Chapter 486: The Mole
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 486: The Mole
"The Rat King is still alive?"
Old Ghost sat behind an expensive antique wooden desk, meticulously stuffing premium tobacco into his solid gold pipe. Upon hearing the news, he looked toward Gentleman Gro, his eyes—marred by a jagged, hideous scar—narrowing dangerously.
"This isn't what we agreed upon."
"This... there was a slight complication."
Gentleman Gro, who had brought the news, gave a forced smile and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He bowed low in apology. "It was indeed a failure on our part, but it wasn't entirely our fault. Word is that 'Mr. Bruce' intervened and rescued the Rat King. Otherwise, you would have his head on your desk right now."
"Bruce... ah, the so-called Dark Emperor."
Old Ghost tapped his pipe against the desk, indifferent to the marks he left on the antique surface. He leaned in as Gentleman Gro struck a match to light the tobacco, taking a long, deep drag.
Wisps of smoke curled from his nostrils, making him look like a disgruntled beast.
However, he wasn't angry. He merely chuckled with indifference.
"He’s finally shown himself. I thought he was going to play the coward and hide in his hole for the rest of his life."
"This is a good opportunity," Gentleman Gro remarked.
"I know."
Old Ghost stood up and looked out the window.
"As long as he remained hidden, he was like a stone weighing on the hearts of everyone in the Lower District. Those fools who have never seen his methods but have heard the legends would inflate his image without limit, fearing him in their hearts. That was extremely disadvantageous for us."
"Rumors are always more terrifying than reality," Gentleman Gro added. "Especially when one carries a title as intimidating as 'Dark Emperor.'"
"Exactly. That is why we must kill him—and we must do it openly. I want the entire Lower District to know that it was I, Old Ghost, who killed him! I am the man who truly controls the dark side of Belland! There can only be one Dark Emperor, and that is me!"
Old Ghost slammed his fist down, staring fiercely at the horizon where the first light of dawn was breaking.
The morning glow stained the clouds crimson, a beauty that could make one sigh.
The blood of that Mr. Bruce would surely be just as beautiful.
"Has the Brotherhood replied?"
"Yes. They are willing to follow your orders."
"And the others?"
"Supposedly still 'considering' it."
"Hah? Considering? A pack of cowards only interested in profit! Greedy curs! Fine, if they want to watch, let them watch. But they won't get such favorable terms next time."
"Prepare yourselves. Since the Rat King isn't dead, we'll start the butchery with him."
Old Ghost shot a cold glance at Gentleman Gro.
"Furthermore, since you failed in that regard, you had better make up for it elsewhere. I expect our alliance to remain truly unbreakable."
"Rest assured, it will be. As your most steadfast ally, the 'medicine' we provide is guaranteed to be effective."
Gentleman Gro lowered his fat head, his demeanor remaining utterly submissive.
"We... the Inner Council will help you secure your victory."
*
The night receded as the first light of dawn arrived.
The entire city seemed to stir with life, gradually waking as the sun rose.
During the day, the Lower District didn't seem quite as perilous as it did at night.
The residents of the lowest strata had to wake in the freezing wind and morning mist before the sky was even fully bright. They moved with mechanical, repetitive steps, preparing for a day of grueling labor that would barely put food on the table.
Beggars went out to plead for coin, ferrymen headed for the docks, and bloated hags cursed their useless husbands with the most vicious language imaginable. Butchers gripped their knives and entered the slaughterhouses; soon, the shrill squeals of pigs echoed from the depths of the alleys.
These people walked through muddy, filthy, foul-smelling lanes, unknowingly treading over bloodstains from the night before that hadn't yet faded, merging into a crowd that seemed equally numb.
And a crowd was also the perfect cover.
The Rat King pulled his hat low, walking through the dense throng of people. He made a conscious effort to hunch his back and stagger his gait, making himself look like a crippled dwarf or a frail old man.
Such sights were not uncommon in the Lower District. Some circuses even featured performing dwarves, or "wild men" and "dog-men" covered in hair. He drew no attention at all as he wound his way through the streets, eventually arriving at a secluded bar.
At this hour, the bar was technically closed. However, the Rat King cautiously scanned his surroundings, and once he was sure no one was watching, he knocked on the back door.
"Who is it?"
The back door opened a crack, and a wary voice drifted out.
"Stinking cheese," the Rat King replied.
The door swung open. A bleary-eyed gatekeeper looked at the ordinarily dressed Rat King with suspicion and uncertainty.
"Who are you?"
"You don't need to know who I am," the Rat King said coldly. "Get your manager to see me."
"Yes, sir."
The gatekeeper didn't hesitate. He led the Rat King into the bar and straight to the finest private room.
"Please wait a moment."
After opening a bottle of the bar's best-selling liquor for the Rat King, the gatekeeper hurried away.
Soon, a tall man burst through the door.
The man wore only an open bathrobe, exposing a hairy chest and pectoral muscles stained with several prominent pink lipstick marks.
