Chapter 326: Next Time, Pick a More Common Name
Inside a luxurious villa in Columbia.
A burly Kuranta climbed out of the pool by the entrance, his face stiff as he walked toward a nearby lounge chair.
Though his hair and beard were long since streaked with white, the muscles bulging across his frame made it hard to believe that this man was already well into his seventies.
And more crucially—it was nearly impossible to imagine that this very man was the hidden ruler behind the entire K.G.C.C—"Newsman" Kain.
He had done an excellent job concealing his true identity. Apart from the Chairman of the K.G.C.C's various guilds, not even the public spokespersons had ever seen his real face.
That was the reason he had lived to this age at all. After all, before this, there had been no shortage of people coveting the seat beneath him.
But for now, Kain no longer had to worry about that. Those would-be usurpers, after all, had already been strung up on that giant streetlamp by that damned knight.
At the mere thought of that man, Kain's already sour mood turned even darker.
He had spent decades building a vast commercial empire at immense cost, only for it to be toppled in an instant by that one man.
Had he not fled to Columbia in time, he would probably already be dangling from a streetlamp alongside his former peers—those same men who once sat with him in the conference chamber—still left there to rot, with no one daring to retrieve their corpses.
Kain had once believed there was nothing that couldn't be solved with money and power. Any problem could be settled—so long as sufficient profit was offered.
And when the K.G.C.C had gradually begun to outshine the Adeptus Sprawiedliwi itself—the supposed true rulers of Kazimierz—he had only become more certain of this truth.
On this harsh land, profit was the one principle that ruled above all. As long as there was money to be made, he could control Kazimierz, and perhaps even the entire continent.
Imagine it: when Columbia's streets were filled with shops owned by the K.G.C.C, when Ursus was forced to import vital supplies from Kazimierz, when Kazimierz became the beating heart of all trade across Terra—would he not then wield control over the entire land, just as he had over Kazimierz itself?
But that dream had been shattered. And the one who shattered it was that strange knight—appearing from nowhere, with no clear goal, a mystery wrapped in steel.
From him, Kain had learned a bitter truth: all that he pursued—wealth, influence, authority—were worthless trinkets before true strength.
The K.G.C.C he once believed untouchable had been swept into the dustbin of history in a single day. Its members were branded traitors, spat upon by the people.
The senior guild leaders—who once claimed that not even the Adeptus Sprawiedliwi could judge them—were strung up like dried meat along the streetlamp.
Their fortunes, their authority, their networks of power—none of it bought them even a second more of life. The knight, like a death god delivering judgment, appeared for no other purpose than to take their lives.
At this thought, Kain's rage was quickly smothered. The knight's strength was undeniable. In all of Kazimierz, there was likely no one who could stand against him.
A man so powerful that he could tear apart any rule or order—such a being should never have existed in this world.
Kain knew very well that, when facing someone like this, anger would only dull his mind, and treating them as an enemy would be the most foolish mistake of all.
What he ought to do now was to immediately transfer the remaining funds and industries of the K.G.C.C over to Columbia. Only by preserving his strength would he have any chance of launching a counterattack against Kazimierz.
As for how to gain a foothold in this unfamiliar country—that, for Kain, was the least of his concerns.
The upper echelons of Columbia seemed very interested in the secrets and intelligence about Kazimierz that were stored in the head of the K.G.C.C's leader.
In fact, with that information, coupled with the wealth and industries still in his possession, he could go anywhere and live just as well as he had in Kazimierz, if not better.
The pity of it was—he could have had much more. Or rather, he already did have much more.
Casting a cold glance toward the direction of Kazimierz, Kain understood very clearly: after what had happened, Kazimierz would never again allow his existence.
If he returned, all that awaited him was to be stripped of his interests, turned into nothing more than a prisoner, a puppet, and a disposable tool.
Since that was the case, why shouldn't he choose to sell off these things—which, to him, were as good as already lost—and make his own life more comfortable?
He was, after all, a businessman. And businessmen sought profit.
Reaching for the phone beside him, Kain considered whether he should contact his local associates here in Columbia while the news had surely not yet reached them, to arrange a smooth handover.
