Chapter 648: Owl
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 648: Owl
Belland, Upper District, Duvischar Street.
As a renowned residential area for the nobility, the streets here were wide and pristine. The various manors were opulent yet possessed an ancient elegance that dazzled the eye. Looking up from the smooth flagstone paths, the exquisite reliefs on the surrounding walls were so lifelike they seemed ready to spring into motion at any moment, adding a touch of vibrant vitality to the night.
Unfortunately, the area was currently shrouded in a deathly silence, as most of the manors on either side had yet to receive new masters.
Following the Great Purge—an event that had shocked the entire Empire—a persistent, nauseating scent of blood lingered in the air. The blood that had failed to wash away into the sewer system had dried upon the pale blue flagstones, forming arrogant, uninhibited patterns that resembled the howling and wailing of frenzied demons.
"Middle of summer, and it’s still chilling to the bone."
In the darkness, a spark of fire flickered in and out of brightness. Wisps of white smoke mingled with the evening mist. Despite it being early summer, a man wrapped in a heavy cotton coat cursed under his breath and violently threw a cigarette butt—which was about to burn his fingers—to the ground.
He crushed the ember beneath his heel, returning it to the darkness. But the darkness did not last; as the clouds parted, a faint, cold radiance spilled onto his face, which was noticeably pale, likely from overwork.
"Even the Empire’s nights have such a beautiful moon."
He tilted his head back, gazing at the bright orb. It was impossible to tell what image was being traced in his dull eyes, but his voice carried a heavy, melancholy sigh.
"The Empire’s moon is beautiful, but how can it compare to the one back home?"
Another figure stepped silently out of the shadows.
"Owl?"
"Hertz?"
"The mark?"
"Right here."
"The password?"
"The Lakes of Dauville."
"It really is you... It’s been a long time."
Hertz, who had arrived at the appointed time, studied the hook-nosed, weathered man with a complex expression. Though they had once been extremely close, he had almost failed to recognize him, having to rely on the mark and password to confirm his identity.
"It’s been twenty years, hasn't it? I thought you were long dead."
"Yes, a long twenty years. Sometimes I think I am dead, and that what lives in this world is merely a self-moving husk. Unfortunately, such talk is just the delusion of wandering poets. As a human, as long as you’re alive, you have to endure the bitter struggle alongside your soul."
The man fumbled inside his cotton coat for a long time before finally producing a cigarette case. He pulled out a low-quality cigarette and started to offer it to Hertz... but perhaps the expensive, luxurious clothes Hertz wore reminded him of something. The man gave a bitter laugh and suddenly hurled the cheap cigarette to the ground.
"Look at me, force of habit. How could I offer you this garbage?"
With that, the man opened a hidden compartment in the case, revealing high-quality cigars produced in the Kingdom’s Dugar District, known for their deep color and unique fragrance.
"Here, try one of these. I only recently had the money to buy a few, but I can't buy too many, or it’ll arouse suspicion."
"I remember you didn't used to smoke these."
"When you smoke enough trash tobacco, even the garbage from Crody starts to taste like a treasure."
There were only three cigars in total. The man handed one to Hertz and took one for himself, clipping the end with slightly unpracticed movements.
White smoke drifted once more.
Hertz was in no hurry to taste the cigar—which was indeed precious, though at his current status, he had long since moved past such things. Instead, his eyes flickered as they landed on a photograph in the upper section of the cigarette case.
"Is that your wife and daughter?"
"Yeah."
The man picked up the photo and handed it to Hertz with a touch of pride, a soft smile involuntarily appearing on his face.
"Yes, that’s my wife. I met her twelve years ago in a bar in the Lower District."
"She’s very beautiful."
"Haha, right? Back then, she was a fallen noblewoman from a collapsed house. She had quite the temper when she first married me. She always thought I was a loser who couldn't make money or get a promotion, which meant she couldn't afford her old high-end cosmetics or fancy clothes. Her old friends even looked down on her... But later, she became quite the homemaker. Just the other day, I used my promotion as an excuse to buy her a gift to celebrate, and she scolded me for ages, saying I only knew how to waste money. Heh... I’m telling you, once that woman starts nagging, she never stops. I doubt anyone else in this world could put up with her besides me. It’s her bad luck that she met me, really."
