The Eight Elders (2)
"But I'm curious who provided you with information about this place."
The Eight Elders removed her glasses, her gaze sharpening fiercely. In that instant, the surrounding air felt as if it had frozen solid.
"I'll give a reward to any good child who tells me honestly."
A cold smile spread across the old woman's lips. The kindly face she had worn moments ago had transformed into the expression of a predator facing its prey.
But the bandits only sneered. There was no way a single old woman could stop them. All they cared about was quickly dealing with this nuisance and looting the Golden Wing Merchant Company's magic artifacts.
One of the bandits charged forward, swinging his sword.
"You damn old hag, how dare you...!"
The Eight Elders didn't even flinch. With a single finger slicing through the air, she effortlessly blocked the incoming blade. The sword was repelled by some inexplicable force.
"...Huh?"
Something was wrong. The bandit's eyes widened in disbelief. He had swung with all his might, yet it had been stopped by a single finger.
"Of course, bad children will be punished."
With a chilling voice, the Eight Elders' finger brushed the bandit's forehead. In that moment, a bizarre scene unfolded as if space and time itself were warping.
The bandit's eyes bulged red and unnaturally, his face flushing crimson. But that was only the beginning.
Suddenly, his entire body began to swell grotesquely.
"Guh, guaaak—!"
He screamed in agony, as if thousands of snakes were bursting through his skin from within. His body twisted in extreme torment, veins erupting through his skin and spraying blood.
Splatter—
And with that, it all finally ended. What had felt like an eternity of suffocating horror passed, leaving only blood-soaked remains.
"Now, is there no next good child?"
The Eight Elders surveyed the remaining bandits with icy eyes. No one dared even speak to her in the face of that mad, overwhelming presence. She wasn't human. She was a monster incarnate.
"......"
Terror-stricken, no one could respond. Finally, someone mustered the courage to raise a hand.
"I-I'll tell you!"
Following his lead, two more shot their hands up.
"Me, me! Please just spare me!"
"My, my... It seems there are only three good children here after all."
She snapped her fingers, and the bodies of the remaining bandits began to be shredded by an invisible force.
"Kaaaak!"
"Uwaaak—! S-spare me!"
Harrowing screams echoed through the street. Some swelled up and exploded. Others were torn apart, flesh and bone mingling until their forms were unrecognizable.
Moments later, the bloodstorm ceased, and a silence of death swallowed the street. The slaughter was over.
"Hic, h-heuk...."
The three bandits who had barely survived exhaled sighs of relief as they looked at the old woman. The demonic visage from moments ago was gone; the Eight Elders was smiling warmly once more.
'I-Is it finally over?'
The survivors' faces brightened. She spared us. Thank you. As they murmured inwardly and lowered their guards—
Clap—
The Eight Elders clapped her hands. From the distance, children began walking toward them.
"Aren't the children just adorable?"
The Eight Elders—no, Xenovia's voice had returned to that of the kind orphanage director.
"In time, they'll each fulfill their roles."
Roles? Fulfill? They still couldn't grasp the meaning of her mad words. But they didn't dare ask the monster.
"I want to teach the children so much. And for that, I thank you all."
The monstrous figure from the slaughter vanished, replaced by Xenovia bowing her head politely. Sweat beaded on the bandits' brows as they watched.
'...Thank us for what?'
They would soon understand.
The children the director had mentioned had arrived right before them. The problem was the vicious weapons clutched in their hands—terrifying tools far too gruesome for children to wield.
"Experience is vital for children. As adults, it's our duty to let them learn it."
Gazing at Xenovia's cold smile, the bandits instinctively realized why she had spared them.
"Well then, shall we begin?"
No sooner had the director spoken than the children charged forward with gleeful laughter.
The Golden Wing Merchant Company was attacked once again. The issue this time was that Bastel Hartwell had been caught up in it.
A few days later, one piece of news reached me.
"Bastel transferred all his shares?"
It was the story that Bastel had handed over his entire stake in the Golden Wing Merchant Company to Bella.
"Yes, and he's completely stepping away from managing the company," Emilia replied, bowing her head.
I gazed at her vibrant gray hair, lost in thought.
'Did the trauma hit him too hard?'
He had already been ambushed by bandits en route. Bastel, riding in the carriage, had barely escaped with his life, but the others hadn't been so lucky. In the aftermath, he became hypersensitive, overreacting to the slightest disturbance.
"Haa."
A sigh escaped me. Now he was holed up in his room, declaring himself a hermit recluse.
What had driven him to the edge?
I turned to Emilia standing beside me.
"So, why did he hand over the shares?"
"He claims he saw a monster killing the bandits during the attack."
I could only click my tongue at her answer.
"Tch."
