Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: 2. Blue Moon
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Firendel's night was gorgeously illuminated by the lights of the auction house.
The hexagonal white marble building dominated the city center, and dozens of carriages were already lined up in front of the main entrance.
Under the golden lanterns, nobles, bourgeoisie, and enigmatic mages entered one after another.
Watching the scene from the first-class seats, his communicator buzzed. It was Broker.
Broker: "Everything you asked for is ready. But are you sure about this? It's good for me since I can build trust with the auction house... but it could fail."
There would be no failure. Ludwig was a capable man; he'd handle any variables on his own.
'And... if it fails, so be it. At least Ludwig would escape on his own, so it doesn't matter.'
"As long as you did what I said, that's fine. What happens after isn't your concern."
Broker: "Man... You're really going through with it? That whole... game thing?"
"Black Curtain Play. So, any problems?"
Broker: "Fuck. The problem is your shitty idea. This job wrapped up without a hitch. You're a real piece of work."
"No need to flatter me now."
Broker: "Get lost. Deposit the money by tomorrow."
He hung up without a reply.
In Benches' body, he arrived at the underground passage of the auction house. This was the route for servants and cargo transport.
The other Blue Moon members had already infiltrated in their disguises.
"Benches, you're late!"
One of the Blue Moon members, Bellada. She was dressed in an auction house uniform.
"Sorry, sorry. I tried to come early, but I ended up late. I'll work hard this time."
"I'll overlook you treating this like a game, but if you drag us down, I'll kill you. I have no intention of dying because of you."
"Let's go for now. I'll take position in the south observation seats as planned. Signal is three red lanterns, right?"
The south observation seats were on the second floor, a great spot to overlook the entire auction house. Mostly occupied by wealthy commoners and low-ranking nobles.
Along the walls of the massive theater-style auction house were rows of windowless rooms.
She would be in one of those private boxes without windows, hiding her identity as the Sword Saint while on guard duty.
"Everyone, the auction will now begin!"
The auctioneer appeared on the central platform. Dressed flamboyantly with a calm voice and sharp eyes.
The first item was an ancient relic. Nothing particularly interesting.
A few bids flew back and forth, and magic stones, rare animals, and ancient artifacts appeared one by one.
Just when it seemed all the prized items had been shown...
The true star of this auction made its entrance.
"The next item is... the Nepia Organon."
The auction house buzzed. A thick book bound in black leather was carried in a glass case. The cover bore blood-red runes.
"This ancient black grimoire was used by Malkar Zerheim, the transcendent black mage who reached level 8. It's said to contain forbidden knowledge on demon summoning. The current owner requests anonymity."
The moment the auctioneer's explanation ended, Ludwig's signal came.
An explosion rocked the roof. Debris from the ceiling began to fall amid the blast.
Screams from those caught in the explosion, black smoke billowing from the flames.
The auction house descended into chaos in an instant.
"Terrorists!"
"Guards! Guards!"
Acrid smoke enveloped the entire venue. The Blacklist members began causing disturbances from their assigned positions.
He quietly stood from his seat and descended the stairs. One goal in mind.
'Marcelo.'
He was in charge of the east control room. His mission was to disable the security systems.
Numerous bodies littered the path to the control room.
Needles stuck in their necks. Coated with a deadly poison that killed on contact.
He stopped in front of the control room door. Sounds of tapping on a panel came from inside.
Opening the door, Marcelo was frantically working the controls. He turned his head upon noticing the intruder late.
"Benches...? What happened to your assignment? Why are you here?"
The chaotic scene inside the auction house was visible on the control room monitors.
He casually sat in an empty chair.
"Answer me, Benches!"
He shrugged, observing Marcelo's reaction.
"Do you know who changes the most easily? It's the one with the loftiest ideals. Arbelia von Carmilla, Ludwig Kreuz—they're the same. They hold such high ideals."
"You... what nonsense is this?"