The man shook his head. "Truly unlucky. And pitiful."
"Is that so?"
Hertz studied the middle-aged woman on the left of the photo. In truth, she could no longer be considered beautiful. Time had left too many marks on her; wrinkles and middle-aged puffiness were the enemies of women, making her look much older than noble ladies of the same age.
However, one only had to look at the adorable young girl beside her to catch a glimpse of the fallen lady's former grace.
"Your daughter is very cute as well," Hertz said, this time with genuine sincerity.
"Right? Right!"
At the mention of his daughter, the light returned to the man's dull eyes.
"Everyone says my daughter looks like her mother, but I think she takes after me. Look at those big eyes—don't they look just like mine when I was young? Just as handsome. I’m telling you, my daughter isn't just cute, she’s smart too. Her grades have always been at the top of her school. Not long ago, she was even tested for magic talent and has already been scouted by a decent magic academy. She starts this autumn. She takes after me in that regard too; thank goodness she didn't inherit her mother's brains, or else, tsk tsk..."
The man seemed to have an endless supply of stories regarding his wife and daughter. Hertz listened patiently. This man had been his classmate and friend at the Academy, yet he had chosen a completely different path. He deserved thirty minutes of Hertz's respect.
"Ha, enough small talk."
The man glanced at his watch and abruptly cut off his own rambling.
"Time for business."
In that instant, it was as if another personality emerged within the man. His decadent aura vanished instantly, and his shoulders seemed to straighten beneath the bulky cotton coat, making him appear much taller. He rubbed his face, and his expression immediately became solemn and majestic.
This was the "Owl" Hertz was familiar with.
"These are the instructions from above."
Without further nonsense, the man handed Hertz a tourist souvenir coin—the kind that looked completely ordinary and could be bought for five Emiels in any shop in the Lower District.
"They actually used you to deliver the message?" Hertz asked in surprise.
"You’re the head of the diplomatic delegation now, with so many eyes on you. Naturally, it’s not wise to use your usual channels."
The man took a deep breath, letting the cigar smoke swirl through his nasal passages. "And who told you I was only delivering a message?"
"What?"
Hertz froze.
After a few more seconds of shock, he realized this meeting was not as simple as he had imagined. He quickly took the souvenir coin and focused his mind.
Sending his perception into the coin, he detected a faint, familiar number constructed of mana.
It was a Kingdom Confidential Code.
Hertz’s heart grew heavy. Following the established procedure, he infused mana at a specific frequency... Half a minute later, the seal broke, and Hertz was finally able to read the information within.
"This is..."
Hertz’s pupils shrank. The information Owl had delivered was completely beyond his expectations, leaving him blindsided and even terrified. "This... who gave this order? Something like this... how could it be decided so easily..."
"In the entire Kingdom, there is only one person who could issue such an order."
The man spoke calmly. "With your intelligence, can't you guess?"
"I..."
Of course Hertz could guess. He could guess with his eyes closed. He just found it hard to believe.
Setting aside the sheer ruthlessness required to issue such an order so casually...
...This instruction was no different from completely discarding all the planning he had done during this period.
It even required...
"Why?" Hertz took a deep breath, yet he still found it difficult to suppress his inner turmoil. "Why do this? This is practically equivalent to a total..."
"Shouldn't you be asking yourselves that question?"
"We..."
Hertz opened his mouth, but the rebuttal died in his throat.
Because the match during the day had indeed shattered more than half of the meticulous plans he had made for this mission.
And the instruction from that one in the Kingdom was merely the final blow.
Perhaps to that person, this was simply one of several options. If one path was blocked, they would naturally take another.
It was beyond reproach, perfectly logical.
"But... but he..."
Hertz’s lips trembled, his face pale. "He is my most prized student, after all."
"That depends on your own choice."
The man threw away his half-finished cigar and crushed it underfoot. He said coldly, "A man always has to face choices, don't they?"
*
Hertz finally left.
The man remained where he was, pulling out his cigarette case.
He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately gave up on the last cigar. He took out one of the low-quality cigarettes he had been smoking for twenty years, lit it, and took a deep drag.
