Chapter 30
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 30
“Will you be going to the market again tomorrow?”
“Are there other markets besides the one we went to today?”
At Seo-ah’s question, Barbara paused for a moment in thought.
In truth, Barbara found Oscar’s orders regarding the target rather difficult. He had confined her movements to Vies but also ordered that she be given as much freedom as possible within those limits. The order was to watch her and never lose her, yet still allow her a certain degree of freedom.
Inside the manor, they had minimized any variables by assigning her the safest, most easily monitored room. To minimize variables outside, it was best if her destinations were predictable.
“There are five or six more.”
Abel Sting and the Backup Team would have foamed at the mouth if they’d heard, but that was no concern of Barbara’s.
“If you wish to go, please let me know. I will inform Abel.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
After telling her to rest well, Barbara left with the dishes. Seo-ah quietly watched the door close.
Click, clack.
The sound of light, short footsteps—slightly favoring the right side—faded into the distance, and soon the outer door clicked shut as well.
“Hah…”
A long breath escaped her.
Her legs ached from walking all day, but that didn't matter in the slightest.
Seo-ah took out the notebook she had bought. She then uncapped the fountain pen Oscar had given her and opened the notebook to the first page.
Oscar had gone off somewhere by himself. It seemed he had arrived safely at the Reinhardt manor, but she couldn't shake her suspicion. All day, she had been watching Abel’s reactions and listening intently to the sounds around her.
After a full day of cautiously observing her surroundings, Seo-ah was able to reach a very careful conclusion.
She wrote two words on the first page of her notebook.
Luxen, Vies.
If the Pelfe Bank was the first destination, then Vies in Luxen was the second. Moreover, while she was being watched, she also had freedom of movement.
Her master had said the probability of failure before she even reached this point was over fifty percent. She had been lucky.
Seo-ah brought her braided hair over her shoulder. Looking down, she saw the ends of her light brown hair and the red ribbon. A crimson ribbon embroidered with a small butterfly.
Her fingertips caressed the end of the ribbon. She lifted her eyes to the window again, then rose and moved closer. The manor, shrouded in darkness, came into view. Beyond it, a strange city spread out like a black sea.
To catch a fish in a vast sea, one must either cast a wide net or drop a line with bait on the hook. And then, one must wait patiently for the fish to bite.
But she couldn't cast a wide net. She had neither the strength nor the ability.
However, she could fashion a single, crude fishing rod.
Seo-ah whispered toward the dark sea.
I brought the key you searched for so desperately and met a wolf. I placed the key in that wolf's hand and put on the ribbon you would recognize.
Now, it is your turn to find me.
So that you know I have come, I will show this unusual face of mine to as many people as possible.
So that you can find me, I will go to the most crowded places.
Even if my heart pounds and I'm so breathless I want to run away, I will endure it. I will endure, and I will wait.
“We’ll meet soon.”
Her small whisper fogged the windowpane for a moment before vanishing without a sound.
* * *
Abel called his profession “shitty work,” but when it came to confidence in his own abilities, he had it in spades. Especially in the art of seduction, he was confident he could operate with extreme efficiency.
The ignorant brutes who only knew how to swing a sword might look down on it as the work of a gold digger, but in reality, it was an incredibly dangerous and demanding job.
Unlike the Search or Combat Teams, which were deployed on missions as a unit, Abel always moved alone. This was true even in the middle of enemy territory. If he aroused suspicion and was caught, he would likely die before a rescue team could arrive—and it usually wouldn't be a clean death.
Even assuming he wasn't caught, securing a target was no easy task. That was to say nothing of cases where the target was a married woman; some were even members of the clergy. It was a highly complex job that required a detailed analysis of their disposition, their current situation, their upbringing, their sexual preferences, and more.
So, the task of seducing an Outsider with an exotic name like Seo-ah felt unworthy of even being called a job.
The bastards snickering and watching from the sidelines were annoying, but how could that compare to enemy territory where his life was on the line? It wasn't like she had a husband watching with fire in his eyes, or anyone around to interfere. On top of all that, she was naive about the world and had a pretty face.
And yet.
“Hah…”
He was so exhausted he could taste it.
And that wasn't all.
His finest suit, worth ten million Kerte, reeked of fish, and the coffee he had downed cup after cup had left his stomach churning.
