Chapter 903: Death in a Locked Room
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 903: Death in a Locked Room
The carriage pulled up before a secluded courtyard.
Though the location was remote, as Muen stepped down from the carriage, he could no longer smell even a faint stench of the sewers. This indicated the area was kept meticulously clean, making it nearly indistinguishable from many of the city's wealthier districts.
He looked up and realized that the misty drizzle had stopped at some point.
Dong...
The ethereal tolling of a bell echoed from afar, causing his mind to lapse into a momentary trance.
"The bells of the Kingdom don't seem any different from those in the Empire," Muen muttered to himself, rubbing his temples to soothe the fatigue brought on by working non-stop lately.
"Huh?"
Tyren hadn't quite caught that. "What bell? Was there a bell?"
"Cut the chatter. Lead the way."
"Yes..."
Tyren walked ahead. Soon, several figures darted out from the courtyard, radiating intense vigilance. Upon seeing it was Tyren, they visibly relaxed.
"Lord Tyren? What brings you here so late?"
"I have urgent business with Lord Raskin."
"Urgent?"
"Very."
"That’s rare. I didn't think you were the type to get so worked up."
The leader of the guards cast a casual glance at Muen, dismissing him as Tyren’s attendant, before stepping aside.
"Go on then. You can see Lord Raskin yourself. But be warned, the Lord has a nasty morning temper; none of us dare disturb his dreams."
"Understood."
Tyren nodded and led Muen into the courtyard.
Compared to the heavy security outside, the interior of the courtyard was remarkably empty. It felt as though the guards weren't there to ensure safety, but rather to ensure the place remained absolutely silent.
"We got in that easily?"
Muen looked around skeptically. "And no one is even escorting us. Aren't they afraid we might do something dangerous to this Raskin fellow?"
"Ahem... probably not."
"Why?"
"Because... my strength is just a tiny bit inferior to Raskin's."
Tyren rubbed his nose awkwardly. "So, in their eyes, there’s nothing I could possibly do in a private meeting like this."
"...If they’re that relaxed, it sounds like the gap between your strength and Raskin's is more than just a 'tiny bit,'" Muen said meaningfully.
"Well... that’s only because Raskin managed to link up with a certain mysterious Great Noble!"
Tyren gritted his teeth. "It’s only because of that noble’s backing that his strength surpassed mine. You should know, a few years ago, that guy didn't even have the right to speak loudly in my presence!"
"And now?"
Muen said flatly, "Now, you, the 'Porsis Behemoth,' don't even dare to speak loudly in his courtyard. Mr. Tyren... your title as the 'Dark King' seems a bit inflated."
"...I-I told you, that was just hyperbole."
Tyren pulled his head into his shoulders.
"Of course, the bigger reason is that Raskin is no pushover. His gang went from being completely unknown a few years ago to firmly holding a spot in the top three today, and Raskin’s personal martial prowess is the primary reason for that!
"Raskin doesn't have a nickname—not because he isn't famous, but because he hates them. He killed everyone who tried to give him one! Now, everyone just calls him Lord Raskin!"
"Is that so? He does sound like a formidable character."
Muen narrowed his eyes. "I suppose I should take this a bit more seriously then."
"I hope you can handle it. Otherwise, having brought an enemy right to his doorstep, I’m as good as dead."
Tyren dejectedly walked to the door of the room at the very back of the courtyard.
In truth, he hadn't wanted to provoke Raskin right from the start. However, compared to Muen’s previous suggestion of summoning all ten-plus leaders at once, this was the less terrifying option.
A clash between the Dark Emperor of Belland and one of the local underworld's most fearsome commanders... After the initial fear, Tyren found himself feeling a strange sense of anticipation—an anticipation for the bloody intensity of the confrontation itself.
Perhaps he could even use this opportunity to rid himself of both of them at once.
"Lord Raskin."
With that thought, Tyren no longer hesitated. He cautiously knocked on the door. "Are you awake?"
"..."
There was no response.
"Lord Raskin?" Tyren knocked a bit harder. "Are you in there?"
"..."
Still no answer.
"Huh?"
Tyren frowned.
"That’s strange. Why isn't Lord Raskin answering? Is he not here? But his men are all outside."
"Maybe he's a heavy sleeper?"
"Unlikely. He’s been clawing his way through the gangs since he was a kid. You don't live this long if you're a heavy sleeper."
Tyren pondered whether he should knock even harder. But as the guard had mentioned, Raskin had a terrible morning temper. If he were to startle him awake from a deep sleep...
Imagining that terrifying scene, Tyren couldn't help but shiver.
"Maybe we should just call it a night?" Tyren asked tentatively.
"..."
Muen glanced at him. "Move aside."
"That’s not a good idea. Setting Raskin aside, if we make too much noise, his subordinates—"
"I said, move aside."
Muen’s face was expressionless. "Can't you smell it?"
Tyren blinked. "Smell what?"
"The scent of blood!"
With that, Muen ignored Tyren and began feeling around the door with both hands.
The door was bolted from the inside and inscribed with a decent defensive magic formation. It would be difficult to blast open with brute force in a short amount of time. It seemed that Raskin, whom Tyren praised so highly, maintained the good habit of locking his door while he slept.
However, a magic formation that only reinforced the door itself without protecting the lock was useless against Muen.
He reached out and plucked a particularly stiff whisker from Tyren’s face. Under Tyren’s horrified gaze, Muen picked the lock in a matter of seconds.
He was so fast it was barely slower than using an actual key.
"Let's go in."
Once the door was open, Muen didn't hesitate and pushed his way inside.
In an instant, the thick, metallic scent of blood rushed out. Muen remained stoic, but Tyren—whose face was still caught between his previous horror and this new shock—didn't know how to arrange his facial muscles, resulting in a truly ridiculous expression.
Muen ignored him and stepped into the room, scanning the surroundings first.
The windows were all tightly shut and locked from the inside. They, too, appeared to have defensive properties. As an experienced gang leader, Raskin wouldn't have left such an obvious vulnerability.
The door, of course, had been bolted from within. Before Muen picked it, it could have held off a Fifth-Tier expert for over a minute.
Windows and doors were sealed and locked from the inside. There were no other entrances or exits to the room. And yet...
Muen’s gaze landed in the center of the room. A figure was slumped against a chair, his upper body hanging limply. His face was pale, his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.
Blood pooled continuously, nearly staining the entire floor red. Muen walked over and turned the man over. Looking at the seven or eight arrows buried deep in the man's flesh from behind, Muen remained silent for a moment before speaking:
"Is this... a suicide?"