Chapter 485: Unscrupulous
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 485: Unscrupulous
"You seem to be in high spirits, sir?"
After meeting at the designated location, the Rat King watched Muen approach with a spring in his step and asked out of curiosity.
"Of course."
Muen, who had shifted back into the persona of Mr. Bruce, turned around. A smile he couldn't quite suppress played across his deep, cold, and solemn features.
"Count yourself lucky, Sam. I’ve found you some truly formidable backup this time."
"Backup?"
A sharp glint flashed in the Rat King’s eyes.
He had assumed Mr. Bruce’s mid-journey infiltration into that mansion was for personal business, but he hadn't expected it was to secure reinforcements.
"For someone of your stature to call them 'formidable,' they must be a truly powerful figure."
The Rat King bowed sincerely in gratitude. "I imagine you must have paid a significant price to enlist their help."
"The price... actually, there wasn't much of a price."
Muen rubbed his backside, secretly wincing. "My rear just hurts a little, that's all."
"Huh?"
The Rat King was stunned.
His rear hurts?
The Rat King stared blankly at Muen’s backside, noticing the slight limp in his gait. In that instant, it was as if he suddenly understood something.
Lord Bruce actually has... those kinds of preferences?
And... he’s the one on the receiving end?
This is truly...
"You seem to be thinking something very rude."
Muen suddenly turned back, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Don't get the wrong idea. I was just kicked by a certain cute, tsundere woman."
"I-Is that so? Haha, actually, that’s exactly what I was guessing."
The Rat King gave a strained, awkward laugh, quickly flushing those inappropriate thoughts from his mind. However, his gaze still uncontrollably flickered toward Muen’s backside a couple more times.
"Have you finished gathering the men?"
Muen spoke suddenly, cutting through the Rat King’s wandering thoughts.
"Rest assured, while you were handling your business, I wasn't idling."
The Rat King’s expression immediately turned serious as he lightly clapped his hands.
In the previously silent and deserted night alley, faint sounds suddenly arose.
It was the sound of footsteps, the rustle of fabric, and the overlapping rhythm of breathing.
Muen’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he turned to look.
One by one, figures emerged silently from the depths of the alley.
Some wore tattered padded coats, others wore relatively clean tunics; some had filthy aprons tied around their waists, while others were simply in their pajamas.
Judging by their attire, they didn't look like gang members who lived by the blade, but rather like ordinary residents of the Lower District.
They could have been street beggars, dockworkers, roadside vendors, or butchers. On a normal day, they were no different from anyone else, scurrying about and worrying over their livelihoods... but now they were gathered here, clutching blood-stained weapons, their eyes gleaming with a predatory excitement.
These were a true pack of rats—rats who knew how to hide their claws and fangs very well.
"I haven't contacted the inner circle of the Rat Society for the time being, because I can't be sure who might have already defected to the Old Ghost. But..."
The Rat King grinned. "In a godforsaken place like this, where betrayal and conspiracy are as common as drinking water, a man has to keep some strength that truly belongs to him, doesn't he?"
"Ho, it really is... very much in the style of the Lower District."
Muen scanned the crowd and noticed that some among them possessed quite decent strength. He pressed down on his formal hat and clicked his tongue in admiration.
"In that case, I can't let myself be outdone."
He picked up a voice transmission stone and dialed a specific frequency.
"Bring the items over."
"Understood."
From the other side of the stone came a stiff, mechanical reply.
Yet, before the voice could even dissipate into the night wind, the sudden neighing of horses shattered the silence of the late hour.
A pitch-black carriage appeared in everyone's sight.
"This is..."
The Rat King asked in shock. From the two deep ruts the carriage left in the muddy ground, he could feel its immense weight.
Furthermore, the faint aura of some sort of trigger-based magic seal emanating from the black carriage made his scalp tingle.
"It's nothing."
Muen tapped lightly on the carriage.
As one side of the carriage compartment opened automatically, the Rat King felt a rush of cold steel and killing intent. His expression shifted from slight shock to total, slack-jawed bewilderment.
Arms!
This was a goddamn carriage full of military-grade hardware!
The Rat King’s hand trembled as he reached out to stroke the cold metal. He confirmed that this compartment, stuffed to the brim, indeed contained military weapons that were usually priced by the individual component in the Lower District... Now, even his heart began to tremble.
"Stay calm, Sam."
Muen casually picked up a military magic bomb and weighed it in his hand a few times while the Rat King’s eyelids jumped. Muen smiled and said, "This is just some 'scrap' from the warehouse's normal wastage. No need to make such a fuss."
"..."
*
The bird landed and looked at Senior inside the carriage.
"Well?"
"My apologies. I failed."
"Failed?"
Robin’s gaze sharpened. "With your strength, dealing with a Lower District thug shouldn't have been difficult."
"What do you mean, 'thug'!"
Senior slammed the table in front of him, barking back, "You didn't tell me the target was a gang leader of the Lower District!"
"So what if he's a gang leader?"
Robin sneered. "He's just a thug with a few more men and a bit more money. What, don't tell me an elite of the prestigious Royal Mage Corps actually botched a job against a common hoodlum."
"I was almost successful."
Senior calmed down, though his face displayed a complex mix of three parts resentment, three parts regret, and ninety-four parts "I was so close" frustration.
"But at the critical moment, the target was rescued!"
"Rescued?"
Robin frowned. "By whom?"
"I don't know."
Senior toyed with the long flute in his hand. "I only know the person was wearing a black formal suit. As for his appearance... he looked like a Slav."
"Black suit... a Slav..."
Robin pondered for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. "I wondered who it was. So, that little thief who stole someone else's things finally has the guts to show his face. I thought he'd died in some corner of the Lower District, given I couldn't find a trace of him for months."
"You know him?"
Senior blinked, asking curiously.
"That's none of your business. Just do your job."
Robin fluttered its wings a few times. "Since you didn't kill him, so be it. But since you've taken our things, the work must continue. Go back to the Mage Corps for now; I'll notify you when there are orders."
"I've already done as you asked, and you still want to order me around?"
Hearing this, Senior looked as if he had suffered a great insult. He slammed the table again. "It was just a single magic device! You think I'll keep following your orders forever? Ridiculous!"
"Heh, do you think you still have a choice?"
"Even if I don't, I, Senior, haven't trained all this time just to be—"
"Take it."
With a flick of its wing, Robin dropped a thick stack of papers into Senior’s lap.
"Imperial Bank drafts. This is just the start. If you do well, the amount will at least double later."
"..."
"Work hard, Seniel Gonze. The Inner Council is looking forward to your performance..."
The robin vanished into the night.
Inside the carriage, Senior silently lowered his head, staring at the stack of high-denomination drafts. He scratched his head and muttered:
"Doing this... doesn't it feel a bit unscrupulous?"