Unsworn Oaths and the Devil's Summons
Mist, the woman who could turn people into utter slobs, stared back at Karon, who was gazing intently at her from right in front of her.
I swear my loyalty.
At first glance, those words alone might bring to mind the Loyalty Contract between Mist and Abel.
But it was different in nature.
This was the age-old ritual of the assassins belonging to Am-Young.
A kind of absolute contract ensuring their blades would never turn toward the ducal family.
"No."
From that perspective, she hadn't sworn loyalty to Abel yet.
She didn't consider a one-year short-term contract the same as a true oath of loyalty.
Mist, well aware of that fact, casually denied Karon's words.
"Ahaha. What a relief, really."
Having received her firm confirmation, Karon relaxed his expressionless face and returned to his usual grinning one.
The chilling pressure he'd been exuding had long vanished.
"If you swore loyalty before the true family head is even decided..."
Karon placed a hand on his pounding heart and let out a sigh of relief, continuing in a casual tone as if it were no big deal.
"It'd mean there's a chance you'd have to be killed, right?"
Am-Young
The ducal family's strongest and most secretive blade.
Am-Young adhered absolutely to one precept.
Absolute loyalty to the duke.
But the current ducal seat was in quite a precarious state.
What if an Am-Young assassin swore loyalty to one of the illegitimate children, only for another to ascend as family head?
In that situation, there was only one course of action.
Purge.
"I hate getting into a slaughter where we kill or get killed."
Simply put, none of the illegitimate children seemed fit for the family head position right now.
Kaizen was too impulsive and judgmental of people,
and Bella showed signs of elitism even in simple reports, so she was out too.
In that sense, Abel might actually be decent.
"Of course, Abel seems better than the other illegitimate kids."
She wasn't an idiot.
From Mist's reaction and Sebastian's demeanor, she could infer the rough situation.
The duke's sudden deterioration.
And right after Abel arrived at the estate and underwent the test?
Plus, Sebastian—that man—was paying close attention, whether subtly or not?
The information pieced together in her mind pointed to one conclusion.
[Abel fought the duke, and the duke suffered internal injuries.]
She grinned.
How thrilled must he have been to learn that.
In truth, Karon had been looking forward most to hearing about Abel today.
But.
"He doesn't seem interested in the family head position at all."
Skipping heir training.
Unlike the other illegitimate children, Abel's leisurely lifestyle screamed one answer.
No real interest in becoming family head.
In a way, it set him apart from the others—a situation unfit for the role.
"That's what worried me."
Beyond the five selected for Am-Young, the ducal family had secretly raised other assassins and fighters who were still hunting down the blood heirs.
Originally, she was just supposed to guide him here and leave.
But because of the current family head's orders, she couldn't even do that, and now she was serving an illegitimate child she never asked for.
"Ahh, this mission's a bit much."
With those words, Karon slowly exited the library.
"..."
She stared silently at the spot where Karon had been, then left the library herself and headed to Abel's room.
[Seize this family.]
A kind of mission given by the family head to the illegitimate children. And the Am-Young assassins had received one additional special mission.
[Monitor the illegitimate children, or assist them.]
All the Am-Young members who heard this immediately understood the duke's intent.
Seize this family.
To do that, they also had to seize Am-Young, the family's most dangerous shadow.
Yet he was assigning Am-Young members one by one to them?
The meaning was clear.
[Am-Young members, evaluate the illegitimate children by your own judgment and choose to either monitor or assist.]
In other words.
"If you can't even win the heart of the person closest to you, don't dream of becoming family head."
Mist muttered to herself.
"..." "..."
It was early morning, around the time people would start stirring.
I opened my eyes to the sound of birds chirping outside the window and looked at Mist, who was sitting quietly on a chair by my bedside, watching me.
"Don't you ever get tired of doing this every day?"
My voice was low and a bit husky since I'd just woken up.
It had been a month since arriving at the Nebla Ducal Estate. She'd stuck to me like glue, insisting on attending to my every need.
"What do you mean, sir?" "I mean just sitting there watching me sleep."
At first, I thought I was having sleep paralysis or something.
I'd wake up to the feeling of being watched, and there she'd be, standing silently by my bed, staring.
