscar leaned his head back against the seat and took a long drag from his cigarette.
“How did the King react?” Simon asked.
“How do you think?”
Seeing the cruel smile touch Oscar’s lips, Simon asked no more. Soon, news would arrive of Grand Duke Baden’s ousting, or his death. Perhaps both.
The carriage had already started moving, but Oscar remained in the same position, silently smoking. Then, in a languid voice, he asked, “Did she go to the Pelfe Bank?”
As a precaution, Simon had ordered the Wolves to report on Seo-ah’s status hourly. He made a mental note to continue the order and answered immediately.
“No. She said she plans to visit the bank after purchasing some necessities from the merchants. She is likely shopping for them now.”
At that, Oscar stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
Then again, it would be a problem if she went in those clothes. He wondered how she had even found clothes that looked like they were from half a century ago. And what was with the winter coat in the middle of summer?
The face of the woman, suspicious in so many ways, flashed through his mind like an afterimage. He saw her face, the back of her hands, her ears, all turning bright red. He recalled her series of questions, none of which made sense for someone simply asking the time, and a sound that was half laugh, half sneer escaped him.
With a face like that, how much could she possibly hide?
“You said the translation of the identification papers would take a week?”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Bring it to me the moment it’s done.”
With that, Oscar held out his hand to Simon, who, as if waiting, handed him a thick stack of documents.
There was always an enormous amount of work to be done.
The same Oscar who had been a rude and troublesome visitor to the King of Pelfe was a charming business partner by noon. As the day waned, he put on the face of a friendly acquaintance, all the while expanding his business.
In between, reports on the woman’s movements came in.
By the time he finished his last appointment, it was late at night.
Boarding the carriage, Oscar held out his hand, and Simon naturally passed him a small note.
No movement after dinner.
He crumpled the meaningless report and tossed it aside, but Simon added something else.
“She apparently asked if you would be returning to the hotel, Your Excellency.”
Oscar’s eyes narrowed slightly.
When will you be back?
The question, which he had deemed unworthy of a response, came back to him. No one dared to wonder about such a thing, and even if they did, they would never voice it. Yet that hesitant question, asked with clear brown eyes, had somehow tugged at the edge of his nerves.
“She asked if I was returning to the hotel?”
“Yes. I wasn’t sure if it was worth reporting, but since it was the first thing she said, I was told to inform you.”
It was a strange question, as if she existed slightly apart from everyone else, and it made the faint afterimage of the woman linger a little longer in his mind. The odd image that had been circling his thoughts finally vanished when the carriage stopped in front of a derelict building.
Oscar pulled on a pair of gloves, which he usually found stuffy and avoided wearing, and stepped out of the carriage. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he strolled into the lightless space, taking the cracked and jagged stairs several steps at a time.
“Your Excellency.”
The men stationed sporadically along the underground corridor immediately bowed their heads. Oscar passed them without a glance.
“Ugh, ugh-ah, ughhh…”
A groan that would make one’s hair stand on end vibrated through the grim atmosphere.
The Wolves continued to bow as Oscar walked past them with steady steps. The man at the very end opened a door for his approaching master, and a grating shriek of metal, loud enough to split eardrums, rang out. At the same time, the stench of caked, black blood seeped into the gloomy air.
Oscar took a deep drag from his cigarette and crossed the threshold in an instant.
A man, so mangled it was hard to tell if he was a person or a corpse, was tied naked to a chair. But the very person who had ordered the man to be minced like meat remained impassive.
There was a wooden chair opposite the man, but Oscar kicked it aside and stopped right in front of the man’s knees, where the raw flesh was exposed. His expensive shoes sank into a thick pool of blood, but he paid it no mind.
Oscar took another deep drag from his cigarette and stared at the assassin. Then, he pulled out his left hand and roughly grabbed the man’s drooping chin, forcing his head up. The once-murderous assassin’s eyes were already devoid of any will to fight.
“Sp-spare… me… ugh…”
Oscar took the cigarette with his right hand and spoke casually.
“The secret collaborator in the Luxen Royal Palace.”
The man’s swollen eyes flew open.
“Yes…?”
Shrouded in smoke, Oscar gave a slow nod. The grip on his jaw tightened, and the assassin sensed that one of his cards for survival had just disappeared.
“The one who sees the world with his eyes closed.”
The assassin opened his mouth to say something, but no coherent words could possibly come out.
Oscar blinked once, then twice, before releasing the man’s jaw. The abrupt change made his brutal grip feel like a phantom.
In that instant, his last chance at survival vanished. Realizing this instinctively, the assassin’s body began to convulse.
“I-I-I just did what the Beta Mercenaries told me to, spare me, mph!”
As the Wolves stuffed a cloth into his mouth to silence his screams for mercy, Oscar carelessly pulled off his gloves and threw them to the floor.
“I already know that.”
Then, without a shred of attachment, he turned and walked out of the interrogation room.
“Dispose of him and bury him.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
Leaving the thick, metallic stench of blood and the agonized death throes behind him, Oscar emerged from the building that seemed like a remnant of a fallen kingdom and silently boarded his carriage. Simon, after relaying Oscar’s orders to the Wolves in more detail, climbed in as well. The carriage carrying the two men began to move without a sound.
As if nothing had happened, the two men, who brought with them the acrid smell of smoke and blood, picked up documents to review.
About thirty minutes later, the carriage arrived at the hotel.
It was the dead of night, close to midnight.
The moment they saw their master, who carried with him the foul stench of blood, the Wolves flinched and stepped aside. Among them was Abel Sting, who had been summoned by Oscar.