"Ideals are dreams. Dreams are something detached from reality. In the end, you're all just dreamers. If you're going to dream, shouldn't you accept that it might turn into a nightmare?"
Marcelo must have realized by now that something was off.
Marcelo maintained a poker face outwardly while contacting Ludwig behind his back.
But Ludwig wouldn't answer.
'I deliberately leaked the info to Arbelia von Carmilla.'
Right now, Ludwig was locked in fierce combat with Arbelia von Carmilla.
The moment the auction house was attacked, Arbelia—who had been tipped off about the terrorism—rushed straight to Ludwig's location.
There would be some sacrifices, but Ludwig would ultimately seize the black grimoire.
"Marcelo. You're going to die here with me."
"...!"
"More precisely, I'll kill you, then commit suicide in front of Ludwig out of guilt."
Marcelo's eyes widened. His expression betrayed a flood of emotions.
Terror, rage, shock, and more—indescribable feelings flashed through him.
Marcelo forced his mouth open, his face stricken.
"...You're not Benches."
Even as he said it, Marcelo lacked full certainty. Suspicion, but no proof.
"But no... impossible. The mana pattern is definitely Benches'. The presence, face, build—everything... Such intricate disguise...? How is this possible—"
Suddenly, Marcelo's expression sharpened. His mind reached an impossible conclusion.
"One thing. Just one question. What do you think of... Azrael?"
"Is that a question for me, or for Benches?"
"...!"
Marcelo ground his teeth.
He had to hold back, but laughter kept slipping out.
He kindly answered Marcelo.
"Not much. I'm not interested in Azrael. Don't know her face or who she is. Wasn't she your friend?"
"Fuck...! Who the hell are you? When did you start impersonating Benches—?!"
He clamped Marcelo's mouth as he lunged in fury and stabbed him with a dagger.
The dagger was coated with the same deadly poison Marcelo had used.
In an instant, he wiped the smile from his face, erasing all emotions from his expression.
He relayed Benches' dying words to Marcelo once more.
"Azrael, Azrael... We shouldn't have brought her in..."
"You, you, you bastard...! I'll kill you! Kill you, you fucker!"
"Those your last words? Fine. Thanks. I'll pass them on to Ludwig."
"Arghhhhh! Arghhhhhhh!"
Leaving the raving Marcelo behind, he exited the auction house.
Just before meeting Blue Moon, he wounded himself with the dagger.
'This should convince anyone I just came from a fierce battle.'
Blue Moon members had gathered at the rendezvous point.
Not everyone was there. Marcelo and Ludwig were missing.
"Huff, huff... Made it somehow."
The arrivals weren't dead, but none were unscathed.
They all bore multiple injuries from intense combat.
Bellada, cloaked in a robe, glanced at him and spoke.
"Not late this time. Benches. Right on the dot."
"Looks like our intel leaked."
"...Agreed. There's a traitor among us."
A chilling atmosphere settled the moment she spoke.
He received the most suspicious glares. He'd always had dubious circumstances.
Bellada tried to mediate.
"Hold on. It's not confirmed Benches is the traitor. And there's no guarantee there even is one. For now—"
Boom!
A massive explosion from the auction house collapsed the wall.
Beyond the falling debris, a colossal sword beam slashed across the night sky.
A small figure plummeting from the fifth floor landed on the rubble. It was Ludwig.
"You're all together? Pursuit squad's on us. Scatter for now."
Ludwig held the black grimoire. He'd succeeded in snatching it amid the chaos.
Ludwig's gaze lingered on him unusually long.
He looked like he had much to say, but soon averted his eyes and fled swiftly.
"There! They're escaping that way!!"
"We must reclaim the stolen item!"
Horn blasts and screams filled the air. Amid the pandemonium, he looked up at the auction house.
Through the crumbled wall, his eyes met Arbelia von Carmilla's.
He quickly looked away and slipped from the scene.