Chapter 164: Top-Tier Freeloading
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 164: Top-Tier Freeloading
"Young Master Campbell, the matter has been resolved."
Inside the carriage, which was permeated with a faint, delicate fragrance, Muen looked up at the balding, middle-aged man who had just returned from outside.
Night dew still clung to the man’s sparse "Mediterranean" fringe. The dark circles under his eyes were so heavy it looked as though he hadn't closed them in an eternity.
Yet, he remained remarkably spirited.
He had no choice but to be. When his subordinates suddenly reported that the son of Duke Campbell had reported illegal trading and gang warfare in the Lower District, he had nearly spat a mouthful of water into the face of another distinguished guest he was receiving.
Thinking back, the man couldn't help but wipe away a cold sweat. Thank goodness he hadn't actually spat; otherwise, his life would truly have been forfeit.
Still, it was a massive shock. He had initially feared he’d botched some previous matter and that the Campbell scion was nursing a grudge, intentionally coming to make his life miserable.
Illegal trading and gang violence were bad enough, but if they endangered the son of a Duke? If word of that reached the top, there would be no "good fruit" for him to eat.
Fortunately, it hadn't come to that.
"Viscount Guen, are you alright? You look like you haven't rested at all."
Looking at Viscount Guen, who appeared to be on the verge of a sudden heart attack, Muen couldn't help but say with a hint of concern, "Did I trouble you by disturbing you so late at night?"
"No trouble, no trouble at all! This is all in service to the people of Belland. How could it be a trouble?"
Viscount Guen gave a sycophantic laugh, wiping the sweat from his forehead that seemed impossible to dry. He produced a box from behind him.
The metal container Muen knew so well lay quietly inside. The profound runes on its surface moved like golden tadpoles, swimming back and forth.
"Young Master Muen, this is your property. We have recovered it from those gangsters for you," Viscount Guen said, respectfully handing the box over.
"Thank you."
Muen smiled as he took the box. He lightly brushed his palm over the metal container; a mechanical click sounded, and the container opened a crack.
In an instant, a terrifying pressure swept out. Muen took a deep breath before snapping the container shut again.
"It is indeed my lost item. I’ve truly inconvenienced you, Viscount Guen."
"Young Master Campbell, you're treating me like a stranger! How can you call it an inconvenience? This is my duty. If anything, I should thank you for helping me uncover the criminal acts lurking in the shadows."
"Viscount Guen, you truly are a responsible magistrate. With an official like you, the Lower District will surely see better days."
"Young Master Campbell, you flatter me. To come to the Lower District in the middle of the night to empathize with the common folk and to stand fearlessly against the forces of evil—you truly live up to the name of the Campbell heir."
"Not at all, not at all. I was just wandering around at night."
"You are too modest, Young Master. Your deeds tonight will surely be quite the topic of conversation at the banquets of the great lords."
"Hmph, those lords only know how to talk. I don't care for them. I much prefer a man of action who keeps his feet on the ground, like you, Viscount Guen!"
Muen clapped Viscount Guen heartily on the shoulder, offering his praise.
"Keep up the good work. You certainly have a bright future ahead of you."
"Haha, then I hope Young Master Muen might put in a good word for me before those great lords?" Viscount Guen looked delighted.
"Certainly."
Muen casually stowed the metal container into his spatial device, stood up, and stepped down from the carriage.
"Young Master Campbell, shall I find someone to escort you?" Viscount Guen followed him down and asked.
"No need."
"I see. Then, safe travels, Young Master Campbell," Viscount Guen said with a respectful bow.
"Don't bother seeing me off."
Muen waved a hand and vanished into the night.
As his silhouette disappeared, the smile on Viscount Guen’s face vanished instantly. He muttered something under his breath, his expression turning somewhat twisted.
But he immediately slapped his own face, and his exhausted features smoothed back into a smile.
He hunched his back, adopting a posture even lowlier than the one he had shown Muen, and hurried back into the carriage.
The carriage was not empty. Where Muen had just been sitting, a silver-haired girl now sat.
The girl was flipping through a stack of documents, her willow-like brows slightly furrowed as if she were deep in thought.
Viscount Guen didn't dare disturb her, quieting his breathing as he waited.
After an unknown amount of time, the girl finally seemed to notice the person in front of her. She looked up and asked, "Is everything settled?"
"Of... Of course. Just a pack of damnable rats and pests from the Lower District. To have wasted so much of Your Highness the Princess's time... I am truly ashamed."
"Oh? Then, according to you, those rats and pests have all been executed?"
"I... well... that is... probably... perhaps... not yet..."
Cold sweat broke out on his forehead again. Under the girl’s silent pressure, Viscount Guen felt a few more strands of hair drift down before his eyes.
His "Mediterranean" bald spot, reflecting the flawless moonlight, looked even more desolate.
"Forget it. The state of the Lower District isn't something you can change alone."
Celicia lowered her eyes indifferently, not wishing to waste more time on the matter.
"However, that fellow’s behavior was a bit unexpected."
When Muen had come to "righteously" report the crime, Celicia had been discussing matters with Viscount Guen. At the time, she thought Muen had been provoked by some ignorant fool and was using his status to teach them a lesson.
That was why she had stayed hidden to observe, intending to step in only if he took things too far.
She hadn't expected that he was actually... pulling a "rob the robbers" scheme?
It was quite amusing. Setting aside the fact that the guy would even wander into the Lower District, this skill for "top-tier freeloading" didn't seem like something a Duke’s son—who had never lacked for money since childhood—should possess.
If he wanted Ancient Dragon Heart Blood, it shouldn't have been this complicated. A single command would have seen people searching it out for him.
"But given his recent eccentricities, I suppose it’s not entirely out of character."
The corners of Celicia’s mouth curved slightly. Thinking of how he, a Duke’s son, had gone to the Lower District to play the unassuming weakling just to bait others, she couldn't help but shake her head.
But she quickly pushed these irrelevant thoughts aside, her expression turning cold once more.
"Now then, Viscount Guen, let us pick up where we left off."
Celicia picked out several individual photographs from the documents she had been reading and laid them out on the table. She then clipped the corresponding descriptions from the files and placed them next to the photos.
The photographs were all very blurry, showing only hazy shadows; some were even just sketches that looked like a child's doodles.
Yet, every time Celicia’s long, fair finger tapped a photo or drawing, Viscount Guen’s face grew a shade paler.
"The Heart-Devouring Banshee..."
"The Shadow Butcher..."
"The Sleepless One..."
"The Lake Monster of the Old Rhine..."
"And..."