The Main Office of Rad
Trading Company.
In a hidden underground
chamber accessed through a secret passage, a dozen men, dressed in black from
head to toe, had gathered.
Their black garments,
crafted using a special weaving technique, were extremely durable, and able to
withstand most attacks. While not as protective as armor, the attire was light
and did not restrict movement, making it ideal for quick, stealthy maneuvers.
They wore black hoods,
leaving only their eyes and mouths exposed. The sword hilts hanging from their
waists were dark brown, and the scabbards were black.
Everyone remained silent.
Although they were usually jovial, they knew when to act appropriately. Before
important missions, they would calm themselves in silence. While no one was
talking, their postures were relaxed. Some leaned against the walls, while
others sat on the floor.
The door opened, and three
men entered. They had not yet donned their hoods, so their faces were still
visible.
Kuhn surveyed the men
standing in line. Behind him stood Martin and Russ.
“You all know what today’s
mission entails, right?”
“Yes, Kuhn,” the dozen men
replied firmly in low voices.
“We strike quietly and
swiftly. No one is to escape. If possible, don’t kill anyone. However, if you
feel threatened, don’t hesitate. No one among us should be injured tonight.”
“Yes, Kuhn.”
Kuhn extended his hand to
the side, and Martin placed a hood in it. Kuhn and his twin brother donned
their hoods.
“Let’s go.”
As Kuhn turned, the sword
hilt and scabbard hanging from his waist were entirely black.
The carriages departing
from Rad Trading Company sped through the dark night. As it was nearly
midnight, the streets were empty.
The carriages briefly
paused on the western street before resuming their journey, now empty.
Meanwhile, the men in black seamlessly blended into the shadows, slipping into
the depths of the western alley.
Their footsteps were nearly
soundless as if they barely skimmed the ground. They had run across desert
sands that swallowed their legs up to their shins. Now, on hard stone, they
moved as if they were flying.
While most people were deep
asleep at this hour, the night in the back alleys was just beginning. Some
figures roamed like ghosts in the dark slums, serving as the area's sentinels.
The force that controlled
the alleys had its guards on watch, and the current ruler of the backstreets
was Olga.
“!”
A man collapsed without
even a chance to scream. A masked figure had struck his pressure point, rendering
him unconscious in an instant. The assailant caught the falling man and quietly
laid him on the ground.
Like outer perimeter guards
of a military unit, sentries stationed throughout the area fell silently, one
after another.
Though not highly skilled,
the sentries had sharp senses and were quick on their feet. Their role wasn’t
to fight intruders but to raise the alarm if someone infiltrated the area.
But none fulfilled their
duty. Without even letting out a brief cry, they were effortlessly knocked out.
There’s a common
misconception about the Kaligo mercenary group. People often think of Kaligo as
a brute force, a group that flaunts its power. This is partly intentional, as
Kaligo has fostered such a reputation.
In truth, Kaligo
specialized in ambushes and was most confident in assassination.
For them, honorable duels
or one-on-one combat were last resorts.
They aimed to annihilate
their enemies with minimal sacrifice. The terrifying reputation that “not even
a blade of grass remains after Kaligo passes through” was earned in this way.
The outer defenses of the
back alleys crumbled with disheartening ease.
Kaligo had extensive
experience wiping out underground organizations like this one in other kingdoms
on the continent. After all, such groups all operated in similar ways.
For people like these,
there was no concept of a last stand. The moment things turned unfavorable,
they would abandon everything and flee. If your goal was more than just driving
them out, you had to strike quickly and leave them no escape.
Kuhn’s objective wasn’t to
drive out Olga or annihilate the group. He absolutely had to recover what they
had taken.
Evita was in the middle of
a client consultation. The client was a noblewoman from a well-known family.
She had come, certain her husband was cheating but lacking concrete evidence,
and had asked Evita to find proof.
Her tears were accompanied
by the coldest demeanor. Unlike the typical betrayed woman one might expect,
the noblewoman’s gaze was sharp, and her expression, was icy.
“Make sure to gather
thorough evidence.”
"Yes, don't worry.
We're very thorough with our work," Evita said, though inwardly she
thought, Do I really need to do this kind of work? Still, the money was
good.
