Chapter 175
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 175
Gabriel and I stopped by one of the many gun shops scattered across Border City.
The shopkeeper, who had been slouching lazily, shot to his feet the moment we walked in. He took one look at our grim, menacing auras and clearly recognized us as serious customers.
"Gabriel, pick something that fits your hand."
I gestured with my chin toward Gabriel as I slid a credit chip to the shopkeeper.
"I can really pick anything? Where the hell did you find a backer? I thought you said you just woke up after twelve years."
Gabriel ran his hands over the firearms mounted on the wall. Despite living like a wreck for so long, his hands moved with a familiar nimbleness as he handled the weapons. The muscle memory from his bodyguard days was still there.
"It's a long story."
I didn't bother with a tedious explanation. Gabriel, too, decided to focus on choosing his weapons. A raw thirst for revenge burned in his eyes.
His drive is back.
The lethargy had vanished, replaced by the Gabriel I remembered. It was thanks to a clear sense of purpose and the aid of stimulants.
"You really found the bastard who killed Siren?"
"Almost certain. The problem is, he's not someone we can touch easily."
"Hmm. In that case, there could be retaliation. I'll be the one to pull the trigger. You just point me in the right direction and stay out of it."
Gabriel spun a shotgun with one hand. He slapped in a magazine and lined up the sights, the motions of a weapons check still ingrained in him.
"I'll leave the revenge to you, but… if things go sideways, you can't handle it alone. You can't even fight properly right now."
"Even like this, I can handle a piece of trash who preys on women and children."
Listening to our exchange, the shopkeeper beamed. He rubbed his hands together and pulled a storage case from a cabinet.
"Gentlemen, if a personal vendetta is on the menu, I highly recommend this. It's a neurotoxin called 'Virus.' It selectively targets pain receptors, making them hypersensitive. It will make them experience a level of agony they've never known. You can coat a blade with it or inject it with special rounds."
The shopkeeper opened the case. The murky liquid inside the ampoule pulsed with an ominous green light.
"Ha! Luka, you hear that? This shit's incredible. 'Virus'?"
Gabriel, who had been browsing the blades, walked over to the shopkeeper.
"It does come with a hefty price tag, though," the shopkeeper added, glancing at me. "A luxury item purely for revenge. It's not even practical for prolonged torture, as the target will die within thirty minutes of exposure."
He certainly knew how to do business. Having overheard the words "revenge" and "backer," he'd picked out the perfect product.
"Don't worry about the price. Give us one."
I didn't even ask how much. I just placed another credit chip on the counter and slid it over.
"Oh, thank you, sir! I'll throw in the blades your large friend here selected, on the house."
Throwing in the blades for free… which meant the neurotoxin was ridiculously expensive. I felt a faint pang of anxiety, wondering if Japa would get an alert about the sudden charge. I suppose that feeling was proof I still had a conscience.
Clack.
Gabriel grabbed a pistol and a shotgun, then strapped a machete to his waist and a dagger to his thigh.
"You look much better now," I smirked, looking at the fully armed Gabriel.
"I'm finally starting to feel alive again."
Gabriel did some test firing at the gun shop's underground range. The lingering effects of his addiction and the long hiatus made his movements clumsy, but not entirely useless.
"Damn it, I'm a mess."
But Gabriel clearly wasn't happy with his performance.
"Doesn't matter. You can worry about rehab later. We're going to be shoving the barrel right in his face anyway."
"True enough."
We left the gun shop. I glanced at Gabriel. He was brimming with vitality now.
"Gabriel, I'll ask about what happened to you later. For now, let's focus on your revenge."
This was about putting him in my debt, just as I'd done when I paid his medical bills all those years ago.
Once this was over, Gabriel would serve me more loyally than anyone. He would never betray me.
"I've got plenty of questions for you, too. I never imagined you'd be in Border City. I thought you died in a wheelchair in that gloomy mansion."
"You thought I was dead?"
"Giselle told me you were dead. Said the family just hadn't made it official. Your name still carried weight for the Custoria Family, after all."
I had a good idea of what had happened. Giselle must have told everyone I was dead so she could smuggle me out to Border City.
I could sort through the past later. There was work to do.
As we walked, I explained the situation, the information I shared popping up on Gabriel's terminal screen.
"...His name is Ernest Borel. He's the grandson of Alex Borel, one of Border City's founders. He's a pretty big deal around here."
"So he's from a political family. If we kill a bastard like that, the backlash will be severe, won't it?"
"That's why we have to grab him quietly and take him somewhere else. He's working as a secretary for his father. Since he isn't a key figure yet, his security won't be that tight. Besides, he wouldn't keep bodyguards around when he's out satisfying his little hobby."
I sent Ernest Borel's schedule to Gabriel. The time slots we could target were highlighted in yellow.
Looking at the man's personal profile, Gabriel gritted his teeth. His face twisted in sorrow, and his eyes began to well up.
