Chapter 147
Chapter 147
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 147
Chapter Title: Retrogressive, Egoist, and Red (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
***
The 33rd floor of the towering building more commonly known as the Pantoriano Building than by its official name, West Palace.
In a spacious lounge overlooking the entirety of Dreytorial at a glance, two men were quietly eating dinner.
The menu consisted of delicacies made from all sorts of premium ingredients and high-end wine imported from Earth.
It was a lavish meal even mages could rarely afford, yet there was no sign of enjoyment on the faces of the two men eating it.
A quiet, serene dinner.
The silence, broken only by the clinking of dishes, was shattered by the refined-looking man with his blond hair slicked back.
“You must not be feeling well today.”
The man said, sipping his wine. An air of unmistakable nobility emanated from the way he tilted his glass.
“Or perhaps the food isn’t to your taste?”
“…No, sir. The food is excellent. It’s just… I have a few things on my mind.”
The man seated across from him replied politely.
He was an Easterner with black hair, a rare sight in this city, and every one of his movements exuded precision.
Like that of a well-trained beast.
“What could you possibly have to worry about after coming this far? Everything’s proceeding according to plan, isn’t it?”
“…There’s no such thing in this world as something going exactly according to plan.”
“Wise words for a young dragon? Hearing it from an Earthling gives it a fresh flavor.”
The blond man smirked, setting his wine glass on the table and stabbing his fork into a steak still pink with blood.
“You’re not still hung up on that station attack this morning, are you? No need to worry about that. It’s just the old fogeys’ last gasp anyway.”
“…This is no laughing matter, sir. From what we’ve confirmed, this attack was… the work of at least a dragon, or a mage of comparable power.”
The Easterner’s voice was deadly serious, but the blond man nonchalantly chewed his steak as if it were nothing.
“A mage on par with a dragon? The old coot from the south has finally lost it. He must be itching to crash the emperor’s birthday in a month.”
“…”
The Easterner silently watched him eat. Once the man had swallowed his meat, he spoke again.
“…We still have a full month before we reach the underground bunker.”
“Precisely—a month at most.”
“…Lord Palace, a month is a long time. The more elves and other outsiders run rampant, the more variables we’ll have.”
The blond man, addressed as Palace Lord, didn’t reply immediately.
He moistened his throat with wine and took a bite of soft bread before responding leisurely.
“There’s one thing I’ve realized while living as Palace Lord in this city. Do you know what that is?”
“…I’m all ears.”
“The old coot from the east is insane, and the one from the south is an idiot.”
“…”
“No matter what desperate flailing the old fogeys do now, the odds are already stacked in our favor—don’t forget that. They don’t even know we’re digging through the sewers.”
“That’s…”
“Isn’t their pointless attack on the northern station the clearest proof? Cutting off supplies first because they don’t know what’s what… classic outdated, idiotic tactics.”
West Palace Lord Jo Pantoriano declared as much.
The Easterner disagreed but wasn’t foolish enough to point it out and ruin the mood.
Just as silence threatened to return, the Palace Lord changed the subject.
“Enough business talk. I’ve already handed you full authority anyway. Just like always, go ahead and burn through as much of my fortune as you need. That was the deal from the start.”
“…Thank you for your generosity.”
“Spare me the empty flattery. Right now… I want to hear about my reward.”
Reward.
At the word, the Easterner rose as if he’d been waiting, retrieving a bag from under the table.
It contained at least ten documents—all forgeries proving Korean citizenship.
No, they were official documents issued by the Korean government themselves, making them more legitimate than anything else.
“This is…”
“Birth certificate, diploma, family registry. Once this is over, you can become a Korean… an Earthling.”
The Palace Lord examined the papers with eyes full of longing.
“This isn’t all, is it?”
“Of course not. ‘Excellency’ said to provide whatever you desire.”
Anything he wanted? The mood relaxed considerably, and the Palace Lord’s glass was refilled with wine.
“Excellency knows how to handle people. Of course, I know my limits, so I won’t ask for anything extravagant.”
“…”
“Five hundred billion should suffice for the money. Oh, in dollars, naturally. As for the rest… convey to Excellency that the rights of a ruler will do—just those two.”
“…The rights of a ruler?”
“Congressman, city councilor, governor… even somewhere like Hamgyong Province would be fine. Give me legitimate power and land. That way, my mages will follow me to Korea without complaint.”
A typical remark from a dimensional gate noble who couldn’t distinguish between nobility and politics.
The Easterner didn’t bother correcting him. He simply bowed quietly, swallowing a sneer inwardly.
“Yes, I’ll relay that to Excellency.”
***
Dreytorial at night.
Several carts pulled by massive draft beasts traversed the city, emerging from the dilapidated, stench-filled sewers.
The carts were loaded with wooden crates sealed tight, each labeled with things like “Magic Wand,” “Chainsaw,” “Pine Cone.”
They looked like smuggled goods to anyone who saw them.
But thanks to the cover of night, no one tried to hijack them before they reached their destination.
Even the thugs strutting in the back alleys and the guards abusing their authority fled at the sight of them.
Of course, it wasn’t hard to understand why.
There were no bold enough souls in the south to target smuggled goods guarded by ten armed Brutes.
In any case, the carts arrived at a massive three-story inn large enough to hold all the crates with room to spare.
“…An inn?”
But despite the name, the building’s exterior was far from ordinary.
What inn in the world surrounded itself with concrete walls topped by barbed wire like battlements, complete with an observation post on the roof?
The post even had a mount for a machine gun—like some…
“…Not an inn, more like a military outpost.”
The blue-eyed girl muttered as she carried the smuggled crates into the inn(?).
The man behind her chuckled.
