Chapter 29
Chapter 29
Translator: Penny
Chapter 29
"Hey, did you hear the news?"
"What news?"
"Some noble went on a wild spending spree at Vivian's Honey Mead last night."
"What? Damn it! I was going to go there yesterday but changed my mind. Why did this shit happen on the one day I didn't go?!"
The gamblers in the gambling den were buzzing about the noble's antics from the previous night. Some wore excited expressions, while others looked deeply regretful. In just one day, the Young Master had become the most famous star in the Night Alley.
"Hey, stop gawking and roll the dice."
"Ah, sorry."
Despite it being midday, they continued to gamble in the dimly lit, windowless room, drinking lukewarm beer.
Dice made from deer antlers clattered across the table from all directions.
"Is that Young Master really that interesting?"
"Hey, Jacob! You'd love him too if you met him! He's generous with his money and has an amazing personality!"
"Really? Is he coming to Vivian's tavern again tonight?"
"No, he said he's going somewhere else tonight. By the way, what happened to that stoic friend who always came with him?"
"Ah, we had a fight."
Jacob casually rubbed his rough beard and tossed the dice, as if it were nothing.
The dice rolled across the table hundreds of times.
As evening approached, the gamblers gradually rose from their seats and headed to their usual taverns.
Jacob needed to clear his head, but more importantly, the beer at the gambling hall was so bad he needed something to cleanse his palate.
He headed to Jackson's Spirits, his usual haunt.
About a dozen patrons were already seated, drinking and chatting.
"Jacob, you're back again," Jackson, the son who had inherited the bar from his father, greeted him warmly.
"The usual strong spirit and a bowl of soup," Jacob said, settling at the bar and rubbing his tired eyes as he waited for his order.
As time passed, more customers arrived, and the bar was nearly full when a commotion erupted at the entrance.
"Hahaha! This bar's the place to be tonight!"
A young man, dressed in what appeared to be expensive clothes, strode into the tavern. The lavishly embroidered garments exuded a vulgar ostentation.
"Hey, Master! Give me your most expensive drink!"
"Our apple cider is our specialty, my lord. Would you care for that?"
"Yes, give me that. And pour a round for everyone here!"
"Whoa!"
The patrons, who had been glaring at the young noble with disdain since he entered, erupted in cheers at his words.
"Hahaha! Drink up, everyone!"
"Hey, noble sir! What's your name?"
A drunken patron staggered forward and asked.
A tense silence hung in the tavern, a situation that should have been utterly impossible.
A commoner asking a nobleman for his name first? It was an act deserving of having his beer mug smashed over his head.
No matter how generously the nobleman bought drinks and how wildly he partied, there were lines that shouldn't be crossed.
"Heh heh heh, what do you need my name for, friend?"
Yet, defying all expectations, the young nobleman brushed off the situation with remarkable good humor.
"So my descendants will remember this glorious day for generations to come!"
"Oho, is that so? I'm Torrence! I hope my name will be mentioned in your family's stories from now on."
Torrence grinned and gulped down the cider the Master handed him.
"Uoooooh!"
"For Lord Torrence!"
The crowd erupted in cheers once more, raising their glasses high.
"Hmm, you're not drinking cider?" Torrence asked, noticing a gaunt man sitting in the corner of the bar.
"I'm planning to visit another tavern later. It's my usual haunt."
"Really? This cider is quite good. Why not have just one glass?"
"Lord Torrence, the drinks there are far superior to anything in Veilain."
"Oh—this is something I shouldn't dismiss. What's the name of the tavern? I might want to join you."
Torrence's eyes lit up with curiosity, but Jacob shook his head with a wry smile.
"I'm sorry, but not just anyone can enter. You need a recommendation."
"A recommendation? What's the name of the bar?"
"...It's called Night Alley."
Torrence climbed onto a chair, raised his beer glass high, and shouted, "I'm not worried! Everyone here is my recommendation!"
"Uoooooh!"
"Torrence!..."
"Does anyone here know how to get to Night Alley?!"
"I'll take you!"
"I'll show you the way!"
The drunken crowd roared in approval at Torrence's words.
Torrence grinned, flashing his pearly white teeth at Jacob, clearly pleased with the scene.
"...You're all recommending him?"
The guard at the entrance of Night Alley looked at the group with a slightly bewildered expression.
Six or seven people had claimed to be recommenders, all eager to get one particular nobleman admitted as a member.
"Hic! Th-that nobleman... Hic! He's our friend!"
"Graci! Graci! W-we're one...!"
"...Quiet down and get inside."
The guard, never having encountered such a situation before, shook his head and let them in. He figured they were all regulars and trustworthy.
"Thanks to you all, I'm finally getting to experience a place like this! Let's raise a toast!"
"Uoooooh!"
"As expected of Lord Torrence!"
Even after entering the establishment, the young nobleman continued to lead the crowd with fervent enthusiasm.
As he continued to buy drinks for everyone, the bar quickly filled with flushed, drunken patrons.
"Tsk, everyone here has such a low tolerance for alcohol," Torrence remarked, his expression unchanged as he sipped the drink the bartender had prepared.
"This place has a peculiar layout," he observed. "It feels like a cheap dive, yet it carries the air of an upscale establishment."
"Isn't that true of the clientele as well?" the bartender quipped, glancing at Torrence's attire.
"Heh heh heh, I suppose it is."
