Chapter 141: The Cracked Dam

I blinked, dazed, only to realize Stigma had been watching me the entire time. He quietly called out to me.

“Junior… are you aware that your moods swing wildly from one extreme to another?”

“Huh?”

“You seem quite unstable. I have to ask, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Pardon?”

“…It’s not my place to interfere, so whatever the answer, the outcome will be the same.”

Having said his piece, he reached out and gently brushed his fingers under my eyes.

“Still, at least you’re not crying now. That’s something. If things like this keep happening, it’ll be a problem. I hope you can sort things out soon.”

“….”

He saw everything.

A brief silence fell.

Amidst the busy movements of the medics, the earlier conversation seemed to be brushed aside, as the nagging I thought was over continued.

“You could have avoided that hit back then, couldn’t you?”

“…Yes.”

“Of course, killing the commander is important. But if the way to do it is to throw yourself in front of the enemy’s weapon and get injured, then I have to give you the lowest possible score. You should have avoided it.”

His brown eyes returned to the wound being treated.

I’m still numb from the anesthetic, but how bad is it really that he’s making such a fuss? I subtly turned my head to get a look, but Stigma pressed down on my head.

“Don’t move, you’ll interfere with the treatment. More importantly, do you know why the enemies retreated when you killed the demon commander?”

Well… because the commander died?

“It was because I was nearby. If it was just you killing the commander, there’s no way they’d retreat, leaving behind a wounded, easy target. Even if they retreated, they would have killed you first.”

“….”

“Do you understand? The decision you made today was terrible.”

He’s really hitting where it hurts…

I know, but it still stings.

“You killed the commander, but you also sustained a serious injury and failed to boost our side’s morale. Nor did you manage to break the enemy’s. As a result, our forces had no choice but to let the retreating enemies go. Why? Because you, someone with a high rank and status here, were seriously injured.”

“….”

“We need to stop the battle quickly and tend to your wounds. If we keep blocking their retreat, the fighting won’t end.”

The death of a common soldier wouldn’t stop the battle, but the higher the rank, the more sensitive people become to their injuries and deaths. The impact is so great it can even determine whether to halt the battle and retreat.

“It’s not that your actions themselves are terrible, but your judgment was poor. Such actions should only be used when there’s truly no other option, after carefully assessing the situation.”

“….”

“There’s no way you would have made such a foolish decision without a reason….”

I wish he wouldn’t bring anything up.

It’s just that I wasn’t confident in fighting in my current mental and physical state, so I tried to make it look good by taking out one of their commanders.

“It seems your unstable condition was the cause, leading to that poor judgment. You didn’t seem capable of rational thought. Come to think of it, this shoulder injury was also from when you completely zoned out during the war, wasn’t it?”

I was definitely confused when I snapped back to it and realized I was in the middle of a war.

Ah, thinking about it makes me crave those drugs again.

“…You zoned out again.”

“Ah.”

“Alright, you must be tired, Junior. It’s best if you get some rest. It looks like the treatment is finished anyway, so go on in. I’ll take care of things here.”

He left. The medic also left, saying the treatment was done. I fiddled with the bandage on my treated shoulder before getting up.

Dan, who had rushed out upon hearing about my injury and hovered nearby throughout the treatment, quickly came over and draped a coat over me. The bare skin felt cold in the air, so I gratefully accepted it and fastened it.

“…It’s something I’ve noticed every time, but each knight order has such distinct personalities.”

“Hm?”

I thought he’d lead me inside, but all of a sudden, he’s saying something out of the blue.

I glanced at Dan, then followed his gaze.

“…Ah.”

Dan’s eyes were on the three knight orders lined up under Stigma’s command. More specifically, on their attire.

Covered head-to-toe in blood, like true slaughterers… the Lofty Knights.

The unnamed knight order, their uniforms appropriately stained with blood, as if they’d fought a normal battle.

Stigma’s knight order, their uniforms eerily pristine.

‘Wait, Stigma practically tears his enemies apart in battle, so how can he maintain such a clean appearance?’

The same goes for his knights.

They were nothing like their master’s calm demeanor in battle. Quite the opposite.

Unleashed beasts.

Yeah, that perfectly sums it up. Yet, they’re spotless, without a single drop of blood….

As I stood there admiring the sight, Dan, who was rapidly scanning the three knight orders, muttered under his breath.

“…The three stages of being soaked in blood….”

“Pfft.”

“….”

“….”

Let’s go inside.

***

Does Junior know? That there are people mixed in who are constantly trying to take his life.

Even on the battlefield, even in the military camps that are supposed to be a place to rest.

“Kuh-ugh….”

“Shh, I don’t want to cause unnecessary trouble, so be quiet. Everyone’s tired from the battle, and I can’t have them losing sleep because of you.”

Your life isn’t worth that much.

Stigma tightened his grip on the neck he was choking, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Who sent you?”

Junior has many enemies due to his political position, but not so many that this many people would come at once. So, instead of several people sending one or two, it must be one person persistently sending multiple assassins. If I find and kill that person, this will be resolved cleanly.

