IHLRD 51

Chapter 51

His words were pointless—
the assassin’s eyes had already rolled halfway back, foam bubbling at his mouth.
Wishid clicked his tongue softly and released the grip he had on the man’s head.

The assassin collapsed beside the comrade who had died only a few minutes earlier.

Stepping over the bloodstained carpet, Wishid moved toward the window. When he flung it open, the cool dawn air swept away the metallic scent of blood before slipping back outside.

He inhaled deeply at the windowsill.

The door opened, and Cayman entered.

As neat as always, but the flecks of blood on his face revealed what he had just been doing.

“The five assassins headed for the bedchamber were taken care of by Gruel and Dana.”

Just as Wishid had expected—
assassins had come on the very first day.

To avoid having them swarm one location, he had purposely stayed in the office instead of the bedroom.

Ten came to the office, five to the bedroom, and three more in a second wave—
eighteen in total.
The last three were dealt with by Cayman.

“Clean it up before sunrise.”

“Yes, understood.”

“Oh, and be careful not to wake the little squeaker when you clean up.”

If she woke in the middle of it, she would be startled for sure.
This was the same “squeaker” who had fainted just from seeing Dana and Nana coughing blood.

If she witnessed a scene this gruesome, it wouldn’t be surprising if her small, fragile heart gave out entirely.

“I’ll be careful. Also, Wishid—
we’re looking into Duke Ventes, but it’s not easy to find any information. Not even the smallest lead.”

Perched on the windowsill, Wishid tapped his fingers.

“Could he be hiding it that thoroughly… or is it something even he doesn’t know about?”

“It’s strange how clean his record is. At this point, the latter seems more likely. Should I keep digging, just in case?”

“Yeah, keep looking.”

Cayman gave a short nod and left the office.

Wishid headed for the bedroom. He was about to walk in without thinking when he realized he still reeked of blood.

As he hesitated, the door opened.

It was Dana—
spotless as ever, not a single drop of blood on her, except her hair was slightly mussed.
If not for that, you wouldn’t think she had just fought assassins.

“Ah, it’s you, Wishid.”

“Where’s the squeaker?”

“She stirred a little in her sleep, but didn’t wake.”

“Good. You did well. Is it time for the shift change?”

“I was going to take a quick bath—your clothes carry a lot of blood scent. Aren’t you going in?”

“…I was planning to wash up too.”

“Then you go first. I’ll leave once you’re here.”

Standing under the cold water pouring from above, Wishid couldn’t suppress a baffled little laugh.

All this fuss—taking a bath before going in—
just so a little mouse wouldn’t wake.
It was ridiculous.

And at the same time, the fact that he was doing this felt foreign.

…Do I care for her?

Thinking it over, yes—he did.

It was the first time he had ever gone out of his way to consider someone else. In fact, it was the first time he had ever practiced “consideration” at all.

To put it bluntly, he was watching her moods and catering to her whims.

“Hah.”

Another chuckle escaped him.

Cold water splashed into his mouth, so he shut it again.

Once finished, Wishid returned to the bedroom. Dana left, and he lay down beside the squeaker, who was sprawled on the bed with her mouth open in sleep.

Curious, he slipped a finger into her open mouth.

“Kuhk!”

Maybe he pushed it in too far, because she made a choking sound.

Startled, he quickly pulled his hand back.

Is she going to wake?

Her eyelids twitched a few times… but she went right back to sleep.
Completely unaware that assassins had been dying right outside the door, she snored on.
So very like her.

Wishid smiled faintly and settled in.

When she instinctively snuggled into his chest, warmth spread slowly through his whole body.

He let himself feel it, and closed his eyes.

At the corner of his mouth was a soft smile he didn’t even realize he was wearing.

“I don’t think Duke Erquil is suitable for this.”

Here we go again.

Wishid lifted his gaze toward Duke Persia, who was glaring at him with smoldering eyes.

“…Duke Persia, the proposal hasn’t even been fully explained yet.”

The Crown Prince, attending in place of the Emperor, tried to calm him.

“I don’t need to hear it all, Your Highness. I’m the one who brought this motion forward.”

After briefly glancing at the Crown Prince, Duke Persia turned his eyes back to Wishid.

“Still, the other dukes don’t know—shouldn’t we at least share the details…”

“It would be best if Duke Erquil voluntarily stepped down from this matter.”

Pulled from his idle thoughts, Wishid suppressed a sigh and straightened in his chair.

“And why is that?”

“You really have to ask?”

Duke Persia sneered.

“It’s the Mage Tower, for heaven’s sake. Surely you haven’t forgotten—two years ago, you cut off the arm of one of the Archmage’s disciples.”

“Ah.”

The memory, long forgotten, resurfaced.

He’d been dragged to a banquet and kept being pestered by someone hanging around his side.
When he asked for a name, it was one he’d never heard before—
so he cut off the man’s arm.

Turned out the guy was an Archmage’s disciple, and the incident caused quite a stir.

“Didn’t the Archmage demand an arm from you in return? The only reason that didn’t happen was because the rest of us dukes and His Majesty intervened. Sending you as part of the Mage Tower delegation just wouldn’t be right, would it?”

Duke Persia glanced around as if seeking agreement.

But the Crown Prince only smiled, Duke Rode looked disinterested, and the last one—Duke Ventes—was staring elsewhere.

Useless bunch.

Internally, Persia cursed the two dukes and the Crown Prince alike.

Though his glare at Wishid could have set something on fire, he eventually gave a cold snort.

Soon enough, he wouldn’t have to see Wishid’s face anymore.
After all, the man would inevitably fall into his trap.

Wishid narrowed his eyes at Persia’s unpleasant grin.

Clearing his throat, Persia looked around again.

“Since I have the deepest ties with the Mage Tower, I’ll take on the role of envoy.”

“That seems best. Dukes, do you agree?”

Silence.

Which meant: they didn’t care.

Persia’s brow furrowed. It felt like scrambling to pick up garbage no one else wanted.

The agenda moved on immediately—
they had spent the entire previous day discussing the right to subjugate the Holy Land, so they needed to make up for lost time.

“I also believe Duke Erquil should be excluded from this next matter.”

The Crown Prince paused mid-page-turn.

“…And why is that?”

This time, the topic was the hunting tournament.

When the tournament ended, a number of changes would happen all at once, which could confuse the populace.
To ease the transition, a small festival was usually held—
and nobles took the opportunity to organize a hunting competition.

The purpose now was to prepare for it in advance.

“Has no one else noticed? Duke Erquil has never participated in the imperial hunting tournament. Not once in the past ten years. Surely he doesn’t even know the basics.”

“He may not have attended the imperial tournament, but I’m sure he’s hunted before. I don’t see the problem, Duke.”

“Your Highness, that statement sounds like you’re belittling the imperial hunt itself!”

“Haha, Duke, that’s not what I meant.”

“Let’s just leave it. I’m not interested anyway.”

Before the Crown Prince and Persia could waste time on meaningless bickering, Wishid cut the matter off himself.