Eyes That Turn You to Stone
I gripped the dagger tightly, every sense in my body sharpened by razor-wire tension.
I rose from the bed without a sound and crept toward the door.
I even held my breath.
Creak. Creak.
The footsteps were heading straight for my room, drawing closer with every second.
Thud. Thud.
Someone knocked on the door with a heavy fist.
“Rookie.”
It was Senior Jake’s voice.
“…Yes, senior.”
But I couldn’t afford to drop my guard.
I pressed myself harder against the wall beside the door.
“Assembly order. Change and get out here immediately.”
Senior Jake spoke in a clipped, urgent tone, then moved on to knock on the next door.
Soon after, footsteps erupted all over the floor as the rest of the residents jolted awake.
“Whew.”
So it really was happening.
I activated the artifact, changed into clothes that matched Lunelk Ainz’s appearance, and headed for the assembly point.
“What’s going on?”
“No idea. Emergency meeting in the main building. They told us to stand guard in the corridor.”
“An emergency meeting?”
The place Action Squad 13—including me—reached was the third floor of the main building, where the grand conference room and the duke’s office were located.
The meeting had apparently already begun. In the dim, chilly corridor outside the conference room, other squad members who had arrived first stood at attention, eyes sharp.
“You. Here.”
Senior Jake kept his voice low and positioned me directly in front of the conference room doors.
Why here, of all places?
I frowned, ready to protest, but he silenced me with a sharp look.
He was clearly dumping the worst spot on me because he was scared to stand there himself.
Cheap. So damn cheap.
With no choice, I stood guard beside the door and studied the faces of those who had arrived before us.
They were all pale with terror, as if they already knew exactly what was happening.
A bad sign. A very bad sign.
An emergency meeting in the dead of night and every face twisted with fear.
What on earth is going on in there?
But the massive conference room doors were tightly shut, and the soundproofing was unnervingly excellent.
Time crawled by. Just as the tension in my shoulders began to loosen—
The conference room doors opened without a sound.
Yet what hit me before the realization that the doors had opened was the sharp, metallic stench that stabbed my nose.
The smell of blood.
A scent far too familiar to me, and just as repulsive, drifted through the gap in the opened doors.
Then a man stepped out.
Exceptionally tall, with wavy brown hair tied high, sharp dark green eyes hidden behind glasses, and a coldly compressed mouth.
Dupont Clancher, right-hand man to Duke Killian Knox.
I had seen him countless times in documents during my time in the Wickers intelligence unit, but this was my first face-to-face encounter.
Without thinking, I looked straight up at Dupont Clancher.
That was my mistake.
“You.”
The moment our eyes met, Dupont Clancher crooked a finger.
“M-me?”
When I asked back like an idiot, one elegant eyebrow slowly rose.
“Follow me.”
Ah, this feels wrong.
With no other option, I dipped my head slightly and trailed after Dupont Clancher.
The instant I stepped fully inside the conference room—
“Hup.”
I reflexively held my breath.
The room was packed with people wearing Knox uniforms.
Organization members lined the walls of the enormous conference hall, high-ranking officers seated along the long table, and executives occupying armchairs arranged in a circular formation at the front.
The oppressive aura was so thick it felt like it might crush anyone ordinary the moment they stepped inside.
But that wasn’t why I had gasped.
It’s not from just one person.
I should have realized sooner.
The stench of blood saturating the conference room was far too dense. No single body could produce a concentration this heavy.
I pretended to cover my mouth and quickly scanned the interior.
Roughly three hundred organization members were present—only a tiny fraction of Knox’s full force.
These had to be the elite.
So why were they all gathered at this ungodly hour?
The people along the walls and tables, faces drained of color, were all staring in the same direction.
Over there?
I followed their gazes to the executives.
There were seven executives in total. Though this was my first time seeing their faces in person, I had gathered information on them relentlessly while in Wickers, so they felt as familiar as old neighbors.
The executives lounging in their armchairs in various postures all came from vassal families that had served Knox with unwavering loyalty for generations.
And now, three of those seats were empty.
One belongs to Dupont Clancher, who stepped out to summon people. Another must be that kid.
I already knew the royal guard captain referred to as “that kid” had left the capital several months ago.
Which means the last empty seat belongs to… Grayer Knox.
As his surname suggested, unlike the other executives, Grayer Knox was a member of the ducal family itself. He was Killian Knox’s uncle and had overseen the intelligence division since the previous duke’s reign.
I was still wondering why I couldn’t see that stupid old man I had clashed with most often when—
A figure in a Knox uniform slowly rose from the shadows.
No. He wasn’t rising on his own. Someone was gripping his neck and lifting him bodily into the air.
His feet kicked desperately, no longer touching the ground, but it was clearly futile to escape that grip.
“S-save me… kugh!”
Crack—!
Before the desperate plea could finish, the sickening sound of bone and flesh crushing echoed through the room.
