Setting the Trap
“Um… Captain Raifen.”
“Tch, so it was you bastards.”
Raifen clicked his tongue at the sight of 1st Squad Leader Kumvel and 2nd Squad Leader Belit entering the room.
“We have no excuses.”
“We're sorry.”
The two bowed their heads.
Raifen swallowed his boiling rage and leaned back against his chair.
“What about 3rd Squad Leader? He got nothing to do with this?”
“Yes… He's not interested in stuff like this.”
“Yeah, figures. So how much did you take?”
Raifen's question made the two exchange glances.
“Spit it out already! Have you lost your minds?!”
Raifen snapped at their hesitation.
Realizing things could go south if they dragged it out, Kumvel hurriedly spoke up.
“We… we got 3 gold each time we looked the other way.”
“How many times has that been?”
“If my memory's right, twelve times…”
Raifen squeezed his eyes shut at the higher-than-expected number.
They wouldn't kidnap just one at a time, so the actual victim count must be at least double what we reported.
If this gets out… I'm done for.
His future as clear as day, Raifen gripped his pen tightly.
“Who else knows about this?”
“J-just the two of us.”
“Keep your mouths shut, no matter what. Unless you wanna die.”
“Y-yes, sir! Of course! Why would we tell anyone?”
“Exactly. We only told you because you're the captain. We'd never breathe a word, even at swordpoint.”
Their vigorous nodding didn't inspire much trust, but right now, he had no choice but to believe them.
“So where's their hideout?”
“We don't know the hideout either. They'd just give us a date, and we'd skip patrol—that's how it always went.”
Kumvel's words made Raifen wonder if these were really the city's guardians.
But Raifen wasn't exactly a saint himself, so he focused on the problem at hand without calling out the behavior outright.
“You took bribes without even scouting their base? No precautions at all?”
“I-instead, they contacted us today saying they'd be active.”
“That's for real?!”
Raifen shot up from his seat at the oasis-like news in this desert of despair.
“Yes, that's why we skipped patrol and were sleeping.”
“Where'd they say it'd happen?”
“W-we don't know that part either.”
“You useless pieces of shit!”
His brief good mood evaporated.
Raifen hurled the pen from his desk.
* * *
“W-we don't know that part either.”
“You useless pieces of shit!”
I don't know if my hearing's just that good or if the walls are thin, but I could faintly make out the conversation from the captain's office two rooms away—clear enough to follow.
“What a total shitshow.”
Guards taking bribes to ignore crimes? That's straight-up insane.
And for a measly 3 gold?
Corrupt and stupid.
Comprehensive trash talent right there.
The city that hires clowns like this has issues too, in my book.
“At least the captain's got some brains.”
Suspecting his own men were on the take and calling them in? Solid instincts. Experience catches crooks best.
But they only know it'll happen today, not where.
District 9's too big to comb easily. And if patrols swarm, the kidnappers will go to ground.
“Gotta think of something good.”
Sipping the captain's abandoned tea, I racked my brain calmly.
How to lure out the kidnappers.
Seems tough, but solutions come quick if you think. Thieves show where there's loot; kidnappers appear where there's prey.
“Set a trap and wait.”
They prefer adult men, right? Plenty of those tripping over themselves here.
Perfect. Worth a shot.
With a solid plan, I left the break room and threw open the captain's door mid-rant.
“Gasp…! W-we're heading out on patrol now!”
“I heard everything. These two took bribes, right?”
The guards standing side-by-side crumbled at my question.
“Th-that's…”
“We…”
“Yes! Correct! These scum betrayed the pride and duty of the guard, selling citizens to kidnappers—vile criminals!”
Raifen pointed accusingly, raising his voice.
Look at that cutoff speed.
Pro gamer level.
“S-sorry! Spare us just once!”
“We've committed a mortal sin.”
Thud.
They prostrated themselves flat.
Why do screw-ups always beg forgiveness after the fact?
“If it's a mortal sin, just die.”
“Eeeek!”
“Th-that's…”
They recoiled in horror as I reached for my sword at my hip.