Not to mention, Junior’s been in a bad way lately, and now these flies are buzzing around him.

“Idiots who don’t understand the danger of this war.”

Do you really want to ruin the Human Realm this badly?

Crack.

“…Oops, my mistake.”

I just killed him.

He shrugged, having lost control of his strength for a moment, and casually dropped the still-warm corpse. He lifted his head, his gaze fixed on a certain spot.

“Do you know where these people are coming from?”

“….”

“No answer. If you weren’t dealing with the attackers targeting Junior, you would have died by my hand as well.”

Perhaps Junior keeps you alive because he knows that.

In the darkness, I could sense the shadow tensing up. Stigma chuckled, then turned away, as if bored.

“Please, protect Junior well.”

***

Cruel arrived at his office as usual and opened the door, only to pause at the scene before him. A familiar sense of déjà vu washed over him.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“…Duke.”

When was it? Not too long ago. The Duke was in the office then too.

Having experienced it once before, he wasn’t as surprised, but the small round table placed in the middle of the room, as if the furniture arrangement had been changed arbitrarily, was unexpected, drawing his gaze.

“Sir Cruel.”

“….”

At the brief urging, Cruel glanced between the chessboard on the table and the Duke sitting in front of it, smiling, before silently closing the door and stepping inside.

For some reason, the Duke offered the seat opposite him with a sweet smile.

He always smiled, but for some reason, this one felt particularly unsettling.

“I see you enjoy chess. How about a game with me?”

Ominous. His instincts as a swordsman were warning him of danger.

But it was a situation he couldn’t avoid.

“…Gladly.”

Cruel obediently followed his words.

Clack. Clack.

As if discarding any hesitation, the chess pieces were placed decisively. Turns changed rapidly without any delay, and their eyes darted around, studying the opponent’s moves and the resulting changes on the board.

They were too focused on the small, rapidly changing world to waste time on idle conversation. So much so that the conversation before the game started was their last.

[Which color will you take?]

[…I’ll take white.]

[I see.]

Cruel with white, the Duke with black.

—Clack.

“….”

The flow was broken. Violet eyes lifted from the board and slowly scanned Cruel. Eyes that hid his emotions completely were intently searching, as if trying to decipher the other’s hidden intentions.

The white piece was placed in an odd spot. Neither a bait nor an attack, an awkwardly placed move that didn’t even serve as a feint.

“…I acquired a rather interesting note.”

The game was clearly in Cruel’s favor.

The Duke slowly moved a piece, pretending not to notice, and began to speak.

“I thought it would be best for you to see it, so I came here personally.”

“….”

Clack.

The game turned around. Something that would never have happened if it wasn’t for Cruel’s mistake.

—No, was that really a mistake?

The once dominant white forces crumbled. The black pieces seized the opportunity, slowly tightening the noose, and finally…

“Checkmate.”

The Duke won.

Reaching out, the Duke picked up the white king, rolled it in his hand, and then dropped it as if throwing it away. What was thrown in front of Cruel wasn’t just the chess piece.

Next to the chess piece lay a small note.

Cruel stared at it, and unable to resist the Duke’s gesture to open it, slowly reached out.

“….”

It was a regular report.

The problem was that it wasn’t a report for the Duke, but a report on something Cruel had personally commissioned.

A report on how many people had attacked Deon Hart today, how many he had dealt with, and the request to protect Deon Hart.

The Duke patiently waited until his green eyes met his again, then smiled sweetly.

“Unfortunately, the client’s name wasn’t on it.”

Even though he was already certain.

Obtaining that note meant he already knew everything. It was impossible to get it without knowing the route the notes took.

Like giving a cornered rat a sliver of hope, Cruel kept his mouth shut, knowing that the Duke was playing with him, toying with his life.

The Duke fixed his gaze on Cruel and tapped the note with his finger.

“Sir Cruel, is this note yours?”

What should he answer?

Cruel felt like he knew what answer he wanted.

“I know nothing about this.”

“….”

“….”

There was no further conversation. As if something terrible would happen if they looked away first, they silently stared into each other’s eyes. The subtle tension was broken when the Duke narrowed his eyes.

He picked up the note again, his voice casual.

“I thought so.”

Whoosh.

The note thrown into the fireplace was consumed by flames in an instant. Cruel’s gaze flickered towards it for a moment,

“Kneel.”

The Duke’s words, so out of character with his neat demeanor as he leaned back in his chair, hands clasped on his knee, made Cruel’s green eyes snap back.

Without a word, Cruel looked at the Duke calmly, then rose from his seat and slowly knelt on one knee. The Duke watched him silently before uttering a single word in a monotonous voice.

“Further.”

“….”

The smile was gone, replaced by a cold, expressionless face that stared at Cruel. After holding his gaze for a moment, Cruel lowered his eyes and bent his other knee.

“….”

Even with both knees on the floor, there was no response.

So, his palms pressed against the floor, and his head lowered. His bowed head only stopped when his forehead touched the floor.

Complete submission.