Chapter 360: The Round Table
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 360: The Round Table
I took Baek Arin and moved to a different spot.
The stench of the sewer where we were was too strong; I didn't want to stay there long.
“So.”
Pssht-
I popped open a can of coffee and looked at Baek Arin, who was standing under a broken streetlight.
“What on earth is going on that you had to go undercover in a German guild just to come to the UK?”
“...You do know I’m with the National Intelligence Service, right?”
She retorted, as if my question was absurd.
I gave a nonchalant nod and took a sip of my coffee.
I used to hate coffee, but I've started to acquire a taste for it lately.
“I’m not asking you to spill state secrets. Just tell me what you can.”
Besides, if she was determined to lie, I’d have no way of knowing.
So it was better to compromise to some extent.
“...And what if that’s difficult, too?”
Unfortunately, however, our dear NIS agent didn't seem very interested in compromising.
I shrugged and began to draw out my magic.
“Well, can’t be helped.”
Rumble-
As the gloomy dawn air grew heavier, Baek Arin’s expression became visibly tense.
I let out a small smile.
“I guess I’ll just have to subdue you and hand you over to the Nachtwolf Guild for the reward.”
“...What?”
My eyes met Baek Arin’s.
Her blue eyes were trembling faintly.
“...You’re joking, right?”
Crack.
I cracked my knuckles without a word.
Feeling threatened, she shifted into a stance, ready to flee.
But then, as if remembering how I’d subdued her just moments ago, she let out a heavy sigh and obediently raised both hands.
“Fine, I get it. I’ll talk, okay?”
Seeing her grumble in a thoroughly sulky voice, I let my magic subside.
Should have just done that from the start.
“Huuu, to get straight to the point, we received intel about a terrorist plot. I came to the UK under one of my aliases, ‘Rachel,’ to investigate it.”
“...Terrorism?”
I was at a loss for words.
I thought she was here to monitor another country’s activities at most, or maybe to steal information on Nachtwolf, the major German guild. But terrorism?
The topic was far heavier than I’d anticipated, and the atmosphere instantly tensed up.
“...Don’t tell me there’s going to be a terrorist attack in London?”
I shook my head inwardly.
Logically, that was impossible.
The UK was supported by two pillars: Duke Winchester, an Archmage, and the equally powerful Duke of Rutland.
On top of that, I’d heard that every single one of the Knights of the Round Table was on par with an S-ranker.
In terms of military power, the UK was the only nation that could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the United States and the Vatican.
“Nothing’s certain yet.”
Baek Arin wore a very serious expression.
“The only reason this intel is being taken so seriously is because Belmoras is rumored to be behind it.”
Belmoras.
The global criminal organization of demon worshipers that had recently devastated Cairo.
“...Even so, it doesn’t make sense for a mere criminal organization to launch a terrorist attack against the UK, does it?”
It was true that Belmoras had half-destroyed Cairo’s Golden Magic Tower and caused numerous casualties.
But that had happened while the Golden Tower Lord, known as Cairo’s strongest, was away at an academic conference. It was hard to believe they were powerful enough to bring down the UK.
“Just as you said, Hyun-woo, there was a lot of debate within the NIS about whether we should deploy our already limited personnel to the UK, especially since there were dozens of other potential targets.”
Baek Arin touched her forehead and frowned as if she had a headache.
“Is that why you, a member of the Superhuman Control Bureau, were sent into the field?”
“...Well, something like that.”
The bitter smile on her reluctant face reminded me of an office worker being forced to go on an overseas business trip.
“Ahem, anyway, I’m skeptical of that opinion. Even with the Golden Tower Lord absent, Egypt is a nation that has defended against monster attacks from all over the continent for hundreds of years. To take down its capital in just a few hours means Belmoras’s true strength far exceeds what the world’s intelligence agencies have estimated.”
“So you’re saying that if the UK gets complacent, London could burn just like Cairo did?”
“...I’m just saying it’s a possibility. The potential targets are all over Europe. If we’re talking about symbolic value, it wouldn’t be strange for them to target Paris.”
It went without saying, but London wasn't the only city in Europe with a magic tower.
There was the Green Magic Tower in Paris, the Red Magic Tower in Barcelona, and the Bronze Archmage Tower in Rome.
In fact, it was safe to say those three were the most likely targets.
Of course, the probability of a terrorist attack happening in the UK while I was here was practically zero, but I still couldn’t relax.
A panorama of all the times I’d been unfairly screwed over flashed through my mind.
‘I should probably leave within three days.’
It didn't seem like Delia would be contacting me, so all I had left to do was deliver the Euphrasia I won at the auction to Baronet Sheffield and attend the party tomorrow evening.
I could probably stop by a department store the day after tomorrow to buy a gift.
“By the way, why were you following me in the first place?”
“...Out of curiosity? I never thought I’d run into you in London—”
Thwack!
“Aargh!!”
I flicked Baek Arin on the forehead, putting a little force into it.
Since her bangs were pushed back, it made a clean sound even with a light tap.
“Do you really think that makes any sense?”
“Ughhh...!!”
Baek Arin writhed in pain and squatted on the ground.
Normally, I would have let it slide, if only for her sake.
But not this time.
“I’m just asking to be sure, but... did you see?”
The subject was omitted, but there was no way an NIS agent like her wouldn’t understand.
“...If I said I didn’t, would you believe me?”
Baek Arin gave me an awkward smile.
I wanted to hit her again, but I didn’t feel right hitting a beautiful woman twice.
For the record, I was talking about the White Tower Lord.
“Huuu... If you want to live a long life, you’d better watch your mouth.”
“If I... if I report it to my superiors, are you going to kill me...?”
