Book 5: Volume 4 Chapter 17, Destroying the Escape Route

Translator: Kazumi

Editor: Silavin

 

Oscal had only stepped out of his office long enough to receive a visitor.

 

When he returned to his desk, he found an envelope that hadn’t been there before. It was blank on both sides.

 

He turned it over in his hands. It felt like documents. He assumed, without thinking much of it, that a subordinate had left it for his attention, and opened it.

 

There were more than a dozen sheets inside.

 

He glanced at the first page and his expression completely changed.

 

The transformation was visible only because no one else was in the room. For Oscal, a man known for an almost unnatural capacity to conceal his reactions, it was a remarkable thing to witness. But it quickly passed . By the time he had steadied himself, his face had returned to its usual calm.

 

He worked through every sheet, one by one. By the end, his expression wasn’t merely controlled at this point, it was completely blank.

 

He placed the documents back into the envelope and, following the instructions he had just read, walked to the bedroom.

 

The bedroom was supposed to be empty. It was not.

 

A figure in black was waiting there, motionless.

 

Oscal studied the man for a moment, then spoke in an even voice.

 

“…What is your goal?”

 

He had been led here by information carefully selected to exploit his specific vulnerabilities, left on his desk in a place he would be certain to find it. It was a roundabout method. However, roundabout methods were chosen when there was still room for conversation. That was what Oscal believed, and it was why he asked that question.

 

The man in black answered briefly.

 

“Stay away from Smit. That is all I want.”

 

Oscal paused.

 

“…What?”

 

He recovered quickly, composure sliding back into place, and moved to begin negotiating. But the man in black raised his right hand in a small and calm gesture.

 

“Questions and negotiations are pointless. You have two options: withdraw from Smit, or don’t. If you choose the latter, this information will reach the appropriate parties.”

 

Oscal went quiet.

 

His expression did not move, but his mind was working rapidly. He did not know the man’s ultimate goal. However, the demand itself was very clear, and he had far too much history with the matter to refuse it on principle. A more dangerous possibility presented itself to him, and he was already beginning to reach toward it mentally…

 

“I’ll tell you now,” the man said, as if he had simply read the thought aloud, “it would be useless to gather the mansion’s guards. Even if I fell here, my comrades would carry this out regardless. You can’t possibly believe I gathered all of that information alone, did you?”

 

Oscal nearly let a sound of frustration escape. He pressed it back down.

 

The man was right. Someone who could gather that much intelligence single-handedly was already beyond the mansion’s security. And if there were others behind him, the calculation changed.

 

Oscal stood in silence for a long moment, holding the man’s gaze. Then, slowly, his shoulders settled.

 

“…I understand.”

 

“Good. I’m glad to hear a sensible answer.” The man in black turned toward the window as he added. “This arrangement isn’t limited to this one incident. Until next time.”

 

“Wait–!”

 

He was gone before Oscal could finish the sentence, slipping through the window and disappearing without a trace. He had not seemed to notice Oscal calling after him.

 

What Oscal had wanted was a promise. He wanted some assurance that the documents wouldn’t be used as leverage again. He hadn’t been given the chance to ask for it though. There had been no negotiation, no opening, no moment where he might have shaped the outcome. Only the other party’s terms, which had been delivered and forcibly accepted.

 

He stood in the empty bedroom, staring at the window for a moment. Then he let the documents fall from his hand onto the floor.

 

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“Boss! It’s bad! Kurta’s been destroyed!”

 

“What!?”

 

The room erupted. The subordinate who had burst in breathless was barely finished speaking before voices overlapped, everyone reacting at once.

 

Kurta was the common name for a dark guild operating in a neighboring country. Its formal designation was meaningless to anyone in their world; they used only the names that carried understanding. And the fall of Kurta meant the loss of something vital: the flow of information on caravan and troop movements crossing from that country. A significant portion of their income depended on border crossings. Without that intel, they were operating blind in a direction they had always taken for granted.

 

The noise in the room swelled louder than it had when the capital’s stronghold fell.

 

The leader brought his fist down on the table.

 

“Quiet.”

 

The crack of it cut through the room. When he looked up, all eyes were on him.

 

“You should have understood the shape of things when the capital and Gabont were taken down. What matters now is ensuring this place doesn’t fall next. That is our only priority.”

 

The words settled something in the room. The subordinates who had risen from their seats slowly returned to them.

 

Satisfied that he had steadied them, the leader moved toward the hall.

 

“I’m locking myself in my room for a time. Don’t disturb me. More than anything else, hold this place.”

 

“Yes, sir!”

 

The collective reply was sharp and strong. He nodded at it with a composed expression, turned, and walked away.

 

The door to his room closed behind him.

 

“Damn it.”

 

The composure fractured the moment it was no longer needed. He had been acting calm for their sake, and nothing more. The fall of Kurta cut deeper than any of his subordinates understood. It was not merely the severing of an intelligence channel.

 

He moved quickly to a concealed location and retrieved the communication device he kept there, handling it with carefulness.

 

But…

 

“Move. Come on, move.”

 

The device did not respond as it should. Worse, it emitted a faint red light.

 

Red meant something had gone wrong on the other end. Or that communication had been completely refused.

 

A worst-case scenario assembled itself in his mind, piece by piece.

 

The ties to the neighboring country, the unseen support that had sustained them from behind the scenes, might already be gone.

 

He held that thought carefully, measuring it. It did not necessarily mean the organization was finished. Ichii and Nilni, their primary revenue sources, remained intact. Those two bases alone were enough to keep things running.

 

But if that was all they had left, he could see the shape of what came next. It would be attrition, one base at a time, until nothing remained.

 

Their retreat had been cut off. There was no longer anywhere to fall back to.

 

He had stopped doubting who was responsible. The Royal Family’s shadows had done this. They have been doing this, systematically, since the capital. The question now was whether they could hold against an organization that had already taken the capital, Gabont, and Kurta in succession.

 

He turned that question over and over, searching for an answer that would hold.

 

He couldn’t find one.