Chapter 246
Chapter 246
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 246
>Chapter Title: The Villain of Villains
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The bosses, having received Aster's orders, hurried back to their hideouts to grab their ledgers.
There wasn't a strict time limit, but they were hounding their underlings as if racing against the clock.
The first to arrive in the conference room was Timur.
"Here it is."
"Hmm."
"But, that 'hmm'—can't you drop it? It looks awkward no matter how I look at it."
As Timur pulled out a thick ledger and set it on the table, he threw in a comment, and Aster scratched his head sheepishly.
"Is that so? Then, as you command."
"And drop the formal speech while you're at it. It feels like you're toying with me."
"Fine, whatever."
It seemed Timur had caught on that the superior-subordinate dynamic between him and Evelyn was just a public act.
Well, after all the nagging he'd endured, it would have been weirder if he hadn't.
"So, what's the plan now? What does the Godfather say?"
Timur glanced at the seat where the Godfather had been sitting and posed the question.
The Godfather had stepped out to fetch his own ledger, and Timur was clearly curious about the future plans he and Aster had devised.
"What plan? Everything I said earlier."
"Yeah, I get that. Plunder the cartels' coffers to sustain the Second Black-White Slums. But what I'm asking is how."
"How?"
"Yeah, how. The cartels have stockpiled a fair amount of wealth, sure, but it's not enough to feed an entire city."
That was a fair point.
Money was always relative. The wealth hoarded by the cartel bosses seemed immense to an individual, but viewed against the scale of the whole city, it fell short.
How did he know this?
Because Timur was one of the wealthiest cartel bosses in the Black-White Slums.
So Aster had no choice but to ponder for a moment, and the answer he arrived at was this.
"I dunno."
"...What?"
"Do I have to think of everything? Boss Timur, strictly speaking, in this matter I'm the sword, not the brain. The brain's someone else."
"The brain..."
"What're you asking for? Obviously Duke."
What did that mean?
It meant he was going to foist it on Evelyn again.
"You really..."
"I know. I'm so generous and kind."
"..."
Timur was speechless at Aster's brazenness.
He knew.
What hardships Duke had endured preparing and running that auction.
Svetlana's help hadn't been insignificant, but no major or minor affair had escaped Duke's influence.
It was a workload no ordinary person could handle... and yet, how long had it been since the auction ended? Now Duke again?
"Sigh... mind if I light up?"
"Go ahead."
Feeling dizzy, Timur lit a cigarette, and soon pale smoke began to waft through the conference room.
That was when Aster spoke up.
"But don't you feel wronged?"
"By what?"
"You know... We're kinda... close? Something like that. But right now, it looks like..."
"Like getting the axe I trusted to chop off my foot, and having my pockets picked clean too. You get it, huh?"
Timur wagged the finger holding his cigarette and grinned.
Despite his words, his face showed no displeasure, and just as Aster was about to ask something, Timur spoke first.
"I'm actually relieved."
"Relieved?"
"Yeah. Oh, you don't know? I told Duke, but what you did today is something I've dreamed of for a long time."
Timur said that much, tapped ash into the ashtray, and continued.
"I had a little brother. Rare thing. Blood brothers getting dumped side by side in the Black-White Slums. Sorry to say it about my own brother, but... I kinda liked it. You know how much blood ties mean as leverage here."
"Yeah."
"It really was a big help. We never fought fair one-on-one with our peers."
In other words, they ganged up.
Timur went on to recount the days he spent with his brother—quite beautiful memories.
Being two made everything easier, naturally.
Working as a duo, they picked pockets from passersby; one drew attention while the other swiped begging bowls from street urchins.
Timur was smiling, uncharacteristically, but it didn't take long for that smile to twist into a bitter one.
"But... well, what should I call it. That's when I first realized."
"...?"
"That being two is great sometimes... but having someone to protect can make you weak too."
The Second Black-White Slums had always been a sewer, but as the cartels' tyranny worsened and food shortages hit, it turned into outright hell.
This shortage was different from the famines of old wars that the veteran bosses had endured.
"The city grew more perilous by the day, and even the remaining merchants and passersby stopped coming to the Second Black-White Slums. So who do you beg from? Whose pockets do you pick?"
They couldn't.
"Even robbing bakeries was no use. With no money circulating, what could the merchants do? Yet the cartels grew richer every day. Know why?"
An ordinary person might have tilted their head.
The city withering away, yet only the cartels thriving? You need something to swindle from residents to fleece them.
But Aster knew the answer.
"Drugs."
"Right."
"Human trafficking too."
"Spot on. To them, every street urchin was money. Can you imagine? I tried. How did we look in those cartel bastards' eyes."
It wasn't a pleasant thought, but through their eyes, this hellish Black-White Slums looked bright indeed.
Think about it.
Every starving urchin on the street was cash.
