Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: The Perfect Crime
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At first, I considered dealing with the mercenaries right in the village.
But if they’d wiped out the entire village of around thirty people, there had to be at least five or six of them, maybe more than ten.
No matter how I thought about it, there was no way to take them all out in front of the gathered villagers without any casualties.
That left only one option.
Kill them all where no one was around.
“W-what the hell!?”
The young mercenary right behind me panicked and drew his shortsword. Without hesitation, Eugene lunged into his arms and thrust out his hand.
Thud!
“……!”
The mercenary’s eyes bulged as his chest was pierced by claws as long as fingers, and he crumpled to the ground.
At such close range, raising a shield would’ve been better than a sword. He seemed far less experienced than the first two.
“Eek!”
“This monster bastard!”
The remaining mercenaries’ reactions split sharply.
Eugene, clad in nothing but Black Scale Mail, looked every bit the monster—and three had fallen to him in an instant.
“Hraaagh!”
“S-save me!”
The three greenhorns with their shoddy gear turned tail without a second glance.
But the other two charged with faces twisted in a mix of fear and frenzy.
“Rraagh!”
“Die!”
A wooden club studded with metal shards flew toward Eugene.
Clang!
He dodged one and deflected the other with his arm. He then jammed a dagger into the jaw of the mercenary whose eyes flew wide in shock and flung him skyward.
Boom!
“Urk!”
The tossed corpse crashed into another mercenary, sending them both tumbling.
Crunch!
Black claws sliced through the fallen mercenary’s face and neck in one stroke. He died on the spot.
“Grrr……!”
Eugene shook the blood and flesh from his claws and turned.
“You son of a bitch! I-I can’t see! I can’t see anything! Rraaagh!”
The redheaded mercenary whose face had been shredded first, blinding him completely, was thrashing in madness.
Thud!
Eugene knocked him out with a chop to the nape. He then glared at the remnants who’d fled surprisingly far in that short time and kicked off hard.
Each leap covered five or six paces.
He closed the distance in a flash, red eyes gleaming as his hands slashed crosswise.
“Kyaaak!”
“Kek!”
With shrill screams, the mercenaries spewed blood from their backs and collapsed face-first.
“H-heek! Please, please…….”
“P-please, spare us!”
Blood trickled from their backs, urine from below their belts. The young-looking mercenaries begged for their lives.
But to a vampire who’d once been hunted by humans in his previous life, their pleas held no value.
Eugene’s hands crossed swiftly.
Three humans, their faces and skulls cleaved clean through, toppled backward one by one.
* * *
“So, you planned to pass off this Ziegler guy as a fake bastard son for a big score? Kill all the villagers, slaughter your greenhorn underlings to pin it on them?”
Ziegler was the name of the third young mercenary Eugene had dealt with.
It was absurd.
In his previous life, the Broadwin villagers’ massacre, his own capture and exposure as a vampire, the long flight ending with a holy knight severing his head—all because of this mercenary named Timothy and his crew’s greed.
“P-please forgive me! We just saw a golden opportunity for a quick haul! If-if we’d known someone like you was in Broadwin, we never, ever would’ve done it. Please, just spare my life!”
The blinded redhead, Timothy, wailed and begged.
Hand over everything you’ve got and tell the truth, and I’ll spare your life.
The clichéd line he’d used countless times before.
Of course, he’d never actually spared anyone.
But hearing it himself now, eyes gone and under brutal torture, he finally understood why they’d spilled every secret amid tears and snot.
“Did Lord Tiwin issue the commission himself?”
“N-no. Lord Tiwin fell ill late last year, so his two sons took it.”
“Sons?”
“Y-yes! Kamara Tiwin and Bertel Tiwin. The daughters are all married off, so those two effectively run the territory.”
Bertel Tiwin.
Eugene narrowed his eyes at the name of the pursuit captain who’d hounded him relentlessly in his past life.
He’d never clashed directly, but the young knight had seemed quite strong.
“Please, please! I’ll live quietly from now on, just spare my life…….”
Timothy bowed his head toward the wrong direction, blind and pleading. Eugene approached slowly.
To think he’d been exposed as a vampire and killed because of idiots like this, overflowing with greed and stupidity.
A long black claw pierced the back of Timothy’s skull.
“……!”
Dead without a scream, Timothy slumped. Eugene laid the body straight and rummaged through his pockets.
‘This is it.’
He couldn’t read, but he knew the lord’s family crest well.
It matched the surcoat Bertel Tiwin had worn.
Tucking the letter—clearly Lord Tiwin’s decree—deep inside, Eugene gathered the mercenaries’ corpses in one spot.
Then he dashed toward a distant mountain, its ridge barely visible.
* * *
The black wolves of this region were feared even by seasoned mercenaries.
Large, fast, and cunning enough to flee without looking back if the foe seemed stronger.
But to an awakened vampire in the dead of night, they were merely wild dogs with tricky catches.
After two hours of bounding through the mountains with all five senses sharp, Eugene spotted a pack of five black wolves.
Two adults, presumed parents, and three juveniles not yet fully grown.
Despite their instinctive fear, the two adults bared fangs at him. Eugene dispatched them with his dagger.
He let the near-independent juveniles go. Two or three adults were all he needed anyway.
With the bull-sized black wolves slung over both shoulders, Eugene returned to the kill site.
He used the mercenaries’ weapons to gouge wounds all over the wolves’ bodies, then ravaged the corpses with claws and fangs in reverse.