Even for me, starting every morning under the gaze of a woman quietly watching from my bedside wasn't exactly pleasant.
I'd told her to stop, but she ignored me, so I compromised.
Fine, watch if you want, but at least sit in a chair.
"I was merely carrying out your orders, sir."
"..."
Mist stated it straight, without a hint of hesitation.
"Yeah, yeah, what can I even say to that."
I threw off the covers and got up, and she immediately offered a bowl of slightly lukewarm water.
After washing up with her familiar assistance, I dressed in the clothes she'd prepared and began my daily routine.
Not that it was much—just reading a book or watching shows on the cathode-ray tube TV.
"Sir, here are the seven novels you requested."
"Sir, you look peckish. I brought some light snacks."
"Oh dear, a wrinkle in your clothes. Allow me to smooth it out."
This was my routine now—letting her handle everything, down to the smallest detail.
Isn't something off about this?
The thought hit me while reading a book she'd handed me.
Am I getting too lazy?
I pondered it.
My life here for the past month since arriving at the estate.
At first, it wasn't much different from my usual routine.
I had no intention of becoming family head, and my decision that day was to just let things be, so I had even less motivation.
With the contract with Mist guaranteeing me enough money to live off forever after a year here, why bother hustling?
My only concern was Mist's feelings, but she didn't object to my lifestyle.
At first, it was convenient.
She didn't interfere much, just handled what I needed to do myself.
But.
I glanced at her standing quietly by my door.
At some point, she'd taken over everything.
Like paper slowly soaking in water, she'd expanded her services so subtly I hadn't noticed.
As if trying to turn me into someone who couldn't do anything without her.
Yes. She was that kind of woman—the type who made her superiors slothful.
"...Alright!"
The realization hit, and I jumped up from my seat.
No matter how comfy this life was, living like a total slob wasn't right.
I grabbed a cigar from the desk and the car keys from the drawer, then said to her standing by the door,
"I'm heading to the village for a bit."
"The village, sir? Then I'll prepare to accompany you."
I waved her off as she moved to follow.
"Nah, no need. Just grabbing something quick. Don't need your help for this. I'll go alone."
I was trying to break out of this laziness in the first place—if she came along, it'd defeat the purpose.
Mist stared at me for a moment, then unexpectedly nodded agreeably.
"...Understood. But first, your clothes are a bit rumpled."
She carefully smoothed out the wrinkles with delicate hands, then saw me off as I left the room.
"Such a shame..."
I ignored her muttering in my ear.
I arrived at the village under the Nebla Ducal Estate's control, parked the car in a suitable spot, and headed out to buy cocktail ingredients.
As I was picking up unrefined sugar and various fruits, it happened.
"Hello there!"
A chirpy voice came from around my waist. I looked down to see a kid staring up at me with bright, sparkling eyes.
"How about a newspaper, sir?!" "A newspaper?"
A baggy cap with a button-like ornament in the center.
The classic hat those kids selling papers during the Industrial Revolution wore in movies.
In my past life, they called it a newsboy cap, right?
"Yes!" "Ah, sorry. I don't really read newspapers."
I politely declined the kid's lively pitch.
Mist already brought me one every morning anyway, so I knew the gist.
"Oh... okay."
The kid looked a bit deflated.
"It covers all the events and news from east, west, north, and south across the entire empire—made for gentlemen like you. Too bad..."
"..."
Hearing the kid mutter that, I immediately scrutinized their appearance.
Soot on the cheeks, but fresh enough that it was flaking off bit by bit.
Ragged, rough clothes, but the occasional twitch suggested they weren't used to wearing stuff like that.
And that phrase.
It was a code.
The contact method of the Nostra family, one of the empire's many families that handled information.
"Changed my mind. Got one just for me?"
"Yes, sir! Here you go!"
As if prepared, the kid handed me a newspaper and vanished into the crowd.
I stared at the spot where they'd stood for a moment, then leaned against a nearby building wall, unfolded the paper, and started reading.
The content was much like the newspaper I'd skimmed that morning.
The difference?
The line spacing.
Artificially adjusted to connect the first characters of each paragraph into this message.
[There is a commission. Abel, the Devil of Smoke. If accepted, lift the doormat at the shop door at coordinates 44-3.]