Chapter 139
Chapter 139
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Laying the Groundwork for the Future (1)
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"It's exactly as I said. Whether it's the bastards hosting this auction or the nobles scrambling to flee, I don't care. I'll kill whichever side you want first."
"You're serious?"
"Of course. But if anything, it'd be better to take out the nobles first."
I jerked my chin toward the VIP seats far in the distance.
"There are too many of them running for their lives over a single life."
"......"
"The auction hosts will be delayed grabbing their goods. So we've got more time on our hands with them."
Ecarot seemed at a loss for words at my casual discussion of murder.
"Decide quickly. The sooner, the better."
I closed my eyes briefly and opened them, unleashing my killing intent. Ecarot's face drained of color at my sudden shift in demeanor.
"You...... Who are you?"
He stammered, taking a step back. He'd sensed the killing intent rippling out around me.
"Me? Just a passerby."
I grinned and beckoned him with a finger.
"And the one who can help you."
It wasn't an empty promise.
If I drew Requiem right now and bolted, that would be enough. Hiding my identity would be a piece of cake.
"Ah......"
Only then did Ecarot realize my words weren't bluffing—that I was someone who could act on them anytime.
"I......"
Unlike his bold shout at the start, hesitation crept into Ecarot's voice.
'Figures.'
It was just as I'd expected. The Ecarot before his rampage in the auction house still had a soft heart left in him.
'It was those bastards who made me like this! Those sons of bitches!'
Just like in the original story, when he'd screamed it with tears streaming down his face.
"Still can't decide? Why the hesitation?"
I prodded him in a bored tone, and Ecarot started panicking.
"No, it's just......"
"Hurry up. They're all getting away."
Ecarot glanced nervously at me, hemming and hawing. I smirked inwardly as I watched him.
'Still just a kid.'
Manipulating a brat like this was child's play for me.
"Want me to tell you something?"
"......What?"
"The ones who kidnapped you and made you a slave—think they're all here?"
Ecarot's face hardened coldly. I continued in a flat tone.
"I've killed plenty of these scum before. But look, they're still crawling around."
"......"
"Kill these guys, and you think the chain ends? I don't."
I dressed up the facts to sound plausible, and it came off like a righteous crusader speaking.
"......Then how do you end it?"
Ecarot's lips trembled as he asked.
"Curious?"
I smirked and reached out toward Ecarot.
"-!"
Ecarot squeezed his eyes shut and shrank back. The typical reaction of someone exposed to endless violence.
Crack!
My hand snapped the handcuffs binding Ecarot.
"Ah......"
A sigh or groan escaped his lips.
Clink, clatter.
Ecarot stared blankly at the handcuffs falling to his feet.
"This thick thing...... in one go......"
"Told you. I can kill them all."
Ecarot slowly lifted his face toward me.
"......"
The eyes meeting mine now held a different hue. Amid the hatred twisting them, I could see faint hope and anticipation blooming.
"Let's go."
I spoke again and extended my hand.
Ecarot didn't flinch away from the approaching hand this time.
Pat.
I scooped him up in one arm.
Ecarot squirmed for a moment but soon settled in stably.
"......Where are we going?"
His polite tone slipped out naturally, and I smiled faintly.
In the original story, Ecarot was an arrogant character who never used honorifics with anyone but Cain.
For him to use them with me meant I'd perfectly filled the savior role Cain was meant to play.
I had to admit, I was damn good at winning people over.
"We'll head to my place first."
Ecarot's eyes flickered at my confident reply. In a small voice, he said,
"Can you grant me one request?"
"What?"
"Please free the others."
Ecarot added in a much gentler tone.
"I want everyone to regain their freedom."
Fortunately, a thread of warmth still lingered in his heart. A soft emotion, perfect for exploiting.
"Sure."
I agreed readily and stepped forward.
"Seal it off! Don't let them escape!"
"You can't hold me! Do you know who I am?!"
Leaving the chaos of the imperial troops and nobles behind. Leaving behind Princess Violet, who'd let me slip away in the confusion.
Tadak!
Holding Ecarot, I dashed toward the space behind the stage. Feeling his small hand gripping my shoulder tightly.
❖ ❖ ❖
"......Say that again."
At the aged voice, the man bit his lip hard.
He wasn't asking to repeat it because he hadn't understood. It was a rebuke: Is what you said true? If so, why should I spare your life? Explain.
"......I'm sorry, Lord Rowell."
The man had no choice but to say that.
Thud.
He slammed his forehead to the ground once, then cried out desperately.
"I'm truly sorry! I'll do my utmost to salvage the situation!"
"Salvage."
Rowell turned his chair to face the man.
"Is the current situation even salvageable?"
"......"