The door suddenly swung
open, and a man rushed in, causing Evita to frown.
"What's all this
commotion? We have a guest here," she scolded.
"Master, something
terrible has happened. Right now—"
Before the man could finish
his sentence, the door opened again. Several men, clad in black masks, strode
in. The one in front threw a limp body—one of Olga's men—onto the floor.
“Aaah!” screamed the
noblewoman. Her shrill cry snapped Evita back to full attention.
Evita slowly edged
backward, pressing her back against the wall. Her hands fumbled for the hidden
mechanism that opened a secret passage in the wall.
Swish!
A dagger whizzed past her,
grazing the side of her face and embedding itself in the wall. Evita froze in
place, paralyzed with fear.
"Aaaah! Aaaah!"
The noblewoman screamed at the top of her lungs, the sound sharp enough to make
one's ears ache.
One of the masked men
quickly threw a sack over the noblewoman's head and dragged her out. Her
screams soon faded into silence.
"It would be
troublesome if you harm her," Evita said, swallowing nervously. She was
addressing a man who had emerged from between the masked figures, parting as
they stepped aside for him.
"...Lord Kuhn of House
Raad? Or should I address you as the leader of the Kaligo mercenaries?"
she asked, recognizing the sword at his waist. All the masked men bore black
swords, revealing their identity outright. They clearly had no intention of
hiding who they were.
In a way, this was even
more dangerous than secrecy. It could mean they had no intention of leaving any
witnesses.
Kuhn calmly removed his
mask, showing no hesitation, as if he'd never planned on hiding in the first
place. Upon seeing his face, Evita felt her breath catch in her throat. The
aura he exuded was different from the last time she'd seen him, but not
unfamiliar. She remembered this chilling presence from the first time they met.
Why had she forgotten the intense fear she had felt that day?
Evita had met Kuhn several
times while taking on contracts or selling information. Few in the underworld
had seen the leader of Kaligo as often as she had.
Surprisingly, the infamous
leader was a reasonable man who paid generously for his jobs. Compared to the
obnoxious nobles who assigned petty tasks and threw tantrums, he was a
gentleman.
How foolish of me. Even I
wear different faces depending on the situation, she thought.
The man standing before her
now was not the same Lord Rad she had dealt with so many times before. He was
the ruthless butcher and leader of Kaligo, who would kill without hesitation.
It was no surprise that Olga’s
guards had been so easily overpowered. Though Olga’s base was within a powerful
empire, their military strength was weak, largely due to the tight security in
the capital. If Olga had ever posed a real threat to public order, the empire
would have crushed them long ago.
To Kaligo, Olga was nothing
more than a light snack. After all, Kaligo was infamous for dismantling
underground organizations across the borders of several countries.
Kuhn pulled out a chair and
sat down, crossing his arms as he gestured for Evita to sit.
“Sit,” he ordered with a
small nod.
Evita glanced around. The
masked men were blocking the exits. There was no chance of escape, and her
attempt to flee through the secret passage had already failed. If she tried
again, she might find a dagger aimed at her throat next.
Reluctantly, she edged over
to the table. At least the fact that Kuhn was willing to talk meant things
hadn’t yet taken the worst possible turn.
"You’re rather
intense. If you'd given me a heads-up, I would’ve prepared a more fitting
welcome," she said, forcing a saleswoman’s smile.
“You've acquired something
you shouldn't have,” Kuhn replied, his voice low and devoid of emotion.
Evita's mind raced. She
immediately understood what he was referring to.
That must be it!
She had recently come into
possession of some confidential information about the Rad family. Even within
Olga’s organization, knowledge of this was kept highly secret. Only Evita and a
few key figures knew about it. If none of those key members had betrayed her,
it meant Kaligo had tracked the information down on their own.
Is Kaligo’s information
network really that good?
The rumors that once you’re
on Kaligo’s hit list, the only way out is death seemed to be no exaggeration.
Evita kept her composure,
tilting her head in feigned confusion.
"I'm not sure what
you're referring to..."
Thud. Kuhn placed his black-handled sword on the
table, making Evita’s eyes widen. The gesture was far more effective than any
verbal threat.
