Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: Red Star
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The carriage heading toward the northern outskirts was quiet.
Outside the carriage window, abandoned mining villages and the ruins of old barracks sped past.
At the crossroads, there were more guard dogs than beggars, and carts loaded with corpses passed casually down the streets.
"The Auction House is an underground facility remodeled from an abandoned weapons warehouse. The main event takes place on basement level two. It's not marked on any official maps."
Astier spoke calmly.
She spread out the blueprint of the Auction House across from me and continued her explanation.
As a member of the Imperial Intelligence Agency, she was clearly adept at briefings.
This sort of thing was probably just another day for her.
"There are three external entry points: the main gate, the eastern ventilation shaft, and the underground sewer. The Duke and I will enter through the main gate posing as low-level merchants."
"Security?"
"On the surface, it's a private security firm, but in reality, they're armed personnel affiliated with the Red Star. Mostly ex-bandits."
1st floor handles trader and participant registration. Basement level two is the main auction hall. It's protected by surveillance spells.
I turned my gaze to the window for a moment.
The narrow, filthy streets were still choked with unidentified smoke.
The roadside, swarming with vagrants, was cluttered with signs for junk shops and smelters.
A place like this was perfect for underground dealings.
"The Auction House's primary clientele consists of mid-to-low nobles at the moment. This time, the problem is a mid-level broker named Asren Park. We can trace their funding routes through him."
A name lingering somewhere in my memories.
In the original story, he appeared as a monster, grotesquely chanting his own name.
A side mob with a horrific appearance.
The lore said he'd turned into a monster while trafficking test subjects.
I checked the blade hidden inside my wrist once more.
It looked like an ordinary wrist guard, but it concealed a built-in knife.
Inspired by some assassin game, I'd had it custom-made.
As a low-level merchant, I couldn't carry a flashy sword like Radiata's Rigid Body Armament.
I'd never used it on the frontlines, but a few days of practice was more than enough for real combat.
My opponents weren't great beasts that could slaughter hundreds of soldiers effortlessly.
I was dressed as a merchant from a mercenary background, with Astier as my attendant.
A threadbare gray cloak draped over me, and I carried a shabby satchel.
Astier's expert touch had proven invaluable once again.
"From now on, I'm from the Southern Kingdom Alliance. Please speak casually to me."
The continent shared a unified common tongue, but accents and vocabulary varied by nation.
Right now, she was using a southern accent.
Think Jeju dialect.
I, on the other hand, could only manage noble speech patterns.
Ian Baltazar's body had imprinted that on me—no helping it.
So, we'd layered on a backstory of me being from a fallen noble house.
Everything else was a flawless disguise.
"Ready?"
Astier nodded.
Her eyes flashed sharply for the briefest moment.
"I'm looking forward to Master's methods."
I froze for a second.
I shifted only my gaze to look at Astier.
Her expression was utterly serious as she said "Master."
I nodded awkwardly.
"...Yeah."
We blended into the line at the Auction House entrance with the other participants, standing quietly.
The area was already packed with shady figures.
Black robes emblazoned with skull motifs, masks etched with snake eyes, southern-style red tattoos.
Part of me wanted to take them all down and wring out their secrets, but I held back.
The plan—combining intel from the original story and Astier—was to dismantle the Red Star from within.
Start with the lower ranks, sever their funding and trade routes.
In the process, erode trust among the mid-level cadres.
It would turn them against each other.
Even if I knew the faces of the high nobles involved, the plan wouldn't change.
Charging in to lop off heads outright was socially impossible.
Even if I succeeded, without evidence, I'd just be branded a traitor who murdered nobles.
What we needed was ironclad proof.
That was probably what the Empress wanted too.
The wooden door creaked open.
"Next, number 27, Rion Paleo Merchant Group."
"That's Master."
I showed my trader certificate and stepped inside.
A wide circular hall came into view, with balcony seats overlooking from above.
The center rose slightly like a stage, still empty.
Red curtains draped the back, giving it the feel of a grand theater.
"Lots of other nobles here."
Astier whispered at my side, naturally guarding me.
The hall was already filled with arriving guests.
Some hid their faces completely, while others adorned their masks with jewels in ostentatious displays.
"Some of the auction items are outright forbidden by imperial law just to possess. Everyone here braves that risk for the massive profits."
I took note of a few among them.
Several nobles with potential Red Star ties stood out.
Mostly matches from Astier's intel.
Not enough evidence, but plenty of suspicion.
A metal bell chimed, and the lights dimmed slowly.
The emcee appeared center stage, clad in a deep green robe.
His voice, amplified, filled the entire hall.
After a welcome and brief preamble, the main auction began.
"Our first item: the giant magic stone 'Heart of Lumen,' unearthed from southern ruins."
A blue crystal emitting faint light rested inside.
An unnaturally pure, vivid glow.
A lump of mineral where magic had condensed.
It could reinforce or craft weapons, accessories, and more.
"Starting bid: 5000 gold."
A bidding war erupted.
I focused on the persons of interest, reading the flow.
Not bidding at all would look suspicious, so I called out moderate amounts.
Most bids easily tripled my offers.
"A rare bloodline slave, captured straight from the south."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
A gaunt boy, ankles crusted with dried blood and shackled, stood there.
Most unusually, beast ears protruded from his head.
This world was fundamentally human-only.
No dwarves, elves, or orcs.
But there was one exceptional race: beastkin.
Officially, hybrids of Transcendent Beings.
Bodies mutated under the influence of those lore-only entities.
Players just called them beastkin for simplicity.
"Starting bid: 3000 gold."
The auction hall heated up.
Unlike prior items, the competition was fierce.
Everyone's eyes gleamed at the chance to own such a rare beastkin slave.
"4000 gold!!"
"4500!!"
"6000!!"
I watched the spectacle in silence.
After that, a parade of slaves and test subjects hit the block.
All in utterly wretched condition.
I'd always prided myself on being numb to frontline horrors after rolling in the mud.
Thought watching slave trades wouldn't faze me.
I was wrong.
This was a whole different breed of horror.
Revulsion, maybe.
Suddenly, the faces of those who'd died on the Northern Frontline flashed before my eyes.
"...!!"
The air grew chilling, as if the temperature had dropped three degrees.
Astier reacted to the killing intent I'd unwittingly leaked.
From under the seat, she gripped my arm hard.
"...Not yet."
Cold sweat trailed down her cheek as she whispered.
Astier shook her head desperately.
Her usually impassive face had gone pale.
Like with Silvia, but Astier held out a bit better.
"My mistake."
Astier didn't seem convinced.
I wished she'd buy it, but there was no time for more words.
I'd drawn eyes from the nearby nobles.
Irena's advice had kept my killing intent suppressed—until it slipped just now.
Some had fainted; others gasped for breath.
Unwanted attention.
I could feel the insiders zeroing in on us.
Exchanging inscrutable signals among themselves.
Was I wrong?
These were rebels from the start.
With stakes high enough to implicate even distant kin if exposed, a half-baked plan was doomed anyway.
Time for the direct approach.
The moment I signaled Astier, a massive explosion rocked the place.
Kwaaaaaang!!!
The blast came from behind the curtains, where the unrevealed items were stored.
Acrid smoke billowed, chaos erupting.
Amid the screaming, fleeing participants, I rose slowly from my seat.
I turned my gaze to the man seated on the left balcony.
"Asren Park."
Red silk shirt, gold-rimmed monocle.
Impossibly slick, combed-back hair.
Asren's pupils trembled wildly.
"...Isn't disrupting an auction in progress rather rude?"
Instantly, black-hooded figures lunged from the balconies above and below, weapons thrusting from every direction.