Classic trauma symptoms. It was understandable—he'd be terrified. This was the second attack, after all. The first one had wiped out everyone in the company. And this time, he'd nearly died himself, so trauma was inevitable. The "monster" was probably just a hallucination in the heat of the moment.
'Or maybe he's even having delusions now.'
Securing the shares was great, but Bastel shutting himself away wasn't ideal for me. My plan had been to prop him up as the front while quietly siphoning shares. With him running the company and bringing glory to the family, I'd just reap the benefits.
But in his current state, he wouldn't recover anytime soon.
'I'll tell Bella to appoint a new company head.'
I couldn't run it myself—it was too inconvenient—so I needed someone to handle it in my stead.
'Bella's just support, after all.'
Now it was time to uncover the culprits behind the attacks.
"So, who's pulling the strings? Two attacks mean someone's got it out for them, right?"
But Emilia shook her head at my question.
"Bella's looking into info related to Bastel's attack. I suspect the Imperial Merchant Alliance might be involved."
Her tone was icy.
'She uses formal speech with me but calls Bella and Bastel by name.'
Whatever. I preferred she didn't stiffen up around me anyway.
'The Merchant Alliance, huh...'
If Emilia was right, it was a headache. The Imperial Merchant Alliance was practically the largest on the Elunsia Continent, encompassing top companies from the Empire and principalities alike. Massive scale.
'Were the magic artifacts the issue?'
The Golden Wing was soaring thanks to deals with the Fire Tower. But a puny little outfit cozying up to the Tower would stick in their craw. Companies trading with the Fire Tower were usually big leagues. Unable to complain directly to the Tower, they'd target the easier Golden Wing.
'But the Rosemund family was in the Alliance too. Weird.'
The Rosemund Baron was Bastel's maternal grandfather. No way they didn't know it was his grandson's company.
'Must really irk them that much.'
Not my problem to meddle in their family drama. The issue was their attacks failing. They'd keep coming, no doubt.
'Can't have that.'
I refused to deal with the hassle.
"Tell Bella to discreetly warn the Merchant Alliance."
"Understood."
Emilia left the room after replying.
In a dark room, Marquis Hoffman raised his glass and muttered.
"Who would've thought the attack would fail."
As head of the Imperial Merchant Alliance, he wielded wealth and power. But one recent snag had thrown things off.
The marquis approached the window with his glass in hand.
"I underestimated the brat's capabilities."
The night view outside was beautiful, but it didn't register in his eyes. His mind was on the failed attack.
The target: Bastel Hartwell, owner of the Golden Wing Merchant Company—Marquis Hoffman's goal.
In a way, Bastel was tied to the Alliance. He was the grandson of Baron Rosemund.
Who was Baron Rosemund? He ran one of the Empire's largest companies and was a member of the Imperial Merchant Alliance.
But that meant nothing to Hoffman. The baron had agreed to the plan anyway.
—No matter that he's my grandson, he's crossed the line this time.
Baron Rosemund had consented to attacking his own grandson's company.
"Kekeke, what a mess."
It was laughable that greed blinded him to kin. The thought made the wine taste sweeter.
As Alliance head, Hoffman prioritized maintaining the status quo. Yet Bastel had ignored it, dealing with the Fire Tower.
Sure, the Tower approached first, but Hoffman despised the company for accepting.
"Daring to back themselves with the Fire Tower."
Who wouldn't want to trade with the Fire Tower? They valued trust highly. Companies needed Fire Tower connections to even be considered, so why offer to Bastel? Still a mystery.
'Could it be because of Albert?'
Albert was the Hartwell Count's eldest, Bastel's brother. Talented in magic, he was a prospect towers drooled over.
If the Fire Tower was supporting Bastel to recruit Albert?
"Hm...."
Even so, Hoffman wouldn't sit idle. Albert's fate didn't matter—he just needed Bastel gone.
"Haha!"
As drunkenness warmed him, his mood lifted. He planned another move on Bastel soon.
A self-mocking laugh escaped as he tilted his glass—then a cold edge pressed against his nape. Someone held a blade from behind.
Marquis Hoffman's body stiffened.
"Wh-what is this?!"
The panicked marquis stammered.
"L-listen... If you spare me, I'll give you double—no, whatever you want! Please, just let me live...."
He had made countless enemies climbing this high. Desperately, he offered money to sway his assailant.
But the cold pressure remained.
"How dare you ruin the Captain's plans."
The assailant spoke dryly, then shoved him toward the window.
Crash—
Falling out, the marquis glimpsed his pusher.
'A girl...?'
In his eyes, under moonlight: a girl with gray hair.
That was his last sight. His body hit the ground with a heavy thud. The wine glass shattered, fragments scattering across the lawn, gleaming beautifully in the moonlight.