"Do I look like I’m
here to negotiate?" His voice remained calm, which made it all the more
chilling.
Evita shut her mouth, her
mind racing. Only a few people knew the location of the item Kuhn was after,
and she was the only one who knew exactly where it was hidden. There was no way
Kaligo would find it on their own, as it was in a place they’d never imagine.
But if she denied knowing
anything, there was no chance they’d simply leave. If she wanted to negotiate
and receive proper compensation, she'd have to gamble on Olga's very survival.
It was a risky bet. If
Kaligo decided negotiations were too bothersome, they might just slaughter
everyone without leaving a single survivor.
Negotiation... The thought sent a cold shiver down her
spine. Her instincts screamed a warning: Don’t do it.
What a waste.
She could’ve sold the
information for a fortune.
Maybe I should’ve sold it
after all, she thought bitterly.
Recently, she'd been tempted by an offer to sell that very piece of
intelligence. Duke Rimone had reached out, wanting information on House Raad.
It wasn’t unusual for
people to seek information on Lord Raad, and Evita had always sold only what
she deemed safe. But the Duke’s offer had been different.
"Do you have anything
special?"
"What level of
‘special’ are we talking about?"
"Get me something that
could be Lord Raad's weakness, and you'll be generously rewarded."
The Duke’s house had even
promised to help her clean up her status in exchange. They had offered to make
her a commoner despite her origins in the slums, providing a very specific
plan.
"For adults, we can
register them under the records of missing or deceased individuals. As for
newborns, we can create new records each month."
People born in the slums
could never escape its confines. Many resigned themselves to it or adapted to
the lifestyle, but almost all wanted something better for their children.
Evita had been seriously
tempted. With the Duke’s influence, it was definitely possible. After all, the
Duke was the uncle of the Silver King, the most likely candidate for the
imperial throne.
If the Duke hadn’t been
called back to his territory for an urgent matter, the deal might have
progressed much further.
Sigh.
Evita let out a sigh of
resignation. She decided to trust her instincts. In hindsight, it was probably
better that she hadn't sold the information to the other party—who knows what
disaster would have followed if Kaligo had barged in afterward?
"First, I need to
check if all our members are safe," she said.
Kuhn gave a signal to one
of the masked men, who left the room and returned shortly with a middle-aged
man. The man, pale as a ghost, was one of Olga's higher-ups. Evita gestured for
him to come closer, and he did so, glancing nervously around.
"Is everyone
alright?"
"A few have cracked
heads and broken limbs, but everyone's still breathing," the man replied.
"Are you sure? If
you're lying, you'll be the first to die."
"Honestly, it might
have been better if one of them had died," the man grumbled. "They’re
all cowering like scared pigeons with their heads down."
Evita breathed a sigh of
relief. She understood the situation. If the circumstances were truly
desperate, the men might fight back with reckless abandon, but as long as there
was a chance of surviving by playing it safe, they had no qualms about being
cowards. In this line of work, shame was secondary to survival.
With no deaths, Evita felt
her nerves ease a bit.
"The item is at the
Black Roof Tavern," she admitted. It was one of the bars Olga operated.
Occasionally, they replaced the rotting floorboards, and during a recent
renovation, they had hidden the item beneath the new floor. Unless someone tore
up the floor, it would remain undetected—a secure hiding spot.
As she explained the
location, Evita clicked her tongue in regret. The secret hiding place she had
kept to herself had now been exposed. She wouldn't be able to use it again. Soon,
the information would likely spread among Olga's members, and opportunists
would start ripping up floors everywhere, hoping for a score.
Kuhn tilted his head
slightly and gave the order, "Go."
Two masked men escorted the
senior member of Olga’s group out of the room. While they waited for the men to
return with the item, Evita attempted to strike up a conversation.
"Olga is an
information network, you know. This kind of robbery violates the rules."
"Did you see the
contents?" Kuhn asked, his voice cold.
Evita widened her eyes and
shook her head vigorously. Who would be foolish enough to admit that here?
Kuhn didn’t believe her.
There was no way she hadn’t looked at something valuable enough to bury beneath
the floor. She might have even made a copy.
