Chapter 63

Vice Man Violet

A silk robe pulled up over her head.
Long brown hair spilling out beneath the hood.
Her refined appearance was close to that of nobility, and her emerald eyes belonged to an ambitious woman.

Even before she set foot in the garden, Isaac had been bothered by her.
Both the amount of mana she carried and its nature felt strangely alien.

“So what, then? Was it the young lord who attacked the House of Mercy?”
“That’s how it turned out.”

Isaac shifted his gaze from the woman to Pallich.

“…Damn.”

Pallich scratched his head awkwardly.
Though he still served under the marquis, he had no desire to clash with Isaac.

“Did you come to deal with me?” Isaac asked.

“Well, a quick-footed mercenary reported an intruder at the House of Mercy and requested reinforcements. Since it’s the marquis’s business, I couldn’t just ignore it.”
“Want to try?”
“Heh… as long as that monster’s holding out, it won’t be easy.”

Pallich stroked his well-groomed beard and looked at Carlson.

“And Gerald?”

Carlson asked.

“Ever since you tore out his nails, he’s been holed up in a brothel. Been drinking nonstop since leaving Goethe. Why, worried about him?”
“As if.”
“He’s a decent kid. Even if he’s dressing up in women’s clothes and acting crazy, he’s protecting the prostitutes there for cheap.”
“I see.”

Carlson only gave a faint nod.

“But why is the head nun like that… and what the hell is this thing?”

The head nun’s face was so swollen it was hard to recognize her.
And the glass sphere inside the cage.

Pallich looked back and forth between the two, then fixed his gaze on the boy’s neck inside the sphere.
Somewhere between curiosity and disgust, a strange expression crossed his face.

“Pallich.”

Suddenly, the woman who had remained silent spoke.

“Ah, right, Commissioner. Look at me, losing focus.”

Only then did Pallich tear his eyes away from the sphere.

“This is Violet, the head of our Vice Man and a commissioner of the Republic Revolutionary Party. She was actually going to ask for a meeting with you soon, young lord—but here we are.”

Pallich introduced her with a casual tone.

“It’s an honor to meet you, young lord. I am Violet, the one who operates Vice Man.”

Violet lightly lifted the hem of her robe.
She stepped her right foot behind her left and bent her knees gracefully.
Had she been wearing a full dress, it would have been a perfect greeting from a noble lady.

“That’s awfully elegant for a gang leader.”

Isaac let out a dry chuckle.

“The meaning of things becomes confined and distorted by prejudice depending on how we name them.”
“And sometimes that prejudice is correct.”

“…What do you mean?”

Violet narrowed her eyes.

“Vice Man—in ancient language, it means ‘the wise one.’ In the common tongue, it can be translated as sage, philosopher, gentleman, even archbishop.”
“And?”

“Someone who names a gang with words like that is one of two types. Either a person with tremendous vanity… or an idealist with grand ambitions beyond their station. My prejudice about you leans toward the latter. Am I wrong?”

Violet looked at Isaac, her eyes slightly widened.
It irritated her, but it was a sharp insight.
Unexpected.
Not only had he interpreted the ancient language, but he had grasped the underlying meaning.

She hadn’t expected Isaac to be this learned.
All she had heard was that he couldn’t fulfill the role of the heir due to his unusual constitution.

“I told you, didn’t I? The first young lord of Goethe isn’t just the family’s burden.”

Pallich whispered, amused by her reaction.

Violet shot him a glare before speaking again.

“You do know this orphanage was built by Marquis Dietrich, correct?”
“I didn’t. Now I do.”

Isaac answered flatly.

“And you must also know that we are employed by the marquis.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“You’re aware that in Goethe, we are forbidden from engaging in any commercial activity or interfering with the city’s trade.”
“I know. But this doesn’t look like commerce.”

“This place was used to enhance Bern City’s reputation and to supply sacred relics and goods to the Old Church. So attacking this place is effectively an attack on the Church—and a challenge to the royal family. It won’t be good for the House of Goethe either.”
“Are you… worried about Goethe right now?”

Isaac smirked at Violet’s argument.

Breaking the alliance between the marquis, Vice Man, and the mayor of Varis.
Preventing the marquis from gaining autonomy over Bern City to stop the city’s tragedy.
Going further—ending the need to pay shield taxes to the royal family and gaining permission for trade and military expansion.
Making the family self-reliant.

To Isaac, who knew the future, all of these were connected.

But to Violet, who knew nothing of it, this attack on the orphanage must have looked like madness.

“I simply don’t understand. I heard from Pallich that you are… a wise man, young lord.”

Violet glanced at Pallich as she spoke.

“Ah….”

Pallich coughed awkwardly.
“Wise” had been a softened expression.
What he had actually said about Isaac was “cunning.”

“And what if what I interfered with wasn’t commerce—but crime?”
“…What?”

“They even drugged the lord’s son and tried to kill him.”
“…What do you mean?”

“Do you even know what this place really is?”
“Well… it’s an orphanage…”

Violet trailed off.

The marquis had told her not to concern herself with the orphanage at all—that other mercenaries would handle it.
He had even warned her not to dig into it.

The House of Mercy. The orphanage.
She had neither wanted to know nor tried to.

But the glass sphere lying on the ground kept drawing her attention.
A glass orb inside a golden cage.
And within it, the neck of a boy who looked as if he were asleep.

A terrible possibility came to mind—
and she hoped it wasn’t true.

“Follow me.”

Isaac said.