Only then could he secure the greatest possible benefit.
But just as he was about to call, the device emitted nothing but a series of busy tones. Kain frowned, ready to summon his butler to ask if something had gone wrong—when suddenly he realized, with a jolt, that at some unknown point, he was no longer inside the carefully chosen villa he had purchased in Columbia.
The air was thick with a stench of copper, one he could never mistake. In that instant, he knew exactly where he was. His pupils widened as his eyes lifted, and there they were—the towering, unmistakable skyscrapers of Kazimierz.
Was this a dream?
Otherwise, how could he explain what was happening? Hadn't he just been basking in the Columbian sun? How could he have suddenly returned to Kazimierz's Grand Knight Territory in the blink of an eye?
It made no sense. More than that—as the one experiencing it, Kain felt nothing at all. The transfer had happened in an instant, beyond reason, beyond explanation.
But when he glanced down at the luxury watch strapped to his wrist, and saw the time ticking forward exactly as he remembered, he was all the more baffled.
The time matched perfectly. Was it truly possible for someone to move him across such a vast distance in so short a span?
Kain didn't believe it.
He was more convinced that this was nothing more than some kind of Originium Art—an illusion crafted to throw him off balance.
And yet, the figure that appeared before him next—a boy—once again caught him completely off guard.
The black-haired, blue-eyed youth with a slightly frivolous smile—of course Kain recognized him. Most of the assets he had left behind in Kazimierz had been taken over by the conglomerate under this young man's control. In other words, standing before him was the one who had profited the most from the whole upheaval.
But why was he here? And did he really have any connection with him?
Staring at the youth with puzzled eyes, Kain kept silent.
In moments like this, the best course of action was clearly to let the other party speak first.
Yet when the youth finally came up to him, the first words out of his mouth left Kain even more at a loss.
"Sigh~ really now. Of all the names you could've chosen, you just had to go with something like "Newsman" Kain. If you'd picked a more generic name, like John Smith or something, I really would've had a hard time tracking you down. Next time, if there's a next life, do yourself a favor and choose something less distinctive."
The speaker was, of course, Steven. Too lazy to teleport all the way to Columbia, he'd opted for the simpler method of dragging Kain here instead. If the man's name had been more common, finding him would've been troublesome. But unfortunately for Kain, that "Newsman" Kain nickname was unique—and belonged only to the old man standing before him.
"…What do you mean by that? As far as I know, we're not acquainted."
Unable to make sense of the young man's words or actions, Kain couldn't help but question him. What did his name have to do with anything? What exactly was this young man after?
"Now, that's not true. Didn't we already have a phone call before?"
Steven smiled, his voice gradually shifting as he spoke. By the end, it had transformed into a tone Kain knew all too well—the nightmarish voice etched deep into his memory.
"You? Impossible!"
Kain's pupils shrank sharply.
Common sense screamed that this couldn't be true. But when he tried reasoning backwards—if the young man in front of him really was that knight—suddenly everything fell into place.
If the entire affair had been orchestrated by the Black Hole Knight, then it made sense why the knight had abandoned the destruction of Kazimierz, and how he had been able to acquire the K.G.C.C's assets at rock-bottom prices.
So this had all been aimed at him from the very start?
"Sigh~ I knew this voice would be the one you recognized best. So—how's the cross-continental trip I arranged for you? Instantly whisked from Columbia back to your homeland—no impressions at all?"
Steven smiled as he walked over to Kain, who had collapsed onto the ground in shock. He honestly hadn't expected the boss of the K.G.C.C to turn out to be such a frail, pitiful-looking old man.
"…"
"Please… please let me go. Whether it's the K.G.C.C's funds or industries, all my wealth, everything I own—I'll hand it all over to you. Just spare my life."
After a brief silence, Kain's trembling voice broke into a plea for mercy. Dignity, status, power—none of it mattered in the face of death. For him, survival alone had become the greatest luxury.
"Begging me for mercy? Humans really are ugly creatures. Wonderful—I like your kind the best."
Steven smiled as he helped the limp Kain back to his feet, his expression growing ever more affable.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M
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