Chapter 294

Chapter 294
Chapter 294

Recently, dealing with aristocrats had provided Jack with a brand-new survival tactic. Specifically, it taught him the art of bringing an awkward exchange to a swift and clean conclusion.

“Who was that individual?”

“The person responsible for selling stationery to academy scholars throughout the Asteri region.”

“Ah. I am afraid my memory tends to…”

It was the timeless “I fail to remember” routine. While the truth was glaringly obvious, no alternative strategy could have served him better at that moment.

*At least this should buy me a single round.*

A chill perspiration slid down his spine. The stationery merchant. How could he possibly claim ignorance? Wasn’t that the exact individual whom Jack himself had driven out of business over a petty grievance against Lion—the very person whose name now stood out prominently on the Criminal Underworld Return List?

*The real issue is…*

That specific fellow had initiated a remarkably eccentric countermeasure. Jack tried his absolute hardest to maintain a look of blank unawareness, but—

“Oh, is that so?”

The instant he caught that particular tone, which seemed fully prepared to spark a catastrophe at any moment, he had no choice left but to surrender completely.

“Ahahaha. It actually just slipped back into my mind. A vendor of magical goods who traded unique articles within the Asteri domain, correct?”

“Indeed. That is the exact person! Is he doing well?”

“However?”

“Ahem, never mind that. Let us go and witness it firsthand.”

The man was going to systematically comb through every single sector of the Criminal Underworld anyway, meaning discovery was bound to happen sooner or later. Without another syllable, Jack ripped open yet another scroll and teleported them to a fresh destination.

And—

*Oh, for goodness’ sake—!*

*Where has he vanished to this time? I had only just caught up to them!*

Tiamatrak, who arrived a mere split second too late, clutched her temples and groaned in frustration.

Unaware of this entirely, Lion—now standing at their newest location—lifted the hood Jack had provided and looked around. Unlike the hushed, clandestine ambiance of the Black Market, this environment thrummed with raw energy.

“Wahaha! This time around, my money is on the spear.”

“What are you talking about, you blind fool! Obviously, you place your bet on the shield.”

To put it more accurately, the place radiated an atmosphere bordering on sheer mania. All around them, individuals gripped their coin pouches tightly and roared with unbridled enthusiasm, some shouting encouragement for the spear while others backed the shield. The commotion was so intense that when two figures suddenly materialized right in their midst, not a single soul spared them a glance.

Taking in his surroundings, Lion quickly figured out where they had landed.

*A PVP zone!*

…No, that wasn’t quite right. It was the arena of the Criminal Underworld. Otherwise known as the Fight Club—the exact location where Varg, who was currently managing affairs at the Imperial Palace alongside Rickshel, had nearly been auctioned off.

*So this is the genuine article.*

The visceral intensity hit him in a completely different way compared to experiencing it inside . It was the polar opposite of the Black Market, where every buyer and seller hid behind hoods to preserve their anonymity. Then again, ever since stepping foot into the Criminal Underworld, he had figured a visit here was inevitable sooner rather than later.

As Lion suspected Jack was about to press him further—

“Push harder! Do you have any idea how much coin I have riding on your victory?”

“Damn you. No!”

Whooooa!

A large segment of the onlookers burst into a roar of triumph.

“It appears a match has just concluded.”

Expertly carving a path through the bulky throng, Jack securely escorted Lion right up to the front lines. Naturally, men who had spent their entire lives in ruthless environments did not step aside out of pure politeness.

“What is the meaning of this? If you arrive late, you watch from the rear…”

“Hey. You idiot! Know your place. Look at them—they clearly do not belong to our crowd.”

Perhaps the Criminal Underworld possessed its own unspoken hierarchy for sorting people out, because the uproar died down in a fraction of a second. If anything, people now discreetly shuffled out of the way to avoid any physical contact, without even bothering to investigate who the newcomers were.

*Must be basic survival instinct.*

The Criminal Underworld was a realm where raw fists mattered far more than any law. In this place, a human life held no more weight than that of a common housefly; the strong and capable simply climbed to the top, while the weak and fragile sank to the bottom. That was the entirety of it.

Furthermore, perhaps because he was standing on his home turf, Jack hadn’t bothered to cloak his presence. He wasn’t deliberately flaunting his strength, but anyone capable of throwing a punch could instantly sense enough power to recognize that keeping their distance was the wisest course of action.

