A Heavenly Taste (3)
Ziel's five senses were tens of times sharper than an ordinary person's.
While partly the product of grueling assassin conditioning, he had been born with an extraordinary sensory baseline from childhood—a truth he had only come to recognize through his training in the Organization. Building upon that innate sensitivity, Ziel had become the only assassin to master the Breathing of the Polar Night, honing his perception to an even keener edge. Now that he had escaped that life, those heightened senses had turned into an unexpected blessing in his everyday existence.
"It is a magnificent flavor, Patriarch."
"I knew you would recognize it, Instructor. It is the pride of our house... and the very heritage we must defend to the end."
Truffles.
Exquisite, Ziel thought.
On his palate bloomed a complexity of flavors unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was the first time in his life he had actually eaten one. Because truffles were extraordinarily expensive, he had encountered them a handful of times during his assassin days—once, two clients had even fought a bloody feud over truffles harvested from this very estate. Back then, he had only caught their scent in passing, but now he was tasting one firsthand.
Ziel offered his impressions without embellishment.
"It seems to carry the scent of damp loam, wet leather, and the dust settling inside a long-abandoned room."
It was a blunt, unvarnished description. Hardly the sort of refined compliments people usually paid to an ingredient worth its weight in gold, but Albert Riversong's eyes widened in genuine admiration.
"To capture it so intuitively... You are entirely correct. Some describe their first encounter with truffles in precisely those terms. Yet you grasped it immediately."
Albert was thoroughly impressed. Ziel had described it to perfection—that was precisely what an authentic truffle was like.
"It is not smooth," Ziel continued, "and it leaves a sharp prickle on the tongue... followed by a subtle, mineral gaminess like water that has stood still for days. And at the finish, an astringent, lingering sting."
To an uninitiated ear, it might have sounded like scathing criticism. But to those who truly understood the delicacy, there was no higher praise. The true magic of the truffle lay in how those earthy, pungent notes coalesced into an enigmatic, heavenly harmony. That was why people warned that no one of modest means should ever dabble in truffles: once you developed a taste for them, squandering an entire family fortune was only a matter of time.
"I have heard they are quite costly," Ziel said. "They are worth every coin, Patriarch."
"Your praise means more than you know, Instructor Ziel. We have heard countless compliments about our truffles over the years, but... an assessment like yours is delightfully refreshing. In fact, I prefer it."
Most compliments were smothered in flowery rhetoric, so ornate that half the time no one could tell what was actually being said. Ziel, by contrast, had articulated the core essence of the flavor in his calm, matter-of-fact tone. From Ziel's perspective, of course, he had merely spoken the plain truth of what he tasted.
"Allow me to prepare a small portion for your return journey," Albert offered warmly. "Please, do us the honor of accepting..."
"The meal provided during this home visit is more than sufficient," Ziel replied evenly. "Academy regulations forbid me from accepting anything beyond that."
"Yet we feel so indebted to you, Instructor. If you would only take—"
"I am an educator. I cannot accept gifts or compensation from parents or students. That is all."
Seeing his unyielding posture, Albert nodded in understanding. Had it been any other professor or instructor, the refusal might have seemed like false modesty, but coming from Ziel, it was entirely in character.
"Very well, Instructor. Then please, eat your fill and enjoy this table without reservation."
"Understood. Then I will trouble you for seconds."
The words had barely left his mouth before Ziel called for another serving of the truffle-topped veal steak.
Good heavens... He possesses a truly monstrous appetite, Albert thought, lost as to when his astonishment was supposed to end.
Ziel's meal did not stop at two plates. It marched through three, four... and steadily climbed toward ten.
Good grief.
How can one man eat that much?
The Riversong household began in shock, but shock soon gave way to sheer awe. Despite the colossal amount of food disappearing into him, not a single sound of chewing disturbed the air. His posture and motions were impeccably controlled, refined by years of covert infiltration and deep-cover training where noise meant death. Watching the steak vanish from his plate was like witnessing a disciplined piece of sleight of hand.
A pity, Ziel mused inwardly.
He wanted to eat more. He felt he could easily empty another ten platters. He had never tasted anything quite so heavenly. Chicken skewers had their own undeniable charm, but this was delicious in an entirely different dimension—a labyrinth of dozens of layered flavors. Combined with meat, with vegetables, or with fruit, the profile shifted with every single bite.
Truffles...
Would they sell them in the black market? No. He caught himself.
I must conserve my funds.
They would undoubtedly cost a fortune. Which meant his best course of action was to eat as much as possible right here and now.
A truly marvelous flavor.
