Chapter 247
Chapter 247
-----------------------------------------------------------------
>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 247
>Chapter Title: Checkmate
>-----------------------------------------------------------------
The bosses, clutching their ledgers, began filing into the conference room one by one.
They came in all varieties.
Some had obediently brought double ledgers recording the funds they'd secretly siphoned off from their underlings, while others had only the surface-level books.
Then there were those who, feeling it unfair to face this alone, had ransacked the ledgers of every minor cartel in their territory.
By the time everyone who was coming had arrived, dawn was breaking.
The Godfather Timur furrowed his brow slightly as he surveyed the gathered men.
"Is this everyone?"
"......"
Instead of answering, the bosses furtively glanced around.
The room that had been packed just moments ago now held barely ten or so.
Nearly half had fled.
Why had they run?
The reason was obvious without asking.
Simple greed over their wealth?
No, that couldn't be it.
It had to be the information in those ledgers that must never see the light of day.
And what was that information?
Drugs, human trafficking, contract killings... and all the other unspeakable things the Godfather had forbidden.
"Indeed, it's clear I've overstayed my time."
"G-Godfather!"
The cartel bosses let out frenzied screams at the unexpected declaration, but Timur's expression didn't change.
He knew it well.
Those who had come to the conference room were the older bosses, all middle-aged or beyond.
In contrast, those absent were the relatively younger up-and-comers.
What did that mean?
A generational shift.
A new wave was rising in the Second Black-White Slums.
As that thought crossed his mind, Timur's gaze naturally turned to his successor.
Unlike himself—an old man whose inner flame had flickered out amid frailty—here was someone in his prime, just beginning to kindle his own fire.
The Second Black-White Slums he would build would undoubtedly differ from Timur's era.
He could establish the one of his dreams upon the foundation Timur had laid.
"Fine, whatever. Can't do anything about the no-shows. Let's proceed with just us. Oh, right—before that, someone I want to introduce."
Timur gathered his thoughts and drew their attention.
Evelyn... Duke stepped forward right then.
"Hello. Some of you may have heard of me, others not, but I'm Duke. Does that ring a bell if I say I hosted the recent Black-White Slums auction?"
"Hmm...!"
"It's him!"
The bosses gasped at the name 'Duke.'
Even those unfamiliar with the name perked up at the mention of the auction host.
Their eyes brimmed with interest, yet none stepped forward to speak to him first.
They knew it well.
Duke and Knight.
That name alone told them he was Knight's master.
"Also, this is Mage. He'll be assisting me in Knight's absence."
"Don't waste time."
With the introduction of Shine complete...
Evelyn smiled faintly at the stacks of ledgers piled in the room.
"Until this food crisis ends, I'll be managing the Second Black-White Slums' funds. Any objections...?"
As if there would be.
These were men who had already experienced Knight's power, if indirectly. And now a new figure called Mage had appeared. Who would dare complain?
And so.
"First up, Svetlana. Show us your ledger."
The winds of change Aster had unleashed spread across the entire Second Black-White Slums.
No one knew.
That this day's events would become the first button toward bringing the Second Black-White Slums into the light in the future.
Except.
"......"
"......"
Only the old Godfather and his successor dimly dreamed of that day.
...But where there is light, there is shadow.
"H-H-How did you get h-here...!"
The young boss, hastily grabbing his goods to flee the Black-White Slums, convulsed at the sight of Knight before him.
A ledger now in Knight's hands.
"...Let's see. Human trafficking, drug manufacturing. And what's in the cart... drugs?"
"M-Misunderstanding. That's..."
The young boss tried desperately to explain, but his words never finished.
A drawn sword severed his throat.
Slash—
"...Guh, gurok."
A dying gurgle, and the head tumbled free.
Splat.
Knight, stepping forward absently, paused as blood soaked his shoe sole.
In the breaking dawn, the blood on his shoes stood out starkly.
Glancing at the sword in his grip, it dripped with gore, his clothes soaked crimson and sodden.
A strange sentiment welled up at the sight...
Splat.
Knight shook it off and kept walking.
Dawn was too short to indulge in reflections.
There were too many dogs.
* * *
The aftermath of the war between Lortel and the Decullan Family swept the Empire.
Food prices, which had been rising gradually, shot up steeply, dragging everyday goods and other necessities along with them.
Those with means could tighten their belts and endure, but the less fortunate relied on the Empire's relief policies to scrape by.
Relief policies, they called it—but it meant incurring debt to the Empire.
A tragedy born of prices rising far faster and steeper than anticipated, thanks to merchants jacking them up as if they'd been waiting for the war.
Meanwhile.
The Second Black-White Slums' vagrants and paupers were enjoying unprecedented luxury.
"R-Really... this is free?"
"Yes."
"N-No strings, like debt or...?"
"Shut it! For real. Why, want me to put it on debt? One more word outta you, buddy, and I won't just debt you—I'll make sure you never see the light of day. Grab your food and scram, got it?!"
The organizer, fed up with the pauper's repeated questions, bellowed and glared.
Normally, the pauper would've flinched and bolted at that, but instead, he bowed repeatedly with eyes full of gratitude.