The worst target he had ever dealt with was a woman who spent all day praying, but the more he thought about it, the better she seemed.
“At least that woman was captivated by my face.”
Huh?
The moment the words left his lips, an unidentifiable chill crept down his spine.
As Abel belatedly realized that the professional pride he held so dear stemmed entirely from his handsome face, an afterimage of the woman who had kept her face buried in her coffee cup all day flashed before his eyes.
At the time, he had been too consumed by his irritation with the market's chaos to notice. Looking back now, the target seemed to have no interest not just in his appearance, but in the man named Abel Sting himself.
“……”
The chill was followed by a disquieting sense of crisis.
Abel, who had been about to drink himself into a stupor, immediately rose to his feet. The night air felt strangely sentimental, and he decided he should at least try to make another impression on her.
But even that wasn't easy.
“Why are the lights off?”
“She seems to be asleep.”
“What are you talking about? It’s not even ten o’clock.”
“They were turned off thirty minutes ago.”
She wasn't a growing kid. What kind of full-grown adult goes to bed before ten?
Wait.
If she went to bed this early, what time did she plan on waking up? Don't tell me she's going to ask to go to another market tomorrow…
A shiver ran down Abel’s spine. He called over a wolf.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
“If she asks if there are other markets in Vies, tell her there's only the Central Market. And tell everyone else in the manor the same thing.”
But that, too, did not go as he wished.
“I’m sorry, but Senior Barbara has already instructed us to prepare to go to the market again tomorrow.”
“……”
This target was an Outsider who loved markets and had absolutely no interest in his face.
Returning to his room with a deeply unsettled expression, Abel sat down and opened his report. He stared at the printed form for a long time before picking up his pen.
Around 08:20, moved to Central Market. Looked around. Looked around. Looked around…
List of purchased items: 1 sausage, 1 notebook, 1 candy, another sausage bread, 1. Coffee… 6.
18:05, returned. Around 21:30, retired to bed.
A report for Oscar could hardly be more pathetic. He wracked his brain, wondering what else he could add to make it look more plausible, but the more he wrote, the more pathetic it would become.
What was frightening was the ominous premonition that this pathetic excuse for a report would be the same tomorrow, and the day after.
Abel ran a hand down his face.
“Succeed spectacularly and put them all in their place.”
He was supposed to be putting the others in their place—whether it was Barbara or the Combat Teams—but he had an ominous feeling that it was his own pride about to be crushed instead.
And that premonition began to slowly—no, blatantly—become reality the very next day.
* * *
A windowless room, devoid of night or day. The iron door of the chamber, made entirely of steel from floor to ceiling, swung open with a deafening clang.
“Ugh, the stench is so foul I can barely go in.”
The man with a snake tattoo covering his scalp entered the room, his face a mask of disgust. He smacked the back of the head of the man who'd opened the door and barked, “I told you to clean up the flesh and blood while you're at it! The stench of rot is overwhelming!”
“I’m sorry!”
The subordinate immediately bowed deeply in apology as the man with the snake tattoo scowled and strode past him. His gaze fell upon those who were, as he put it, being “butchered.”
“Tough bastards. Really tough.”
Two figures were bound to chairs.
“This just proves people are animals. How can you look at this and call it human, right?” he chuckled, but given the state of the men tied to the chairs, it was anything but a joke.
Where skin had been peeled away, bloody fluid and yellow pus caked together, emitting a vile stench. Intestines spilled from slashes in their abdomens, already beginning to rot at the ends. The wounds ranged from those just beginning to heal to freshly made ones, but none of them were minor.
“It’s so revolting it makes me want to puke.”
In truth, “wounds” wasn't the right word. A more fitting term would be “mutilation.”
Despite his words, the man with the snake tattoo grabbed the head of the one whose scalp had been completely flayed, squeezing it in his grip as he growled, “Say something, you son of a bitch.”
The man’s one remaining eye rolled back, showing only white.
“How many bastards like you are under Oscar von Reinhardt, and where are they? Huh?”
From a throat that had been melted by boiling water, only a sound like scraping metal escaped.
Seeing this, the man with the snake tattoo clicked his tongue sharply. He tapped the head mockingly with his fingertips—thwack, thwack—before turning his gaze to the other wolf, who was hanging limp.