"Luka… why does a guy born into a life like that do these things? He's a bastard who could live his whole life without ever having to kill. Why… why does he kill people? And always people weaker than him. He gets pleasure from it? Why is that fun? Humans aren't supposed to be like that. I just… I can't understand it..."
Gabriel's voice choked at the end. I remained silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
...Because I understood Ernest Borel perfectly. The bastard couldn't find stimulation in anything but murder. He only felt alive when he killed, and he kept doing it to reaffirm his own existence.
If he were a soldier, a mercenary, or a warrior, that would be one thing. In those professions, such a trait could even be an asset. But a civilian should never possess that kind of temperament.
* * *
From a nearby alley, Gabriel and I watched Ernest Borel's residence. It was a complex where Border City's bureaucrats lived clustered together, likely for security.
And the security was exceptionally tight. Instead of private guards, police officers from the Bellato Federation patrolled the streets, heavily armed in full-body combat suits.
"Luka, is he really going to come out if we just wait? Hah."
Gabriel loaded a prescribed ampoule into a syringe and jabbed it into his neck. Only then did some energy seem to return to him, a grim smirk touching his lips.
"Based on his murder cycle, it's about time for him to go hunting. He'll be active alone this evening. And when this is over, you're quitting the drugs and the booze and starting rehab."
"I know. I will. But right now, I don't have a choice."
I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment before turning away.
No matter how corrupt a nation's elite may be… they don't openly condone thrill-killing.
Ernest Borel couldn't carry out his serial killings in the open. If exposed, his family's political career would be over in an instant. He would definitely be roaming the streets alone to find his prey.
We shifted our position several times, waiting for him to emerge.
It was around sunset when a man in sportswear stepped out of the building. He wore a hood pulled low over his face, but I recognized Ernest Borel instantly from his build and gait.
Ernest gave a casual nod to the building's security and the patrolling officers before jogging off, as if going for a run.
"Gabriel. Time to move. Follow the plan."
"What? H-He's out? Where is he? Where!"
Gabriel's hands trembled as he gripped his pistol. He bared his teeth, his expression a twisted mask of tears and laughter.
I frowned.
"If you try to snipe him with those shaky hands, you'll lose your only chance for revenge."
"I-I know. Wasn't going to shoot him anyway."
"Then move. Now."
I urged Gabriel on, my eyes locked on Ernest Borel as he began to blend into the crowd.
"Luka… th-thanks… for helping me with all this."
Gabriel managed to choke out the words, swallowing what little pride he had left.
I waved a hand dismissively without looking back. A moment later, Gabriel's presence vanished.
It begins now.
I quickened my pace, tailing Ernest Borel.
He was a young man who had only recently left boyhood behind. Though slender, he had handsome, intellectual features. His academic record was stellar, and he had an excellent reputation.
I remember his dream was to be an artist.
I recalled an old interview with Ernest Borel. He claimed that after witnessing the chaos of Border City, he had chosen politics over art. A classic piece of PR fluff.
Still, the part about wanting to do art was probably true.
Traces of it had appeared in his online posts. A skilled liar always mixes truth with their falsehoods.
Ernest has no combat training.
He jogged lightly, stopping frequently to rest, which made him easy to follow. I shadowed him, keeping myself concealed.
Ernest entered a crowded street where public security began to thin. Leaning against a wall, he scanned the passersby.
He's looking for prey.
His eyes darted back and forth. To satisfy his urges, he needed to find someone weak.
Swoosh.
I quietly closed the distance.
A hunter is most vulnerable when focused on their prey. Every one of their senses is locked in a single direction.
Thud.
I stepped up beside Ernest and leaned my back against the same wall. He glanced at me and pulled his hood down even lower.
Slide.
He pushed himself off the wall, about to walk away.
Crunch!
I stomped down hard on his foot. Ernest let out a sharp, pained grunt and glared at me.
The crowd flowed past us like a river, people brushing against our shoulders without a second glance.
I had grown used to Border City. People here didn't give a damn about anyone else. Unless you stabbed someone to death right in front of them, no one would even look twice.
"Get back against the wall before I shatter your foot."
"You..."
Ernest reached for his pocket. I sighed and grabbed his arm.
"Don't be stupid. If I wanted to, I could slit your throat right here and be gone before you hit the ground. You wouldn't even have time to scream. You want to check out that fast?"
"What do you want?" Ernest asked, pressing himself back against the wall as instructed. His eyes darted around erratically, his mind clearly racing.
"What do you think a guy like me wants from a rich boy like you? I don't want to make an enemy of a powerful family and spend my life on the run. I'm just looking to score a few coins before I skip town. Ah, ah—hands out of your pockets. Keep them where I can see them, and when I say so, you're going to start walking."
"...You've got guts, targeting me when you know who I am."
"I'm leaving Border City tonight anyway. Besides, you should've been prepared for this the moment you stepped into a neighborhood like this. Did you really think you could wander around alone without bodyguards? Since when was security in this part of town so good?"
I sneered. Ernest didn't reply.
It's not like he could admit he was out looking for someone to kill.
I tapped his shin with the toe of my boot, signaling him to move.