104
My Villain Chapter 104
Intermission. Chasers
The 'Ship Horn Inn' was bustling as usual with sailors, merchants, mercenaries, and soldiers. The vibrant atmosphere of the city had permeated every corner of the alleyways.
"I've decided to accept the request."
The team fell silent at Grania's declaration. As always, Arnal was the first to break the silence.
"Is it okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"The prince is certainly a good person, but well, the situation isn't exactly easy."
Grania quietly nibbled on cheese and shook her head.
"We're mercenaries. We don't need to worry about the complicated circumstances of our superiors."
"But sister..."
Farel, a young man with a rough beard, scratched his head.
"Look at this time. We saved the city by the skin of our teeth, and yet with just one order from the royal city, we're sent flying. And when the 'tail-wagging lion' becomes a king..."
"The prince is a trustworthy employer and a war lord with a perfect record. What could be more important?"
Olga, the nun playing with her beer mug, slowly nodded.
"Well, that's true. And the prince's army has grown tremendously. We might be driven out of the city, but the prospects aren't entirely bleak... What's the point of just increasing the head count? Most of them are just chaff."
At Arnal's grumbling, Grania gave a slight smile.
"Our mercenary group is no different in having mostly chaff, Arnal."
"...Wow, I never imagined those words would come out of your mouth. Are you bragging?"
"It's just reality."
Cutting a thick slice of cheese and putting it on bread, Grania continued.
"To become a big shot, you need reputation. To gain reputation, you need achievements, and to have achievements, you need skill. If we join Prince Ulkar's side, we can obtain all of that."
Anton, who had been sitting silently, let out a deep sigh.
"But sister, the highlands won't be easy. Even Prince Ulkar can't guarantee victory, and our mercenary group of less than thirty could turn to dust in an instant."
"Prince Ulkar destroyed the imperial forces in the highlands eight years ago. The prince now is much more experienced, wiser, and has a higher reputation. Moreover..."
"He's much lighter now. He's become one-armed."
When Grania gave her a sidelong glance, Arnal shrugged. Then, leaning back in her chair, she clicked her tongue regretfully.
"Ah- I should have caught that guy. He became a knight and ruined everything."
At Arnal's lament, Farel frowned.
"That brother... I acknowledge his skills, but sometimes he's a bit..."
"A bit what?"
"Everyone knows. He sometimes gets a bit... Strange."
At Farel's words, Grania scratched her eyebrow and said.
"...Farel. Is this because of Uncle Gillius?"
"No, it's not like that."
Farel waved his hand and rambled.
"Back then, both I and Uncle Gillius were bewitched by the witch, and we weren't in our right minds, and his 'mistake'... Well, he probably did it because we were charging at him with an axe. But... Haah."
Farel drank his beer with a sigh. Then, putting down the empty mug, he bit his lip.
"Honestly, yeah, that guy was a bit weird. Stabbing Uncle Gillius and then... He had this happy expression."
"Farel."
"And don't you remember when we first saw him? Dragging dozens of severed heads tied together? That guy was completely..."
"Farel, enough."
"...Phew."
When Farel crossed his arms, Grania gave a bitter smile.
"I know too. Phoenix sometimes looks strange when he enters a fight."
"Strange is putting it mildly..."
"But Farel. Phoenix saved your life. He saved mine and Arnal' multiple times. If Phoenix wasn't there, the city would have been burned to ashes."
"...And while we might not meet Phoenix again, or even if we meet someone as strong - don't show your teeth carelessly. Understand?"
To Grania's serious advice, Farel could only remain silent.
And that silence perfectly matched the stillness that had fallen over the entire first floor of the inn.
"What?"
As if time had stopped, the people filling the hall were frozen like stone, staring in one direction.
There was a woman. Boots reaching up to her calves and leather pants wrapped around her long legs. The boots seemed expertly tanned, with consistent grain, and the pants had a subtle sheen.
She wore a high-quality white shirt with a red vest adorned with gold buttons, with a recently unfastened cloak draped over her arm.
Her attire was peculiar.
There wasn't a single item typical of ordinary women - no cuttle, gown, or head covering.
She wasn't wearing a robe, so she didn't look like a mage, and she wasn't wearing armor, so she didn't look like a mercenary.
Yet to mistake her for being dressed as a man would be impossible, given her stunning beauty. And she seemed to have no intention of hiding that beauty.
Of moderate height with thin, elongated limbs. A body with tension-filled curves. Porcelain-white skin contrasting with pitch-black hair, nimble eyes, straight nose, and a slender chin.
