Chapter 21
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Rat Bastard (2)
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Knock, knock.
The sound of the knock echoed unusually dry.
I swallowed once, hard, and pushed open the heavy door.
Creeeak.
The moment the door swung open, a acrid cigar stench hit me, along with a chill that made the hairs on my skin stand on end.
There he was, deep inside the room, behind a massive desk.
Derek de Kaintrea. The ruler of this house.
The father who held the life of the woman who owned my leash in his hands.
He didn't lift his eyes from the papers, just kept scratching away with his quill.
I crept forward as quietly as I could and bowed politely before the desk.
"You summoned me, Your Grace?"
"......"
No reply.
Scratch, scratch. The only sound filling the silence was the nib scraping the paper.
Fuck, what the hell is this? Call a guy in and then ghost him?
This wasn't even a pissing contest—my rank was way too low for that.
But shitty was shitty all the same.
A long while later, he finally set down his pen. Then he slowly raised his head and fixed his gaze on me.
"You stink."
Those were his first words.
"...I washed up before coming."
"You think washing with water gets rid of rat stink?"
He snorted, pulling a cigar from his drawer and lighting it.
Tsss. The match flared, thick smoke briefly clouding my vision before drifting away.
"No bullshit. Straight to the point."
Thud. He tossed a small leather pouch onto the desk.
It was slightly open, red powder spilling from the mouth.
"Know what this is?"
"......Not chili powder, I hope?"
"Paradise Dust."
The duke exhaled smoke as he added,
"Word is, it's trending in that shithole you crawled out of."
Ah. I'd heard of it.
Lately, the back-alley kids had been looking extra fucked up, eyes glazed. This must be it.
Some mystery hallucinogen. Once you try it, you crave it until your brain melts.
Plain English? Drugs.
"So the slum rats' big salvation plan is peddling dope..."
"......"
"Idiots. Already eating their own flesh from hunger."
There was no anger in the duke's tone. Just pity and contempt.
He tapped the desk with his finger. Tok, tok.
"Clean it up."
"......Pardon?"
"The ones distributing that powder. And their boss. Find them all and wipe them out."
His tone was so casual, I nearly asked, "Like cleaning the room?"
I mulled it over for a second.
Drugs. This was major league crime. Kingdom law, church law—didn't matter.
Any outfit dealing in this shit wouldn't be small-time. They'd have backers.
And he wanted me to take them down?
"Your Grace. If I may be so bold..."
I opened my mouth carefully.
"Don't you have knights aplenty, each worth a hundred men?"
"True enough."
"So why entrust a heavy task like this to a nobody like me...?"
Why use a chicken knife for slaughtering pigs?
At my words, the duke's lip curled faintly.
He leaned back deep into his chair, looking down at me.
"You think you're better than my knights?"
"Of course not."
"Good. The reason's simple."
He pointed at me with his cigar hand.
"Do swans dip their feet in mud?"
"......"
"My knights' swords are noble."
"They're swung for honor, not to cut shit and piss."
Ah, got it!
So cleaning up shit and piss falls to me, huh?
Sweet romance for one crew, scatology for the other.
"Besides,"
The duke's eyes sharpened.
"Suppose knights bearing the family crest start rooting around the slums. What happens then?"
"......Rumors would fly. That Kaintrea's tangled in the drug mess."
"Exactly. Gossips love to yap."
'The ducal house is behind the drug trade, covering tracks.'
Something like that could spread.
"...Your Grace, one more question, if I may?"
I feigned caution as I broached it.
"Speak."
"Are you truly uninvolved with this drug... Paradise whatever?"
"What a stupid question. Think I'd touch trash like that?"
The duke scoffed.
"It's blatant kingdom law violation... Why not let the royal guard handle it?"
"Better than risking misunderstandings by stepping in ourselves..."
"Foolish talk."
The duke cut me off.
He blew out a long plume of smoke, eyeing me with pathetic disdain.
"Who made those slum rats pay just for breathing?"
Ah. Puzzle pieces clicked in my head.
"......Lady Sharl."
"Yes. My daughter."
The duke smiled coldly.
"After she started squeezing that district dry, the desperate ones turned to this.
If the royals poke around, they'll inevitably dig into the 'root cause'."
Cause and effect.
If it came out that the drugs spread because of Kaintrea's brutal extortion?
