Chapter 29
Chapter 29
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: Wolf
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"Well, for starters, there are definitely two sets of footprints. That guy's height is roughly in the mid-170s... and this remaining one is about late mid-170s."
"How can you tell?"
"It's not exact. I'm just roughly comparing the lengths. But one thing's for sure—the culprit isn't a wolf."
The footprints visible between what appeared to be Jimmy's were clear human prints, not an animal's. Height around late mid-170s, male, age unknown.
Still, the culprit was tall. Much taller than average. That was good news. It narrowed down the suspects considerably just based on height.
"A human... Then what about the claw-like marks on the victim's body?"
The only thing left unexplained was the three parallel gashes on the victims' bodies so far, resembling nail scratches. I examined Jimmy's corpse. His body bore the same three gashes, identical to those on the previous victim I'd seen.
"Sir Willum."
"What is it?"
"Are there any other victims' bodies still around?"
"They've already been cremated. There's a saying that anyone killed by a werewolf revives as one..."
What could you expect from this place? I decided to let it go. I had other things to deal with anyway.
"Then, Sir Willum, please keep this body preserved separately for now. I'll go report to the Lady. A vanguard swordsman has been killed... this is no ordinary matter, is it?"
It wasn't just any soldier—an elite one had been murdered, so it needed reporting up the chain. But why was this happening just ten days after my appointment?
"A curse... We can't even perform a proper ritual..."
Sighing at the sudden trouble, I headed to the manor.
"Whoa? Sir!"
The guards on duty at the manor now recognized my face, so I reached the Lady's office without any hassle. But standing there waiting for me was a most unwelcome face: Knight Captain Edward.
"...Sir."
"Sir Lucas, is it? What brings you here?"
"I've come to see the Lady... and you?"
"Same here—to see the Lady."
So why the hell was I here? I ended up waiting awkwardly in front of the office with the captain, who had zero manners. Finally, the voice we'd both been waiting for came from inside.
"Come in."
The knight captain opened the door first and entered. I followed behind. Inside, the Lady was alone, sorting through a pile of documents on her desk.
"Sorry to keep you waiting. I've just had so much to handle. But... Kyle—no, Sir Lucas, what brings you here at this hour?"
"I have a report to make."
"I'd love to hear it, but Sir Edward arrived first, so let's start with him. Have a seat and wait."
"No need. I prefer to stand."
"Very well. Just wait a moment."
While I stood quietly, the Lady and Edward conversed. It didn't seem like anything major—just mundane talk about territory taxes and knight supplies.
"Good work."
"Not at all."
Even after finishing, Edward didn't leave the room. He stood by the wall, eyeing me.
"Why are you still standing there? Why not head out?"
"I have business with Sir Lucas. Mind if I join?"
"...Very well."
The Lady glanced at him, then walked over to me.
"Did I keep you waiting long?"
"Not at all. No way."
"What's your business?"
I took a deep breath. Telling her that the guy appointed just ten days ago had lost an elite soldier might jeopardize my position, but better to take the hit upfront.
"My Lady... one of our vanguard swordsmen has been killed."
"...What happened?"
"It's tied to the ongoing murders. He was killed in exactly the same way as the last incident."
As I finished, she stared gravely, lost in thought. After a long pause, she sighed in frustration.
"Just as you said. It's getting bolder by the day."
"Yes."
"What should we do? It seems Sir Willum can't handle it alone."
"How about assigning the investigation to Sir Lucas?"
The one who spoke for me was the knight captain standing behind. He wore a creepy smile as he looked my way.
"To Sir Lucas?"
But as the Lady turned to him, he erased that smile in an instant and adopted a serious expression.
"Yes. You acknowledge Sir Lucas's abilities yourself, don't you, my Lady?"
"True, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Other nobles might doubt Sir Lucas's capabilities. But if he solves this case, they'll have to recognize him as one of their own."
It sounded good on the surface, but wasn't it really saying the nobles wouldn't accept a former mercenary as nobility, so shove the troublesome case on me? And this case screamed headache.
Digging deeper, it was downright sinister. Why was this bastard so hell-bent on screwing me over? It couldn't just be my mercenary past—something felt off.
But sinister or not, his words weren't wrong. Especially since my background was a fatal flaw in noble society, which the Lady knew well. She turned to me.
"What do you think?"