"That one's a gold coin, that one's ten silvers, that one's pretty enough—sell to some noble with peculiar tastes, fetch ten gold."
"..."
"But they were all starving. What does that mean? Gold coins, ten silvers, ten gold... lumps of money coming to you if you offer a scrap of bread. Easier than catching rats. Urchins aren't as quick as rats, and they talk, so luring them was simple."
"...So your brother got sold?"
"Nah. Can't drink seawater just 'cause you're thirsty."
"You've seen the sea?"
"..."
For a moment, Timur's eyes went cold.
Aster cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away.
"Anyway, so?"
"...You're strong, that's lucky. Anyway, we held out. But... you can scrape enough food for one, but not for two."
"..."
Probably.
Being two was an advantage only when times were better in the Black-White Slums; when food dwindled, extra mouths were a burden.
"My brother wasn't as street-smart as me. He was stronger, though—until the hunger. Eventually, I had to forage alone."
The rest was obvious without hearing it.
"Plain weed roots did him in. I got by with stomach pains and diarrhea—my constitution matched—but he didn't. Looking back, it wasn't a big deal. A few sips of clean water, a few solid meals, and he'd have pulled through. But... we didn't have that."
"..."
"My brother wasted away day by day. I scoured everywhere to save him, but no dice. Too late to leave the Second Black-White Slums. Couldn't survive the journey. So in the end... I drank the seawater."
For his brother's sake, he decided to sell himself to a cartel.
"Quite... the brotherly bond."
"Blood's blood."
Timur smiled faintly, but it wasn't a smile. Eyes dried out from too many tears.
"But the bastard wouldn't hold out."
"..."
A chill silence settled over the conference room.
Aster searched for words, but soon realized none would do.
Wounds could be soothed with comfort, but his brother's fate was no longer a wound for Timur.
It had festered beyond healing, rotten away until it detached from his heart entirely. The void left by his brother's absence was a deep emptiness in Timur's soul.
What could possibly fill such a void?
"That's when I thought."
"What?"
"...Of a scene just like what you pulled off today."
"..."
"Someday, when such a day came. Gathering all the Black-White Slums' cartels and speaking like you did. I lived harboring that hope. But..."
Timur smiled bitterly.
"Not easy."
"..."
"More mouths to feed means more caution. More caution means you can't speak out rashly. ...Excuses, probably."
"No, I get it."
That's what being a leader was.
A position with responsibilities as heavy as—or heavier than—its rights.
You couldn't act on your own convictions alone; they had to align with the group's.
And a cartel was too wild and filthy a group to realize Timur's ideals.
As Aster watched Timur, the man let out a "haha."
"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not that pure. My hands are plenty bloody, covered in filth. Like you said... just scum sucking the marrow from urchins and residents. But..."
"But?"
"Nah, forget it."
Timur chuckled awkwardly and changed the subject, but Aster understood what he meant to say.
A life mired in filth, yet harboring one pure, untainted conviction within.
But he couldn't voice it himself... because he knew.
Stripped of ideals, he was a villain stacked high with wicked deeds.
"Anyway."
"...?"
Timur's eyes fixed on Aster.
On his retinas hovered the blurry mask distorted by perception-blocking magic.
Gazing at that face, Timur revealed his true feelings.
"Thanks."
"..."
"You know? Even building the orphanage faced backlash. So I kinda borrowed your names. Heh, perfect excuse. Said if they didn't support us with sour faces, you'd come wreaking havoc... Funny how the opposition vanished."
"I... see."
"So, thanks. For pushing me forward."
"..."
Aster said nothing.
But he finally grasped what the Godfather had meant earlier.
In other words, Aster himself... no, the existence of "Knight" was an umbrella enabling Timur to pursue his ideals.
And why the Godfather had pegged Timur as the next in line.
Was that why?
Aster gained a clearer sense of his role in this matter... no, in the Second Black-White Slums.
What was it?
'...The vessel for all vice.'
To embrace every wickedness, allowing men like Timur to realize their visions.
Sometimes ruling through fear, sometimes staining hands with blood, drawing all arrows of discontent to himself.
It seemed harsh at first glance...
"Not bad."
"...What?"
"Nah, nothing."
Aster resolved himself.
The villain of villains.
That he would become.
Just as their conversation wrapped up.
"...Knight."
Evelyn, who had heard the news late, opened the conference room door. Beside her was the mage... that is, Shane.
She'd been delayed bringing Shane as an escort.
"I get you have a lot to say, but hear the rundown from Timur."
"Uh, uh? Knight, your speech..."
"Timur said no more role-playing."
"It feels like you're toying with me, and it sours my mood. At least when it's just us, please."
Evelyn fumbled, not grasping the situation with her "uh, uh," but Aster brushed past her and left the conference room.
"H-Hey, where are you going?!"
"Got somewhere to be."
He'd decided to become the villain of villains.
Now it was time to move.