Chapter 60
Chapter 60
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Shadows of Brent's Protection Zone
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The merchants in Brent's protection zone gaped, wide-eyed, as the capital's nobles came charging in with their boisterous energy. Some had already spotted a foolish noble they could fleece for a quick profit.
As far as Dever could remember, he had never once set foot in this alley. To him, this place was his ancestors' shame, an unwanted family curse.
'Dever. If you want to claim the most precious thing, you must know how to wade into the vilest filth.'
Could that even be called a lesson?
Brent's secluded protection zone, reeking of sordid scents, had long been whispered about among those with deep pockets.
"What an honor for such a noble guest to grace our humble corner."
The veterans of this alley recognized Dever immediately. How could they not? Just the sight of his hair color had countless folks in Brent's protection zone licking their chops.
They had made good money back when Cassius was around, but ever since Dever took over the family, their income had been cut in half.
Unlike the rumors, he seemed to play the chaste noble, but who would have thought he'd show up here today?
"What does my lord desire?"
The man with the rough beard covering his face called Dever "lord" without hesitation. In this line of work, anyone with money could be more than a master—they'd worship you like a god.
"Beth."
Ah, the man's face lit up with knowing glee as he winked.
"Looking for a woman, eh?"
"There's a Beth here?"
Beth? Was there a girl by that name? The man furrowed his wrinkled brow. But soon enough, a sly grin spread across his face.
"We've got Beth, sure, but also Rachel, Diane, Ruth—plenty to choose from. If you want, I can even get someone fresh across the border—"
"Bring me Beth."
"Yes, Beth it is. Got it. Turn that corner up ahead; there's a door. Wait inside."
The man chimed in eagerly, ushering Dever further in. He couldn't risk letting a once-in-a-lifetime chance slip away.
Beth, Beth. The man muttered to himself as he headed off in the opposite direction.
The entrance to Brent's protection zone was a single narrow alley, but once inside, it sprawled out like an anthill in all directions.
Visitors here picked a path like a child choosing a toy—whatever caught their fancy. No matter where they went, rare pleasures unavailable even in Wayne awaited them all the same.
It was a place free of fear or hesitation.
Dever watched his fellow guests vanish one by one into the branching alleys. Drunken bodies staggered along, driven solely by base desires.
Creeeak.
The door swung open, unleashing a thick cloud of perfume. Was it laced with aphrodisiacs? His head throbbed, and a feverish heat rose.
"Damn it all."
Dever leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
His body didn't succumb easily to ordinary drugs anyway. And that cursed flesh of his had only worsened after Beth vanished.
He could barely catch an hour or two of sleep a day. Come dawn, nausea would surge until morning, and even a brief doze brought Cassius's phantom to jolt him awake without fail.
Procuring the drugs was no trouble. After all, the emperor's "protection" had played a part in his current state.
But not yet.
Just a little longer.
His medicine was locked away in the deepest drawer of his bedroom.
Dever knew why he endured these hellish nights. He knew why he tormented himself so foolishly, too.
He was waiting for Beth Jens.
Everything would be resolved once she appeared.
It was something only she could fix.
He mocked himself for such a romantic excuse, yet the locked drawer remained unopened.
Knock knock. A rap at the door.
Dever straightened from the wall.
Was this fear? Anticipation?
He dreaded that the one stepping through might not be his Beth, yet her face would surely bring joy all the same.
"Come in."
The door creaked open, and in walked a woman with long, flowing hair. The man was with her.
Her hair burned red like fire.
"How in the world did you know, Your Grace? Ha ha. I didn't even realize we had a Beth here. Go on, say hello."
"Duke—"
"Your name is Beth?"
His voice crawled gloomily across the floor.
The man and woman flinched, exchanging glances.
"Y-yes. This is Beth."
"How dare you."
In an instant, Dever seized both their throats with his hands. Brutish, overwhelming strength.
"Guh! Ack!"
"Agh, D-Duke!"
A laugh escaped him.
How could he have even imagined she might be here?
The two stared at the madly laughing Dever in abject terror.
"How dare you use her name."
Dever shook off his hands like ridding them of filth. Only their gasping filled the dim chamber.
"Make sure the name Beth is never uttered here again."
"Gasp, gasp, y-yes, right away."
The woman bolted for the door.
"Hey! Hey!"
No chance she'd come back, even if the man yelled.