He looked as though he had just crawled out of a warm bed of vice, but his face showed no sign of annoyance. Upon entering the room, he stood respectfully by the Rat King's side and bowed deeply.
"Lord Rat King! Why... why have you come in person at this hour? Wait, why are you drinking this swill? Dammit! Who gave this garbage to Lord Rat King? Go get the good stuff, now!"
"But—"
"Get it from my private cabinet! Damn you useless wastes, I'll skin you all alive sooner or later!"
After berating his subordinate, the man turned back to the Rat King with a fawning smile.
"Heh, my apologies, my Lord. You had to see that."
The Rat King glanced at him, his eyes lingering briefly on the pink lipstick marks on the man's chest. He frowned imperceptibly.
"Wood, something massive has happened to the Rat Society. I nearly didn't make it back, yet you're still in the mood to roll around with women?"
"M-massive?"
The man named Wood froze, letting out a cry of surprise. "Wh-what happened? And what do you mean you nearly didn't make it back?"
"..."
The Rat King stared intently at Wood. Perhaps thinking he had done something wrong, Wood bowed even lower, incessantly wiping sweat from his brow.
"Forget it."
The Rat King suddenly withdrew his gaze. He leaned back casually against the soft sofa, crossing his legs and tapping his knee.
"Wood, the fact that I came here means you are one of the people I trust most..."
"Ah, I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare! I merely do my best to serve you, Lord Rat King. To be your right-hand man is my—"
"Save the flattery. I'm tired of hearing it."
The Rat King raised a hand. "Tell me, has anyone else contacted you recently?"
"Anyone else?"
Wood blinked, then realized the Rat King was referring to the other high-ranking members of the Rat Society.
"N-no. In fact, it's been very quiet these past two days. Some of the guys who usually like to make a fuss haven't really come by my place..."
"Is that so?"
The Rat King's small eyes flickered. "Then go contact them now."
"Now?"
"Yes. Contact them. Tell them... tell them someone is trying to move against the Rat Society. Tell them to meet me at the Rowell Casino immediately to discuss a counter-strategy."
"This..."
Wood hesitated again.
The Rowell Casino was one of the places the Rat King frequented most, and he did occasionally meet subordinates there. But... the Rat King was clearly here right now. If he wanted Wood to say that, he was trying to...
Wood suddenly shuddered and lowered his voice. "You mean... there's a mole for the enemy within the Rat Society?"
"As long as you understand. Now move!" the Rat King urged impatiently.
"Yes, sir!"
Wood didn't dare delay and turned to leave. Just then, the wine he had ordered arrived. The subordinate who had been scolded was clearly quick-witted; he didn't deliver it himself. Instead, a simply dressed but stunning woman with a curvaceous figure brought it in.
The Rat King's eyes lit up. This woman's appearance and figure were exactly his type. Normally, he wouldn't have hesitated to enjoy himself.
But now...
The Rat King glanced at the empty space beside him, then suddenly slapped his knee and barked, "What time do you think it is to be pulling this? Get her out—hiss!"
Before he could finish, the Rat King's face went pale. He clutched his abdomen, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
"M-my Lord!"
Wood, who hadn't left yet, rushed back over in a panic. "Are... are you alright?"
"I'm fine. It's just a wound that bastard left on me while he was hunting me down. It's nothing. Dammit, thinking a single mage could kill me... he underestimated the Rat King."
The Rat King's expression turned savage, and he spat on the floor.
"What are you still standing there for? Take this woman and get out! Do your job, and do it fast!"
"Yes... yes! I'm going, I'm going!"
Wood hurried out of the room with the terrified beauty. However, at the moment he personally closed the door, he looked up and gave the Rat King a long, deep look.
The door shut silently, leaving the Rat King alone once more.
He sat there for a while, and seemingly out of boredom, he summoned a waiter waiting outside.
"Take me to the roof."
"The... the roof?"
"Move."
"U-understood."
Led by the waiter, the Rat King went to the roof of the building alone.
This was actually a very famous bar in the Lower District, one of the dens of debauchery under his control. However, most of its splendor was underground. The building above ground looked quite unremarkable—just a plain five-story structure.
But in the Lower District, where single-story shacks and even dilapidated hovels were the norm, five stories was considered high. Standing here, the Rat King could look out over several blocks of the Lower District, and even see the massive bridge spanning the Gulain River.
"Heh. To think the tallest structure in the Lower District is the bridge tower of the Diswinter Bridge. Supposedly, it was built that high just to stop us 'filthy peasants' from sneaking into the Upper District. Don't you think that's hilarious?"
The Rat King seemed to be talking to himself.
During the time he spent admiring the view, Wood had already returned.
Hearing the footsteps behind him, the Rat King didn't turn around. He simply asked, "Is everyone contacted?"
"Of course, Sam."
"Hmm?"
Sensing the change in address, the Rat King's expression darkened instantly. He moved to turn around...
But a sharp, cold object was already pressed against his back.
"Wood, you... why?!"
"I've already contacted the best crematorium for you."
Wood gripped his weapon, his voice soft.
"Sorry, Sam. I'm the mole."