🔊 TTS Settings
Chapter 27
Wisternez clicked his tongue and stepped deeper into the alley. Dion, who followed, scanned the surroundings.
“Black Cat must’ve been in a hurry. They abandoned their temporary hideout and ran off—guess they know they’re done for if they get caught.”
“Cowardly bastards.”
If they’d been even a little less careful, they would’ve been easy to catch. Still, those scum were annoyingly good at surviving.
“Inside must be in chaos. Meital says the young master went at it like he was poking at a beehive.”
“He’s good at that kind of thing.”
Once something irritated him, he’d find a way to finish it. His relentless persistence could even surprise Wisternez at times.
“Tch, what a nuisance. If only that temper of his would die, I’d introduce him to someone.”
“Introduce him to who?”
At that, Dion whipped his sword out and spun around in an instant.
“Gah…!”
He cut down an assassin in the blink of an eye, then looked back ahead.
“Has any marriage offer come in? Some brave house flashing a nameplate?”
“Marriage offer? As if I’d accept one even if they offered.”
“Pah, of course you wouldn’t.”
This wasn’t just anywhere—it was the Proud. To propose a marriage to the Kazliden who govern it? The idea was wildly inappropriate.
“But he’s pretty popular in society, isn’t he? Our young master.”
“Problem is, every time he opens his mouth he makes people cry.”
“Heh, true.”
He was one of the most handsome in Riumbel, but his temperament was the exact opposite. His mouth was notoriously rough; after conversing with him, even seasoned nobles would end up in tears.
“Who would you introduce him to? Not houses related to the throne or the Mage Tower, right?”
“There are no houses.”
“Ah. That’s even better—no strings attached.”
Although he was a noble, Dion had seen battles, both on land and in the air. He’d learned that a person mattered more than status. He held fewer prejudices than most: if a commoner became the lady of the Kazliden, the retainers wouldn’t have to worry about meddling from her natal family. For a retainer, someone who wasn’t too cunning or too stupid was ideal.
“You saw her too.”
“Me? When on earth—”
Dion’s face suddenly went wide as he tried to place a memory.
“Could it be… that rabbit-girl?”
Dion’s eyes bulged as he remembered the girl from the small house.
“Her name’s Amelia. She’s fifteen.”
“Wow, just two years younger than the young master then.”
Perfect, he thought—until—
“But I think we should investigate a bit.”
“Huh?”
What on earth did that mean.
“Investigate? Do you suspect she’s a spy?”
“Not that. It’s more that she’s suspicious in a way that could be positive for us.”
Dion grew more confused. Suspicious, yet in a way that benefits them?
This was Wisternez speaking, which meant asking for details would probably be pointless. He would defer it to another time. So Dion swallowed his unease, gripped his sword again, and moved on.
“Anyway, marriage talk can wait. For now, let’s deal with the urgent stuff.”
Wisternez stopped and tilted his head up, a crooked smile playing on his lips.
“Time to limber up after a while.”
They were being hunted by countless assassins.
“How are you feeling, Felix?”
Gilbert asked, fingering the dagger at his waist. It was a dark night; there wasn’t a single common light to be seen, but there was no one there who couldn’t see in the dark.
“Not bad.”
“Good. Tell us if anything’s uncomfortable.”
Felix nodded. He knew his own physical condition could become a liability. Thankfully, he was someone who could accept that fact—he wasn’t immature enough to throw a tantrum about it.
“As I said earlier, we’ll move in a way that minimizes unnecessary casualties.”
Even for the Kazliden, taking heavy losses would be costly. The blood purge hadn’t been long ago; many eyes were watching the family. The throne had even warned them to cool it. If this incident ballooned, someone would raise alarms. And if potions were involved, the court might intervene directly.
Felix worried most about that. They still needed to find Wisternez. If the head of the house had gone missing and the throne found out—things would get much worse. Besides, this was happening at an auction house attended by other nobles.
They already had predators waiting with open mouths to devour them.
“I’ve already scoped out the proprietor’s seat. I checked the order of auction items in advance—if we time it right, it should be fine.”
Gilbert’s plan made Meital nod.
“If we find the potion, we’ll mark its location.”
“Also check for secret passages around—just in case someone could sneak it out when we’re not looking.”
Gilbert stretched.
“I think Meital should take the front, and Felix and I cover the rear.”
Meital raised his hand.
“If so, I’ll check the proprietor’s room and signal you.”
A quick, sure strike was their plan: Gilbert would hit the front, Felix would sweep the basement on his way up.
“The auction hall is on the third floor. If it’s not underground, that means whatever they’re targeting can’t be moved to the cellar.”
That’s exactly what Black Cat was after.
“Let’s make a proper haul! Then hurry off to bed!”
“That’s the goal, right?”
Meital’s remark drew a slightly rueful look from Gilbert.
“I’ve only slept three hours a night for the past week.”
“Oh dear…”
Meital cast him a pitying glance. Felix narrowed his eyes.
“Give me a hundred billion instead.”
“When did I ever say I was tired? Sleep is for when you’re dead. While you’re alive, work.”
As expected. Felix smiled with approval. Meital shook his head at the proprietor reduced by money—normally he respected the man, but—
‘I mustn’t become like that in front of money,’ Meital decided firmly, pressing his hand to his chest.
“Ahem!”
Gilbert let out a cough that carried the weight of that ‘mustn’t’—the one he was in charge of—through the air.
“Shall we go and clean this place out?”