Having lost even his chance to flee, the man slunk glances at Dever. He couldn't fathom why he'd come here.
Just then, a mumbling voice drifted through the open door. It was hard to tell if it was soliloquy or conversation—an old woman's mutterings.
"Ugh, again, again, these fools crawling in."
The tap-tap of a cane grew closer.
"That old hag!"
With the already moody lord on edge, the last thing he needed was a visit from some useless crone. The man yanked the door handle.
But the old woman's cane was a touch quicker.
Dever lifted his gaze from the blunt-ended staff. The hunched woman, bent more than halfway over, peered left and right—like a dog sniffing out something new.
"Can't see, can you?"
At Dever's voice, the old woman snapped her head up. Up close, both her eyes were milky white.
"Eh, hm? This voice... feels familiar, like I've heard it somewhere."
"You damned old bat! This gentleman's new here!"
The man barked, but the old woman paid no mind.
Her cane tip advanced into the room with each step.
"Ah, when you can't see, other senses sharpen. Hm, hm. Smells like booze, but your clothes... carry a fragrance."
The old woman grinned.
"You didn't come here drunk. You've got another purpose."
Her trembling voice suddenly sharpened.
"Oh dear, Your Grace, forgive us. This old woman's been senile for a year now, rambling all over. Come on, out with you!"
"Who're you calling crazy? I'm Elizette Bamer! The great Elizette Bamer, gone mad? Ha!"
"Elizette Bamer...?"
Elizette Bamer.
Beth's sole beneficiary of her death benefits.
The horrific question he'd buried resurfaced. Was Beth really here?
"Does this old woman have any children?"
"Ch-children?"
The man's eyes widened at the sudden question.
"No. She's been in this place since she was young, doing... well..."
The man mimed injecting his arm.
"That sort of thing. Nothing like that at all. Rumor has it she's so prickly, no man or woman could stay by her side, let alone kids."
"I see. And her finances? Any record of receiving death benefits or regular large sums?"
"Large sums?"
The man let out a hollow laugh. What an odd question.
"We keep this old bat around out of pity since she can't even pay for her fixes. No big money—barely enough for her grave."
The man grumbled resentfully.
"Fine. Get out. You stay."
Dever's dismissal was aimed at the man.
Puzzled but fearing for his neck, the man bowed obsequiously and scurried out.
"Y-you must have many secrets, sir."
The old woman bared her sparse teeth in a grin, her curly white locks swaying every which way.
"How did you know?"
"If you wanna chat with a senile old hag, that makes you someone with secrets."
The old woman chuckled and squatted down.
"Beth Jens."
"Hm?"
"I'm looking for Beth Jens. Do you know her?"
"Be-Beth...? Beth...?"
The old woman's wrinkled lips quivered as she murmured "Beth." Then, suddenly, her face twisted in fury as she bellowed.
"How should I know? Me! I've rotted away here my whole life!"
Dever gently grasped her bony shoulders, massaging them soothingly. Her outburst gradually subsided.
"A girl with black hair. Probably an orphan. Have you ever seen her, even once?"
"B-black hair? Black hair, black..."
Her milky eyes spun wildly.
Then, abruptly, they froze in midair.
"There was one."
The old woman rummaged through her memories. Amid the shattered fragments like broken glass, something hazy rose like heat shimmer.
"A skinny little black-haired girl."
She strained to grasp the faint tail end.
"I raised her. Pretty, smart kid."
"Keep remembering."
Dever's neck veins bulged with urgency.
"The girl had no name. Just 'baby.' That's what I called her."
"Did she ever come looking for you after she grew up?"
"...Huh?"
The brief clarity crumpled from her face again.
"I don't remember! I don't! Help me! This guy's killing me!"
"Remember!"
At Dever's explosive shout, the old woman began trembling violently. Tears streamed as she clasped her hands in plea.
"P-please spare me. Sp-spare me, milord. Milord, mercy."
Dever swept a hand over his gaunt face.
Men who had opened the door at the sudden yells froze at the sight of the duke.
"I'll return at dawn tomorrow. Have her wits back by then."
Leaving the impossible order to restore the senile old woman's mind, Dever escaped the stifling chamber.
Even after twisting through the winding alleys, the fishy stench unique to Brent's protection zone lingered.
Only when he reached an empty corner of his barren territory did Dever finally exhale the breath he'd held.
Day after day of grasping at shadows, touching nothing in the end.