The Poison Seller's Trap
“Hmm.”
“Is there a problem?”
“The captain's smarter than I thought.”
“Pardon…?”
“Maybe you've got a talent for laying traps too. Honestly, I figured you'd say something like, ‘I'll lure out one more assassination attempt.’ This is pretty unexpected.”
“I'm not that insane.”
Luckily, I caught on this time. But next time? The odds aren't low, but they're not high either.
Handling it solo would be tough, right?
“Wouldn't it be hard for you to handle this alone, Captain?”
“Yeah… Honestly, it wouldn't be easy.”
“How about a deal with me, then?”
“A deal? What's that supposed to mean?”
The gesture from this sleazy superior.
Truth be told, it felt more dangerous than Besinia.
‘Roll over till the war ends’—something like that?
This guy's got the potential for it.
“Just say the word, and I'll mobilize some people myself to clean it up. Then I'll make sure Tems Oclo's name stays out of it.”
“You can pull that off?”
Letting one criminal slip away? Hard to believe an Intelligence Agency major could swing that.
If he really can, it'd be perfect.
And Eden's response to my suspicion was straightforward.
“If I say I can, then I can. Why doubt me? If you don't like it, handle it yourself.”
“Ha… haha, come on. I'm just worried about you, Major.”
I hurriedly grabbed at him as he suddenly U-turned.
“So, for this deal—what do I have to offer?”
“Nothing major. Just give it your all in the upcoming operation, no complaints.”
“Pardon…?”
Way off from what I'd expected.
Hell, it felt free.
Wait, that's what I always do anyway.
The “no complaints” part nagged a bit, but when have my words ever changed anything?
Still looked like a one-sided win for me.
“Not good enough?”
“N-no, sir. It's great for me.”
“Good. Then get moving. Time's shorter than you think.”
I had no idea back then.
That Eden's “freebie” deal was the last gift from whatever conscience he had left.
“Damn it, why the hell didn't he drop dead?”
I'd figured the maid bitch would go in, screams would follow soon after, and chaos would erupt.
So I'd rushed back to my bedroom for an alibi, holding my breath.
No screams. Dinner passed in eerie peace.
“Shit, shit!”
Bam!
Tems slammed his desk in frustration at the plan going off the rails.
Did those bastards screw me over?
He wanted to check right away, but he'd dumped everything down the sewer last night. Nothing left.
Or did he catch on somehow? Nah, impossible.
What lunatic suspects poison in tea brought by a maid?
Two possibilities left: she didn't eat it, or the poison was bunk.
Tea leftovers go to the servants. If the poison worked, someone would've died.
But the mansion was too damn peaceful.
One option remained.
“You fucking bastards.”
Tems reached his conclusion, threw on his overcoat irritably, and stormed down to the first floor.
“Young master, where to?”
“None of your business. Get me a horse. Personal errand.”
“Y-yes, sir! One moment, please!”
The butler, sensing his foul mood, scurried off like his life depended on it.
A horse was ready quick. Tems mounted up and spurred it harder than usual toward the capital outskirts.
“Owner! Get out here!”
An herb shop tucked in the market's dingiest corner.
Tems kicked the door open, bellowing irritably.
“Aigoo, young master. A heads-up would've been nice. What brings you today?”
“What brings me? To make you pay for scamming me, you lunatic!”
“Wh-what? Please, calm down, sir.”
The shop owner, Silk, bowed frantically, hands waving as Tems looked ready to draw steel.
“You sell me fake poison and play dumb?!”
“I-I'd never! A weak old man like me scamming Oclo family heir? It'd blow up in my face.”
“Then why's the bastard still breathing after eating it? Explain so I buy it.”
“Pardon…? He ate it and lived? Impossible.”
Silk tilted his head like it defied logic.
For a split second, his face twisted grotesquely—but Tems missed it.
“Impossible my ass! I slipped it in his tea myself. Nothing happened.”
“You saw him drink it?”