“Why would I go through all that trouble?”
“...Don’t tell me.”
Seeing Baek Arin’s face turn pale, I gave a silent nod.
It’s not just me; mages have a pathological hatred of being followed.
Whether it’s a new thesis, a spell in development, or a potion recipe, there are too many sensitive matters involved.
Of course, if it were anyone else, they might just get angry or file a formal complaint, but things are different when you’re dealing with an Archmage.
Since Baek Arin was an NIS agent, it could easily escalate into a dispute between South Korea and Russia—that is, an international incident.
‘Then again... she probably knew and let it slide.’
There was no way someone of the White Tower Lord’s caliber wouldn’t have noticed she was being tailed.
The fact that she left without doing anything was likely a silent warning not to speak of what happened today.
“...Hyun-woo, do you happen to know any memory-wiping spells? My sense of professional duty is so strong, I might accidentally write it in my report... Ah! Don’t ignore me, please help! I’ll give you a useful piece of information in return!!”
Flinch-
I was about to ignore her and head back to the hotel, but her words made me stop.
That wasn’t a bad trade.
*
Just as the hopeful future of a character with a tragic past moves the hearts of readers.
Just as the story of independence, won from a nation’s dark history, shines brilliantly on its own.
Everything in this world has a dark past, which allows the present moment to shine all the brighter.
Yes, just like the dazzling nightscape of London.
“How beautiful you still are. My home, my country.”
But as time passes, people forget the past.
Even a history so horrific it’s hard to speak of is treated as if it never existed the moment they decide it has nothing to do with them. They turn away, smiling and living their lives nonchalantly.
Never knowing what they are standing upon.
“...The day is not far when our god shall descend upon this defiled land.”
The whisper slithered out from the darkness.
A bizarre, twisted smile bloomed on a shadowed face.
An endlessly burning hatred was granted the fleeting name of salvation.
We call it ‘ecstasy.’
*
The morning of my third day in London.
Thankfully, it wasn’t raining, but another gloomy sky greeted me today.
Still, the eggs Benedict served for breakfast at the hotel was delicious, so I wasn’t in a bad mood.
I hadn’t slept a wink all night from talking with the girls, but I could go without sleep for about a week, so it wasn’t a big deal.
After leaving the hotel a little late, I headed straight for Baronet Sheffield’s workshop.
Unlike my first visit, he showed no signs of coming out, no matter how long I waited.
‘Is he working?’
Left with no choice, I entered the building.
As I walked down the corridor, I sensed the presence of two people deeper inside.
‘...A customer?’
Their presence felt a little unusual, so I focused for a moment.
Not only was their breathing faint, but their very posture was out of the ordinary.
This was no ordinary customer.
They were clearly a high-tier A-ranker, at the very least.
No, perhaps even stronger.
‘Then again, it’s not surprising that someone visiting a workshop run by a Master Smith wouldn’t be ordinary.’
I dropped my unnecessary guard and headed inside.
When I arrived at the workshop, I saw one familiar face and one that was not.
“I’m here.”
“What, it’s you?”
Baronet Sheffield greeted me, his face as grumpy as ever.
He held a half-empty mug of beer in one hand and a half-smoked cigar in the other.
“The item?”
I’d thought this before, but this dwarf had clearly hammered out his social skills and accidentally tossed them into the furnace.
“Here it is.”
The moment I held out the box, he snatched it with one hand.
“Hmm, the quality is decent enough. This will do.”
“Excuse me, Old Man Jack?”
“Hm?”
Just as Baronet Sheffield was intently examining the Euphrasia, the middle-aged man standing beside him spoke up.
I was a little surprised.
What did he think he was doing, talking to that cranky old man? Was he asking for an earful?
“I’m sorry to interrupt while you’re concentrating, but I’m a bit pressed for time...”
“Ah, my apologies. It’s a chronic habit of mine to get lost in my materials.”
“Haha, I’d call it the mark of a true artisan.”
“Here, this is the sword you entrusted to me.”
“Thank you.”
In that moment, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
That old man just apologized without a fuss?
Did someone spike his beer?
“You must be Kang Hyun-woo, correct?”
“...And you are?”
While I was still flustered by the unexpected scene, the middle-aged man suddenly spoke to me.
Seeing him up close made it even clearer.
This man was an S-ranker.
“Oh, where are my manners? I’ve heard so much about you from Old Man Henry that I feel like I know you already.”
“Henry...?”
Could he mean the Duke of Rutland?
“Richard Thorne Greymont. Feel free to call me Richard.”
Greymont. I was sure I’d heard that family name before.
A historic count family, was it?
“Ah, yes, sir.”
I shook his hand.
The kindness from a middle-aged man I’d never met was a bit overwhelming, but what caught my eye more were the backs of his hands, covered in scars.
‘Richard... I’m sure I’ve heard that name somewhere, but maybe I’m imagining it?’
Perhaps because it was an unfamiliar Western name, the memory was just out of reach.
“...You’ve certainly achieved a remarkable level for your age. Keep up the good work.”
Just as I had been observing him, he was observing me.
A flicker of deep bewilderment passed through his clear brown eyes.
After that brief introduction, he took his sword and left the workshop.
I watched him go for a moment before turning my head.
“Excuse me, but who was that?”
“What?”
Baronet Sheffield raised his voice at my question, as if wondering what kind of idiot I was.
“I don’t care if you’re from the Far East, are you telling me you don’t even know Sir Lancelot?”
“...Ah.”
Baronet Sheffield’s words finally jogged my memory.
Richard Thorne Greymont.
He was the man who held the epithet of Lancelot, hailed as the most skilled of all the Knights of the Round Table.