*As for myself, well…*

Having lived alongside Grandfather, I had grown immune to such pressures long ago. Had my own internal energy been feeble, I would have been crushed flat by Grandfather’s aura the very moment I woke up and attempted to graze on grass—I would have required medical leave starting on day one.

Mindful that Lion’s true identity might draw unwanted attention, Jack adopted an unfamiliar form of address while gesturing toward the center of the arena. More specifically, toward the “prize” suspended right above the fighting pit.

“Ah.”

Only then did Lion comprehend precisely why Jack had led him to this spot.

“So… the stationery shop proprietor managed to find a completely new career path?”

“Hahaha! You saw right through it, just as I expected.”

To ordinary observers, the details would have been difficult to decipher, but anyone possessing vision on par with Lion’s or Jack’s could read the notice inscribed upon the prize with absolute clarity.

[The individual who claims the position of first place within the arena may commission a single custom item of any description directly from the magic-tool artisan.]

As supporting proof, an extensive catalogue detailing all the magical implements they had ever crafted was listed below—

*My Spitting Image*

The very same My-Spitting-Image accessory that Lion had previously purchased alongside Rickshel was listed among them.

“For the record, I did not issue an order for this setup. I fully intended to place him in a position of genuine importance.”

Jack was quick to offer a defense. The magic-tool artisan had assumed that role entirely of his own volition. Furthermore, according to one of the few binding regulations of the underworld, Jack could not simply seize someone else’s livelihood on a whim. Of course, he technically possessed the power to do so if he set his mind to it, but the former Jack had always adhered to the principle of avoiding unnecessary torment toward his subordinates, a rule he was currently respecting. Though, to be fair, when Lion had driven him to lose his temper on a prior occasion, he had caused a minor disruption.

“I have not even uttered a single word yet.”

“You were about to begin, however. Surely you did not seek this individual out without an underlying purpose.”

Every statement was entirely accurate, which only served to make it all the more irritating. Jack was entirely correct. Lion had not tracked down this magic-tool artisan purely for the sake of teasing Jack.

Specifically, he required a method of concealment whose origin could not be tracked back to him. After all, embarking on a search for the mermaid island inevitably meant traveling through the southern territories. The underlying complication was that the southern region was renowned for its dense concentration of aristocratic villas. Given the mild climate and serene, emerald-green seas, that outcome was only natural.

*Even if House Lepisent collapses entirely…*

Following the upcoming Emperor’s Birthday celebration, House Lepisent would likely face total annihilation or an existential crisis of a similar magnitude. The nobles who had previously aligned themselves with Marquis Lepisent would thrash about desperately in every possible direction merely to survive. And in that chaotic scenario, who would appear to be the most vulnerable target?

*Myself.*

Lion the eccentric. The eldest son of the Asteri family, whispered to possess a peculiar temperament coupled with a rather gentle disposition. Did that not project an image of harmless safety, suggesting someone whose resources could be drained down to the marrow without risking any fatal retaliation?

Naturally, Grandfather would pull strings behind the scenes on my behalf, but no matter how meticulously one prepared, unforeseen variables always materialized. Therefore, Lion intended to obscure his true identity as thoroughly as humanly possible.

Regardless, that was the long and short of the matter.

“I would like to arrange a meeting with him and commission an item.”

“That is impossible.”

Jack provided the answer he had already prepared in advance. No matter how lawless this domain might be, a fundamental baseline of regulations still remained enforced. For instance, the absolute rule governing the Fight Club centered entirely upon the “prize.” This meant that under no circumstances could the special status of the reward be compromised; only the final victor remaining standing was permitted to claim it. Once awarded, the winner possessed the absolute freedom to sell it, utilize it, or do whatever else they pleased with the item.

“It actually is entirely possible. Does that not imply an unidentified individual can enter the competition?”

“Haha. Surely… you are not contemplating entering the ring yourself?”

“Myself? No, of course not.”

“Hahah. Naturally.”

“I could never manage it.”

What kind of brute physical might did I possess anyway? Lion spoke casually, keeping his gaze locked directly on Jack.

Right on target.

“…Oh, bloody hell.”