“You have a good eye. This place repurposes part of a Soviet military outpost into an inn.”
“…”
“I bought it for business and remodeled it back into an outpost. Quite the interesting history, no?”
“…No, not really.”
Unlike the man’s affable tone, the girl’s response was ice-cold.
She didn’t even glance back at him as she carried her load straight into the inn.
The Brutes grumbled at her attitude, but the man himself waved them off.
“Mr. Joseph, but…”
“She’s a customer.”
“…”
“A Superhuman customer who carries gold in crates at that. Don’t forget your bonuses came from her pocket.”
Joseph added as he lifted crates from the cart.
“And women with men are always like that. You lot just chase loose skirts, so you wouldn’t know.”
The Brutes muttered about his harsh words or how he was no different, but they started hauling crates.
How many crates had they moved? By the time the draft beasts guarding the carts stamped their hooves impatiently and the Brutes were soaked in sweat.
Two familiar silhouettes approached the inn from the alley beyond.
Joseph put on a welcoming—salesman—smile to greet them.
“Oh, customer! You’re finally he—”
But his smile didn’t last. The guests’ appearance under the moonlight was far from normal.
Clothes in tatters like they’d been bombed, covered head to toe in bloodstains.
They looked like war refugees, but the customer’s expression was as usual. His distinctive golden eyes gleamed as he asked,
“Am I too late?”
Joseph couldn’t bring himself to say yes, you’re a bit late.
He just awkwardly replied that they were about to set dinner.
***
“…You raided the west side’s back-alley gangs?”
Seti asked incredulously, pulling a grenade from a crate labeled “Pine Cone.”
“My brother-in-law did all that.”
Neti replied, dipping rye bread into warm soup.
“…Why?”
“No idea.”
“Why not? You were together all day.”
“Uh… I just watched?”
“Why just watch?”
“…”
Sensing a chill, Neti paused her spoon and stared at her sister.
As expected, her sister’s face holding the grenade showed no hint of joking.
She swallowed her bread and answered cautiously.
“No, I just… thought you didn’t want me getting involved in the fights… so I only caught the ones fleeing from behind.”
“Oh, so that’s why he came back drenched in blood all by himself?”
This is bad… Neti turned for help, but Joseph and the Brutes were ignoring them, sipping beer.
No alliance, not even allies?
Neti averted her sister’s gaze as she said,
“No, he said it’s fine because of his regeneration…”
“Regeneration doesn’t erase the pain.”
“…”
Only then did Neti realize her sister’s romance wasn’t all upsides.
They say daughters are useless, but her sister prioritizing a man over family?
Well, her brother-in-law was a decent guy. But for her cool-headed sister to end up like this.
Neti turned away to stifle a laugh slipping out. Seeing it, Seti’s fine brows furrowed.
“…Neti, where are you looking when your sister’s talking to you? You think this is funny? My words a joke?”
“Sorry, but honestly, it’s a little funny…”
The next moment, Seti’s eyes narrowed to slits and she shot up from her seat—but just then, a savior appeared from the second floor.
“What? You haven’t eaten yet? Don’t wait—eat first.”
Cheon Yeomyeong, fresh from washing off blood and dirt in the shower.
He descended the stairs, tousling his still-damp hair with a towel.
At his appearance, Seti smiled as if she’d never glared.
“Wow… love really is scary.”
Neti let out an amused sigh at her sister’s instant mood shift, but Seti ignored her, sitting across from Yeomyeong.
A quick-witted Brute soon set out soup, bread, steamed Spam, and potatoes.
Yeomyeong nodded lightly in thanks, then took a spoonful of soup.
The watery slop was bland as hell, but hunger was the best sauce—it was tolerable.
Anyway, as he ate, Yeomyeong said,
“…Found the Shepherds.”
Neti and Joseph’s group couldn’t follow.
But Seti understood and frowned.
“…Already?”
“Dagall’s Shepherd wasn’t the first. At least half a year to a year… they’ve been active in the west side for quite a while.”
“What the hell’s in this city? Are they after World Tree Crystals too?”
“Purpose is still unknown. But they’re definitely scheming something in the sewers.”
She’d half-expected it, but confirmation carried real weight.
Seti asked softly, for Yeomyeong’s ears only,
“…Sewers again?”
“Yeah, a large one right under West Palace Lord’s residence.”
“…”
“I want to check what they’re up to tomorrow if possible… but the problem’s Kahal Magdu hiding somewhere in the city. Until we know where he is, targeting the Shepherds first is too risky.”
Seti nodded in agreement.
“…Then we should gather info on other areas too.”
“Tomorrow, hit the south side gangs. Piecing it together bit by bit should reveal the picture…”
As Yeomyeong finished.
The inn door burst open, and in came an orc—no, an orc carrying a human on his back.
“…Ballagu?”
Seti tilted her head at him, but Ballagu wordlessly flung the human onto an inn chair.
Bewildered, the group examined him: a Superhuman—no, a knight—drunk off his ass.
The mana emanating from him and his thick knightly breastplate proved it.
He didn’t seem top-tier given the drunkenness… but why this guy?
Before all eyes turned to Ballagu, he shrugged and said,
“That friend? He’s a knight of South Palace Lord.”
“…You didn’t kidnap him, did you?”
An unspoken question of unasked work. Ballagu shook his head.
“Nah, third round of drinks.”
“…”
What nonsense is this? Yeomyeong frowned, but Ballagu was brazen.
“Guy spills everything once booze hits. Nickname’s Leaky Mouth for a reason.”
“…”
“He’s good and sloshed right now. How about we pump him for South Palace intel?”
Instead of answering, Yeomyeong flicked a gold coin from his pocket at Ballagu.
Ballagu caught it and winked back.
***
***