Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: And Then There Were None (1)
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Early dawn.
Two posters had been put up in front of the castle gate.
Comprehensive Crime Voluntary Reporting Special Act Enactment 1. Over the next ten days, significant sentence reductions will be granted solely to those who voluntarily report their crimes. 2. Crimes discovered after ten days will be punished at ten times the original penalty.
Proclaimed by: Federback Meursault
Additional Details on the Comprehensive Crime Voluntary Reporting Special Act 1. Whistleblowers will receive 50% of the recovered funds as a reward bounty. 2. The identities and safety of internal whistleblowers will be thoroughly protected.
Proclaimed by: Federback Meursault
Next to them, countless wagons were lined up in a row.
People who had applied for emigration to other territories were gathered in small groups, chatting idly.
"My goodness, even the chamber president is here."
"Indeed. Are you heading to another territory too, village head?"
"I'm off to my villa for some rest and recovery."
"Same here. I might just settle there for good this time. The atmosphere around here is so tense right now."
They planned to cross into another territory as soon as the gates opened and never return.
Most of them were wealthy and influential figures.
Soon, a few guards approached the gate.
It was morning; time to open the gates.
Those plotting to flee to other territories approached the guards.
"You've had a hard night. We're just heading out to buy some medicine and daily necessities from another territory."
"Please show your identification and travel permits."
"Come on, kid. My face is my ID, haha—wait, what's this travel permit?"
"It's a new form introduced this time. You need it to move to another territory."
"Oh come on—how am I supposed to get that every time? Just let us through. We'll be back soon."
The local notables slipped a few coins to the guards.
But the guards waved them off, pushing the coins away.
"If we take bribes, our heads will roll."
"What's the problem? Not enough money?"
"It's not that—sigh. The world has really changed..."
The guards shook their heads in exasperation.
The local notables crowding the gate raised a collective uproar.
"Open the damn gate already!"
"I've got urgent business!"
"Just let us out quick; we'll be right back!"
Of course, once out, it was goodbye forever.
They intended to take all their amassed wealth and abandon the territory for good.
But the guards stood firm.
"No travel permit, no exit. If you want one, go to the Meursault House and get screened by the acting administrator! We're just following procedure!"
At that, the richest and most powerful among the notables snorted derisively.
"These lowly guards daring to block me? Do you know who I am!?"
Right then.
"Who are you, then?"
A low voice came from behind the guards.
Thud—thud—thud—
A boy descending the wall stairs fixed his gaze on them.
"Who are you to order the gates open or shut?"
Federback.
He looked down at the notables.
The notable shrank back awkwardly.
But Federback didn't let him off.
"I'm genuinely curious. Who are you?"
"Uh... it's nothing."
"Nothing? How can a person be nothing?"
Federback strode forward and stood before the old man.
Then, in a voice cold as frost, he continued.
"I need to know who you are."
Federback's gaze shifted to the wagons behind the old man.
He nodded upon seeing the floral emblem on the carriage.
"President of the 3-4 District Merchant Association."
"......"
The old man subtly shifted to block the wagon.
But Federback's eyes were already on the oak barrels loaded atop it.
The association president forced an awkward smile.
"Ah, these are wine gifts for my cousins. The grape harvest was excellent this year, so plenty of fine vintages..."
But his words didn't finish.
Crack!
Federback's sword mercilessly pierced the side of an oak barrel.
Whoosh!
Blood-red wine gushed out.
And then...
...sparkle!
Inside the emptied barrel, gems and gold coins glittered.
Federback asked calmly.
"Are the assets in here properly declared?"
"......"
"If you can't prove their origin, I'll confiscate them all right here."
"......"
Suddenly, the president's eyes flashed sharply.
"You little brat! How dare a Meursault pup throw your weight around! Think Meursault makes you invincible!?"
At his gesture, five burly servants jumped down from the wagon, each gripping thick clubs and cudgels.
However.
"It's not that Meursault makes me invincible."
Federback tilted his sword nonchalantly.
"I'm just enforcing the law."
At the same moment, his white blade traced a bloody arc.
Splat-splat-splat-splat-splat!