“No, but who skips tea? Even if he did, servants would've. No one's dead—you still denying it?”
Logical enough. Silk's mind raced.
Does he really have an antidote?
Silk ran his herb shop as a front, but he was really a Reconnaissance Command field agent.
Info gathering was cover; real job was supplying nobles with poisons and drugs to snag leverage.
Dozens entangled already.
Thought I could hook the Oclo family too, kill two birds. Now it's messy.
Tems didn't know, but Silk did: Palan was Intelligence Agency.
So it wasn't bad poison—the plot got sniffed out. No time wasted judging that.
Damn brat. If you're poisoning, watch him swallow it yourself.
Slipping it into maid-served tea like a scaredy-cat.
Does he think agency agents are pushovers?
Send him packing first.
Silk bowed low.
“Aigoo, young master. If I'd sold fakes, would I last twenty years? Please believe me.”
“So he's poison-proof now?”
“Ridiculous. Probably some accident in between.”
“Accident?”
Silk nodded desperately at Tems's question.
“Yes. But what's done is done—my responsibility either way. I'll prep stronger poison.”
“Hmm.”
“Trust me once more. Stake my twenty years on it—this'll work.”
Tems eyed the pleading white-haired geezer.
No other source for poison. Have to trust the filthy bastard.
This spot came via his info guild contacts—barely.
“Make it solid.”
“Y-yes! Of course. If it fails again, take my head.”
“You'd better own that.”
Tems glared murderously, warning him.
“No doubt. Give me two days.”
“Tch. Every day's urgent. How much?”
“How could I charge? Restoring trust is payment enough.”
No fee? Tems's lip twitched up faintly.
Good timing—funds low, about to draw suspicion.
From his view, just a slight delay. No big loss.
“You know business basics. Two days—prep right. No disappointments.”
“Yes! No way! Thank you for the chance!!!”
“And clean up. Age slowing you? Shop's a mess. Tch tch.”
Tems scanned the place one last time, clucking his tongue, then left.
Alone now, a mystery man approached Silk.
“Section chief, Tems Oclo had tails. Probably agency—high chance. You should bail.”
“Damn idiot. How many?”
“Hooded, faces hidden. Three.”
“Tch.”
Agency sniffing? Shop's burned.
“Fleeing?”
“Too late. Few things to grab.”
“Then…?”
“Handle it first. Just three, right?”
“Yes.”
“Get the kids ready. Rush on my signal.”
“Got it.”
The man slipped out the back. Soon, the shop door creaked open.
“Owner around?”
Zero fear—Eden strode right in without hesitation.
Damn, should've called backup.
Tailing Tems from the mansion was fine.
Found his poison hookup too.
But why push further, barging in?
And he's just standing there.
The extra agency agent Eden brought.
Figured a stranger, but nope—old colleague Alpen, now Captain.
“Aigoo! Welcome!”
A white-haired elder shuffled out from the back at Eden's call.
Just a regular herb gramps.
His bulk screamed he'd send you to the afterlife with a wild swing.
Somehow, a sigh of relief escaped me.
“Heard you sell good stuff here.”
“Pardon…? No idea what you mean.”
The old man blinked like it was news to him.
“Playing dumb already? Smells that strong.”
Smells?
I focused my nose—nothing but grass.
“If I'd done shady deals, would I last twenty years? No illegals here—please leave.”
Owner digging in hard.
Key moment: what now?
Subdue and search—best bet.
Dictator playbook, but fine.
Proof of poison sales erases all sins.
“Twenty years, huh? Interesting. How about herbs for a frail body, then?”
“That, I can do right away.”
The elder fetched ingredients, mixing for Eden's order.
Real pro vibe.
Twenty years no lie.
About ten minutes later, he bagged it and handed it over.
“Simmer twelve hours into soup.”
“Thanks. How much?”
“Two gold.”
“Two gold.”
Eden rummaged like paying for real.
Pulled coins from his pouch…
“Fun's over. Come out already.”