Evita, feeling the weight
of her guilty conscience, couldn’t muster the courage to say anything more. She
had seen the contents, and she had made copies. Her heart raced, but she kept
her expression calm.
Not long after, the masked
men returned with the item. Kuhn unrolled the small leather-bound notebook and
skimmed through its contents before closing it.
"Verify it," he
said, handing the notebook to one of his men. The masked man took it without a
word, as no one other than Kuhn had spoken since entering the room. The man
then left the room with the notebook.
What followed was more
waiting. Kuhn didn’t explain where the masked man had gone, what he was
verifying, or when he would return.
As the minutes stretched
into nearly an hour, Evita began to grow restless.
"Look, I was just
holding onto the item, that’s all. I swear. And I had no intention of selling
it to anyone," she lied smoothly.
"I was going to sell
it to you. I’m not stupid enough to make an enemy of Kaligo."
Kuhn remained silent, his
gaze on her. Encouraged, Evita pressed on.
"This kind of
interrogation, as if I’m some sort of criminal, is uncalled for. Possessing
information isn’t a crime in an information business."
Kuhn scoffed.
"Possessing treasures
beyond your means is a crime," he said.
"You—!" Evita
started, ready to argue, but she stopped abruptly as the door opened and the
masked man who had left earlier returned.
Evita instinctively shrank
back, sensing the subtle change in the room's atmosphere. Kuhn noticed her
reaction and inwardly smiled. She was sharp. She could tell that the Kaligo
men’s mood had shifted. What the man reported upon his return would determine
whether tonight ended in bloodshed.
Kuhn asked the masked man,
"Is there anything wrong?"
The masked man had gone to meet
Lindy, a member of the intelligence branch, to confirm whether the contents of
the personnel records had been leaked.
The personnel records were
written on a special type of paper using special ink that absorbed into the
page instantly, disappearing from view. It could only be read again after
undergoing a specific treatment. To further disguise the contents, false
information was written over the real data. This meant that even if Evita had
seen the visible writing or copied it, it wouldn’t matter.
Kuhn had sent the book to
Lindy to check for any signs that the hidden information had been tampered
with. Recovering the item wasn’t enough—if the contents had been viewed, no one
who had seen them could be allowed to live.
The room was thick with
tension. The Kaligo men stood ready to draw their swords at a moment’s notice,
awaiting Kuhn’s command. So far, despite taking over Olga’s base, not a single
sword had been drawn from its scabbard. They had subdued their enemies with
hand-to-hand combat or by using their sheathed swords like clubs.
The mercenaries of Kaligo
never unsheathed their black blades unless they intended to end a life, just as
a predator wouldn’t bare its fangs unless ready to kill.
"No issues," the
masked man finally answered, his first words spoken aloud since entering the
room. His response immediately relaxed the tense atmosphere among the Kaligo
members. Though it was imperceptible to most, Kuhn felt the killing intent in
the room dissipate.
The first kill order was
now nullified. Kuhn’s nerves also calmed. He was not a bloodthirsty madman.
Violence was always a last resort.
But once a weapon was
drawn, he never showed mercy. That’s why the Kaligo mercenaries had earned
their reputation as heartless and ruthless.
"Bring them in," Kuhn
ordered next.
All but two of the masked
men who stood behind Kuhn left the room, returning a short while later with
Olga’s remaining lieutenants.
Including Evita, there were
now eight of them.
Evita clenched her fists
tightly.
"Is this everyone? The
entire leadership of Olga?" Kuhn asked.
"Who’s to say?"
Evita replied, trying to maintain her composure. But inside, she was struggling
to hide her unease. It was well-known that Olga had five lieutenants. To be
cautious, two of them operated in the shadows.
But Kaligo had identified
even those. Evita felt a wave of both shame and fear wash over her.
"I can’t reveal my
sources," she said, gritting her teeth.
"Even if I die here,
I’ll never give up my informant."
Even the worst kind of
information network has an unbreakable rule: the protection of informants. Once
trust is broken, no one will provide information, and the organization will
inevitably collapse. Whether Evita and the other leaders died here or whether
they lost the trust of their informants and the organization crumbled, the
result would be the same—everything would be over. So Evita made a firm
decision: if she was going to die, she wouldn’t tarnish Olga’s reputation.
