Lawless Zone Requitas, Part 5
Isha didn't wake up until around noon the next day. As I was leisurely playing chess with Sirien, I heard a rustling sound from inside. The timing was perfect. I had been on the verge of losing my seventh consecutive game to Sirien, but thanks to the interruption, I escaped with only six straight losses. You would think a saintess would be merciful, but Sirien remained utterly ruthless when it came to games. I felt like I could win if I just played a little bit better...
After a light knock, I walked in to find Isha sitting quietly on the bed. She hadn't even untied the loose ropes binding her, so I untied them myself. Sirien, who had followed me in, sat down next to her.
"Are you feeling any better?"
"Yes, thanks to you."
"That's a relief. Still, don't push yourself for a while. You're probably not fully healed yet. The god I serve isn't exactly known for their healing touch."
"The god you serve... So you really are a priestess."
Isha gently touched her flank where she had been wounded yesterday, then stood up. Facing us, the young girl bowed deeply and solemnly.
"Yesterday, I was in such a state that I couldn't thank you properly. Thank you so much for saving my life."
"We didn't save you out of pure charity. We did it because we want something from you as well."
"I know. What is it that you require of me?"
Sirien and I briefly locked eyes. What we wanted from Isha was already decided.
"Let's start by hearing your story first. Are you well enough to eat?"
There was no need for an answer. The moment the words left my mouth, Isha's stomach let out a loud growl. Sirien let out a soft chuckle, and Isha's face flushed bright red as she stared down at the floor.
"Sounds like you can. Let's go."
"Okay..."
The Crescent Moon was an information guild that operated throughout the Empire. But how did they gather their intelligence? Unlike the modern world with its advanced technology, almost everything in this world was done through people. No matter how grand a noble house or even the imperial family was, they required human hands to function. The larger the family, the more servants they employed. The information the Crescent Moon dealt in came straight from the mouths of those servants. Even the most trivial but interesting gossip, or anything that seemed to hold value, was bought for a generous price. Commoners, forever buried under endless labor, wanted money, while wealthy nobles needed information. By establishing branches all over the Empire, the Crescent Moon made its fortune by selling secrets—or by charging to keep them quiet.
"Makes sense," Sirien mused. "I've heard there are occasionally servants like that. People who sell off any little secret they happen to stumble upon."
"They'd be in deep trouble if they got caught, though."
"If you can catch them, you can kick them out, but it's not that easy. In our castle alone, the people coming and going numbered in the hundreds. You can't follow every single one of them around."
Isha stole a glance at Sirien. In the entire Empire, there weren't many families that employed hundreds of servants. She seemed curious about Sirien's identity, but the question never crossed her lips. Sirien rested her chin on her hand, her fork stabbing a piece of cheese. She looked quite pleased, remarking that it had been a while since she'd had decent food.
"If I were in their shoes, I wouldn't bother policing every single servant either. It's impossible. But destroying the place that buys the information? That's entirely doable."
"...Yes, that's right. Most of our clients were nobles, but conversely, the ones who attacked us were also nobles."
"The problem was that you were too competent. For them, the Sewer Rats—who only care about money—are much easier to handle than the Crescent Moon, who knew far too much."
In short, that was the gist of it. Ever since the concept of nobility existed in this world, nobles had always wormed their way into anything profitable. The ecosystem of Requitas was no different. There were undoubtedly nobles who backed the syndicates and lined their pockets in return. No, was it just that? At some point, it might have even turned into a proxy war between different noble factions. The Crescent Moon, which once controlled half of Requitas, was no exception. They had grown under the patronage of nobles, but they grew too large, eventually becoming an eyesore. And as it happened, there was another group that was much easier to exploit in their place.
"So, who was the noble backing you?"
"To tell you even that is a bit..."
"Doesn't it not matter anymore? You only ended up in this corner because your support was cut off."
"Even so, there is such a thing as trust."
Sirien's brow furrowed. "They didn't lift a single finger to help you while you were pushed to the brink like this."
"That doesn't make it a betrayal. I know what real betrayal feels like now that I've experienced it firsthand. It was a truly horrific experience. That's why I don't want to be the kind of person who betrays others first."
"Noble words."