For some reason, Violet flinched at his voice.
It sounded less like a child’s… and more like that of a venomous old man.

Following the death of Mayor Varis, the city fell into chaos once more.
A massive wolf running across rooftops.
Boys pouring out into the streets in the dead of night—
half of them completely naked.

And then, suddenly, flames began to rise from the House of Mercy of Saint Ursus.

All of the guards who had been off duty were mobilized, and even the vigilantes and some citizens joined in.
They worked to extinguish the flames rising from the orphanage, the House of Mercy, and discussed what to do with the children.

During that process, a shocking truth came to light—among the dozens of children, a small number were not orphans at all.

Some of them were even the children of merchant families or minor nobles.
They should have investigated how such a thing came to be, but those responsible for the orphanage were nowhere to be found.
At best, there were mercenaries sprawled across the garden—but all of them had long since breathed their last.
Even those without fatal wounds had all been killed after having their throats pierced once more.

A string of deeply suspicious incidents had occurred, yet no one could uncover the truth.
Before dawn, the City Council convened an emergency session and reached a conclusion through deliberation.
The investigation would be handled separately by experts hired by the council, while the guard would focus on cleanup.
At the same time, warrants were issued for the missing head nun of the orphanage and the mercenary captain.

“How did things end up like this?”

Although the decisions had already been delivered to the guard, the doors of the council’s grand chamber remained tightly shut.
That was because the five great merchant-noble families and the marquis were still inside.

They were the ones who had built Bern City together from the beginning.
They had grown alongside it, operating in the shadows and each controlling a portion of the black market.

“Have we still found no clues about them?”
“It must be a sorcerer who commands a giant wolf.”
“I’ve heard that among the tribes beyond the northern frontier, there are druids who control beasts.”
“But why would such a druid do something like this?”
“Marquis, please say something.”

Originally, the large round table held six seats—
for the heads of the five great families and the marquis.

But now, one seat was empty.
It belonged to Mayor Varis.

“Are you certain it wasn’t Isaac von Goethe? Wasn’t his name written on the note?”
“If that person finds out about this—”

Bang!

Suddenly, the marquis slammed the table.

“Watch your words.”

Though spoken in a low murmur, that single sentence drew everyone’s attention.

“Any mention of that person is forbidden in any form. Do you intend to get us all killed with your tongue, Fikel?”

The marquis spoke without even turning his gaze.
“That person” referred to the Second Prince of this nation—
someone who must never be mentioned in a place like this.

“…My apologies.”

Fikel, one of the great family heads, bowed his head to the marquis—who was twenty years his junior.

“Don’t concern yourselves with the orphanage. Children can be acquired again, and artists can be replaced. The prince is not your concern. What matters now is capturing Hindi and that mercenary captain, silencing them, and uncovering the identity of those hiding behind the veil.”

The marquis explained calmly.

That was right.
Everything could be replaced with money.
He had more than enough wealth.

With it, he had bought his position, bought the favor of the Second Prince, and bought the city itself.
If he could just get past this minor obstacle at his feet, the rest would resolve itself.

After all, great gains always come with difficulties.

“When do you plan to meet the count? Haven’t you already delayed it for a week?”

Amid the anxious voices of the great families, Venders—who had remained silent—spoke up.

He was a dwarf.
Born with a congenital deformity, he was short and had a hunched spine.
His trading company was the only one among the great families that insisted on operating solely in legitimate businesses, yet it still earned profits that rivaled the others.

“At this rate, the count will grow suspicious. Or he may use the upcoming Goethe competition as an excuse to delay, and this year’s inspection may fall through entirely.”

Venders’ point was valid.

Under normal circumstances, Marquis Dietrich should have already met Count Goethe.
He had planned to bring up the disappearance of Bishop Levonius and use it to obtain autonomy for Bern City from the count.

Even if he didn’t know every detail, once the marquis—acting as an inspector—publicized the matter, the Holy See would have no choice but to launch a full-scale investigation.
For Goethe, which was already under suspicion by the royal court, that would be fatal.
Regardless of the truth, palace forces could intervene and frame Goethe for the murder of a bishop or for blasphemy.

The marquis would choose silence instead of exposure.
In return, he intended to demand the city’s autonomy from the count.

That was the plan.

But under the current circumstances, the marquis had no choice but to act cautiously.

What if everything—from Varis’s assassination to the destruction and burning of the orphanage—had been orchestrated by the count?
What if the count knew everything—not only what was happening in the orphanage, but also the relationship between the marquis and the Second Prince?

Then the opportunity to demand autonomy would vanish instantly.

Who was the one manipulating the city from behind the veil?
The count? Or a third faction? What did they want?

Until he uncovered their identity, he could not act recklessly.

And yet, he couldn’t delay meeting the count forever either.

In the end, it was a race against time.
To deal with an opponent, one must first understand them.

The marquis had to uncover their identity as soon as possible.
At this rate, he would only continue being dragged around.

“Send word to Baldarin’s inspector. Tell him I’d like to host a dinner. Keep it very quiet.”

The marquis, who had been deep in thought, finally spoke.

It wasn’t a method he wanted to use—it would cost a great deal of money.
But at this point, there was no better option.

“After overlooking the last smuggling incident, Baldarin’s mayor is already watching us closely. Even for an inspector, he won’t respond easily. On what grounds do you intend to arrange this dinner?”

One of the great family heads asked.

“Tell him I’ll give him what he wants. He’ll come.”

Then the marquis issued another order to the great families.

“Gather the troops. As many as possible.”