Episode 41

The soldiers stationed outside the main gate still gripped their swords tightly, maintaining a vigilant stance as they awaited orders from within.

The tension between the two opposing forces was palpable. On one side, trembling hands and feet barely kept their posture; on the other, the Cheollyeo tribe chewed on betel leaves with casual ease.

Creak.

The gate slowly swung open. The soldiers parted to either side, allowing the unfamiliar visitors to enter.

“Only Ian and the chieftain may come inside!”

“Come inside?”

“Sounds a lot better than it actually is.”

“…”

The soldier belonged to Bariel’s central army, while these others were borderland barbarians. Their attitude and tone were expected, but one warrior sneered openly, taunting them.

The others chuckled in agreement, creating an intimidating, rough atmosphere. Yet this time, Ian didn’t stop them.

“Let the escort in.”

“That’s not allowed.”

“Are you the leader or the commander here?”

“…Orders have already come down from above.”

“Perhaps you should ask again. Your lord’s mind might change, just as ours can.”

Ian’s calm words drained the color from the soldier’s face. Though he had no will to resist, this was a warning: things could go badly if they pushed further.

The central army had already suffered heavy losses in the battle against Derga; any further conflict had to be avoided at all costs.

Besides, their opponents were the aggressive Cheollyeo barbarians threatening Bratz. Who knew what the future held, but for now, tearing down this mansion would be no small feat.

Ian turned to Kakantir and proposed, “Kakan, I think it’s best if Nersarn, Su, and I enter together—just the four of us.”

“I’m coming too! Ian, I’m here! And Beric as well?”

“Fine. We’ll do as you say.”

“Go on, then. Ask again.”

“Iaaan! Are you deaf?”

Beric, clinging like luggage, wriggled, begging to be taken along, but exceptions were exceptions.

Under Ian’s pressure, the soldier retreated inside and soon returned with satisfactory news.

“You may enter.”

“I’ll be back. Everyone, wait here.”

“Yes, Kakan!”

Creak.

The main gate closed slowly behind them. Returning to the Bratz mansion after two months, Ian found it much changed from his memories. The quiet, fresh atmosphere was gone, replaced by a heavy air of defeat.

The distant annex looked completely blackened, as if burned to the ground. Ian stared at the unrecognizable piles beside it. What on earth were those…?

“Are you Ian Bratz?”

At that moment, a woman emerged from the main building, flanked by her guards.

Her attire marked her as the investigation leader. Her pink hair was tied back, and bandages wrapped around various parts of her body. It seemed fierce fighting had taken place inside the mansion as well. She smiled, cigarette in hand.

“Ah, since you’re not yet inducted, I suppose I should just call you Ian. I’ve heard from Lord Molin. I’m Erika, the leader.”

“Are you one of Lord Molin’s subordinates?”

“Subordinate? Well, if you want to put it that way, yes. Now, come inside. It’s humble, but better than the ground outside, isn’t it?”

Erika strode ahead as if the mansion belonged to her, leading the way. Watching her back, Ian guessed she was the next lord appointed by Molin.

Her position as investigation leader and her direct involvement here made her a fitting candidate for the role.

“What happened here?”

Once inside the parlor, Ian feigned ignorance, testing the waters. The air was thick with the lingering scent of blood.

“As you can see, there was some bloodshed, but the cleanup is nearly done. We confirmed the tax evasion charges and found the evidence. All that’s left is to cut off Derga’s limbs.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. Most traitors were executed by hanging. Death by blade was considered an honor among nobles; hanging was a shameful spectacle few wanted to witness.

Erika laughed, clearly joking. From the gate to the parlor, she hadn’t once glanced at Kakantir—arrogantly ignoring him.

“Well, that’s just a figure of speech. Derga has knights and a commander—Deora, I think?—who are quite skilled. He’s been running away, using others as pawns, so cutting off his limbs is only natural.”

She exhaled cigarette smoke in Ian’s face, then finally glanced at Kakantir with a puzzled look.

“So, what brings you all the way here? I heard you bear a grudge against Derga. Curious about the execution, perhaps?”

This place was no longer safe for Ian. With the Bratz family on the brink of extinction, everyone knew he carried Derga’s blood, even if he hadn’t been formally inducted.

“Or are you just waiting for a letter from Lord Molin?”

Simply cooperating by delivering a tip to Lord Molin earned them this friendly treatment—a sign of the victors’ mercy.

Erika smacked her lips.

“What do you want? I haven’t received any orders.”

“I’d like to hear news of Lord Molin, but I have other business as well.”

“Oh? Really?”

Erika seemed unimpressed, as if the matter of a servant sold to the Cheollyeo was trivial.

“Bratz is my home. I lost sleep worrying when I heard about the trouble. The Cheollyeo tribe, allied with Bratz, feels the same. That’s why I came with them.”

Erika glanced at Kakantir, then tilted her head with a smile. She hadn’t yet grasped Ian’s true intent.

“Barbarians don’t get along with Bratz, do they?”