As the smoke drifted, his stern expression relaxed once more. He leaned against the wall and looked up at the moon. Something crossed his mind, and he suddenly chuckled.
"Damn it."
He said:
"I almost forgot. Today is my daughter's birthday."
The man took a hard drag, and without bothering to clean up the cigarette butts on the ground, he turned and left in a hurry.
As he walked, the patrol officers on the street and the passing knights seemed not to see him at all. They allowed him to pass through the cordons of this district and reach the edge of the Upper District.
This was his new home, where he had moved not long ago.
For twenty years, he had stumbled through the Empire's political circles, struggling and crawling, yet he had never achieved much, remaining a series of insignificant minor officials. It wasn't until the recent Great Purge, which left many positions vacant, that he finally had the chance to hold a significant post and buy a small two-story house on the edge of the Upper District.
Perhaps fate was just that strange.
He took out his key and put it in the lock.
But the moment the key entered the keyhole and made a sound, before he could even turn it, the door suddenly swung open.
A plump woman stood behind the door. Upon seeing the man, she immediately began to berate him without mercy:
"You bastard! Where have you been fooling around again? Did you forget what day it is? Huh? Now that you're a big official, do you look down on me? Let me tell you, back then you were just a poor brat who couldn't even afford a meal. Besides me, who would have looked twice at a dog like you!"
The insults were harsh and unpleasant.
The man, however, suddenly grinned.
"Ah, sorry, sorry. There was a social obligation I couldn't get out of. I'm a bit late."
The man scratched his head habitually. As he expertly slipped past the woman into the house, he explained:
"As for what day it is—it's our daughter's birthday. How could I forget? Look, I brought a cake and a gift."
Seeing the cake and the gift box in the man's hands, the woman's expression softened considerably, though she continued to grumble:
"Buying a cake is enough. Why buy a gift? The child isn't that small anymore."
"A gift is still necessary. The child is waiting."
"I'm warning you, if you waste money, I won't let you hear the end of it!"
"I won't, I won't. I've always been very frugal. You know me, you know me..."
The man smiled apologetically, grabbed an apron, and began to help with the preparations.
And so, a small, warm birthday party began. Although she had told him not to waste money, this party also served to celebrate the man's promotion. Consequently, the woman had been exceptionally extravagant, preparing a table full of food.
She had even made the cream stew she had learned to cook back when she was a noble lady—a dish she hadn't made in over a decade. Her skills were a bit rusty, but it was still passable.
The daughter, who had never seen such a feast, cheered and excitedly placed candles on the cake.
The candlelight flickered, illuminating the flushed faces of the woman and the daughter. It also shone upon the table full of food, creating a scene so warm it felt like a dream.
The man sat at the table, momentarily dazed.
Yes, a dream.
To him, this was nothing more than a dream.
But every dream eventually has a moment of awakening.
The man closed his eyes.
His daughter's voice rang in his ears—that innocent, childish voice echoing as she made a wish, hoping her father could come home early every day and spend more time with her.
But in the next moment, the Owl opened his eyes.
The daughter blew out the candles.
The world plunged into darkness.
"Truly unlucky... and pitiful."
A soft sigh echoed in the darkness.
A short while later, the candles were relit, casting a flickering, faint glow.
It illuminated two pale, terrified, confused, and disbelieving faces.
Blood flowed from their slit throats, drip, drip.
Faint white smoke still drifted from the candles on the cake. Ten candles, symbolizing ten years.
The Owl casually tossed the lit candle aside. Raging tongues of fire suddenly surged upward, gradually consuming everything that had occupied his memories for the past ten-plus years.
"Goodbye."
He bid a soft farewell:
"My beloved ones."
The two-story house, which had cost the man ten years of savings, turned into ruins in the blink of an eye. Startled citizens and patrol officers rushed over to help extinguish the fire, some even shouting the man's name in concern.
They had a deep impression of this man. He was kind, honest, doted on his wife, and pampered his daughter. Though he had only recently moved here, he was already on friendly terms with many. Thus, many were genuinely worried for him.
And in the night, the man who had now reverted to being the "Owl" carried all the fruits of his twenty years of infiltration and sped away, leaving Belland behind.