Finally, her striking, full, deep red lips that drew everyone's gaze.
In short, she was a fatally beautiful woman.
"...Wow, f*ck."
Forgetting their previous conversation, Farel blurted out a crude exclamation. At the sound breaking the silence, the woman's gaze turned to Farel.
Gulp.
Farel unconsciously swallowed hard. Only after making eye contact did he notice another aspect of her.
Her pitch-black eyes held no emotion. Her bloodless, expressionless white face looked just like a lifeless doll.
The woman quickly averted her gaze from the frozen Farel. Then she slowly walked towards the bar. Though she made no sound, dozens of pairs of eyes followed her.
Standing before the bar, she looked over the young waitress, young clerk, and middle-aged man in turn.
"Are you the owner?"
"...Yes, that's correct."
"I want to hear about the bloody swordsman."
Her low, slow voice carried a sense of refinement that made the innkeeper unconsciously wet his lips.
"Yes, well, what would you like to know?"
"...It's too noisy. Don't you have a quieter place?"
The innkeeper, seemingly entranced, nodded then quickly came to his senses, looking troubled.
"My staff are inexperienced, so I can't leave my position. I'm sorry, miss."
The woman silently pulled out a pouch from her waist. Then her unblemished, snow-white fingers picked up a gold coin and placed it on the bar.
"If the story pleases me, I'll give you ten more."
The innkeeper silently accepted the coin.
Despite her noble appearance and refined speech, the woman was surprisingly straightforward. This was evident in how she casually sat on a dirty bed in an empty room without hesitation.
And while the innkeeper spoke, she sat motionless, only occasionally blinking slowly.
After the long story ended, she finally spoke.
"So, where did he go?"
The innkeeper paused, then touched his nose and answered.
"About a week ago, he said he was sailing west. He probably didn't go to the Empire, so he likely went to Abiden."
The woman quietly nodded. Then she spoke again.
"You know more."
"...Pardon? What do you mean—"
"Tell me without hiding anything. I must absolutely know where Phoenix went."
The innkeeper closed his mouth, which had been slightly open. Then he asked with a slightly suspicious look.
"Do you know Phoenix, or rather, are you acquainted with Sir Phoenix?"
"Yes."
"...What is your relationship?"
"How impolite."
The unexpected comment made the innkeeper look momentarily taken aback. But the woman readily answered.
"Cousin."
"Cousin? You're saying you're Phoenix's cousin?"
"Yes. And his fiancée."
"...What?"
The innkeeper's mouth gaped open at her casual confession.
"No, you're his cousin... And fiancée?"
"Yes. Now tell me what you know."
The innkeeper looked confused for a moment, then shook his head.
"I've never heard that Phoenix has a cousin who is also his fiancée."
"Is that so? Why didn't he say anything?"
"How would I know? Do you perhaps have a way to prove your relationship?"
The woman blinked for a moment.
"Well..."
"...Then, I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you."
"Why?"
"Because I owe Phoenix. If it weren't for him, this inn would have been reduced to ashes."
The woman blinked again.
Silence followed. Just as the innkeeper was contemplating getting up, the woman spoke.
"Phoenix of Zahakahr. 21 years old this year. His father is alive and well, and his mother passed away giving birth to him. His only brother died a few months ago, and he has three cousins. He's a hand and a half taller than me, weighs just under twice my weight. Born with extraordinary strength, as agile as a leopard, and never been sick a day in his life. A genius in martial arts, loves horseback riding, but is somewhat weak in blood arts, possibly due to his mother. Likes pork, boar, and lamb, hates chicken and vegetables, and can't eat fish. Always confident, dislikes talking to people of lower status. Even with me..."
As her slow, seemingly endless description continued, the innkeeper's face contorted and he waved his hand.
"Wait a moment, miss, please stop."
"Why?"
"I understand you know a lot about Phoenix, but..."
"But?"
The innkeeper scratched his chin, looking embarrassed.
"I still can't believe you're engaged to Phoenix."
"Can't believe it? Why?"
"Because he's very different from the Phoenix I know."
The woman's brow furrowed slightly.
"Different? How?"
"Well... It seems you don't even know his favorite foods."
"He likes pork, boar, and lamb. Ground with fenugreek, served rare..."
"No, miss. You said he can't eat fish?"
"Yes. Can't even get near it."
"The Phoenix I know was absolutely crazy about fish."
"...He ate fish? Phoenix?"