“Don't wanna die? Catch 'em in six hours. I'll go easy then.”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“We'll nab those vicious bastards for sure!”
Their resolute faces could've passed for generals marching to war.
“Captain.”
“Yes.”
“I had an idea—set a trap.”
“A trap, sir?”
“Kidnappers come out for targets, right? Have some guards pretend to be drunk on a bench. They'll show.”
Raifen pondered my suggestion deeply.
“If you've got something better, go for it. I just need 'em caught in six hours.”
“N-no, sir! That's brilliant! As expected from a war hero—on another level!”
The captain's flattery was so thick it could melt away.
Skilled butter-upper.
“Let's move. Time's short.”
“Yes!! Get downstairs and prep the men! Dress the right ones as civilians!”
“Got it!!”
With the plan set and time ticking, the guards moved faster than ever.
Teams of five: one faking drunk collapse on a bench, the rest in ambush nearby.
I joined a team too.
Now I'm doing guard duty?
Time for hazard pay.
“How about that place over there?”
Kumvel, my squadmate, pointed to a nearby tavern.
“Window seat would give a perfect view.”
Our bait? Rookie Erit sprawled on the bench.
Sorry, kid. Rookies draw the short straw.
Could get ugly—I ain't volunteering. This mess is their fault anyway. No reason for me to sacrifice.
“Might take a while—grab something inside.”
“Check if they're open first.”
“Yes, sir…!”
The other two waited opposite, so Kumvel and I pushed open the tavern door.
“Welcome… Huh?”
The staff greeting me was a familiar face.
“Captain Bern? What're you doing here?”
Bern, who'd clocked out early for curfew, was aproned up, hustling drinks.
“Uh… This is my wife's tavern. Helping out. Is there a problem with me?”
Bern eyed me worriedly.
His wife's place?
I stepped back to check the sign.
Vivian Tavern
Vivian… Vivian.
Now I remembered hearing it at the office.
What are the odds?
This pure coincidence had my lips curling despite myself.
“Problem? Curfew's basically optional, right?”
“H-heck! Th-that's…”
“Relax. Rule-breakers are the issue, not you. Not here for you anyway—other business. Mind if we hang out?”
“Of course! A seat?”
“Window table, if possible. Got something to watch.”
“Right away!”
We sat by the window. Soon, a young woman brought the menu.
“Hello. I'm Vivian, Bern's wife. Honored to meet you, sir.”
“Ah, yeah. Nice to meet you.”
Awkward—boss meeting subordinate's spouse.
Uncomfortable as hell.
I'm casual with Bern, but not his wife. Peak awkwardness.
“Order whatever.”
“Thanks.”
The menu showed daytime meals, evening drinks—standard tavern fare.
One standout:
Even here, french fries.
Makes me happy every time, but my gut hurts thinking of the competition.
“Pick what you want. My treat.”
“Whoa…! Thank you, sir!”
Kumvel's shock suggested he never expected it as he took the menu.
Feed 'em well to keep 'em loyal—no backstabs.
Won't hurt even if they end up jailed later.
“I'll have steak and beer, then…”
“Beer? On duty?”
“N-no! I meant seltzer!”
Too late—the words were out.
These guys are hopeless.
Army life's the same here or back home—no dumber organization.
Found a contender today.
“Sir.”
Watching our rookie bait on the distant bench, Bern approached with a pasta plate.
“Didn't order this.”
“Must-try at our place. On the house—enjoy.”
No thanks. Freebies are the worst.
I know his pay—can't mooch.
Double it on the way out.
Boss weight.
“Thanks. Looks good.”
“No problem. Friend of yours?”
Bern glanced at Kumvel.
Age gap screams no.
He's mid-20s at least.
“Not friends—teaming up for work.”
“Huh…? What work this late?”
Bern blinked in surprise.
Sigh, curiosity means explaining—and he'll join the op.
“Kidnappings—with the curfew, right?”
“Yes.”
“What do you use adult men for, generally?”
Excluding organ trade, prime use for kidnapped men?
Obvious: salt flats… no, construction sites.