His neck snapped like a clay doll. Life left him, but the horror wasn’t over.
Splash!
The torn-off head rolled across the floor as a red rain poured down inside the conference room.
Beyond the body that collapsed with a dull thud, I saw another man kneeling in the center of the circle formed by the executives.
…Grayer Knox.
The owner of the final empty executive seat.
“I-I’m sorry, Your Grace. I have no excuse… please, have mercy…”
The man who had ripped a person’s neck off with one hand now looked down at Grayer Knox as he trembled and begged for forgiveness.
“Hey.”
My vision suddenly went black.
No—Dupont Clancher had abruptly stepped in front of me. The height difference was so extreme I had mistaken it for sudden darkness.
“Go prepare the bath water.”
“Bath… water?”
What was he talking about?
“A new recruit, I see.”
Dupont Clancher frowned again, clearly displeased, and pointed to a side door built into the conference room wall.
“There is a bathroom connected to His Grace the Duke’s office. Draw the bath.”
There are hundreds of servants working in this mansion!
And they’re dragging sleeping people out in the middle of the night!
It was filthy and cheap, but Dupont Clancher was Knox’s second-in-command. A mere low-ranking member like me could be thrown out with a single gesture.
And I could not afford to be expelled from Knox.
Damn it.
Why are bad premonitions never wrong?
I had just turned toward the door he indicated when—
“The intelligence division’s failure…”
“The spy said that anyway…”
Fragments of whispered conversation from those pressed against the wall drifted into my ears.
“Ah.”
Intelligence division. Spy.
Only two words, but they were enough.
I clenched my teeth so hard they creaked and burst into Killian Knox’s office.
I didn’t even have time to look around. I located the bathroom, twisted the hot water tap wide open, and let it roar.
“This should be enough.”
My hand resting on the edge of the tub was trembling.
The man in the uniform whose neck had been torn off.
“A spy… He was a spy.”
No wonder Grayer Knox had been shaking so violently while begging Killian Knox for mercy.
Preventing spies from infiltrating Knox was the intelligence division’s responsibility.
And it seemed Killian had personally rooted out the spy Grayer had missed.
Of the seven executives, Grayer Knox was the one I knew best. He had been the head of Knox’s intelligence division—the one I had waged an information war against while in Wickers.
He had been moderately incompetent and moderately lazy, making him a relatively easy opponent.
So it wasn’t surprising he had missed a spy, but—
No. That wasn’t the point.
My mind was a hopeless tangle, filled only with the gruesome image of the spy being ripped apart moments earlier.
If you’re caught, that’s what happens.
Killian Knox’s infamous brutality was clearly no exaggeration.
Perhaps, compared to Knox, Wickers had been almost humane.
I must never meet him face to face.
I might be able to fool the eyes of the intelligence division under Grayer Knox, but I doubted I could fool Killian himself.
Still, I had to finish the task Dupont Clancher had given me and get out.
Whatever. I don’t care anymore.
I cranked the cold water on full blast too, desperate to leave this place even a second sooner.
And why is this bathtub so ridiculously oversized!
“Done!”
My toes were shaking as I waited. The moment the water reached a decent level, I shut off both taps.
Now I can leave!
I swallowed a sigh of relief and took a step when—
Bang!
The heavy bathroom door flew open as lightly as paper, and a man stepped inside.
Step. Step.
I saw the red footprints he left with every stride. The sharp killing intent made me lift my head without thinking.
And I met a pair of golden eyes head-on.
It’s Killian Knox.
Ah. So that’s why they called him a dragon’s descendant.
Those eyes weren’t human. The vertically slit pupils and brilliant golden irises truly looked like a dragon’s, piercing straight through me.
They say if you look into Killian Knox’s eyes, you turn to stone where you stand.
I had once heard it as a joke.
I needed to move.
I needed to lower my head right now.
But my body refused to obey.
I couldn’t even tear my gaze away, as if it had been taken prisoner.
Silver hair gleaming like a meticulously honed blade. Straight brows. Deep-set eyes and a high, proud nose bridge.
His well-shaped lips and the blood splattered across porcelain-smooth, pale skin somehow looked obscene.
The slightly disheveled hair and open collar radiated an arrogant, decadent beauty.
When I had gathered information on Killian Knox while working for Wickers, the word that appeared most often was “crazy.”
I had thought it referred to his personality.
But perhaps it had simply meant his appearance was insane.
Such a ridiculous thought floated through my dazed mind.
Step. Step.
“…Huk.”
When Killian Knox, who had paused briefly, resumed walking and passed right beside me, my blocked lungs finally opened.
Once I could breathe again—even if it was pathetic panting—my mind cleared.
I have to get out of here right now.
With nothing but that thought, I walked while erasing my presence as much as possible.
My heart felt ready to explode with every step.
Just as I was about to cross the bathroom threshold—
A chill raced down the back of my neck, exposed by my short hair.
Then a low, languid voice with a metallic edge called out to me.
“You there.”