The five servants thrusting their clubs had their heads soar into the sky before thudding into the mud.
"Eek!?"
The association president fell on his ass in terror.
Federback clicked his tongue.
"I'll spare you due to senility. But 350 years in the underground prison. All assets confiscated."
The gate guards dragged the president away.
The notables lined up at the gate froze in silence.
Some tried to quietly turn their wagons around.
"Halt. Inspections start now, one by one."
Federback's sword barred their path.
"Funds of dubious origin will be seized. Resistance means immediate execution."
By now, guards atop the walls had crossbows trained on them.
All emigration, immigration, and travel were fully restricted.
Those wishing to leave had to undergo rigorous screening by Acting Administrator Cardina, and even then, could not take out assets exceeding a certain amount when passing the gates.
The rats trapped in their cages went berserk.
They dug holes, scaled walls, and sometimes rose in revolt.
Of course, Federback crushed every one without mercy.
With sword and blood.
Commoners who had always followed the law had never faced these two.
But the upper crust who had sat above the law, reveling in luxury and indulgence, now trembled in fear.
The Great Depression.
Those who had hoarded black money faced unprecedented threats with nowhere to turn.
The noose tightened by the minute.
Without proof of clean origins, money was worthless.
Only clean funds held value; black money was like bread drawn on paper.
Using black money for purchases would immediately raise suspicions of origin, and a single tip-off from beside you meant losing both life and fortune.
Better to come clean voluntarily and live in peace, some began arguing—and many followed suit.
That was the trend.
......But.
Still, some bared their teeth to the end.
Those who had committed too many crimes over the years.
Criminals beyond redemption even by voluntary confession.
The 'Anti-Meursault Alliance'.
Criminals with nothing left but total asset seizure and execution banded together.
In the heart of Meursault territory stood a tall building of lavish style out of place in the north.
A social club where the underworld's tycoons gathered.
In the vast hall at the top floor of this premium club, a party steeped in extravagance and debauchery was underway.
Mana stones cast kaleidoscopic lights, and ear-splitting music boomed through the expansive space.
Thump—thump—thump—thump—boom—boom—boom—boom—
Dim corridors, dazzling lights, blaring tunes exploding from triple keyboards, and throngs of people.
A single bottle of champagne rolling casually here cost a commoner's several years' salary.
Under the red and blue flashing lights, vapors from myriad hookahs created a thick haze.
In the VVIP area, voices murmured in discussion.
Gentlemen and ladies in butterfly masks debated their next move.
A middle-aged man with a goatee spoke.
"Meursault is different this time."
"We strike first."
A ravishingly dressed noblewoman replied, fanning her mouth.
An elderly man in a suit chuckled lightly.
"If we get serious, we could buy out the entire assassin guild."
"Just wipe out the patriarch and a few kin."
A young man nodded in agreement.
Soon, the underworld bosses huddled, exchanging ideas.
"Poison them."
"Too risky—better stage it as a monster attack."
"Kidnapping? I hear Soleil's youngest is a naive kid."
"Old news. That brat's the one stirring things up now."
"Federback, was it? Send assassins to stick him—make an example."
"Bombing their path would be surefire. Annihilate the whole family."
"Heard this group 'Offspring of the New Moon' gets the job done..."
Right then.
Knock knock knock—
A knock at the door.
The attendant outside spoke.
"The final guest has arrived."
All heads tilted in confusion.
These were all who were coming.
"Final guest? Who else? We're exactly thirty-four."
A bearded middle-aged man approached the door.
The reply came.
"Not thirty-four. Thirty-three."
Not the attendant's voice.
At once.
Splurt!
A blade burst through the door, piercing the man's chest and out his back.
"Gurk!?"
The heart-stabbed man died on the spot.
"!"
"!"
"!"
The Anti-Meursault Alliance bosses leaped up.
Simultaneously.
Crash!
The door shattered as knights and soldiers poured in.
Beyond them stood a slight boy.
"One down—now thirty-three, right?"
Federback raised his dripping sword tip.
He eyed the frozen thirty-three before him.
"And soon, there'll be none."