Chapter 115: In Truth, They Knew (9)
Chapter 115: In Truth, They Knew (9)
"......Huh? What... do you mean?"
"You weren't aware, I see. I'll pretend I didn't see anything, but I think it's best you see for yourself."
No sooner had relief washed over him than an ominous sensation slithered down his spine.
A gut feeling that whatever he'd done was far bigger than he'd imagined.
He shot to his feet and yanked open the closed patient room door. A man, his robe removed and face exposed, lay in the bed.
Skin so pale it was almost white, and white hair. At this point, Daniel couldn't help but laugh.
"......Ha, haha."
What in the world was today, some kind of cursed holiday? Why did terrible things always come crashing in all at once?
He had a pretty good idea who that man was. No, let's not deceive myself. Daniel knew exactly who that man was. He couldn't be certain with the eyes closed, but if his guess was right, there would be red irises hiding under those lids.
A voice like a sigh filled the room.
"......Deon Hart."
A figure the Revolutionary Army had to eliminate as a top priority.
Only then did he understand the doctor's attitude. And that the man had shown him an immense amount of consideration.
"Why, of all people."
He'd already burned through his entire mental reserve for the day. This was beyond his limit.
He'd suppressed the rampaging Revolutionary Army leadership, witnessed his mother coughing up blood, and rescued someone showing the same symptoms as her. And now he had to kill that person?
'I can't. I can't do it.'
At least today, Daniel could not kill Deon Hart. He was certain of it.
'.......'
As if entranced, he approached him. The sharp-eyed old doctor quietly closed the patient room door, and in the stillness that felt like time had stopped, Daniel sat soundlessly in the chair beside the bed.
You have no idea how lucky you are. Normally, the moment your identity was exposed to me, you'd be dead.
He slowly rose and braced his right hand on the bedframe. Then he reached out with his left hand and placed it on the bastard's neck. The pulse was a little fast, maybe from a lack of blood.
'...If this were the Deon Hart on paper, the moment I touched the bedframe... no, the moment I got close, he'd have opened his eyes and reacted. He must really be in bad shape.'
He pulled his hand back. Just as he was about to retreat, his eyes belatedly caught the man's disheveled clothing. More precisely, the strange mark exposed between the disarranged collars.
—Right, they said he was under the Demon King's Curse, didn't they.
It weakened the body, supposedly. But all that experience accumulated over long years on the battlefield didn't just vanish, so his combat ability was treated as a separate matter.
And that was why, even under the Demon King's Curse, Deon Hart still ranked high on the Revolutionary Army's elimination list...
"He'll be dead soon enough even if I don't kill him."
Just look at that defenseless state, eyes still closed when he should've been wide awake and on guard the second I arrived. Even if it wasn't him, someone else's hand would kill him soon enough. Did he really need to dirty his own?
He rationalized it like that as he stood. His mother kept coming to mind, and he couldn't stay here any longer.
When he stepped out of the patient room, the doctor waiting outside was right there. The man glanced past Daniel's shoulder into the room as if checking whether Deon Hart was dead or alive, then their eyes met.
Daniel slowly shook his head.
"When he wakes, send him away without letting anyone else notice. Naturally, he must not be allowed to memorize the path. And this matter..."
"I shall keep it sealed. After all, my forgetfulness has been getting quite severe lately, so I'll forget it soon anyway."
"......Still, don't forget the security. Do not forget to put the blindfold on him."
"Yes."
He turned his back and left. As he walked down the corridor, he struggled to restore his mind, which had somehow pushed past its limits.
Normally, he'd have gone to his mother to rest, but that wasn't an option right now. Stop thinking about Mother. Instead, let's think about Deon Hart. For instance, the Demon King's Curse.
'Curse... curse, huh... The coughing up of blood—was that caused by the curse?'
Coughing up blood... Mother.
The flow of his thoughts, which he'd forcibly redirected, circled around again, despite Daniel's efforts, and focused back on his mother.
Because when it came to curses, a thought suddenly struck him: if Deon Hart was cursed by the Demon King, then his mother had surely been cursed by the world itself.
'After such a hard life, what she comes back to is coughing up blood.'
Every time he saw her weakened body, he'd felt there wasn't much time left. But he hadn't known it would step forward so abruptly, so vividly real, without warning.
The blood from his mother was a warning. It said her time was running short.
'I have to hurry.'
Before she passed, he had to show her the utopia she'd dreamed of.
Only then did Daniel realize where his feet were taking him. Yes, I already knew. To shorten the timeline, I had to meet 'him.'
Daniel composed his expression and quickened his pace. His hurried steps betrayed his impatient heart.
* * *
Wow, I thought I was going to die.
When that bastard put his hand on my neck, I really tensed up thinking he was about to strangle me to death. My heart's still pounding because of it. Did he seriously not notice?
I stealthily opened my eyes and looked around.
Probably because it was a patient room, it looked ordinary on the surface. But I knew this place was anything but ordinary.
I didn't know the details, but considering how complicated the process was on the way here, it had to be something like a secret organization...
'...So did I get caught, then? Am I a hostage?'
They might've brought me here for treatment at first, but not anymore.
My appearance had to be way too distinctive. The guy who just tried to throttle me—once he'd seen this face, it was safe to say my identity was completely blown.
'So I'm out of here.'
I didn't know the way, but if I just kept going, I'd find an exit eventually. For now, I needed to get out of this place.