Regrettably, Ziel brought his meal to an end around the twentieth plate, just as everyone around the table had abandoned their own cutlery to stare at him in dazed silence. He did not have unlimited time; he still needed to conduct the student consultation.
"I will conclude my meal here."
"Ah."
Snapped out of his trance, Albert blinked, feeling an ironic mixture of relief and lingering disappointment.
The parent-teacher consultation itself proceeded without a hitch.
"...In summary," Ziel reported, "Student Yon Riversong's talent in swordsmanship is commendable, but his physical endurance remains lacking. Compared to his peers, his stamina develops slowly, so he should focus primarily on conditioning throughout the break."
"Did you hear that, Yon? Just as the instructor says, dedicate your vacation to physical conditioning."
"Yes, Father. I will."
Ziel then turned to the matter of his disciplinary record.
"He also displays a tendency to shrink inward psychologically. His peer relationships are not as smooth as they once were, likely an ongoing consequence of the disciplinary action."
"..."
Though Ziel laid bare an embarrassing family shame, Albert felt only gratitude for the honesty.
"Thank you for speaking plainly without sugarcoating the truth, Instructor. I believe this is a hurdle Yon must overcome on his own. If he retreats into his shell because of it, please do not hesitate to reprimand him severely. A man must learn to bear full responsibility for his deeds—at least until those he wronged offer their sincere forgiveness."
"Understood, Patriarch Albert Riversong."
The consultation wrapped up after roughly two hours. Just as he had done at the Maris estate, Ziel handed over the detailed analytical dossier before rising from his seat.
"With that, I shall take my leave."
"Wait, Instructor Ziel! Won't you stay the night? Why must you depart in such haste...?"
"The purpose of my visit is academic counseling. Receiving hospitality beyond that is inappropriate for my duties."
Faced with Ziel's uncompromising resolve, Albert could not bring himself to press the matter further.
"I imagine you gave the exact same answer at your previous stop. Very well. In that case, at least permit us to provide you with an escort. I will assign four elite knights from our personal guard."
Ziel looked back at him. "Why would I require an escort?"
"At the very least, you will need protection until you reach your next destination. You may have already become a target, Instructor."
Albert lowered his voice as he brought up the merchant syndicate.
"To be frank, the Tollen Merchant Guild is a ruthless pack of hyenas. Having seized control of the east, they are now sinking their claws into the south. Rumors run rampant that House Siren is backing them from the shadows."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. Their intelligence network is vast; news that their mercenaries failed must have already reached their ears. In fact... they may have already learned that you brought their carriage straight to our estate this morning. They will certainly seek retaliation."
"Hence your offer to attach an escort."
"Precisely. One of the four knights I intend to dispatch is of Great Knight caliber. Even the Tollen Guild will not find it easy to touch you."
Without a second thought, Ziel declined.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I must refuse."
"I-Instructor. This is not a matter of personal principles or academy rules. Your very life could be in jeopardy—"
"It will not be in jeopardy."
"Pardon?"
"There is no danger."
Albert stared, utterly confounded. No danger?
"Have you... brought your own personal guard along?"
"I travel alone."
"Then how can you possibly..."
It was Yon who broke the silence, speaking up on his own for the first time across both the meal and the consultation.
"Because Instructor Ziel is strong."
Albert turned his head toward his son. Yon continued with absolute conviction.
"He defeated a Ruinbark all by himself. He won't be in any danger even without our knights, Father."
A Ruinbark?
That high-grade monster? Albert's mind reeled. He killed one alone?
"I did not bring it down alone," Ziel corrected flatly. "The students provided assistance."
Quite what practical difference that made was beyond Albert's comprehension.
"Furthermore," Ziel added, "if I were the Tollen Merchant Guild, I would not send mercenaries for another ambush."
Albert furrowed his brow at the quiet confidence in the instructor's voice.
"Those people are vicious, persistent, and entirely underhanded. We were forced to borrow funds from them out of desperation, but... whenever an obstacle stands in their way, they eliminate it by any means necessary."
"Even so, now that their previous attack has been exposed, sending more mercenaries makes little tactical sense."
Ziel was not suggesting that the Tollen Merchant Guild would simply let the matter rest.
"If it were me, I would dispatch assassins."
"Ass... assassins...?"
Both Albert and Yon recoiled in shock. Assassins! That belonged to an entirely different realm of violence.
"Or perhaps they will deploy Crows," Ziel continued smoothly. "Having been caught once, their next step will be to devise a method that leaves no traces behind."