"It won't end as a simple cleanup. Perfect fodder for rivals to chew on."
"'Kaintrea blinded by greed, corrupted the masses.' That kind of pretext."
"Right. And worst case, they might suspect we've been siphoning drug profits as 'taxes'."
Not that it mattered who the backers were—the drug money flowing into Kaintrea coffers was fact.
Prime blackmail material.
"And,"
The duke exhaled slowly, voice low.
"The palace and guard don't even know it exists yet."
"......Pardon?"
"By the time those incompetents catch on, it'll be too late. Things blow up, get messy."
His eyes gleamed cold.
"Right now, I'm the only one who knows."
Not in the capital, but in a lawless slum, a new drug's circulating—and only this guy, holed up throwing orgies every night, knows?
Fucking terrifying.
Couldn't even guess the reach of this family's intel network.
"So cut it out before they notice.
Quietly. Settle it at the rat level."
The duke nodded at me.
"You're not officially family. Just some slum rat Sharl picked up."
"Right. No pedigree."
"Perfect fit."
Crystal clear.
This is why no parents or connections suck.
"Succeed, you break even. Fail, and Kaintrea's name comes up?"
The duke twisted his lip in a nasty grin.
"Just announce we 'dealt with a rat who overreached into drugs.' Done."
Perfect scapegoat.
No blemish on the name, dirty work excised clean.
Now I got why the duke singled me out.
Understanding hit, I nearly laughed inside.
Daughter sees me as a dog.
Dad sees me as an eraser.
Rub out the mess, toss if soiled.
Disposable cheap stationery you won't miss if it dies.
Dog vs. Eraser.
Dog treatment's better, for sure.
Damn, suddenly wanna wag my tail at Master.
I sighed.
"Finally, one last thing."
"Speak."
"Can I report Your Grace's orders to the lady?"
Help me Master, save me whimper whimper.
Money, backup, anything. Kain too if possible...
"No."
"......Pardon?"
"The instant it reaches her ears, I cut your throat."
Firm no. Straight threat.
The duke glanced at the Paradise Dust on the desk.
"Too filthy for my daughter to touch.
So take their heads, but keep it from Sharl. Strictly."
Emergency! Fucking emergency!
I'm scared shitless. Send backup.
Backup. Now.
Backup......
......None?
This was fucked for real.
I made a troubled face.
"Your Grace. As you know, Lady Sharl's sharp."
"True. Clever girl."
"And humbly, I see her often. Hiding this might not stick..."
And if caught?
Sharl won't forgive 'secrets'.
Get busted lying? Stuffed alive, maybe.
But the duke ignored my plea.
He pulled a dagger from the drawer, slammed it into the desk. Thunk.
"Choose, rat."
His voice was low, heavy.
"Obey quietly, bring their heads.
Or right here, die for yapping out of turn."
"......"
No escape.
Sharl: 'Don't die without my say-so.'
Duke: 'Do it or die.'
Either way, neck on the line.
Choice was one from the start.
I yanked the dagger free.
Heavy steel feel.
"Gotta do it. Will do."
What choice?
Owner says fetch balls, dog fetches balls. That's me.
The duke, satisfied, picked up his pen again. Dismissed.
"Then I'll be off. To 'clean'."
I bowed politely, turned.
Grip tightened on the doorknob.
From behind, the duke's low mutter.
"Come back alive, I'll toss you a bone."
"...Truly merciful."
Bang.
I shut the door, fiddled with the dagger in my pocket.
"......"
Hmm. Tricky.
Turn back now, beg a bit?
[Lewd as she is, no taste for men.]
Wish she did.
Washed up, could service now.
Pretty confident at sucking too.
To live, what's not worth doing?
.....
"What a pain in the ass."
For now, at least I reamed Kain out.
Didn't say not to tell his girl,
Nothing about this old fuck.
Kain puffed his smoke hard, scratching his head like a headache.
"Sounds like 'just die' to me."
"Fuck, tell me about it."
Right?
He stubbed out his smoke in the ashtray, eyed me up.
"Well, got kinda fond over time... Hate watching you dog-die."
Unexpected.
Guess this guy's got blood if you stab.
"Can't have my on-call meal-fetcher croak.
Been so comfy."
Fuck, take it back.
Wanna stab him dead.