"Yes. He loved fish skewered and roasted whole, enjoyed tearing dried fish into porridge, liked it deep-fried. He especially enjoyed it with beer. He'd devour anything with fins."
"...Beer too? No, that can't be."
"And women... Well..."
As the innkeeper's expression clouded, the woman pulled out her pouch. Then she held out a handful of silver and gold coins.
"Tell me. Quickly."
Silver and gold coins flowed from her hand. The innkeeper's mouth opened slightly.
"You'll give me this?"
"I'll give it. Tell me quickly."
The innkeeper, who had been looking somewhat disdainful, fell into contemplation. The woman waited patiently, and finally, the innkeeper sighed.
"...You said you're Phoenix's fiancée?"
"Yes."
"Then... You wouldn't be pleased with another woman being around Phoenix?"
"The Fire Witch's story?"
"You know about it."
"Phoenix has no interest in women. Even if he's traveling with someone, there are no other feelings."
The innkeeper's face slightly twisted.
"Phoenix might be like that. But the Fire Witch, she is not."
"Why?"
"There was a girl named Daria at our inn."
The conversation continued about the relationships between Daria and Phoenix, Ellen and Phoenix, and Ellen and Daria. The woman's expressionless face slightly, just slightly, contorted.
"A few days before Phoenix left, Daria came to see me." The woman was quietly blinking.
"She said she couldn't let him go like this, that she would follow him. She claimed that Phoenix's group's plan to take a ship was a lie, and they would definitely be heading to Longville."
"Longville."
"Yes. But..."
Tears began to flow down the innkeeper's rough cheeks.
The woman listened silently.
"That night, Daria disappeared." A quiet blink. Intersecting eyelashes.
"The next day, three days later, even a week passed and she didn't show up. I couldn't even face Amel."
Blink. Pitch-black eyes.
"The patrol soldiers say they saw her. Daria, that child... Was with the witch of fire."
Blink. Indifference.
"I told the guard, but those damn sons of bitches. They never do anything. When the inn was raided, they came late and just put on airs. Saying she might have left the city, might have been kidnapped by vagabonds, might have been torn apart by an artist - they always spew nonsense."
The innkeeper wept.
The woman's blinking stopped. If you look closely into her black pupils, you can glimpse a red energy, curiosity, and interest.
The woman spoke.
"Torn apart by an artist?"
"Hmm, yes. Oh, yes. An artist. He's crazy. There are rumors that he kills people in back alleys and takes their blood. Come to think of it, there was a lot of commotion before, but it's been quiet lately."
"...Tell me more."
"...Isn't it obvious? He's a blood sorcerer. The blood disappeared, so it's clear he must have been playing around with it!"
A confident man with a bulldog-like impression passionately spoke.
Across from him, a man sat at a desk strewn with parchment scrolls.
A man with gray hair. A handsome man emanating a melancholic atmosphere. He quietly nodded.
"I understand."
A deep voice matching his appearance. The man whose face had reddened coughed.
"...Hmm, I got a bit excited."
"I would call it passion for the city. Captain of the Guard."
"Thank you."
"Then, I've confirmed what you asked. Thank you for coming since morning."
Hazel's eyes stared directly at the guard captain. The captain, realizing he was being dismissed, quietly left the room.
The gray-haired man quietly rummaged through the parchments. After a while, someone knocked on the door.
"It's Dirk."
"Come in."
What entered were men wearing black cloaks. Bounty hunters led by a one-eyed man.
"Did you find it?"
"We've searched every village from Ridvan to here, but couldn't find it."
"Well done. You worked hard."
The handsome man looked over the men and smiled slightly.
"This is your first time in South Harbor, right? Go to the inn. Everyone will be having breakfast. Oh, Dirk and Tobias stay."
"Aye." As the men rushed out, the handsome man continued rummaging through the parchments. The one-eyed man, Dirk, moistened his lips and spoke.
"Captain."
"Mm?"
"This mission seems difficult."
"Why?"
"Isn't there no way to find the target?"
"We have the description. Anyone can recognize it at a glance."
The man called captain spoke indifferently, and Dirk sighed.
"Didn't you say that Viscount Ibail would have cast a spell while dying?"
"That's right."
"Where in the world could someone survive being hit by the Viscount's spell?"
"Nowhere."
"Captain!"
The handsome man continued rummaging through the parchments while responding.
"He asked to be told what spell the Viscount might have cast at the end."
"Pardon?"
"The new Viscount replied directly. Decay, mutation, senescence, torture."
