Chapter 35: The Boss…? Me…? (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 35: The Boss…? Me…? (3)
In the heart of Malteon, a vast estate located in the southern reaches of the Ashtalon Kingdom, two men sat in the basement of a grand mansion.
One was Carmine, the third son of Duke Comallon, the master of this very house.
The man standing before him maintained a relaxed expression, even in the presence of Carmine, a man notorious as a tyrant and a profligate.
“The Agent. Is that right?”
Carmine asked, as if seeking confirmation.
The man with the narrow eyes gave a quiet smile. Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a quill pen.
To the naked eye, it looked like an ordinary writing instrument with no special properties.
However, a low humming sound soon filled the air, and an Aura Blade manifested at the tip of the quill.
With his Aura unleashed and a faint smile playing on his lips, the man raised his arm above his head and drew a line through the empty air.
Though he struck at nothing but void, a vivid black streak remained where the quill had passed.
As Carmine watched, he realized the black line was bleeding into the air like ink soaking into water.
The moment the black ink vanished from the void—
Splatter!
Blood erupted in the basement that had supposedly contained only the two of them. Bodies that had been invisible until a moment ago collapsed to the floor, blooming into flowers of blood.
There were nine of them in total.
The man, who had casually filled the once-pristine space with the metallic scent of blood, tucked the quill back into his breast pocket.
“I believe that serves as an answer. What do you think?”
Seeing the man’s mischievous smirk, Carmine stared blankly for a moment before breaking into a cruel grin.
“Impressive. A Sword Master with a unique ability… You truly are a member of ‘The Agent.’ You’re on an entirely different level!”
Despite his own subordinates being slaughtered in a single stroke, Carmine didn’t care in the slightest. Instead, he looked on with admiration.
“I appreciate the compliment.”
Watching The Agent smile enigmatically, Carmine nodded with satisfaction.
As I thought, this was the right choice.
The Agent.
They were a group of assassins based in the United Kingdoms.
While their exact numbers were unknown, Carmine knew for certain that every individual belonging to the organization possessed skills equivalent to a Sword Master.
Their commission fees were astronomical, and they were picky about their targets, but Carmine also knew that once they accepted a contract, they had never failed—not even once.
“Now then, let us get straight to the point.”
At The Agent’s prompt, Carmine replied as if he had been waiting for the question.
“I want you to kill a certain noble.”
“And the name of this noble?”
“Count Palatio of the Asteria Kingdom.”
The Agent fell silent for a moment at Carmine’s words, appearing to be deep in thought before speaking.
“I’m afraid I must decline that request.”
A blunt refusal.
However, Carmine had expected some level of resistance, so he spoke up.
“...Is it a matter of the fee?”
“Indeed. As you likely know, our hiring costs are quite high. And in the case of Count Palatio, there are quite a few factors that would require additional surcharges.”
“Does that mean if I pay the price, you can definitely kill Count Palatio?”
“Among the contracts we have accepted because the price was right, we have never failed a single one. Whether it was taking the head of a noble…”
The Agent chuckled.
“Or the head of a royal.”
Faced with the man’s overwhelming confidence, Carmine spoke.
“I will pay the price.”
“...With all due respect, I doubt you can afford the fee we require.”
“Certainly, if we’re talking about gold, it might be difficult. But—”
With a confident smirk, Carmine reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
“What about this?”
“...”
In Carmine’s hand was a black hexahedron.
It was a cube that seemed to swallow the very light around it, a deep abyss-like object. Interest began to flicker in The Agent’s eyes as he stared at it.
“Ho. Not just an Abyss Pearl, but an Abyss Body… is it?”
“That’s right.”
Carmine nodded.
The Agent remained silent for a while, staring at the object.
A flash of greed flickered between his narrowed eyelids, but after a moment of deliberation, he shook his head as if it still wasn't enough.
“Hmm, it is certainly tempting. However, a single Abyss Body is still—”
The Agent spoke with genuine regret.
But then.
“What if it’s three Abyss Bodies?”
At Carmine’s follow-up, The Agent’s mouth snapped shut.
And then.
“...Are you certain?”
“Of course.”
“Ha.”
The Agent let out a hollow laugh.
“...I shall finish the job and return as quickly as possible.”
With those final words, he vanished as if he had never been there.
Left alone in the room still thick with the scent of blood, Carmine finally let out a vivid smile.
Finally—!
Ever since his failed revenge through Biran five months ago, Carmine had been trying tirelessly to get back at him, but he had failed every time.
This was because rumors had spread that Deus Macallian, one of the Master Knights of Calliban, was deeply involved with Count Palatio.
The longer his revenge was delayed, the more Carmine’s hatred for Alon grew, bordering on obsession.
