Chapter 727
Chapter 727
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 727
Chapter Title: Fugitive (2)
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1.
Lydia's office.
"What the fuck, are you an idiot?"
The shouting, laced with genuine fury and a guttural growl, echoed thunderously through the room.
Randa Silphide, the money-laundering expert, handled all of Solidus Merchant Guild's accounting and was treated quite well for it.
After all, laundering funds becomes critically important as capital grows larger.
Randa was the top specialist in her field, and Solidus was Hexennacht's largest single merchant guild, so their bond was naturally tight.
There was a professional hierarchy, but in private, they seemed equals.
But right now...
Randa stood frozen before the cursing Lydia like a pocket mouse.
"Why the hell did you go blabbing about it? Huh? I'm asking you to explain!"
Lydia slammed the table in barely contained rage, making the air around them tremble.
This was the polar opposite of her usual sweet, friendly tone that treated Randa like a friend.
"I-I didn't blab, I just... told a few people..."
"That's exactly why I'm asking why you opened your stupid mouth! You fucking moron!"
"Eek...!"
She knew she was being insulted.
But she had no room to worry about pride.
The golden magical backlash scattering from the 23rd Hierarchy witch losing her cool was far too intense for a 19th Hierarchy like Randa to face.
"Haa..."
Lydia grabbed a bottle of strong whiskey from the table and gulped it down.
Not satisfied, she hurled the empty bottle at the wall with all her might.
-Crash!
Randa didn't even dodge the flying shards, standing ramrod straight like a disciplined private with tears welling up.
Lydia suppressed the urge to turn this useless bimbo into gold and waved her hand dismissively.
"Fine, get out. Wait until I call for you."
Strictly speaking, Randa and Lydia were equal collaborators, not boss and subordinate.
Yet Randa bowed her head as if she'd been waiting for those words and bolted from the office at Lydia's explosive behavior.
"That... that... fucking idiot bitch."
Gritting her teeth as she watched Randa's retreating figure, Lydia leaned back in her chair.
After the grand assembly, she had planned to form a secret pursuit team.
The scheme to pin Logi's disappearance on Linne later hinged on Shin Si-woo being in her possession.
The moment Linne's deviation came to light, she'd become Hexennacht's communal prey, putting Si-woo's safety—who was under her protection—at risk.
So Lydia had covered up Linne's raid on the workshop.
She even handed her injured secretary to a reliable healing witch, begging for secrecy.
But Randa, Linne's initial target, ruined everything.
"She should've just died..."
Annoyingly resilient, Randa woke up after just two days and spilled Linne's crimes to no fewer than three witches on her way to report at Solidus.
She even unnecessarily mentioned Linne prying into Solidus's event schedules and Lydia's itinerary.
Half of it was probably Randa spilling everything to save her skin, and half revenge against Linne for the rough treatment.
But her loose lips let Linne's crimes reach the hardliners' ears.
And gave them a clue that Linne and Lydia were connected somehow.
Naturally, Hexennacht went on high alert, including the hardliners eager for a chance.
They were hunting Shin Si-woo to spark war with Gehenna, after all.
Now Lydia had no choice but to step forward openly.
And even if she got Si-woo after twists and turns, monopolizing him like before would be tough.
The absolute worst outcome from one idiot's loose tongue...
How could she not rage?
"You look troubled."
-Ding-a-ling.
At that moment, a clear bell chime announced an uninvited guest's voice.
Lydia bit her lip once, then flipped her expression like a mask and spun her chair around.
"Lady Psyche Tigarden, I wasn't informed of your visit."
A witch lounged casually on the windowsill as if she'd been there all along.
Curly golden bob like a lamb's fleece.
Drowsy lime-green eyes.
A distinctive wand topped with a bell, like a shepherd's staff.
She looked harmless, like an innocent girl at a glance—but don't be fooled by appearances.
This was the former Cliport leader and traitor.
Aries Witch, a pillar of the moderates outside Solidus.
And someone Lydia didn't want to see right now.
Even Lydia couldn't fully read the schemes of an old monster over a thousand years old.
"How long have you been here?"
"Just now. Heard you yelling and got curious."
Psyche hopped down from the sill, leaning on her staff, and yawned languidly despite the tension.
The simple reason Lydia didn't chase her out despite the displeasure: Since Hexennacht's founding, Solidus had prospered, but it still lacked the power to confront the new Cliport head-on in scale or quality.
Disunited factions lose voice to opponents—common enough.