"But why would a nobleman like yourself frequent a commoner's bar? There have been quite a few sightings of you here lately," the bartender asked, subtly probing for information.
"Hmm, why else? My family's fallen, that's why."
"...Still, you seem to have some money left."
"Enough to visit cheap bars every day, yes. But not enough to restore my family's prestige. That bastard left me with nothing."
Torrence ground his teeth and scowled.
The bartender remained silent, polishing a glass with a dry cloth.
"If I had one lifelong wish, it would be to spit on that bastard's severed head! Damn it, if that assassin I hired back then had just done his job properly..."
"...You hired an assassin?"
"I did. Some backwater guild sent him. But the assassin was a fraud, and the guild was a fraud too. They took my money and ran."
"I see."
"That's why I stopped believing in that crap. Dark Guilds? Assassins? Bullshit."
At Torrence's sneer, the bartender's hand paused mid-polish.
"Forgive me, Lord, but Dark Guilds exist, and assassins are real."
"Ha! Really? Then summon one before my eyes right now."
"...I'm not an assassin myself, but I can introduce you to the Dark Guild."
"Heh heh heh, where is it?"
The bartender set down the glass and leaned forward toward Torrence. His eyes gleamed with an almost burning intensity, and the surrounding darkness seemed to ripple around him.
"Right here, Lord."
Torrence swallowed hard. An indescribable, unsettling aura emanated from the bartender.
"Really...? You're not joking?"
"..."
The bartender straightened up and resumed polishing the glass.
"Can I hire assassins through the Guild?"
"Yes, but we only have one assassin in our Guild."
"Their skill level?"
"Within the Kingdom... they rank among the top five."
It wasn't the boast of being the best on the continent, but this measured claim only enhanced the bartender's credibility.
"I want to hire them."
"It's more expensive than you might think. Are you sure you can afford it?"
"What do you take me for? I told you I have the money."
"Understood. I'll make contact."
"What's the assassin's name?"
"...Six Fingers."
Torrence nodded and pulled a leather pouch from his coat, tossing it to the bartender.
"Is that enough?"
"...Yes, with this amount, you could hire them all."
The bartender's eyes widened in surprise as he counted the coins.
"Really? Then hire them all."
"Who is the target?"
Torrence drained the last of his drink, his lips twisting into a bitter sneer as he spat out the words:
"Count Agron. Kill that damned bastard."
Agron was swinging a heavy iron plate in the training ground within the mansion.
Swinging a sword felt too light and unsatisfying, so he had attached a thick sandbag to the end of the long, heavy iron plate to add weight and heft.
Wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead, Agron lowered the iron plate to the ground with a thud.
"The moon is bright tonight," he muttered, rotating his wrist as he gazed up at the sky.
A night like this calls for a hunt.
Hunting during the day in the snowfield was nearly impossible.
When sunlight poured down onto the pristine white snow, the blinding glare reflected in all directions, threatening to blind anyone who wasn't careful.
Thus, hunting on the Snowfield always took place after sunset, during the evening hours.
Especially on moonlit nights like this, when prey was clearly visible, men, women, children, and the elderly alike would come out to enjoy the hunt.
Agron brushed the dust from his palm and shifted his gaze to a corner of the Training Ground.
"Why don't you come out now?"
At his words, the shadows rippled, and a man materialized before him.
The man was as large as Agron himself.
"Impressive, Lord Count."
"I simply have sharper senses than most."
In truth, Agron had long been aware that the man had been watching him.
The wind carried the scent of sweat from all directions, and if he focused his eyes, the shadows would stir.
And what about the sound of breathing near my ear?
It was impossible to ignore.
"Then you should have summoned the knights immediately instead of waiting for me."
"Who are you?" Agron asked.
The man bared his yellowed teeth in response.
"Heh heh heh, my name is Breaker. Have you heard of 'Six Fingers,' Lord Count?"
"I think I have."
"We're the Kingdom's most renowned assassination group. Consider it an honor to die by our hands."
"Where are the others?"
Breaker smirked, his face twisted with mockery, and flicked his tongue.
"Did you think we wouldn't know?"
"Know what?"
"The adventurer who defeated the Herb Tiger was named Agron. Our comrades died that day."
"Hmm."
"And the adventurer who captured Felipe of Cacciola was also Agron. Just like how Ananta's comrades were slaughtered en masse."
Breaker drew a pair of nunchaku the size of his forearm from his back and slowly twirled them.
A menacing whoosh cut through the air.
"Right now, the other 'Six Fingers' have gone to deliver greetings to your precious comrades. And to that arrogant noble brat who hired us."
"Is that so?"
"Heh heh heh... It's quite a sight to see you trapped like this, Lord Count."
"Indeed. It's hard to tell who's trapped whom."
In an instant, Breaker lunged forward, swinging his nunchaku at Agron.
With a deafening roar that seemed to crush the earth, blood erupted skyward.
📝 Translator’s Note:
You may notice that certain lines or phrases in this novel appear both in their original Korean (or Hanja) form and in English translation.
This is intentional — these phrases are classical idioms, divine titles, or poetic expressions that carry layered meanings.
To preserve their original tone and authenticity, the raw text has been kept for reference, while the English interpretation is provided right before or after it. This helps convey both the literal and cultural nuance of the original work.
but if you guys dont want tha raw for future chapters or my future other novels u can just text me on discord and say so discord name Mr.Penny