Kuhn looked at Evita’s
resolute expression with indifference.
“We don’t need the source.
We’ll take care of that ourselves,” he said.
The fact that the family’s
personnel records had been leaked meant there was a traitor within. A
large-scale emergency alert had already been issued through the family’s
communication network. They had identified the person responsible and were
likely tracking them down at that very moment. It was possible they’d already
been caught.
“But the fact that you know
we manage secret information is a problem in itself. The best way to protect a
treasure is to make sure no one knows it exists. Don’t you agree?”
Evita suddenly stood up,
leaning on the table.
“I don’t even know what it
is!” she protested.
“Unfortunately, I don’t
believe you,” Kuhn replied calmly.
“I had no intention of
selling it to anyone else. I was going to sell it to Kaligo! Would you still
have come at me like this?” she argued.
“You should have contacted
us the moment you got your hands on it. You had plenty of chances, like when I
visited recently,” Kuhn said.
“I didn’t have it then!”
Evita tried to lie, but she could feel Kuhn’s cold, calculating gaze. He
already knew everything, and it was as if he was waiting to hear what excuse
she would come up with.
A shallow lie would only
make things worse. Sighing in defeat, Evita slumped back into her chair.
“Fine. I admit it. I was
weighing my options at the time. It was a valuable treasure, and I wanted to
get the best price for it. Anyone would feel the same, right?”
Her mouth was dry. Though
she had lived close to death many times, dying here would be a pointless death.
“I’ll forget everything. We
never had that item, and you never took it,” Evita said, looking toward the
gathered leaders of Olga, seeking their agreement.
“Right?” she prompted.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“What happened today?” one
added awkwardly.
“Quite the gathering we’ve
had,” another said, trying to crack a joke but with a stiff expression. No one
laughed, and the mood only grew colder.
“So... what should I do
with you all?” Kuhn mused. He wasn’t trying to toy with their lives for fun; he
was genuinely considering the situation. Dead people can’t talk. It was a
brutal truth. To ensure the safety of his family, he was willing to bear the
reputation of a bloodthirsty killer.
The blood drained from
Evita’s face. She felt a deep chill run through her, a sense of impending doom.
This isn’t a joke. I’m in
real danger, she thought.
Instinctively, she knew she
was standing at the edge of a steep cliff. Gritting her teeth, she reached for
the back of her neck and pulled out a small pouch she had hung around her neck
by a leather cord. She placed it on the table and pushed it toward Kuhn.
“Let’s settle this with
that,” she said.
Kuhn opened the pouch,
revealing a gem that shimmered with the colors of the rainbow.
“It’s worth more than my
life, but this time, it’s for the lives of me and my people. You’ve already
recovered what you came for,” she added.
Evita found it more painful
to give up the token she’d received from her adoptive father than to lose the
confidential information.
Kuhn let out a brief
chuckle, tossing the gem lightly into the air and catching it. It was more than
enough of a reason to end his dilemma.
“Keep your promise to
forget everything. If I hear any rumors, there won’t be a warning next time,”
he said, standing up. The masked men followed him out, and the room, once
packed with large figures, suddenly felt spacious.
Evita slammed the table
with frustration as they left. She turned sharply to glare at the remaining
leaders.
“Well done, huh? What a
mess this is! The enemy barges in right under your noses, and you couldn’t even
create a moment’s chance for escape?”
The embarrassed leaders
fidgeted, clearing their throats and avoiding her gaze.
“It’s Kaligo, after all,”
one muttered.
“How could we possibly deal
with them? Not even the best could take them on,” another added.
“I’ve heard that when
Kaligo shows up wearing masks, they’ve come to settle things for good.
Honestly, we’re lucky no one died, right?” a third leader chimed in.
“Exactly,” the others
agreed.
“Get out! Go check on the
injured and make sure everyone keeps their mouths shut!” Evita shouted.
The leaders hurried out,
tails between their legs. Watching them leave, Evita ground her teeth in
frustration.
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