Chapter 40: Bribe

One of the privileges we all received after saving the world—put another way, one of the few things that Lowell and the others didn’t refuse.

That said, just because we had a customs-passage crystal didn’t mean it worked in every situation.

In cities far from the capital or major trade hubs, bribes handed to guards or their supervisors were still far more effective and efficient than any certification or magical token.

“So, how much of a bribe do you need to hand over these days?”

I said it half-jokingly to myself, but my bad feelings rarely missed the mark.

“Yes, your passage credentials have been confirmed. However, we still have our protocols to follow.”

When I arrived at the city gates, a few guards blocked my path and requested identification.

Naturally, I presented the passage crystal.

I also told a reasonably believable story about miscalculating portal coordinates and ending up nearby, having to walk the rest of the way.

But even after verifying everything, the guards made no move to open the gate.

Instead, they were blatantly stalling—rubbing their necks unnaturally, yelling for water toward the top of the wall, and so on.

“Come on now…”

I discreetly pulled out half a silver coin from my pocket and slipped it into the guard’s tunic.

It was too much for a simple guard’s bribe, but I didn’t have local currency, and I’d completely forgotten to transfer some pels from the storage box to my pouch.

So, the smallest bribe I had on hand was half a silver coin.

“Well, well… if you’re really in such a hurry, I suppose we can’t be helped.”

The guard, after confirming the amount, quickly changed his attitude.

He gestured to the other guards, who signaled up to the top of the wall using a copper tube that connected to the interior.

Not long after, the closed gate slowly creaked open.

“Please enjoy your stay.”

His overly polite tone was downright repulsive.

“Yes, I’ll do that.”

As I stepped through the gate, I turned back, suddenly feeling that half silver coin was too steep a price.

“Do you happen to know where I can find a good inn?”

“Ah, just keep going straight, and you’ll reach Central Avenue. There’s a statue of a commander giving charge orders—follow the direction his finger is pointing, and you’ll find an inn called The Duck’s Wings. It’s the largest and best inn in the city. The innkeeper is a devout follower of Lord Trphaetin.”

I gave a slight nod and continued walking inward.

“Well, I guess it’s not a total loss.”

It had cost more than expected, but the man had no reason to lie after receiving that much.

Besides, if the innkeeper was a Trphaetin follower, quality was almost guaranteed.

Considering the many stories of travelers being misled into trouble after asking for directions, half a silver coin wasn’t that bad.

“…Looks like the damage wasn’t small after all.”

Even at a glance, it was obvious.

The city was filled with newly rebuilt buildings, patches of wall colored differently from the rest, and awkwardly empty lots.

The rooftops, without exception, were scratched or broken as if massive claws had raked across them.

“Right. It’s only been a few years.”

The village where Lowell and I lived—and the surrounding areas—had been relatively untouched by the Demon King’s army.

But many regions that had been under direct control suffered this much or worse.

A few years was nowhere near enough to erase the scars.

As the guard said, I eventually reached Central Avenue, where a statue of a commander shouting a charge stood.

Following the direction his finger pointed, I walked further and soon saw a large inn with a duck-shaped wooden sign. The sign read The Duck’s Wings, and above it, a much more finely carved inscription praised Trphaetin.

“Welcome.”

“Hello there.”

As I entered the inn, an elderly woman and a young boy greeted me.

“Will you be dining or staying?”

I glanced around.

A staircase leading to the second floor was right next to the counter, and on the opposite side, a spacious hall filled with tables.

“I’ll eat later.”

I took out a silver coin and placed it on the counter.

As mentioned, I had no local currency—only silver and gold coins.

“I plan to stay for about four or five days. Please prepare a room that fits this amount.”

I considered booking a room for Baglos as well, but I didn’t know when he’d arrive—or if he’d even use it—so I let that idea go.

“Understood. Please sign here.”

I almost wrote my real name, Anak, on the registry.

Instead, I awkwardly used the fake surname I used back at the academy: Virette.

After returning the guestbook and pen—

“Teddy, show our guest to their room.”

“Yes. This way, please.”

The boy led me to the inn’s top floor, to the last room down the hall.

Unlike the other rooms, which had room numbers engraved directly on the doors, this one had a white nameplate hanging from it.

The room was quite large, and it even had a private bath.

“If you need anything, just speak into that copper pipe over there. If you want a bath, I can bring warm water right away.”

“Thank you.”

True to the Trphaetin faith, the room was spotless and tidy.

The bed was crisp and wrinkle-free, and not a speck of dust could be found on the table or furniture.

“Oh, and breakfast and lunch are included. Dinner is charged separately.”

With that, the boy bowed deeply and left.

He didn’t seem to expect a tip—whether by his own will or his employer’s instruction, it seemed he too was earnestly trying to live by Trphaetin’s teachings.

