Chapter 96: Incomprehensible Man (1)

“…”

Lan groaned as she read the secret ledger Risir had handed her.

The ledger more than qualified as suspicious—with all the questionable pages it contained—but its truly crucial information was concealed within unique formats and coded language, as if hidden in an elaborate puzzle.

Even for Lan, who had seen such secret documents many times in her dealings with underworld criminals, deciphering this puzzle was no simple task.

So, what Gerhen supposedly received from [Wine in the Left Hand]…

According to these notes, it doesn’t seem problematic…but then again, they wouldn’t have bothered writing it this way…

Eventually, Lan furrowed her brow in frustration. Risir had supposedly brought her evidence capable of toppling the political career of a councilor, who dominated the city’s underworld and wielded absolute power.

Had any other young person presented her with such evidence, she would have demanded an immediate explanation. But with Risir involved, she held back the barrage of questions. How had he gotten it? Was it even real?

Lan was nothing if not learned. Over time, she had discovered that—when matters concerned Risir—the wisest course was not to interrogate but to merely assent.

Take, for example, the time he transformed the devil revered by cultists into his own devil servant(?).

Had she demanded, “Convince me,” as she typically would in her capacity as councilor, the situation might have spiraled into complexity.

Instead, with a simple, “The devil became a devil servant? OK,” the matter was swiftly settled.

Thus, Lan dared not press Risir on the ledger’s significance, silently fretting to herself.

What in the world led him to conclude this is a secret ledger?

After a moment’s observation of Lan’s inner turmoil, Risir broke the silence.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Pardon? Oh.”

Lan nearly let slip an eager “Yes!!!”—a response she couldn’t afford.

As a councilor ostensibly dedicated to dismantling underworld networks, questioning the young mage with a probing, “I don’t get it. Why is this a secret ledger?” would have wounded her pride.

Mm? Ah.

Picking up on her hesitation, Risir shifted his tone.

“Now that I think about it, I never explained how I determined this document was a secret ledger. It’s a bit late, but may I clarify now?”

“…Would you?”

Though it wasn’t the first time she’d encountered his tact, Lan remained surprised by it.

Nobles were creatures deeply concerned with reputation, always maneuvering to preserve face.

This was especially true for young nobles like Risir. Upon reaching adulthood and stepping into their own sense of exceptionalism, they often committed social missteps in their eagerness to show off their prowess.

It was so common that tolerance for such immaturity was considered a virtue among seasoned aristocrats—but Lan found no occasion to extend it here. His conduct was far too refined for his age.

Come to think of it, he’s never mentioned his family…

A belated curiosity about Risir’s origins stirred within her. It was customary to inquire about a noble’s lineage upon first meeting, yet he had subdued a devil long before she could broach the subject…

He can’t possibly be illegitimate.

The common assumption was that nobles who didn’t (couldn’t) reveal their familial background were, by default, of questionable origin. And yet, Lan found it impossible to connect Risir’s personality or abilities with bastard origins.

Then again, who could?

I wonder why he’s hiding it…

While Lan let her imagination wander under the given clues, Risir continued steadily.

He recounted, almost verbatim, the explanation he had received from Clana—a narrative that helped Lan and the three powerful figures before her interpret the ledger’s contents.

The pleasant expressions of the assembled group gradually gave way to bewilderment.

Doesn’t he know these details too well…?

His discussion of criminals’ habits, customs, and methods was unnervingly professional, as vivid as the testimony of someone long immersed in the criminal underworld.

Where could a noble, scarcely past his coming-of-age ceremony, have acquired such in-depth knowledge?

“How was that? Did it explain everything?”

“…Yes, that was a sufficient explanation.”

Thus, their questions about the ledger were neatly resolved.

…And in exchange, deeper queries about Risir himself began to take shape.

That evening, at dusk, Risir received a summons from Lan and returned to her office.

“Ah, Risir.”

She greeted him with a warm smile that quickly gave way to seriousness.

Lost in thought at her desk, Lan’s mind raced: Gadum must be feeling cornered by the desertion of his barbarian mercenaries and the loss of the secret ledger. And he likely suspected her of masterminding the incident.

This, she decided, was the perfect moment to press him while he was vulnerable. But Gadum was no ordinary adversary.

Lan escorted Risir to a seat before cautiously broaching the subject.

“Gadum has invited us to a banquet tonight.”

She recalled that, moments before, Gadum’s representative had arrived with an invitation to his manor. His proactive move to seize control almost made her forget that she held the upper hand.

Though she longed to refuse the offer—unwilling to show weakness in front of an enemy—she also couldn’t afford any concession.