Her eyes full of expectation. I couldn't bring myself to refuse. Who could turn down such trust from their superior? And what price would refusal bring? Besides, she was the one who'd made me a noble, and now she was teaching me sword and letters.
Plus, this was my responsibility anyway. One of my men had died. Even if we'd barely spoken and he'd just been appointed, I planned to avenge him.
"Just leave it to me. I'll handle it. I can't sit idle after one of my subordinates was killed. I was going to step in regardless."
She beamed at that.
"I'll count on you then."
"Heh heh... The Lady places great trust in you, Sir."
Once outside, reuniting with Willum, he chuckled. It was the first time he'd seen her trust someone so much. And that Edward bastard claimed he had words for me, but didn't even glance my way when leaving the room.
"So... how do you plan to solve it?"
"Well... I've got a simple method and a roundabout one. Better start with the simple."
Do you know what hunters do first when tracking a beast? Find its regular paths.
Shhrrk—
I unrolled the city map Guard Captain Willum had. It was decades old, so accuracy wasn't guaranteed, but the buildings probably hadn't changed much.
"First victim here. Second here. Early ones were in the slums' core. Of course, there might've been prior ones. Slum dwellers die by the handful daily."
"Indeed."
But as victims increased, the crime scenes spread—from the slums' heart to the outskirts, even to commoner districts. Targets expanded too, from slum rats to sturdy vanguard swordsmen. The killer was growing bolder.
Victims were mostly men, which made sense—women didn't wander those alleys much.
"What if we station guards in every alley? Catch anything suspicious..."
"No."
I cut Willum off.
"If the killer goes dormant, it'll be even harder to track. Just note the crime range for now... Where's the vanguard swordsman's body?"
"In the underground cells. It's cooler there..."
He led me to the dungeon near the inner castle.
"Let me out!"
"Milord! Give me one chance!"
"Quiet!"
The prisoners shouted at us, but guards banging spears silenced them. At the end, Jimmy's body lay. Rigor mortis had passed.
"Sir, all victims had identical wounds, right?"
"Yes. Figured something out?"
They looked like rough claw scratches. But closer inspection revealed differences. Deep, yes—but not instantly fatal or paralyzing.
Yet Jimmy had bled out at the scene with only fight traces. How did he die? I pried open a slightly closed gash with my finger.
"So that's it."
Inside was another wound—not nails, but a sword thrust to a vital point. In short: stabbed to death with a blade, then clawed over to hide it.
Killed at night, found by day—plenty of time for rigor to seal the wounds, making close checks hard. Past slum victims likely got cursory exams.
But a problem: these claw marks. From my hunter experience, they were genuine animal claws.
No human could fake them without special tools. Who crafts gear just for that?
And Jimmy died mid-fight, with only post-mortem claw marks atop the stab. Meaning the killer was a master swordsman—at least vanguard level.
"Sir Lucas. Learned anything?"
"A human did this. But the claws are real beast claws... Killed by sword, then clawed over..."
Footprints at the scene were human—no beast tracks. What the hell?
"For now, Sir Willum."
"Yes?"
"Let's set a trap. No point poking further here. Might even be a real werewolf."
"Damn it..."
He'd failed to best with the sword the lowly scum he'd mocked, and Lenia's voice dripped with contempt. Worse, he'd acted dishonorably. He'd aspired to be the noblest of nobles, yet couldn't restrain his impulses around Lenia and Kyle.
So he drowned himself in liquor he rarely touched, hoping to forget the day. But no matter how potent, he wouldn't get drunk.
"Why won't you show me that side of you..."
"M-Milord...? It's late..."
The tavern keeper spoke worriedly, fearing a brawl, but he rose, dropping a gold coin into the man's hand.
"This should cover it."
A full pound of gold. Even with premium drinks, a street tavern like this wouldn't total half that—two crowns at best. The keeper beamed and bowed.
"Oh yes! Of course! Safe travels!"
Bid farewell, he stepped out. Cool night air greeted him. Cligrove's commercial district usually bustled late, but werewolf rumors had cleared the streets.
When had he last wandered the city this late? It was all that bastard's fault. Things got weird since he showed up...
"Urgh..."
Then, a man crawled from the alley beside the tavern, blood-soaked, on death's door. Spotting Edward, he desperately raised a hand. A Norton house servant, meant to be at the stables.
"Y-Young master..."
"Hans? What happened? Robbed?"
"W-Wolf... a wolf..."