"Decay, mutation, senescence, torture..."
"If it's the curse of decay, he would have turned to dust already. If it's the curse of torture... Even a notorious assassin from the East would have committed suicide."
The handsome man said this and held out a parchment to the young man standing behind Dirk.
"Tobias, bring this person. If you give him some money, he'll follow."
"Aye."
As the young man called Tobias left the room, the handsome man again rummaged through the parchments.
"The problem is the curse of mutation and senescence. If the Viscount's spell is those two, the assassin must have transformed into a form we don't know."
Dirk's expression darkened.
"Then how on earth are we supposed to find him?"
"Have patience. If we finish the job rashly, the wrath of Viscount Alphard will fall upon us."
Saying this, the handsome man picked up a parchment.
"We just need to pretend to do that work. While doing such a nutritious task. Here."
"...What is this?"
"Read it."
"Erenar Radakalin, an apprentice of La-Palais, 17 years old, blonde beautiful appearance, wanted for murder of Grand Master Jemard and escape..." Dirk skimmed the parchment and frowned.
"Wait, if it's Radakalin, could it be..."
"It's that Radakalin."
Dirk shook his head.
"This is too dangerous. I'm against it."
"I've received the down payment."
At the carefree reply, Dirk's expression crumpled.
"Captain! Aren't you getting involved with the palace on top of Viscount Alphard? And the Radakalin family at that?"
"Three hundred gold coins."
"Pardon?"
Dirk's mouth fell open.
"I received three hundred gold coins."
The handsome man leaned back and let out a slight chuckle.
"Three hundred gold coins as down payment, five hundred if killed, a thousand if captured alive."
As Dirk's mouth opened wider than possible, the handsome man's smile deepened.
Swallowing, Dirk set his remaining eye ablaze.
"What should I do, Captain?"
"You keep chasing the assassin. I'll catch this girl."
"Do you have any clues?"
"She earned the nickname 'Witch of Fire' in South Harbor. They say she flies in the sky and sprays fire like rain."
Dirk scanned the parchment and narrowed his brow.
"But it says here she can't use magic?"
"They say she escaped with a forbidden book. She probably learned spells through that."
"A forbidden book. I suppose we'll have to recover that too."
"Right. That's another thousand gold coins."
"Huh, those crazy Mages. But why didn't their own people catch her and instead commissioned us?"
"A few palace Mages came, but they were caught by the Silver Prince's viper and are being held."
Dirk slightly furrowed his brow.
"The Silver Prince's viper... The smell is quite foul. This could get troublesome."
"When was it not? And, it's a worthwhile sum to risk."
Dirk read through the contents about the escaped Mage.
"... Prince Ulkar's knight Phoenix, traveling with the barbarian 'Red Bear'. Sailing west..."
"Those two are the problem. The bloody swordsman and the Red Bear."
While Dirk frowned and tilted his head, the handsome man continued.
"From the stories, well, they're not exactly monsters. A swordsman who can massacre dozens with one stroke, a barbarian who pulls out an ogre's neck."
After reading the description of the targets and their companions and tilting his head for a while, Dirk scratched beneath his eye patch and replied.
"They don't seem easy... Are you planning to step in personally, Captain?"
"Of course. It's a big job."
The handsome man stood up and ran his hand through his hair.
"But why did they go west? What's in the west?"
"Aren't they trying to escape to the Empire?"
"Well. Oh, and investigate this guy named Phoenix more while in the city."
"The bloody swordsman?"
"Right. The bloody swordsman, the crimson beacon... What else did they say?"
Dirk examined the records about Phoenix.
"The Silver Prince's red knight, the beheader, the witch's protector... Huh, these local people sure love making nicknames."
"There might be one more."
"What?"
At that moment, urgent footsteps approached and someone knocked on the door.
"Captain, it's Tobias!"
"Come in!"
Seeing Tobias's expression as he entered, the handsome man instantly sensed something was wrong.
"What happened?"
"The person you told me to bring. The owner of the Ship Horn Inn."
"And?"
"He's dead."
At Tobias's words, the handsome man's eyes grew sharp.
"Dead?"
"Yes. The body was just discovered."
"Why suddenly?"
"I'm not exactly sure..."
Tobias continued with a somewhat strange expression.
"The body was found by a young girl who was screaming that it was the artist's doing."
"...The artist?"
"Yes. Well, something about tearing limbs and taking blood..."
"Ha."
The handsome man's mouth twisted. It was a savage smile resembling a wolf's.