“What will you do?”

Perhaps Risir felt the same way she did. And if not, what did he think?

Lan watched his reaction closely, her expression a mix of anticipation and unease.

Risir answered in a pleasant tone.

“I’m fine with it.”

“You’re fine with it?”

“Yes. It’s just dinner, after all.”

If the higher-ups want to have dinner, then that’s that. It’s not like I can say no. And sure, Gadum’s a problem, but would he really cause trouble with another councilor present? Probably not. Should be fine.

Such were the thoughts of a modest, ordinary man.

Lan was greatly shocked by his response.

“Just dinner…”

Here was Risir, the very same mage who had done away with Gadum’s barbarian mercenaries. Surely he knew all too well what kind of man Gadum truly was: someone who wouldn’t hesitate to employ trickery, even after inviting a fellow city councilor to his home.

Yet, to describe entering Gadum’s lair as merely a dinner engagement…

Lan let out a wry laugh. Talking with Risir, she felt a touch foolish for having taken the mere likes of Gadum so seriously.

Compared to the true nature of the monstrous figure Risir was, Gadum’s authority likely meant nothing at all.

“Yes, that’s right. It’s just dinner—nothing to worry about, right?”

There was no way Gadum would get what he wanted from this young mage.

Risir’s eyes widened at her confident tone.

Look at her being so dependable. Just what a councilor should be. She’s my ticket to the top!

He answered with unwavering faith in her.

“But of course.”

“Haha…”

“Heheh…”

Reassured by their shared confidence, they set off toward Gadum’s manor.

At the manor’s reception, a rotund man—Councilor Gadum—greeted them with a satisfied smile.

“Welcome, Lan. It must have been a sudden invitation, yet you agreed so readily. You’ve saved my face with that.”

But standing before the assembled guests, he was secretly bewildered.

They actually came?

News had spread instantly throughout the city: the Cadogan siblings, who managed the pleasure district, had abandoned Gadum’s businesses and fled Bondalles.

In response, Gadum’s so-called friends fretted while his enemies watched with gleaming eyes.

Gadum was gripped by a sense of crisis, as Lan had predicted, driving him to convene an impromptu banquet at his manor.

He had planned to assemble his friends and display Lan’s empty seat as a stark reminder that his foes still trembled before him—that his influence remained strong.

Yet, against all expectations, Lan accepted the invitation.

Why, Lan? You’re not the type to make such a judgment.

The district surrounding Gadum’s manor lay entirely under his sway. Not one resident was beyond the reach of his network of friends, and his guards maintained a rigid control over local security.

Should any trouble arise at the manor, they could be dispatched under the banner of city law enforcement, enforcing his will with legal might.

This was Gadum’s empire within Bondalles—a fact of which Lan was well aware. Until now, she had never once accepted his invitations.

And yet here she sat in a prominent seat within his reception room, accompanied by only one other companion.

Is it because of him?

His gaze shifted toward the youth standing beside her.

Risir…

It was his first time seeing Risir in person. The moment Gadum recognized him, his lingering questions dissolved.

How had Lan managed to purge the cultists lurking in the city before they could cause havoc? How had she shielded her comrades from his corrupt influence? How had she even bribed the Cadogan siblings?

And how had she dared step into his empire with such unwavering confidence?

It was all his fault…

Gadum finally registered the existence of the true enemy he now faced.

“…”

“…”

Risir met Gadum’s gaze and flashed a small smile.

Seeing his youthful and unassuming expression, a smile tugged at the corners of Gadum’s lips as well.

So, this is what he’s like…

Gadum had dealt with countless nobles and figures of power to reach his current position. Manipulating a brat like him would be easy as pie.

He turned to his guests.

“The banquet preparations must be ready. Let us move.”

Any trace of anxiety had vanished from his features, replaced by the eager anticipation of the evening’s revelries.

In the banquet hall, a long rectangular table teemed with guests.

Snatches of conversation filled the air.

“What do you think Lord Gadum intends to do now?”

“I hear he’s already at odds with the Master and the Saint, and now Lan is acting decisively too…”

“And the matter of Wine in the Left Hand? Are you certain Lan orchestrated it?”

“If not her, who else?”

“Did she…really possess that much power?”

“Hm…”

“Perhaps she’s forged a powerful new ally—oh my, the main character has arrived.”

“…Huh? That’s—”

Instantly, the room fell deathly silent. All eyes turned to the unexpected figure at the entrance—Councilor Lan.

“Councilor Lan.”

The individuals seated right next to the high seat greeted Lan. Though not as influential as a councilor, they were city nobles who wielded significant power within the borders of Bondalles.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t Gadum say I would be visiting?”

