Chapter 21
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: #21. The Best Way to Clear a False Accusation.
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“How's the situation over there?”
[No changes yet.]
Park Hyeon-gun.
More often called Director Park than by his name, he took great pride in his work.
Of course, the title of secretary didn't command much respect.
But that all depended on who you were dealing with.
Guild operations, asset management, overseeing various companies, political negotiations.
His influence in executing Infinite Monarch Lee Cheongi's orders across every field was far from trivial.
Even national presidents, massive guild masters, and conglomerate chairmen had to watch their step around Park Hyeon-gun.
Some sneered behind his back about "riding the tiger's back," but he paid them no mind.
Compared to the gains from being the monarch's right hand, such mockery was beneath notice.
That was why Park Hyeon-gun's face was twisted in fury right now.
“You haven't found anything this whole time?”
[As I said already, no changes.]
“Does that even make sense?!”
Bang!
Park Hyeon-gun slammed his desk.
He harshly berated the voice on the other end of the line.
“Do you have any idea how many tracers I assigned to you? And you still can't track the Black Dragon Princess's location! What the hell have you been doing all this time?”
[No matter how many tracers, if the target doesn't move, there's no way to confirm it.]
“If the target won't come out, then go in and check yourself!”
[That's impossible.]
“What?!”
[You know full well Hotel Leviathan isn't just some hotel.]
“I know it's one of the Seven Dragon Group's holding companies. But...!”
[I'm talking about its position in the shadows, not out in the open.]
“......”
Park Hyeon-gun fell silent at the pointed remark.
As the Infinite Monarch's right hand, he couldn't pretend not to understand.
[To be clear, even on the monarch's orders, that's suicide. We won't do it.]
“You... you saying that to the Master's face too?”
[I'd like to ask you instead. If we infiltrate Leviathan and screw it up, will Director Park take the fall for the failure?]
‘This insolent bastard...!’
He ground his teeth.
But he couldn't bring himself to promise he'd shoulder the blame.
Instead, Park Hyeon-gun spat out a curt new order.
“Fine, then at least dig up traces of Rimon Asfelder. You're not so useless you'd miss that giant school bus.”
[Whether Rimon Asfelder is even here is just speculation, isn't it?]
“Shut up and find something. If it's still like this by tomorrow, you won't walk away unscathed!”
Park Hyeon-gun cut the call irritably after that one-sided ultimatum.
It was unlike him.
Even as Lee Cheongi's secretary, the other man was the guild's top tracer.
A high-level player among Infinity Guild's elite—not someone to bully with unilateral orders.
Yet Park Hyeon-gun was pushing anyway, driven by anxiety.
‘Damn it! I need results, somehow!’
Lee Cheongi wasn't some merciful lord.
He rewarded success handsomely but discarded failure without mercy—that was his way.
This situation was dangerous on that front.
Not only had he lost track of the Black Dragon Princess Lee Cheongi obsessed over, he'd even failed to eliminate Rimon.
‘This is my last shot!’
Park Hyeon-gun's instincts screamed it.
Another failure, and he'd never regain Lee Cheongi's trust.
For a long-time aide who'd made countless enemies handling dirty work, that was a death sentence.
So he had no choice but to go all in.
‘Just confirm Rimon Asfelder is at Leviathan.’
He thought coldly.
‘With proof he's harboring a traitor, I can take down the Black Dragon Princess.’
No matter the Seven Dragon Group's vast wealth, money alone couldn't rival the monarchs' grip on dungeons—the backbone of modern industry.
Besides, the Black Dragon Clan was the most faded branch of the Seven Dragons.
With solid justification, even they wouldn't defy a monarch to shelter her.
‘If push comes to shove, grab hostages again...!’
Killing intent flashed in Park Hyeon-gun's eyes.
Rescuing those kids showed Rimon's heroic soft spot.
So snatching people close to him—like Kang Jeongsu's father and family—could lure him out. That was the plan.
But Park Hyeon-gun was clueless.
He'd badly misjudged the Seven Dragon Society.
And that hostages wouldn't faze Rimon at all.