Come to think of it, Isha had kept her faith until the very moment of her death in the original timeline. She hadn't died instantly when she was cut down by the Sword Saint. The resilient life force of a Swordmaster had turned out to be a curse. And the female lead, Elis, was the Saintess of Light. For the crime of attempting to assassinate the Saintess, the inquisitors had hunted her down with bloodshot eyes. She had endured horrific, brutal torture—so severe that even a Swordmaster couldn't survive the aftereffects. To be tortured to death in a temple capable of divine healing meant that it wasn't just her body, but her mind that had been utterly shattered. Yet, Isha had kept her silence. It was clear that even now, ordinary methods wouldn't make her open her mouth.
"Think carefully. Are you absolutely sure you weren't betrayed?"
"Pardon?"
"You might not be able to align yourself with the Sewer Rats, but the noble backing you is different. If they decided you were no longer useful, they could easily jump ship. Are you certain you weren't betrayed?"
"I don't know yet. But there's no proof that I was betrayed either."
"Sigh, fine. If you're going to be that stubborn, let's drop it for now."
Sirien didn't press Isha any further. Perhaps she felt a pang of pity seeing the girl's hands tremble, or perhaps, having experienced betrayal herself, she didn't want to force her. But the next question Sirien raised was one even I hadn't considered.
"Why are the Sewer Rats looking for you?"
"What? Isn't it obviously because my father was the leader of the Crescent Moon?"
"There's no way that's the only reason. This isn't a royal family where legitimacy matters; there's no need for them to desperately hunt down a bloodline. You're a fugitive running without any guards, so you're hardly a threat to them."
"Maybe it's out of a grudge? To make an example out of me."
"Why bother when they have no rivals left in Requitas? Having won so completely, it would be far more rational for them to present themselves as merciful rulers."
Isha had been betrayed by her childhood friend. Orchestrating a betrayal is no easy feat. Whether they held a weakness over him or coaxed him with rewards, it was a tedious, high-effort task. Yet, even after going through all that trouble, the Sewer Rats were still sending out search parties to find Isha. This was an obsession. An obsession to find her at all costs. There had to be a reason why they needed to capture Isha, even if it meant manipulating her childhood friend to do so. It seemed Isha truly had no idea. In that case, we would have to find out ourselves.
"The Crescent Moon was a guild that dealt in information."
Sirien fell into deep thought. I decided to wait quietly for her. When it came to using her brain, Sirien was far superior to me. The villainess who had shared the role of final boss with me in the original novel—my Saintess did not disappoint.
"Since it's information spanning the entire Empire, no human could possibly memorize all of it. That means they must have kept records and stored them somewhere, with the most critical files classified separately. Who knows the location of that archive?"
"Only my father and a few key staff members knew. I don't think any of those staff members survived."
"That's it."
When the Sewer Rats first rose as an organization, they didn't even realize they were one. It was merely a derogatory term used to mock them, a name they self-deprecatingly adopted as they looked at their reality of living in literal gutters. True to their name, the Sewer Rats' headquarters was located near the old sewers. Though it had now transformed into a den of every imaginable pleasure, it had once been a place crawling with rats and vermin.
Inside a secret chamber shrouded in deep darkness, a red lamp cast a dim, hazy glow. The provocative crimson light wavered alongside plumes of tobacco smoke. Just as a woman's whimpering voice drifted up from beside his knees, a man—Millen—lit his pipe with a short sigh.
"Hah."
While his hand idly stroked the woman's hair, his eyes were fixed elsewhere. His cold gaze was directed at a battered, bloody man kneeling before him. Millen's voice dripped with quiet fury.
"Did I give you a difficult order?"
"N-No, sir."
"Or did I not provide enough support?"
"No, that's not it either."
"Right. Then it's quite strange, isn't it? It wasn't a difficult order, and I gave you plenty of support, yet that loser of a girl managed to escape. And three of the men I sent are dead?"
A thick cloud of white smoke billowed from his mouth. It carried an incredibly pungent aroma. The smoke drifted lazily through the air, creating a dreamlike haze that seemed to intoxicate the women in the den. As the man stood up, a scandalous female form squirmed on the floor.
"Whew. Any idea where she is?"
"I'm sorry, sir. She vanished without a trace. We searched every nook and cranny of the city, but we couldn't find her."
"Did you really search everywhere?"
"Yes, absolutely. We searched everywhere except the south, but we couldn't find a single trace of her."
"Then you didn't search everywhere."
The man let out a dry chuckle. Millen reached out with a thick, heavily scarred hand and shoved it into his subordinate's mouth.
"Useless bastard. I'll find her myself."
"Argh?! K-Kgh—Aaaaargh!"
That day, a jawless corpse was tossed into the gutter.