As a former operative, Ziel's deductions relied on cold logic rather than emotion. Mercenaries had proven ineffective. The Tollen Merchant Guild never forgave an obstacle. And, as a massive mercantile syndicate, they possessed virtually bottomless wealth.
"On paper, I am merely an elective instructor at the academy. I hold no professorship, nor do I possess a prominent noble lineage."
"..."
Factoring in his manufactured cover identity, the outcome was inevitable.
"If that is the case... doesn't that mean you must stay here where it is safe?" Albert urged.
Ziel shook his head.
"Assassins are far easier to deal with than mercenaries."
Erso, the 1st-Class Crow, was in extraordinarily high spirits.
What an absolute breeze of an assignment, he thought smugly.
He had wrapped up an infiltration and theft contract far quicker and easier than anticipated. All that remained was delivering his report to the branch head, and the job was officially closed.
There was a minor hiccup, but nothing I couldn't handle.
The target location had been an ordinary manufacturing plant. Infiltrating the premises had posed little challenge, and lifting the designated documents had been even simpler. While verifying the prize, he had stumbled across an additional document at the drop point—a minor discrepancy, but a routine variable in the trade. Having pocketed both, Erso was currently daydreaming about fortifying his personal safehouse once the payout cleared.
This time, I'm reinforcing it so thoroughly that even Senior will be rendered speechless.
Brimming with quiet pride, Erso knocked on the office door of the Southern Branch Head of Red Shadow.
"Enter."
Stepping inside, Erso immediately offered his operational debrief.
"...Accordingly, the infiltration and extraction are complete. Here are the requested documents."
"Wasn't there supposed to be only one?" the branch head asked, peering over his desk.
"During the extraction, another dossier was stored in the exact same compartment. After verifying the contents, I brought it along as a precaution."
"I see."
The branch head examined both sets of papers. Then, without warning, he fixed Erso with a sharp stare.
"You said you checked the contents?"
"Yes, sir."
"I see. Very well."
Why ask that?
Before Erso could ponder the strange question, the branch head spoke again.
"Erso, an urgent request just landed on my desk. How would you feel about taking it before you pack up for the day?"
"What manner of assignment is it?"
"A capture contract. An expedited commission from the Tollen Merchant Guild."
"..."
A wetwork contract.
If killing became an unavoidable necessity during an infiltration, that was one thing. But undertaking a dedicated hunt? He had no desire to touch those ever again.
"The compensation is exceptionally generous."
"How much?"
"Six million."
Erso's jaw dropped.
"Six million Cel? For a single live capture?"
A price tag that inflated always carried a venomous catch.
"From what I gather," the branch head explained, "the target is an academy elective instructor who has recently caught the eye of several high noble houses and even the Imperial Palace. Given the political risk, we quoted an exorbitant fee, and Tollen accepted without batting an eye."
"..."
An elective instructor from the academy?
Could it be that man whose name had been quietly circulating through the underworld grapevines?
Something stinks here.
Six million for a mere lecturer? His instincts screamed in alarm. Every hair on his neck stood on end.
"My apologies, sir. I have no interest in the job."
"Even with a bounty this massive?"
"Frankly speaking... it smells rotten. Six million may not buy an empire, but it's hardly pocket change to throw at an ordinary instructor, is it?"
"Hmph."
Ever since getting entangled with House Siren and nearly losing his head to 'Senior,' Erso had developed a healthy obsession with self-preservation.
"Very well," the branch head said with a shrug. "If you refuse, I doubt anyone else in our branch will take it either. Unless we pass it to those crude butchers at Black Blade or Death's Grasp. What ridiculous names they pick for themselves..."
Coming from an outfit named Red Shadow, that's rich, Erso noted internally, though on the surface he merely offered an indifferent shrug.
"Tollen must be drowning in surplus coin. Or perhaps the target stepped on their toes in a truly spectacular fashion."
"Who knows? Our only concern is the gold. Regardless, if you pass, plenty of scavengers elsewhere will jump at the bait. Go on, get some rest."
"Understood. Good day, sir."
Click.
The heavy mahogany door shut behind him.
Left alone in the quiet room, the branch head sighed softly. "I had hoped to get one last useful job out of him, but I suppose that's out of the question."
He lifted the second dossier Erso had brought back from the factory, thumbing through its lethal pages.
"Of all the things to stumble across, he had to unearth this... House Blackwood will never let this go unpunished."
The branch head let out a heavy, weary breath. He had weighed the alternatives repeatedly, but there was only ever one logical conclusion in their trade.
"Cultivating a 1st-Class Crow takes years of investment. What a dreadful waste."