“I, well…”

This was Gadum’s domain. Naturally, Lan was expected to shrink back.

Operating under that assumption, the two who had attempted a show of dominance against the councilor quickly backed down in the face of Lan’s poised composure.

“May I ask where I should sit?”

And just like that, they ceded the seats beside the head of the table to Risir and Lan, as if driven off.

The mood in the room had abruptly shifted—now completely subdued under their presence.

Lan felt a surge of triumph as she glanced at Risir, gratitude shining in her eyes.

It’s all thanks to you that I get to experience something like this.

Risir returned her look with a faint smile, though he misunderstood the meaning behind it as, “This is how capable I am.”

Whew. Those folks look pretty high in the ranks, yet they’re helpless in front of Councilor Lan.

And then Lan interpreted the meaning behind his look as, “You’re welcome.”

Their silent exchange fortified them as Gadum, sitting at the head of the table, gave an announcement.

“Let us begin.”

At Gadum’s signal, the hall doors swung open and servants streamed in, busily filling the long table with a sumptuous banquet feast.

The settings for Risir and Lan were arranged last, and at their places the servants set down a pair of wine bottles specially ordered by Gadum.

One of the servants offered an explanation.

“This is Modua.”

“…”

Lan’s expression twisted upon hearing the name.

Modua was a wine prized by the Bondalles nobility for many reasons. Its distinctive flavor—cultivated through a painstaking aging process—came at the cost of extreme delicacy in storage. Even the slightest mishandling could cause it to spoil.

Spoiled Modua carried a mild toxicity, often inducing nausea, vomiting, and occasional hallucinations. In fact, it was a time-honored tactic among Bondalles nobles to serve spoiled Modua to guests they found unwelcome.

The bottles Gadum offered came uncorked. A clear signal that the wine was spoiled—a warning for them to behave.

For a noble, refusing a drink was disgraceful, yet one would gladly risk such indignity rather than the prospect of vomiting or hallucinating in public.

“…”

Lan let out an incredulous laugh. To think he would stoop to such a crude method of humiliation, even if it was undeniably effective.

“Oh dear, I’m not in the mood to drink tonight.”

She did her best to keep the humiliation from showing on her face.

“On such a fine day, with such fine wine?!”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Huh…what a disappointment.”

Such was the humiliation one had to accept when answering an enemy’s invitation.

But just as the customary exchange of barbed pleasantries unfolded, a nearby voice interjected.

“Don’t be too hard on her. I’ll drink Councilor Lan’s share.”

Lan cast a startled look at Risir. Someone of his standing surely recognized the significance of Modua.

His eyes conveyed a silent message: I can hold my liquor.

But to her, his determined look seemed to say, “I have a plan. Leave it to me.”

“…!”

Lan nodded in understanding, as if it were only natural.

“…”

Gadum was also taken aback by Risir’s unexpected response.

Was it because he was an outsider? He countered in a way Gadum never could’ve anticipated.

But of course, unexpected didn’t mean wise.

“Oh? In that case, there’s no problem. Here, take it.”

After all, it was the kind of move that could be countered just as simply.

By filling the glass and handing it over.

Gadum silently urged Risir with his eyes.

What will you do now?

And in response…

“Then, gratefully.”

Gadum gritted his teeth—to stifle a burst of laughter.

Was this sheer bravado that of a hot-blooded little whelp?

The sight of Risir downing what amounted to poison to avoid humiliation was ridiculous.

To think a fool like him made me worried…

Somewhere between amusement and discontent, he finally asked Risir.

“How does the wine taste?”

“I haven’t often encountered such fine wine, so I can’t quite describe it accurately. All I know is that it’s good.”

“Hahaha, is that so?! Then you should drink to your fill on this occasion! Here, take it!”

The cycle repeated itself.

“My, this is quite a rare sight.”

“Indeed. Who would have thought someone would actually drink that?”

The onlookers’ expressions were laced with mocking amusement.

But as the moments passed, confusion replaced their derision.

“…Is that really Modua?”

“The cork was definitely removed…”

Despite having already consumed half a bottle, nothing happened to Risir.

Not only did he show no signs of hallucination or vomiting, but he didn’t even seem intoxicated. He simply focused on savoring the wine’s flavor.

Eventually…

“I say, it appears I’m the only one drinking. If you don’t mind, may I pour you a glass?”

With a kind smile completely devoid of ulterior motives, Risir extended his hand toward the bottle of Modua Gadum held.

“…”

The eyes of the seasoned politician wavered as he regarded the whelp before him.