The good news? He'd never learn the first.
The bad? He would learn the second.
Through a channel unrelated to his spy network or guild intel.
A subordinate bursting through the door.
Bang!
“Director Park! Disaster!”
“What the hell is this?!”
Park Hyeon-gun scowled at the ashen-faced underling.
A lowly staffer barging in was unforgivable.
“Get out! Do you even know where...!”
“This isn't the time! TV—check the TV first!”
“What?”
Flustered by the nonsense.
Suspicious but grabbing the nearby remote anyway.
[Aa, mic test. Mic test.]
The TV flickered on.
And Park Hyeon-gun got it.
No choice but to.
[Hear me okay? You hear? Better be crystal clear.]
Why the subordinate had charged in like a maniac.
Why face didn't matter now.
Every major domestic channel hijacked by a grinning white-haired man.
The scene around Rimon Asfelder hit Park Hyeon-gun like a jaw-drop epiphany.
[If this doesn't reach the Infinite Monarch loud and clear, this bastard's head rolls.]
...That trying hostages against that madman was a catastrophic blunder.
Rewind the clock a bit.
About a half-hour before Park Hyeon-gun froze, eyes bulging at the TV.
Others wore similar stunned looks.
Rare sight.
They were drilled to handle crises without a twitch.
One reason they froze.
This blew past "ordinary" crises by miles.
“What're you idiots doing.”
Young face, pristine white hair.
Faint scar by the eye.
Sword slung over one shoulder.
Once famous, lately faded into obscurity.
But after yesterday's emergency bulletin, a wanted traitor plastered across key agencies for treason.
Rimon Asfelder sneered at the rigid men.
“Suspicious guy shows? Hit the panic button, response mode. Right?”
“Y-you crazy...!”
They shook violently.
Toward the brazenly standing Rimon, hoarse screams ripped out unbidden.
“This is the Blue House, you fucking psycho!!!”
The presidential office—the nation's core.
Not some crook, but a traitor strutting solo at the main gate.
Unprecedented since founding. Guards' horrified wails met Rimon's crisp reply.
“So? What about it?”
Like he'd crashed a no-entry zone.
Cocky head tilt, swagger intact.
Finally flushing crimson then ashen, they kicked into gear.
Alarms blaring, response protocols, backup calls, guns drawn—pure chaos.
Wooo-ooo-ooo!
“Freeze, or we shoot!”
“Arms up, on your knees! Kneel, now!”
“What's the commotion...! Gasp!? Rimon Asfelder?”
“T-that's the real deal?”
Shouts clashing: freeze or kneel?
Comm lines botched; riot cops with shields and batons only, panicking.
Guards slinking out post-police caravan.
Tourists filming afar on phones, thinking it's an event.
Planted at the Blue House gate, watching the circus, Rimon looked incredulous.
“Hey, who's your boss to let this clown show... Nah, don't tell me.”
Obvious as day.
Bribe or connections snagged the gig, ninety-nine percent.
War long gone these days.
Key posts? Especially those went to total hacks. Par for the course.
Why he was here.
Recalling the goal, tongue click.
No more waiting. Rimon gripped his slung sword properly.
Stepped forward slow, mouth parting.
“Here to check that anyway.”
Slash!
“......Huh?”
Gunmen iced over.
The instant his foot moved.
He'd ghosted between them already.
No blinks, yet guns neatly bisected, clattering.
Colleagues clutching bare grips like him.
That locked them solid.
Instinct screamed it.
His pass-by.
Killing intent? Not gun parts littering the ground—theirs.
“Bunker-cowering, hotfooting it, or dumbly planted—who knows.”
Time frozen.
All breathless, stock-still space. Only he strolled casual.
“Tell your 'President’ dude.”
Humanity's Last Sword Master.
National Savior Hero. Humanity's Guardian Deity.
To Seven Dragons and foes, mad-dog legend topping the fame.
Old-school relic scorning false frames; bold deeds or bust for real men.
Rimon level-slashed, cleaving the sealed Blue House gate.
Grinned wide.
“Traitor's here to rebel.”