Well, if they wanted to follow it perfectly, the inn would be free, but that’s obviously unrealistic.

I walked over to the window and pulled the curtains aside.

The sky outside was already beginning to darken.

“So… what now?”

I considered going back to Denatel’s study to spend time with her, but that was risky.

Baglos could arrive at any moment, and I didn’t want to find him standing in front of me after I returned through a portal.

I thought about rechecking the layered barrier enchantments I was wearing, but there were still several intact, and they’d last at least another day.

It would be wasteful to undo and reapply them now.

“Maybe I’ll take a bath.”

Come to think of it, I hadn’t soaked in a bath in days.

I had spare clothes in the bag at Denatel’s study.

Baglos might find it suspicious if I changed, but that wasn’t something I needed to worry about.

“Knew it.”

Inside the wardrobe were two bathrobes, one for winter and one for summer, both white.

I grabbed one and headed for the bath.

As the boy had mentioned, a copper pipe was connected to one wall.

But I ignored it.

No need to bother the staff.

Filling a bath with hot water was easy with the help of water and fire spirits.

***

As darkness settled over the city, a black shadow moved swiftly over the rooftops.

Though there were still many people walking through the streets below, the movement was so seamless and silent—blending perfectly with the shadows—that no one noticed the figure above.

The shadow darted swiftly across the rooftops, as if searching for something.

As the stars in the sky began to shine a little brighter, the shadow suddenly dropped into an alley.

When the thin darkness that had been cloaking the figure dissipated, a man wrapped in black cloth was revealed.

His entire body was completely covered like bandages, leaving only his eyes and a few strands of hair sticking out.

He was Baglos, the one who slips through the night.

What he was looking for was a small mark on the wall.

Amid meaningless graffiti was a triangle with its right side folded, and overlapping beneath it were the numbers 2 and 4.

This was a very old secret symbol among assassins.

It was a kind of rendezvous code—shapes like triangles indicated the purpose of the meeting, while the numbers denoted time and location.

Of course, this particular mark had long since served its purpose.

Even if someone went to the indicated place at the specified time, they would learn nothing from it.

But then Baglos moved his hand slightly, and a slanted square along with the number 1 was engraved onto the wall at waist height.

What he had sought was not the symbol itself—but the place where such symbols were inscribed.

These marks were not left in easily visible places or locations with heavy foot traffic.

While it was possible to conduct a meeting that way, doing so was an admission of inexperience or clumsiness as an assassin.

Consequently, those who responded to such messages tended to be of equally poor skill or low quality.

Baglos moved his hand again, and the previous symbol was scraped away and erased.

This was how such symbols were originally intended to be used.

Erase the old one, and leave a new one at the same spot.

These specific locations were regularly monitored by informants and assassin guilds since the first marks were carved, so within a few days, a reply would be engraved overlapping the new number.

Wrapping himself once again in darkness, Baglos climbed the wall and leapt back onto the rooftops.

Then, he soared toward another symbol.

***

In a dark, enclosed room, a masked man and a red-haired man sat face to face once again.

“Well now. I thought everything had been settled? You said you’d go into hiding, yet here you are calling me again.”

“A report just came in from Deshlang.”

Though the mask concealed his expression, a strange emotion lingered at the end of the masked man’s voice.

“They say a rendezvous signal was left using a method last used before the Great War.”

“And what’s so special about that? There are still plenty of old assassins stuck in their outdated ways. Or maybe it’s some second- or third-rate trying to sneak back in after stepping away for a while.”

But despite his words, the red-haired man’s eyes gleamed with anticipation.

He urged the masked man to continue with a look.

“But the number has reached 14 in just one day. And that’s only because confirmation was delayed—it’s still increasing.”

“Deshlang isn’t even that big of a city, is it? For there to be over 14 locations…”

“Right. That would mean every known rendezvous point in Deshlang has been marked. And none of the local informants saw who left them.”

A smile formed on the red-haired man’s lips—a dangerous smile filled with madness, which Anak always found unsettling.

“…If it’s near Deshlang, then that’s close to the Forest of Evil. And if it’s there, it explains why we couldn’t find it.”

Suddenly, the red-haired man’s eyes sharpened.

It was the kind of look a predator has right before striking its prey—full of caution and calculation.

“What about the hero and the others?”

“The Yellow Sage is still researching at the Ivory Tower in the Midulzuron region, the hero and princess have shown no particular movement, and the Saint is still purifying demonic energy in front of the Tower of Ruin. As for the tribes of the Tumvel Highlands—we’ve no eyes there—but we can be sure the Twin-Moon Swordmaster hasn’t made any notable moves.”

Upon hearing this, the red-haired man suddenly stood and burst into exaggerated laughter.

“Ha ha ha! Well, now! I thought we had failed, but it turns out we’ve actually succeeded!”

“…Indeed. It’s certainly unexpected.”