The trader's eyes widened in disbelief, unable to fathom that Bokum would dare to take his life.
The lifeless body collapsed onto the snow.
Bokum crouched down and retrieved the five Kesi bills, spitting onto the trader's face as he did.
"Ha, dying at the hands of a rat like me, you filthy cockroach."
The corpse would be left here, buried beneath the snow, or perhaps discovered by the old butler.
But none of it mattered to him anymore. With the money in hand, he intended to leave this place, to escape and enjoy life as he had never done before.
He rummaged through an old wooden chest and found his hidden black mask. He discarded his bloodstained clothes, tossing them carelessly into the snow.
The snow was the perfect cover.
It could easily erase one's traces.
Bokum wandered aimlessly for what seemed like an eternity until he finally reached a shop labeled "Miss Verna."
He knocked on the glass window.
The window opened.
Verna saw a man in black attire and a mask leaning against the wall.
The warm air from inside seeped through the small window, and Bokum greedily inhaled it.
Verna, her tone tinged with disgust, said, "Sir, we've already closed."
Ignoring her words, Bokum replied, "I want to buy the Gift of Snowstorm."
He reached out, tapping the glass.
Thud~clink~thud~.
Thud~clink~thud, thud, thud.
Verna's expression shifted slightly, and her tone softened with a trace of uncertainty. "Sir, the Gift of Snowstorm... all twenty bottles are sold out."
Bokum thought for a moment and asked, "Do you have any more tomorrow, at 10 AM?"
"I'm afraid not, sir," she answered with a regretful shake of her head.
Seeing Bokum silent, Verna suggested, "Sir, perhaps you could try another shop?"
"Miss Verna, I'm sorry to trouble you. When will it be restocked?"
"With this blizzard, I can't say for sure," she said, her voice growing a bit softer. "The storm is fierce."
"Indeed, the snowstorm has grown so strong in less than ten minutes."
At that moment, Verna pushed a cup toward him and said, "Warm yourself, it's cold outside."
Bokum grasped the cup, and after sipping the hot tea, he pushed it back.
"Thank you. This tea is quite comforting."
"I'm glad you like it, sir. We don't have many fine things here, but I hope this scarf will warm you on your travels."
Bokum accepted the red scarf, wrapping it around his neck before heading out.
As he turned a corner, a howling wind swept through, carrying the snowflakes with it.
This cursed weather was bitterly cold. As Bokum thought to himself, a knight's horse slowly came up from behind.
The horse's hooves left long, deep imprints in the soft snow.
"Peasant! Do you know which way to the Earl of Malobik's estate?"
"I do not, sir knight."
The knight, with his helmet and mask, sat tall on his horse, and Bokum could not see his gaze.
However, the Duke's knight, with a sidelong glance, noticed the black-and-gold rose insignia on Bokum's shoulder. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Without giving Bokum a chance to react, the knight drew his silver sword and thrust it straight through him.
Bokum stood frozen, watching the beautiful silver blade pierce his body. Blood poured from his mouth, dripping onto the scarf, making it even more vivid.
"Rat! You dare disrespect the noble Duke's knight! You deserve to die."
Withdrawing the sword, the Duke's knight scanned the surroundings.
Whoosh—
The biting wind howled against the windowpanes, as if an evil spirit was coming for its prey.
The knight dismounted, took the Kesi bills, and mounted his horse again, riding off into the thickening snow. The tracks left behind were soon covered.
Lying on the ground, Bokum felt his warmth draining away, and a surge of fear flooded his heart.
With trembling hands, he gazed toward a distant light.
"Help me... help me."
The people inside the house dared not open the window.
They could only watch from behind the curtain, fearful of angering the Duke's knight by aiding a sinner.
It wasn't until Bokum had fully passed that his vengeful gaze fixed on the house, unblinking.
After a long time, the door creaked open.
The people weren't frightened by Bokum's vengeful eyes—they feared for their own lives, and their fortunes.
Quickly, Bokum's body was scavenged, leaving nothing but a single garment to preserve the last remnants of his dignity.
Whoosh—
The wind and snow raged outside.
In the black market, a faint candlelight flickered.
A gust of wind blew in, making the flame flicker restlessly, as though it could be snuffed out at any moment.
Creak—
The old butler paid no mind, quietly savoring his wine.
"Qius, come, have a taste as well."
When Delta-Qius sat down, he took a glass of red wine, the light of the candle casting a beautiful glow on the liquid.
"Father, the trader is dead. Bokum killed him, and Bokum himself died at the hands of the Duke's knight's silver sword. The plan has gone off without a hitch."
"Qius, do you find hunting a habit?"
Delta-Qius took a sip of wine, licking his lips before grinning maliciously. "Father, I find it quite exhilarating. The feeling of casually controlling the lives of ants is magnificent."
He stretched his hand, pretending to grasp something in the air.
He was beginning to feel the power of the nobles, like a fine wine, intoxicating him.
"Enough, Qius. When I took you from the Duke of Troxie's castle, there was a purpose. We are still not nobles."
"I know, Father. My brother is a steward at the Duke of Troxie's castle. He's in the light, while we are in the shadows."
For generations, the Delta family had served as stewards in the Duke of Troxie's castle—decorously called stewards, but in truth, mere dogs.
To outsiders, however, this was a great honor bestowed by the Duke himself.
A fiery blaze sparked in Delta-Qius's eyes.
They planned to use the Duke of Troxie's pride and arrogance against him, slowly building their own power in the shadows, while causing as much trouble for the Duke as they could.
"Qius, find out where Anderson went before his death, send out the information. Once they go after the wine, we'll draw the knights back. Chaos will make everything more fun."
"I understand, Father."
Creak—
The candlelight flickered out
In the darkness.
Delta-Kevin's eyes gleamed as he stared at the trembling wine glass.
"What secrets could the Duke of Troxie's castle be hiding, I wonder? This is truly exciting."
Three hundred years ago, the Duke of Troxie left this place, and after following the king to battle, he solidified his position as the Duke for the next two centuries.
No matter how the king's power shifted, the title of Duke always belonged to the Troxie family, even the currency was named Kesi after them.
This curiosity gnawed at Delta-Kevin. The knight who came here wasn't likely concerned with maintaining the Duke's authority—he was here to hide something.
Otherwise, why send one of the Seven Knights to such a small place?
The screen darkened.
Click—
The severed finger cracked open