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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Pot]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
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Chapter 164: Even Gamblers Have Principles to Uphold
The residence of Duchess Lusatia Grunewald was, as always, shrouded in deep silence and darkness.
Tap, tap.
The head maid walked quietly through the midnight corridor and stopped in front of the door.
Knock, knock.
After knocking, she placed a note on the floor as usual.
"My lady, today’s note is something you must read."
As usual, she waited a moment before stepping back.
"Then I shall take my leave—"
"Friederun."
"?!"
The voice—or rather, the telepathic message—startled the head maid, causing her to flinch.
"Come inside."
"...!"
How many years had it been since she last heard her mistress’s voice? Friederun suppressed her surprise and answered in a trembling voice.
"Yes, my lady."
Though she didn’t ask why, Lusatia spoke as if anticipating the question.
"I have a strange feeling. That note likely contains something unusual."
"...Yes."
"Is it about Allen?"
The maid was slightly taken aback by her mistress’s insight but answered.
"Yes. It’s a message from Young Master Allen."
"I don’t have the courage to read it alone."
It was a message from her son, after seven years of silence. Understanding the fragile heart of a mother, the head maid carefully opened the door with a mix of caution and emotion.
Creak.
The door, unused for so long, groaned as if unfamiliar with being opened.
"...Friederun."
"My lady, you’ve grown even thinner."
The head maid’s eyes welled up with tears.
Lusatia, who hadn’t stepped outside in seven years, looked even paler. Surviving on the bare minimum of food, her body had become extremely gaunt, and her face bore an expression so devoid of emotion that it resembled a doll’s.
"Has it been two years?"
"Yes, my lady."
On rare occasions, Lusatia would allow the maid into her room for a brief conversation, but that was all.
"Time flies. It feels like time has stood still, yet seven years have already passed."
Lusatia’s murmurs were filled with bitter regret and emptiness, leaving the maid at a loss for words.
"Give me the note."
Lusatia read the message written on the note.
It stated that Allenvert had gained the approval of the elder Geninghen to learn advanced martial arts and that he would face off against the young lady of the Valkenhain in a duel a month later.
It also mentioned that Allenvert had requested to meet his mother, and the Duke had granted permission.
"...He’s truly changed, Allen."
Even in her emotionally numb state, Lusatia’s face showed a mix of complex emotions as she muttered.
"He’s become a completely different person."
The head maid spoke cautiously.
"The stories I’ve heard are all praises of his natural talent, sharp mind, unwavering determination, and growing influence."
"...I see."
"But there’s also the doctor’s diagnosis that this change came after a sudden fever caused memory loss. Whether he’s suddenly changed or was simply waiting for the right moment to rise, we can’t be sure."
The maid swallowed her words, not daring to say more, and bowed her head.
"Allen, You’ve done well."
A faint glimmer of life appeared in Lusatia’s dry eyes.
"My lady, what will you do?"
"..."
At this, Lusatia’s expression darkened again.
"I..."
* * *
After slipping out of the castle through a hidden passage, I activated both the Whispering Snow in the Night and Scarlet Cloud Ghost Path techniques, racing through the city to find Zizek.
'So light, so fast.'
My body felt lighter, my movements more stealthy. I soared through the night like a man with wings.
'No surveillance yet.'
I spread my 5th tier sensory awareness wide but still detected no signs of being watched.
'What are you plotting, Brother Verdzig?'
He’s not one to sit idle. He might be waiting for me to let my guard down. I’ll have to stay alert.
"I’m here."
"Boss."
Zizek was in the middle of a serious discussion with a few men.
"Why so grim? What’s the problem?"
"Ah, well, it’s like this..."
Zizek explained the situation.
"...I see."
It wasn’t surprising, as I had expected something like this.
"So the Black Night Society has been keeping tabs on us too."
"Exactly."
"I knew those bastards would pull something like this."
I clicked my tongue.
"Are their identities confirmed?"
"Beyond a doubt. We’ve seen their faces before."
"Good."
I nodded.
"My foresight shines once again."
"..."
"Though I didn’t expect you to catch them so quickly. The people you hired must be quite capable."
"Ah, well, that’s true. Or maybe they were just that careless."
"That’s also a possibility."
I plopped down on the seat Zizek had vacated.
"Those Black Night Society bastards. I’ll have to teach them a lesson."
"What’s the plan?"
Zizek asked.
"First, tell me about a high ranking member who might know something useful."
"Why?"
"I’m going to capture and deal with him."
"...Do you have a plan?"
"I’ll figure it out as we go."
"Hmm."
Zizek crossed his arms and pondered.
"If you want someone significant, there’s one name that comes to mind."
"Who?"
"Krahel. In terms of strength, he’s almost on par with the Black Night Society’s leader."
"Symbolic. Perfect for a sacrificial offering."
I nodded.
"And?"
"He’s known for his fearless and aggressive nature. He doesn’t fear getting cut."
"Good. That means he’ll choose to fight me rather than run."
He sounded like an easy target.
"What about his behavior and reputation?"
Zizek grimaced.
"He’s one of the reasons I left that place. He’s a real piece of shit."
"Will anyone mourn him?"
"Plenty."
"Oh?"
"Tears of joy from those he’s wronged."
"Ah, that kind."
"Enough tears to flood a dam."
"Perfect. Let’s go with him."
I made the decision swiftly.
"What weapon does he use?"
"A sword. His style is crude but powerful."
"Really?"
I smirked.
"Then I’ll face him with a dinner knife."