At that moment, Jack grasped the exact implications of those words. In short, it meant that he himself—the supreme head of the Criminal Underworld—was expected to step into the Fight Club as a competing participant.

Though he wanted to shift the blame onto Lion, Jack knew the reality of the situation. This was simply the price he had to pay for the petty grudge he had harbored himself.

*All my accumulated years of experience…*

This was precisely why one ought to heed the wisdom of their elders. He could practically hear Former Jack cackling from beneath the earth.

*Damn it all. There is no helping it now.*

Gritting his teeth, Jack forced a smile onto his face. In truth, he could have simply commanded Brick, his trusted right-hand man who was currently keeping watch from a distance, to handle the task instead. But that clearly wasn’t what Lion wanted. It was obvious that Lion Asteri intended to have Jack step down into that pit and take his lumps personally. A petty form of retribution, most likely, for the events of the past.

Well, he could understand the sentiment. If Jack were in Lion’s position, he would have done the exact same thing. Besides, handling the matter himself and bringing it to a swift conclusion would be faster overall.

“Are we understood?”

“Naturally. You are well aware of how remarkably well-behaved I am.”

The instant Lion finished speaking, Jack vanished to register an “anonymous” name onto the list of competitors. Meanwhile, right at Lion’s side, the coachman who had previously accompanied him to the Bydantis territory—or rather, Jack’s right-hand man, Brick—stepped up to take his place.

Events progressed rapidly. Jack’s turn arrived almost immediately, and he strode directly into the iron cage of the Fight Club. Watching the entire sequence unfold with blinding speed, Lion muttered quietly to himself.

“…Why on earth did he volunteer to do it himself, though?”

“Because our master possesses a rather perverse disposition.”

Brick, who as an outside observer had fully grasped the dynamics of the situation, replied in a level tone. Contrary to what his own master—the supreme leader of the Criminal Underworld—might have believed, Lion Asteri’s heart was not nearly that twisted.

“It sounds like you certainly have your hands full.”

Brick offered no verbal response, but Lion could sense a great deal left unsaid. Managing a boss whose moods fluctuated so wildly must have been quite a handful.

*It seems I lucked out quite a bit with my own situation, however.*

At any rate, Jack’s challengers fell like autumn leaves caught in a gale, and the Fight Club bout concluded in record-breaking time. Just like that, Lion—without so much as lifting a single finger—secured his meeting with the magic-tool artisan.

Simultaneously—

*Augh! I have finally caught up!*

*But what on earth is happening here? Someone needs to explain this to me!*

*You went ahead and had fun without me, didn’t you?*

While Lion was occupied with his modest diversion, a multitude of major developments were unfolding concurrently within the Imperial Palace. As anticipated, Marquis Lepisent and the Empress were hauled away and thrown into a frigid prison cell under charges of orchestrating treason.

“…Therefore, in formal recognition of this vital service, Second Prince Kyle Sol Ionis is hereby appointed to the position of Crown Prince.”

Naturally, having been duly recognized for successfully thwarting the treasonous conspiracy, he ascended directly to the role of Crown Prince. It was an expedited formality carried out without even a formal investiture ceremony, yet not a single person dared to raise an objection.

“I shall dedicate myself entirely to guiding the empire along its proper course.”

Kyle brought the proceeding to a swift close with a brief bow and marched straight toward the secure chamber where the First Prince was being held. Terus, who had been acknowledged for possessing “minimal merit” and was awaiting his final sentencing within his personal quarters, greeted Kyle with a rather cheerful demeanor.

However, Kyle was in no frame of mind to welcome a cheerful greeting.

*It is still not enough.*

An act of treason ought naturally to warrant execution, but if Marquis Lepisent decided to abandon even the Empress to her fate, there remained a distinct possibility he might manage to wriggle his way out alone.

“There is one lingering question that remains unanswered.”

“Wh-what could it possibly be?”

“Where precisely did you acquire the knowledge to cast that curse?”

Prompted by that inquiry, the already terrified First Prince blurted out a confession instantly.

“I am completely innocent! My grandfather instructed me within the mansion, claiming it might prove useful at some point in the future!”

…Thanks to the First Prince betraying his own grandfather in a single breath, Kyle and the Asteri family were granted the justification they needed to thoroughly search the Lepisent mansion.