I sneakily raised my upper body... then flopped back down and closed my eyes. Because I felt a presence outside.
Sure enough, the door opened and someone entered.
'Is it that guy from earlier?'
The footsteps drew closer.
My nerves were on edge. Amid the strange tension, the footsteps that had been drawing closer stopped abruptly right next to me.
An unfamiliar voice spoke.
"......How long are you planning to keep pretending to be unconscious?"
"!"
I was so startled that I reflexively snapped my eyes open.
Facing my clearly revealed eyes head-on, a grizzled old man smiled gently. His voice carried not a single speck of hostility.
"You should try to fool someone who can be fooled. I'm a doctor."
"......."
"Follow me, please. I'll escort you outside."
Really? He'd take me all the way out with no strings attached? No, more importantly...
I pointed at the blindfold in the old man's hand.
"That is...?"
"Memorizing the path would be somewhat troublesome for us, you see. I ask for your understanding."
"......."
As if my expression was invisible to him, the old man smiled amiably.
* * *
When Cruel returned to his office, he hesitated for a moment upon facing an unexpected figure.
"......Your Grace the Duke."
Why was the Duke here? If he'd had a task for him, he would've just summoned him instead of coming in person.
And what he was looking at was the chessboard on the desk. Belatedly realizing he hadn't tidied up the board in his rush to leave, Cruel clasped his hands behind his back and concealed the hand that had twitched to move.
The Duke, who had glanced at him, slowly straightened his back.
"You've come."
"What brings you here?"
"I felt we needed to talk about the matter of your participation in the Hunting Competition. There's already so much to worry about, and I didn't want to waste time and mental energy on pointless misunderstandings."
"......."
Of course, whether it really was a misunderstanding remained to be seen.
The Duke swallowed his true thoughts and smiled faintly.
"Ah, before that."
"......?"
"Kneel."
For an instant, the green eyes quivered.
Those green eyes, which looked at the Duke as if doubting they'd truly heard those words, met the unchangingly smiling violet eyes, then lowered in resignation.
One knee touched the ground, and Cruel's head bowed.
The salute of a knight to his lord.
Nothing was confirmed yet, so there was no need to cross the line and antagonize him. Cruel was an undeniable and excellent asset, so the Duke chose to be satisfied with that much and let it pass.
"You participated in the Hunting Competition."
"Yes."
"......."
"......."
An odd silence settled in.
The Duke, who had stared down at Cruel for a moment as if at a loss for words, eventually let out a sigh and spoke.
"Very well. I'll skip the roundabout talk and get straight to the point."
"......."
"—Did you think I wouldn't know?"
Cruel's eyes wavered. He was so grateful in that moment that his head was bowed. If he'd been meeting the Duke's gaze, his trembling would certainly have been noticed.
How much had he figured out? How much should he say? Surely he hadn't realized the full 'plan.'
'I have to answer...'
I had to answer.
His mind raced frantically. The silence was dragging on. Just when he thought things were about to get truly dire, the Duke continued.
"Why did you spare Deon Hart?"
With generous leniency, he'd let the past slide at the time. Now he kindly pointed it out and pressed him.
"You deliberately steered things toward commissioning a murder-for-hire when you could have simply used the Revolutionary Army, and once I permitted it, you arbitrarily tacked on a condition offering half the promised sum just for wounding him..."
"......."
"The more I watched, the more I saw you moving around without knowing your place. Did you think I wouldn't know that was all to lower the probability of Deon Hart dying?"
Men moved by money acted far more sloppily than those bewitched by a greater cause.
Cruel had chosen the commission.
Men moved by money also valued their own lives. So if you created a situation where they could earn a tidy sum just by wounding him, they'd have no reason to recklessly rush to their deaths trying to kill him.
Cruel had used his own funds to create that situation.
"And on top of that, at this Hunting Competition, you went so far as to save Deon Hart directly."
What on earth was he thinking when he did such things? Did he truly want to kill Deon Hart?
"Explain yourself."
A violet gleam flashed sharply in his eyes. It was a truly piercing force, but Cruel actually felt relieved.
He hasn't figured everything out after all.
With his calculations set, there was no need to drag this out. He opened his mouth without delay.
"I wanted to kill him with my own hands."
"......If that were the case, you should have said so from the start. All you did was waste innocent manpower."
"My apologies."
"Forget it."
There was no way the Duke's suspicions would be dispelled by just this much. His answer was riddled with holes.
The Duke knew that as well, but rather than meticulously poke at every single one, he chose a different method.
"You don't think my doubts will be cleared up with just this, do you?"
"......."
"Therefore, I propose a wager."
He tossed out the words for Cruel to rise, then leisurely stepped over and stood in front of Cruel's desk. He picked up the black king that had been knocked off the chessboard and examined it slowly as he spoke.
"Deon Hart must die. Up until now, I've entrusted the matter to you and given orders through you. But now that room for doubt has arisen, I, too, cannot simply sit back and do nothing."
"......."
"You, in your way, move to kill Deon Hart. I, too, will move separately. The one who kills him first becomes the winner of our wager. As for the benefit granted to the victor... shall we leave it up to the victor?"
It meant the loser would have to grant the winner's wish.
The Duke had plenty of money and plenty of people at his disposal. It was an obviously unfair wager, but Cruel had no choice in the matter.
Perhaps that was why, instead of the obvious answer, something else slipped out.
"......Why are you so intent on killing Deon Hart?"