"Our secret auction raided clean by the imperial army, the ringleader turning out to be First Imperial Princess Violet, and losing high-value goods to boot?"
The chilling voice stabbed like a blade. The man gritted his teeth, forehead pressed to the floor.
"......I'm sorry."
Rowell glared at him before closing his eyes. Color returned to his pale face—he was seething with deep rage.
"Hah......"
Rowell's eyes twitched with fatigue.
He couldn't fathom how all this could pile up at once.
He'd spent the whole night erasing traces to avoid the imperial army's pursuit.
But the problems didn't end there.
Princess Violet had gotten the list of nobles at the secret auction and was going berserk. The nobles were being swept up like corn in harvest season.
Some even whispered this was the true harvest festival.
Rebuilding trade routes with the nobles and regaining trust—how much time and money would that take?
Just thinking about it gave him a headache.
"......Why's Ethan been so quiet lately?"
Rowell finally spoke again after a long pause. The man, who had been prostrate like a dead rat, cautiously lifted his head.
"W-Well, actually......"
His shifty, uneasy eyes spelled trouble.
"Speak now."
Urged by Rowell, the man squeezed his eyes shut and said,
"Ethan's whereabouts have been unknown for a few days."
"......What?"
"We tracked that he pulled personnel urgently and left, but no contact since."
As Rowell's terrifying silence stretched, the man continued sweating bullets.
"We've sent people to search, but no word yet."
"......"
"Instead, we found suspicious bodies in a warehouse on the capital outskirts we used as a base."
He said it in a grim tone.
"It was in use just days ago, but the corpses looked decades old. We're investigating."
"-!"
Rowell's eyes flashed sharply.
"What state were the bodies in?"
"W-Well."
Crushed by Rowell's intensity, the man stammered.
"Most had one or two limbs severed. And they were charred black, like salted in the desert. Some bones were already exposed."
Bang!
Rowell finally slammed his fist on the desk.
"That fool Ethan......"
From the details, he pieced it together.
Ethan had spotted the man wielding that black sword, gone to confront him, and gotten done in.
'That guy killed Ethan too?'
He'd guessed the guy was strong, but not strong enough to beat Ethan.
Ethan was one of Rowell's top fighters, personally trained by him.
"Why didn't he report......"
Rowell swallowed a sigh rising from deep in his chest.
He could guess why Ethan rushed off like that. But it had sealed his fate.
"Hah......"
Rowell kept sighing. His mind was a mess with other matters too.
'I need to report to the master soon.'
Digging into Abel Kindriel was taking longer than expected.
He'd seen him popping up here and there, but tracking always failed.
'Like he knows and shakes us off......'
No one had ever been this elusive. No known residence made it worse.
"Damn it."
Rowell spat a curse he rarely used.
His gaze shifted to another document on the desk.
'Blue Pearl and Red Coral Supply Volumes.'
The lengthy report boiled down to one thing.
Supply of Sud Territory's signature products had plummeted bizarrely.
Meaning the Mare Guild—and by extension, the Ardante Family—could be shaken.
'Are miners siphoning it off? Or issues in distribution?'
Bad premonitions. Dark clouds gathered around the sun he so admired.
'And with the new tax laws already hitting hard.'
As Rowell scowled at the document, furrowed brow deep,
Knock knock.
A knock came from the door.
"Lord Rowell, urgent dispatch from Sud Territory."
"Come in."
An organization member entered, handing over a letter. Rowell opened it, read, and groaned.
"This is......"
He shot up from his chair.
"I need to see the master."
Rowell's face hardened gravely as he gripped the doorknob.
❖ ❖ ❖
A few days earlier, Ovest Territory.
"Hah, really."
Diego sat in his office, reading the official document sent to the territory.
"Am I getting old, eyes going dim?"
But no matter how many times he read, the words stayed the same.
[......Thus, henceforth, taxes shall be calculated by ratio. Each territory's income and expenditure items are as follows. Income is the territory's total.......]
Diego blinked, plugging numbers into the ratio formula in the document.
Cursing like he did hunting monsters whenever he miscalculated or smudged ink.
"......No way."
Finally done, Diego doubted his own eyes.
"Taxes...... this low?"
Suspicious, he recalculated once, then again. Minor differences aside, the result held.
"My god...... What in the world?"
Diego slumped back in his chair with a hollow laugh.
He'd been agonizing over taxes for days, never dreaming it'd resolve so easily. The territory's shaky finances could finally breathe.
"But who proposed such an innovative policy?"
Not that stubborn emperor or Karl, surely. Lord Benifer wasn't the type either.
"Then...... Could it be Mikel Concellare?"
Swinging wildly, Diego pulled out the next document. The full minutes attached to the official notice.
"-?!"
Diego's eyes bulged as he scanned them.
"No, what the hell did Abel do?"