"Th-Thank you. Thank you!"
"Ugh, damn. Why cry like a bitch? Ah, whatever—get lost already!"
He grumbled awkwardly, but the pauper seized the organizer's ladle hand and kept bowing.
"B-But I got kids at home..."
"Aw, shit! Shoulda said so sooner! Bring 'em! Can't give portions without the kids here!"
"T-Then I'll be right back!"
Such comical scenes were unfolding all over the Second Black-White Slums.
On the other hand, the paupers and vagrants couldn't help but wonder.
"What's with those rotten bastards all of a sudden?"
"Did they eat something bad?"
"Hey, we're not complaining... but it feels off."
Cartels had taken from them before, but never given.
That was why the Godfather earned the slums' residents' praise.
But now?
Even the notoriously vicious cartels were donning aprons to serve food.
"Did the Godfather order it?"
"Come on, even he couldn't wrangle all those vicious dogs!"
"Bull on the Godfather. That old man's just doling out the money he squeezed from us as 'goodwill.'"
Amid the speculation over the cartels' bizarre behavior, a rumor slipped in among the paupers.
"Ahem. Word is, this is all thanks to Svetlana's Boss Timur."
"Boss Timur?"
"You know, the guy who runs that underground market. But why would he...?"
"Who knows... Anyway, that's the word."
The suspiciously burly man who wedged into the paupers' midst finished his piece and slipped away.
The rumor spread simultaneously across the entire Second Black-White Slums, as if deliberately seeded.
The man in question, Timur, looked troubled.
Svetlana's hideout.
"You sure... this is okay?"
"What?"
To Timur's question, Aster tossed one back.
"You're fine shoving all the credit onto me?"
"Pfft, what? Worried the other cartels will get jealous?"
"No, that's not it. Truth is, the praise should go to you and Duke, not me..."
"Ah, shut it. I'm thinking."
Timur quietly took in Aster, who had cut him off and was glaring at the chessboard on the table.
'He really... has no idea.'
He sucked at chess.
Duke had explained the exact same rules, they started the exact same way, yet he lost every single one of the ten games.
...No, that wasn't it.
'Ahem. Am I getting sucked in too?'
Timur thought he couldn't stay serious around this guy, then continued his original train of thought.
The day he summoned the bosses and rifled through their ledgers.
After the grueling meeting, as Timur headed home, a blood-soaked Knight appeared.
And bluntly said:
- Lend me your name.
- My... name?
- Have your men spread the word. Not me, Duke, or the Godfather—but that you spearheaded it.
Perplexed by the baffling request, a thought flickered.
'Or is he dodging grudges... Nah, unlikely.'
He'd already revealed himself before the cartel bosses. Why sell his name now?
It made no sense, given the situation or Knight's personal strength.
So what did it mean?
'...All the credit to me.'
Knight was propping him up with power.
But that alone wouldn't have puzzled him.
Knight had once said he hailed from the Black-White Slums too, but in the Second, he was an outsider. Pushing a local like Timur forward made sense.
However.
The rumors soon after amplified Timur's suspicions.
- Kolknir... got his head chopped off.
- Sobera too.
- ...Last night, more than one or two died.
The absent bosses found as cold corpses.
Everyone knew the culprit.
Knight.
He hadn't hidden it. Word was, he'd paraded blood-drenched through the dawn streets.
And so?
Those who dealt with the dead bosses harbored grudges against Knight. The rest held him in awe.
To what extent?
"Boss, gotta report something quick... Uh, I'll come back later."
"...Sure."
Even Collin, usually chummy with Knight, was dodging him now.
Timur couldn't fathom it.
'Why...'
Why walk this path?
Incurring grudges, becoming a figure of terror.
Finally, unable to hold back, Timur asked.
"Why?"
"What now?"
"No one in the Second Black-White Slums doesn't fear you now. Was there any need to take that... "
Timur paused, searching for words.
Feeling itchy, he spat out his exact thought.
"That... lonely path?"
If the Aster Timur saw was a blood-mad killer or heartless brute, he wouldn't have asked.
But the Aster he knew was just a man.
Eccentric, rude, unpredictable lunatic—but a man with emotions.
So why?
"Hardly..."
Aster burst into a snicker.
He moved a pawn, then spoke.
"Noble houses always leave this to their shadows."
"But someone of your caliber surely has underlings for the dirty work?"
"Well... yeah, probably."
The trainees he'd brought this time had potential, sufficient for the Second Black-White Slums despite their greenness.
Plus the ex-Troubleshooters like No. 17, left with Riheim senior.
But.
"I pulled them out of the sewer with effort. Can't just shove them back in, right?"
"......?"
Timur tilted his head.
But Aster just grinned.
"Figure it out or don't. Let's keep playing."
Aster turned back to the board.
Timur's eyes twitched faintly at the sight.
"Seriously..."
"What, can't contain your awe at my magnanimity?"
"What bullshit."
Timur moved a knight and opened his mouth.
"Checkmate."
"......"
Timur thought to himself.
"You're godawful at chess. Trash."
"......What?"
"Ahem. Meant that in my head."
Awkward silence settled between them.