Scattering human and beast remains just so, Eugene surveyed his handiwork.
The perfect crime was complete.
* * *
Back at the hut, Eugene took Mirian to the village chief’s house.
The chief flew into a panic at Eugene’s report of mercenaries and black wolves dead near the village.
Led by the chief, village men grabbed torches and farm tools and hurried after him.
An hour from the village outskirts, at the road junction, their jaws dropped.
“Gweh!”
“It’s true.”
“Crazy!”
“They must’ve been heading to our village and got jumped by wolves!”
From those puking up dinner to those boldly rifling the corpses, the men made a racket.
“Y-you found them while hunting and heading back?”
“Checking traps on the way back. I don’t usually go this way, but with black wolves sighted on this mountain, I thought I might catch one. There were three cubs too—I chased them off.”
Eugene hadn’t wiped the blood from his body. The chief and men took it for wolf-chasing scratches.
“Ah, I see.”
Freshly recovered, he’d come to pay respects—and chased off the dreaded black wolves. The chief felt deeply grateful.
“But why were these mercenaries coming to our village?”
“Hm. I checked their pockets thinking I might deliver any effects. And...”
Eugene pulled out the letter from his bosom.
“Isn’t this Lord Tiwin’s seal, the lord of these lands?”
“Y-yes, it is.”
The shield emblem entwining a longsword and rose—the chief, the only literate man in Broadwin, scanned it hastily.
“Whoa! What the...”
“What’s it say, Chief?”
Spit flying amid the crowding men, the chief explained.
“These mercenaries—they came to take Pellid!”
“Pellid? Why?”
“Pellid might be Lord Tiwin’s bastard son!”
The chief’s words sparked another uproar.
* * *
“So... you’ll take Pellid to Lord Tiwin’s castle yourself?”
“Yes. I figured I’m better suited than others. Black wolves are still around, and beasts or monsters might lurk en route. At least I can fight.”
Eugene’s reason for escorting Pellid, purported bastard son of Lord Tiwin, to the castle.
To secure a proper identity.
Completing the mercenaries’ commission in their stead should earn that much from the lord, he figured.
“Hmm. Fair enough.”
The chief nodded gravely.
He visited big towns with merchant wagons two or three times a year and knew the outer dangers best.
Beasts and monsters rarely strayed from their territories, but mercenaries ready to turn bandit anytime—and real bandits—were the threat.
Not to mention knights who’d cut down rural commoners without blinking if crossed.
Even the high-ups in his old merchant group had been mocked and mistreated by those knight scum.
“Um, if I may ask without offense—are you perhaps a knight or from a noble house?”
The chief asked cautiously, recalling Eugene’s striking face sans mask and how he’d driven off black wolves even a few grown men couldn’t handle.
The sudden question flustered Eugene inwardly.
But since he’d started this to gain status—and instinct told him this was opportunity—he nodded at once.
“Yes. I am Yan of House Eugene.”
Only ‘Eugene’ remembered him, but he tacked on the suddenly recalled ‘Yan,’ styling it noble-like with house and given name.
“Forgive my rudeness until now! Lord Eugene!”
“Wow! You’re as good at lying as killing? Well, vampires are called the nobility of the Night Clan.”
Ignoring Mirian, Eugene shook his head.
“No, it’s fine. I didn’t say, so it’s natural.”
“Thank you. You are truly merciful, Lord Eugene.”
Eugene felt a touch awkward at the chief’s nonstop bowing, barely risen.
‘Why’s he so subservient?’
Eugene didn’t know the chief had witnessed noble and knight abuses countless times in his youth.
“Anyway, we’ll do as you propose, Lord Eugene. As a knight, you’ll manage alone, and Lord Tiwin will believe a benefactor like you.”
‘Benefactor? Me?’
Eugene was puzzled.
He’d only been glad his skin was smooth, nose and mouth intact.
But the chief, who’d glimpsed true high nobles in youth, thought differently.
‘Even Duke Kosa’s direct line, mixed with elf blood, didn’t have looks like that. Must be heir to some storied house.’
Rubbing his hands eagerly, the chief continued.
“Lord Eugene, you’ve worked hard today. Why not rest well?”
“Very well. Tomorrow I’ll take the bastard and set off at once.”
“Yes! Safe travels. Oh, and I’ll document today’s events for you by morning. Just deliver it to Lord Tiwin.”
“Appreciated.”
Half dubious at the chief swallowing his hasty lie whole—but it seemed genuine—Eugene left without showing it.
‘Good the chief bought it, but it’s not enough. Real nobles and knights won’t trust so easily. Then...’
“Guess I need to learn letters.”
Literate commoners like the chief were rare; even most knights were illiterate, he’d heard.
For knight impersonation, reading and writing would boost credibility hugely.
“Sigh, you illiterate vampire. Unless you get a silver stake or heart peg, you’ll live at least two centuries. Learn letters. While at it, pick up ancient script and imperial tongue.”
“Indeed.”
Nodding, Eugene suddenly eyed Mirian.
“And you know letters, I take it?”
“Nope.”
“…….”
“Spirits don’t need letters. No use for ‘em, and humans can’t see us anyway. Why learn?”
Mirian boasted, hands on hips.
Were all spirits this brazen?
‘Anyway, seize any chance to learn letters.’
Much left to do, far to go. But all this would forge weapons to shield and conquer the world, Eugene was certain.
(To be continued in the next installment)