"...Are you serious?"
"Just kidding."
"Be careful. He might be at the early stages of the 4th tier."
"Oh? How pathetic. Only that much?"
I had already surpassed that barrier long ago—three hours ago, to be exact.
"Tsk, tsk."
Zizek shook his head as if annoyed.
Anyway, it seemed like a decent opponent for a real fight.
‘I won’t use the Grunewald martial arts.’
I just wanted to see what kind of power would emerge when the 5th tier strength and the energy of the Seven Stars of the Black Sea Technique combined with the Karzan-style swordsmanship.
"Are we attacking today?"
"Yeah. No need to drag it out."
"I’ll get the guys ready."
"No."
I stopped Zizek as he was about to get up.
"You all stay put. I’ll handle this alone."
"Huh?"
Zizek looked at me incredulously.
"Boss. Do you even know how many guys are there? You’re going alone?"
"What, are there a million soldiers or something?"
I chuckled, but Zizek’s face remained serious.
"Do you still not trust me?"
"What?"
I shrugged, confused by the sudden question.
"If you all get involved, it’ll escalate into a full-blown conflict. But if it looks like some random lunatic started a fight, the story changes completely."
"?!"
"In the first case, it becomes an organizational war."
"Isn’t that what we’re aiming for?"
"Well, I was planning to, but on second thought, there’s no need to rush it right now."
"Hmm. True."
"If I go alone, they won’t know if this is just some random disaster or if you hired someone."
After all, no one in this underworld knows about the ghost named Karzan.
"Plus, if a lone warrior can wreck their establishment and take out their second-in-command, they’ll have no choice but to tread carefully."
"...Hmm."
At that moment, an elderly man who had been quietly listening spoke up.
"And if they try to investigate us, they’ll have no evidence. It’ll just look like they’re admitting to their own dirty deeds."
"Exactly."
I nodded.
"On top of that, losing a key executive and his underlings will weaken their position, making them even more reluctant to clash with you."
I bared my teeth in a grin.
"In short, it’ll make your words carry more weight. It’s better to strike when the time is right."
Zizek crossed his arms, looking convinced.
"Hmm."
But the real reason I wanted to go alone was something else entirely.
‘I just want to cut loose.’
I wanted to unleash the full extent of my 5th tier power without holding back.
"There’s little chance of being tracked."
I explained.
"I won’t act like some hired assassin. I’ll just play the part of a lunatic who randomly started a fight."
"...Wait, have you done this kind of thing before?"
I smirked.
"Not exactly."
"So what should we do?"
"Go to a bar and have a drink."
"Again? We were drinking when we caught those Black Night Society guys last time."
I rubbed my chin, considering his point.
"Does it seem suspicious?"
"Yeah."
"Then go train or something. I’ll check on you when I get back."
Zizek’s face lit up.
"Really? I could use some pointers."
"Yeah, with a little guidance, you could break through to the 4th tier."
How many people in this world are stuck at that very threshold, unable to overcome it?
Lack of talent, absence of proper guidance, critical mistakes, weak fundamentals...
The path of martial arts is never a straight road. It’s more like a maze, filled with traps, winding paths, dead ends, and cliffs. Navigating it without losing your way is incredibly difficult.
‘That’s why even a little guidance from me could help Zizek break through.’
He has the talent for it.
"Oh, and Zizek, I just thought of one more thing you need to do."
"What’s that?"
"Tell me about Krahel’s crimes."
That way, I won’t hesitate to cut him down.
"...Understood. First of all, his establishment is a gambling den."
"Ah, really?"
Just that much was enough to give me an idea of his misdeeds.
"In my opinion, gamblers can be divided into four stages."
"Interesting."
Zizek held up four fingers, folding them one by one as he explained.
"Not gambling at all is the best. Gambling occasionally as a hobby is the next best. Gambling heavily, pouring your life into it, is bad but still somewhat tolerable."
"And the worst is the kind who ruins not only their own life but their family’s too?"
"That’s what I think."
Zizek nodded.
"And Krahel’s business model is luring people from stages one or two into stage four."
"..."
I couldn’t hold back a sigh. Scumbags are the same, whether in Flanders or Litvaleur.
"They love naive marks. They send out friendly dealers or shills to sweet-talk them, then let them win a few times to make it seem like beginner’s luck."
I smirked.
"Then, once they start betting big, they start rigging the games."
"Exactly. By then, the gamblers are too hooked to walk away, even if they’ve lost everything."
"Maybe one in a hundred has the sense to quit while they’re ahead."
"Right. Before they know it, they’ve lost all their money and become gambling addicts."
And their lives are ruined.
"Some turn to crime to fund their gambling, destroying their lives. Others rack up debts, gambling away their homes and their families’ futures."
"Total ruin."
I’ve met countless people who were sold off by their fathers in such ways. Some of them ended up under my wing, in the shadow of Karzan.
I remember their tears—tears of resentment toward their fathers, tears of longing for the families they lost to poverty and suffering.
"Even in the gambling business, there are principles to uphold."
I smiled coldly, not hiding the killing intent rising within me.
"Luring people into addiction, squandering their fortunes, and ruining their families’ lives—that’s not how it should be done."
"...You’re right."
Zizek agreed.
"That’s one of the reasons I left the Black Night Society."
"You did well, Zizek. Just refusing to go along with injustice takes great courage."
I looked down at my fist.
"Good. I’m fired up now."
Krahel will pay today for the lives he’s destroyed.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Pot]
[Proofreader - Kawaii]
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