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James glanced at the note, his expression unreadable, then waved his hand dismissively.
The steward bowed and exited the room.
Tucking the note into his pocket, James returned to setting up the chessboard.
Meanwhile, Wei Ta—a professional assassin with impeccable work ethic—paid no mind to his employer's private affairs. He focused solely on placing each chess piece in its correct position.
(Let it be known that Wei Ta, despite his aristocratic affectations and noble airs, had no idea how to play chess. Merely arranging the pieces properly was already pushing his limits.)
This was professionalism.
Money was money. No shame in that.
Click. Click. Click.
As Wei Ta placed the final piece—the King—James' voice cut through the silence.
"When was your original plan's final move supposed to happen? The First Prince has summoned me back to the capital. I can't afford to wait much longer."
Wei Ta paused, considering.
"My preparations are complete. The timing depends on when Allen's group leaves Rikarisu. The moment they depart, the trap springs."
"And when do you think that will be?"
Wei Ta's mind drifted to Isolte's ample figure and striking beauty. His lips curled into a lecherous smirk.
(Unlike Sylphie's petite charm, Wei Ta—being a dwarf—had a type. Tall. Curvy. Long-legged.
This was, in fact, documented in The Chronicles of Cliff.)
"That depends on Allen's… stamina tonight. Young men, after enduring harsh travels, tend to indulge vigorously when finally in comfortable surroundings. Especially after a long separation. Tsk. Envious. At his age, I had nothing. Yet he takes it all for granted."
He licked his whiskers, grinning.
"Ungrateful brat. Doesn't appreciate what he has."
Despite his noble pretenses, Wei Ta's crass nature bled through.
James remained impassive, staring at the board.
"Double your fee. Move the final strike to dawn tomorrow. Can you do it?"
Wei Ta blinked.
The night breeze carried the scent of salt through the tower window.
His lips curled, baring teeth.
"Then blood must spill tonight."
James raised a brow.
"Whose blood?"
"Ours."
James understood instantly. "In Rikarisu?"
Wei Ta nodded.
"The assassination itself can't pose real danger—that would ruin the deception. But if he feels too safe, the final move fails. So we must:
- Make him kill.
- Make it bloody.
- Force him to flee Rikarisu in haste.
He's not alone. That's his weakness. If he were solitary, no method would work. But now? With companions? He'll panic. Slaughter enough people here, leave undeniable evidence, and he'll bolt."
"So tonight, before dawn… blood flows."
Silence.
James tapped a chess piece against the board.
"What if he doesn't kill?"
Wei Ta chuckled.
"Allen Boreas Greyrat is a lion."
"He won't tolerate insects dancing before him."
"Every report confirms it—provoke him, and he will kill. Immediately. Brutally. Without hesitation."
"That's the confidence of a Sword King."
"And rightly so. In Rikarisu, no one can face him head-on."
Despite his usual sycophantic act, Wei Ta couldn't hide his admiration when discussing Allen.
As the North King, Wei Ta relied more on schemes than skill—hence why Wein despised him.
But did he want to improve his swordsmanship?
Of course.
Yet talent had limits.
And Allen—barely thirteen—was already King-tier.
Infuriating.
Maddening.
To admire someone yet crave their ruin…
Such was human nature.
James watched Wei Ta's fervor, amused.
"Very well. Proceed."
Wei Ta hopped off his chair.
"I'll take my leave. The plan changes—I'll need more hands tonight. But gold buys loyalty."
With an exaggerated noble bow (that looked more like a grimace), he exited.
Alone, James studied the board.
His mind replayed Allen's earlier slaughter downstairs.
"Allen… Seeing you in action, your growth is even more terrifying than I imagined. Philip sent you for a reason."
"In that case…"
White pieces dominated the board.
Four pawns. One queen.
James replicated Wei Ta's supposed "kill setup."
Then—
He flicked the "queen" (Wei Ta) aside, replacing it with a white pawn.
Next, he picked up a new piece—
A black rook, carved from the tusk of a Fangbeast. Its polished surface gleamed ominously in the candlelight.
He placed it behind the four pawns.
One move away.
Waiting.
As the door clicked shut, James' gaze lingered on the black queen.
"Gold buys loyalty? Reckless fool."
He moved the black queen beside the rook.
"Refusing Notos' bet? Short-sighted woman."
The board now mirrored a proper siege.
James smirked.
"Philip. You always loved chess as a child."
"You took black. I took white."
"Every time, I let you grow confident—then shattered your plans with one move."
"After all these years, you're still so… predictable."
"A mediocre aggressor."
With a click, he slammed his final piece onto the board.
A white king.
Positioned behind the black forces.
"Even if the pawns can't take the rook…"
"The tide remains mine."
Outside, Rikarisu's waterways glittered under lantern light.
One man's scheme was set.
But the city's nightlife had only just begun.
Was Rikarisu's Nightlife Decent?
Allen was about to find out.
Rivers. Bridges. Boats.
Moonlight.
And lights—so many they nearly blinded him.
(All perfectly respectable, of course.)
As dusk fell, the group left the main thoroughfare, passing the Well of Stellan and entering Rikarisu's heart.
The city's fishing origins became obvious.
The streets weren't land blocks—just islands fractured by waterways.
Every few steps, a canal blocked their path, only for a bridge to appear moments later.
The rivers twisted unnaturally, lacking the orderly charm of man-made canals.
And the buildings?
Illuminated.
Not with magic or electricity—but countless candles in lanterns.
A staggering expense.
Yet Rikarisu's government charged street gangs for "public transport" duties.
So why splurge on lights?
Because this was the city's real economy.
Rikarisu—the Sin Capital of Asura.
"Oh? Boarding a lantern boat tonight?"
"Damn right! My shift was over, but then three people died—one guy's head exploded. City Hall's covering it up. Big shot arriving tomorrow…"
The voices faded as two men brushed past Allen's group.
Curious, the party turned—
Just in time to see the men stride onto a brightly lit pleasure barge.
Under the glow of lanterns, women in sheer silks beckoned.
The men didn't hesitate.
They boarded.
Hands already groping.
Rudeus' jaw dropped.
Magic circuits forgotten.
His eyes locked onto the "exquisite embroidery" visible beneath translucent fabrics.
His signature pervert grin emerged.
Eris, Isolte, and Sylphie froze.
Allen's spine turned to ice.
Oh no.
He'd just taken his:
Girlfriend.
Little sister.
And complicated female friend.
On an accidental tour of the red-light district.
What now?
Rudeus had an idea.
Pointing at the barges' banners, he enthused:
"Water Nest" – "A night of blissful rest!" (Small barge.)
"Rikarisu Depths" – "An experience you can't escape!" (Accepts property deeds as payment.)
"Outlander Inn" – "Weary travelers, find warmth here!" (Elf & beastgirl specialties.)
The last was a massive ship—so large it couldn't pass under bridges. Rope walkways connected it to the streets.
Rudeus' finger hovered over the beastgirl ad.
"Allen, look! They have—MMPH?!"
Allen clamped Rudeus' mouth shut.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!"
Too late.
The women in black lace had noticed.
And they were approaching.
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