It wasn't a rational emotion, but a hideously irrational malice.
Because of this unnecessary hatred, he had consumed more Abyss Bodies than necessary, putting himself in a position where he didn't know what his father might do to him. Yet, he was still smiling broadly.
Did you think you could ignore me and live a comfortable life? …That’s not happening. Never.
A hatred born of twisted inferiority and wretchedness was now aimed squarely at Alon.
* * *
Somehow, I’ve become the leader of Kalpa, a group created by the Mastermind Alliance.
After that sentence—which sounded like the title of a web novel from his previous world—flashed through his mind, a voice called out.
[Do you have nothing to say?]
Whether the moderator knew of Alon’s complicated state of mind or not, the question came again. Alon wanted to ask in return: Excuse me? Me? I’m the leader of this ‘Kalpa’ thing the Mastermind Alliance made?
[Ahem, well, since it seems you have nothing in particular to say, we shall move on.]
But before the confused Alon could ask, the moderator naturally moved to the next stage, forcing the words back down Alon’s throat.
Trying his best to wrap his head around the situation, Alon shifted his gaze.
He looked toward Duke Altia.
Nod!
Unlike the young boy he had seen years ago, Duke Altia—now looking every bit the dignified mastermind—gave a confident nod.
Similarly, the young lady of Zenonia—no, Count Zenonia, who had officially announced the death of the previous Count months ago and formally succeeded the title—was also smiling beside him.
...Is this a prank?
The thought crossed his mind, but Alon knew all too well that this wasn't just a joke.
As he racked his brain to make sense of the chaos—
Ah.
Only then did the earlier situation make sense.
He realized why the expressions of the nobles had turned to doubt the moment he sat in the chair at the back.
Furthermore, he understood why the two men sitting across from him, veterans of countless battles, were looking at him with such intense wariness.
Ah.
And as the reality of the situation sank in, it vividly confirmed once more that he had indeed become the leader of the Mastermind Faction.
“...”
Alon squeezed his eyes shut, clutching his throbbing head.
* * *
About two hours passed, and the Grand Council came to an end.
Many things had been discussed during that time, but Alon couldn't remember a single word of it.
From Alon’s perspective, the fact that he had become the leader of Kalpa was far more important than listening to nobles argue with contradictory logic for the sake of their petty squabbles.
Thus, after agonizing for two hours as if trying to solve an unsolvable riddle, Alon came up with one hypothesis just as the meeting was ending.
...Could I be a figurehead?
It was the worst-case scenario for him, but it was a hypothesis with enough credibility that he couldn't rule it out.
However, after the Grand Council ended, he was led as if in a trance to the banquet celebrating the birth of Kalpa.
The moment the banquet began and he found himself in a three-way meeting with Count Zenonia and Duke Altia, he realized his hypothesis was wrong.
Except...
“What do you think? I believe it’s perfect.”
...From Alon’s perspective, the situation was spiraling into an even deeper mystery.
Alon didn't speak easily in response to the words of the woman who was now Count Zenonia.
To be precise, he couldn't speak.
He couldn't understand a single thing she was saying or what she meant.
“I believe it was built exactly as you desired, Count Palatio.”
At Duke Altia’s words—which made Alon want to blurt out, Me? I desired this?—Alon felt like dozens of question marks were floating above his head.
Of course, he maintained a stony, expressionless face on the outside.
“...”
Alon turned his gaze to look at Duke Altia and Count Zenonia.
Their eyes held a faint glimmer of anticipation, as if they were waiting for his approval.
Looking at their expressions, Alon began to seriously wonder if he had a split personality.
Alon wasn't particularly close with Duke Altia or Count Zenonia.
In fact, he had only met Duke Altia once years ago and exchanged a few words.
Even those few words hadn't been particularly pleasant.
At the time, it had been a negative conversation where he had refused Loria’s plea for help.
Similarly, Alon had no real friendship with Count Zenonia.
He had only met her twice, and during their second meeting, he had practically ordered her to leave when she visited the Palatio estate.
Realizing he had let the silence drag on too long while he was lost in thought, Alon finally spoke.
“I see.”
In truth, he wanted to ask what on earth was going on, but Alon had some social awareness.
It was clear that these two believed Alon had ‘ordered’ them to form this faction. If he asked, ‘What the hell is this?’ things would likely take a very bad turn.
Therefore, Alon decided to say something vague first, hoping to gather information on how this situation had come to be and where their understanding had diverged.
If he could get some information and figure out how the misunderstanding started, he might be able to fix it.
But.
“I’m glad I could finally repay you for saving my life.”
At Duke Altia’s immediate follow-up to Alon’s affirmation—
“...”
Alon squeezed his eyes shut instinctively.
What the hell are you even talking about!?
He screamed inwardly.