Ian chuckled—a clear, dismissive laugh. Erika’s expression hardened as she stubbed out her cigarette on the table, and her guards gripped their sword hilts.

“Bratz and the Cheollyeo have long maintained peace and exchange. We’re more than brothers.”

“Brothers? Ha. What nonsense. Everyone in the central administration knows Bratz and Cheollyeo are at each other’s throats. Aren’t you proof of that? A lowly body sold alive into the great desert.”

“Your choice of words is striking. Surprising, really. I suppose even investigation leaders these days can come from commoner origins.”

“What!?”

Erika shouted, offended by Ian’s calm retort, which was basically a mirror of her own crude tone.

Kakantir chuckled in agreement.

“Listen here, leader.”

“Listen here, leader?”

“I am the center of the great desert. Enough with your crude talk. Confirm Derga’s tax evasion and get on with the execution. We’ll handle the cleanup in Bratz’s territory.”

“What are you saying?!”

“Erika! There’s no need to listen any further!”

Clang! Clang!

Erika’s guards drew their swords. Kakantir, Nersarn, and Su simply watched, calm and composed, unlike the agitated soldiers.

“You beasts! Do you know where you are?!”

Whoosh!

One of the men lunged at Kakantir, swinging his sword. Kakantir caught the man’s wrist barehanded with ease, then steadily applied pressure.

“Uh…?”

Crack.

“Ahhh!”

With one hand, Kakantir twisted the man’s wrist. Not stopping there, he grabbed the man’s hair and slammed his head onto the table. The ashes from Erika’s discarded cigarette smudged the man’s face.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Each heavy blow burst thin streams of blood, soaking the carpet beneath the table. Erika, stepping back, screamed in a shrill voice.

“Are you insane? I am a messenger of the imperial palace! This is an insult to the palace!”

“Insult? You’d do well to watch your words. Surviving my blows is already a mercy and an honor.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. Kakantir had never lost a fight on his way to becoming chieftain, and all his opponents had met death.

Erika looked ready to lose her mind. She glared at Ian and warned,

“…Do you want to be beheaded alongside your father? Everyone knows you carry Derga’s blood! Even if I kill you, no one will hold me accountable!”

“As you said, I bear Derga’s blood, but I am not of the Bratz family.”

“Try saying that in the palace! Let’s see if your tricks work there!”

“Well, becoming a palace slave is the usual fate, but one must read the situation carefully. Above all, I am the only ‘imperial’ who maintains relations with the neighboring Cheollyeo tribe.”

This place was a borderland, a half-month’s journey from the imperial palace.

Whoever became the next lord, it was their duty to protect Bariel’s borders from outside forces. In this urgent moment, who was the one backed by the Cheollyeo?

Ian lifted his head slightly, as if to say, “Look closely.”

“Also, due to the peace treaty, my allegiance lies not with Bariel’s Bratz, but with the Cheollyeo of the great desert. Ah, it would be wise to lower your swords—for your own safety.”

They were monsters who could easily take on dozens in a single day. You could tell just by their sheer size. Even at Kakhantir’s casual movements, Erika’s men had already been knocked unconscious. No one could guess what kind of bloodbath would erupt once they drew their weapons.

“And above all, Captain Erika, your mission is to investigate and punish Derga’s tax evasion—not to clean up the mess in Bratz territory. Once you’ve done your duty, isn’t it unpleasant to just leave?”

“I’m here to capture Derga!”

“You turned the entire territory into a wasteland. That’s excessive. All that bloodshed could have been avoided if only Derga had paid his taxes. Instead, the cries of the villagers fill the air.”

“You’re the one who’s excessive! Face the reality of your situation!”

Derga’s bloodline, a lowly commoner, a mere sacrifice to the great desert. It was a foregone conclusion that when the count’s official trial took place, Ian would be sold off as a slave. They had to make up for the taxes Derga had stolen, no matter what.

“I know my place.”

At Ian’s words, Kakhantir pulled a letter from his inner pocket and tossed it onto the bloodstained table with a thud.

“This is the position of our ally, Cheonryeo. Derga’s affairs are internal to the empire, but we have an alliance with Bratz. We want peace in Bratz more than anyone else.”

“Hah! The audacity.”

“You’d do well to keep a respectful tone. If you die here, you’ll be the one who regrets it most.”

It was a simple but unmistakable warning. Erika bit her lip hard and gripped her sword tighter. Then, suddenly, she realized the Cheonryeo hadn’t even drawn their weapons yet—they clearly believed their bare hands were enough.

“According to the alliance, we should support Derga. But Derga is a criminal, and Bratz is a fragment of Bariel. So we intend to help you…”

Kakhantir glanced at Ian.

Everything was going exactly as planned.

“I believe Ian is the right person to connect you and us. I propose delegating all authority over Bratz to Ian. What do you think?”

“…Did I misunderstand? That sounds like you’re saying you want to become the clan head.”

Ian and the Cheonryeo simply stared at Erika without answering. She was so stunned she was momentarily speechless. But before she could react further, Ian smiled faintly, as if to say it was too soon to worry.