So the anti-war arch-witches pushed Solidus as the moderates' banner instead of demanding outside director seats.
Arch-witches could influence moderates' moves and major decisions via the board without being in Solidus—profit.
For Lydia, it swelled her influence as the nominal moderate leader—profit.
In this political bargain, old Psyche proudly wore her golden badge too.
"Be careful."
Even shared goals don't mean calculated alliances roll smoothly like wheels— that's idealism.
Just as bloody power struggles raged in Cliport, Solidus's board was a far cry from harmony, a battlefield of intrigue.
"Careful of what, exactly?"
"I'm Psyche Tigarden, watching you like a shepherd dog on guard. I know what you're thinking."
Psyche held out her palm to Lydia.
"But as always, show a little sincerity, and I'll keep my mouth shut to prove our friendship."
It meant bribe her.
Lydia sighed and rummaged in her drawer for the treasured box.
Inside, gold-foiled chocolates were neatly stacked.
They looked like ordinary chocolates, but far from it.
Made with the finest: Belgian chocolate, Tahitian vanilla beans, Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, Piedmont hazelnuts, of course.
And replicated from the recipe of Dearmond Co., Britain's top chocolatier with royal warrant, bankrupted by the Great Depression and a massive fire—acquired at great cost.
Custom bribes and lobbying were key to keeping the guild afloat.
For Psyche, it was these chocolates.
Psyche unwrapped one of the three and popped it straight into her mouth.
"Dearmond's chocolate is the best, as expected. No other company gets this flavor."
"Will you keep this secret too, then?"
"You've shown me kindness. It's my duty to repay."
"......"
"Now I know nothing. I've forgotten it all. But if something jogs my memory, I'll drop by again."
Of course, Psyche's silence and support came cheap compared to the chocolates.
But giggling over chocolates given once or twice a month at over a thousand years old... was it pretense or genuine?
Hard to tell.
"This is why I hate old hags."
Lydia shuddered, steeling herself for what was coming.
The grand assembly would be called soon, no doubt.
Coordinating with the board beforehand was key.
To calm the mess worsened by one idiot, Lydia picked up the phone.
2.
The free witch, Zlata Justitia, was in a good mood.
Or rather, she had been.
Until she picked up one of the fluttering extra editions on every street corner.
"Whoa. This is bad."
Linne had paid a mountain of gold to entrust two witches to her.
Zlata assumed it was for happy times with her male witch.
After all, hadn't she recently shelled out gold to learn cooking from him?
But maybe she should've suspected when three years' entertainment budget went to one night's babysitting.
The extra edition was a wanted notice for the "Sword Witch."
Printed with Linne's crimes, photo, mana pattern, and bounty.
In short, Zlata was now deeply tangled with Hexennacht's first bloodletter, Linne.
"This is bad."
Zlata, who entered the witch city of Gehenna romantically without much caution, was an exile, not a public figure.
She wasn't bold enough to shrug off such a massive bomb.
Zlata paced back and forth, repeating "This is bad" over fifty times.
The reason Linne left the witch slaves with her before causing trouble was obvious.
Unspoken, but it meant using this apothecary as a hideout.
"Should I rat her out now?"
It seemed reasonable at first.
Claim ignorance as a victim and tip off Linne's location.
Might even get leniency.
"No, I'm screwed anyway. This life's done for."
But even in this humane era, voice phishing cash mules and drug runners get treated as full accomplices, mercy be damned.
Would Cliport and Solidus go easy on Zlata with no backing, begging "I didn't know! For real! She said it was good money, just watch them awhile!"?
To rebuild a shattered precept, hanging accomplices in the square makes sense.
Linne knew that, which is why she roped Zlata in so viciously.
"Fuck... Lord... why this trial for me..."
As she agonized inwardly, the apothecary door opened.
Thinking it a house search, Zlata sobbed and raised her hands.
"I really didn't know anything, sob...!"
But in walked three unfamiliar witches, one apparent apprentice girl.
And Linne with Si-woo.
They'd crammed a whole family into this tiny workshop to hide.
Zlata, about to curse Linne—who was piggbacked by her boyfriend, rubbing it in—hesitated.
"You crazy bitch! What the hell did I do wrong! I even taught you cooking..."
Linne was pale to begin with, but now ghostly white like a corpse.
And between her colorless lips leaked faint, ragged breaths on the verge of breaking.
"Ye-bin's inside, right? Call her out now."