Ch.39Devotion Offered by the Sword (14)

The city of Magdeburg, known for commerce and tourism, must also abide by Imperial law. The curfew restriction from 9 PM until 4 AM the next morning is a prime example.

It wasn’t a complete ban, just a restriction, but the regulations were extremely strict.

No weapons were allowed, groups larger than four were prohibited, and everyone had to carry a lantern or candle. One must comply with night patrol inspections without question—violators faced immediate arrest, detention, and fines.

Unless there was a medical emergency, any reasonable person would prefer to wake up early the next morning instead.

After even the garbage collectors finished their shifts, only the Magdeburg patrol and vigilante members remained on the streets.

This was why the Magdeburg Guard preferred night transport. Rather than pushing through crowded streets during the day, it was much better to transport goods comfortably through empty streets.

Everyone was accustomed to night transport. In the darkness, wagon wheels occasionally got stuck in mud or between broken stone slabs.

Just like the minor accident happening now in front of the Inquisition headquarters.

The helpful guards promptly responded to the Magdeburg soldiers’ request. They didn’t completely abandon the main gate—three of the four went down while one remained.

But even that was enough for Kain to enter the inner fortress without difficulty.

He was dressed in tight black cloth like a pagan assassin.

His black buffalo leather shoes guaranteed silence. The club tied to his belt was wrapped in cloth and leather to prevent even the slightest rattling sound.

He carried a multipurpose folding blade from the East and a black buffalo backpack. He could only hope the backpack would be large enough for his spoils.

From the main gate to the Inquisition building, he needed to follow the inner perimeter path.

After climbing to the top of the wall tower at the end of the path, he would lower a rope, land on the roof of the tribunal, and infiltrate through the balcony.

Stop, walk. Sit or lean against the wall. Rather than rushing recklessly, he moved safely. There was no need to hurry on this mission; caution was better.

‘This will take some time.’

The guards weren’t much of a problem.

As the mustached Royal Guard agent had said, they were concentrated around the prison and barracks buildings, so they were hardly visible near the Inquisition building where Kain was headed.

The problem was the monks.

They were easy to spot as they walked leisurely with lanterns in hand. They were either singing hymns or slowly reciting prayers.

The rhythm of the hymns and prayers matched their footsteps perfectly. Probably to keep time.

They were more interested in themselves than their surroundings.

Unless they were setting down their lanterns to stretch, they paid no attention to dark shapes protruding from beside shrubs or building walls.

But there’s a difference between monks having weak attention and guard skills, and stepping into their circle of light.

As he alternated between moving and stopping, the night grew deeper. Judging by the moon’s angle, it was around 1 AM.

Even for decent guards, this was when the silence and chill of night felt as sweet as a warm bed.

The monks’ steps were becoming unsteady, their pronunciation increasingly slurred.

Kain stepped in rhythm with a monk’s footsteps. Someone who heard the subtle echo turned to look, but saw only bushes and shadows.

The monk nodded and continued on his way, while a relieved Kain pressed himself against the wall.

The old fortress wall was irregularly mixed with newly reinforced sections. This meant the wall was uneven enough to provide handholds and footholds.

Moreover, it was on the sheltered inner side between buildings and walls, not exposed to the outside. There was no risk of being swept away by the wind.

Gripping and stepping on protruding sections, Kain climbed to the top.

The tower top was a gently sloping cone. Kain lay flat. The partially eaten moon was bright.

Bright enough to comfort someone waking from sleep or a drowsy monk rubbing their eyes as they looked up.

So he had to be cautious until clouds passed in front. Fortunately, he wasn’t spotted.

‘Success.’

He felt no particular thrill. For Kain, who could climb sheer cliffs like a spider, this was merely a walk in the park in terms of difficulty.

In theory, Imperial Security Bureau agents should be able to perform all roles perfectly.

So Liliana could certainly manage rope infiltration, and even that fool Godfrey could handle assassination and stealth missions.

But they didn’t ignore individual specialties.

Liliana’s expected roles were combat, arrest, and surveillance. Kain’s strengths were stealth, infiltration, and tracking.

Tracking required tenacity, concentration, and considerable disguise skills.

It demanded long-term patience and perseverance rather than short bursts of intense focus—making it the most difficult area for nobles accustomed since childhood to lives that went their own way.

If patience and perseverance could be considered talents, Kain’s abilities surpassed anyone else in the Security Bureau.

He himself knew this, and his confidence had peaked when he went on the Duke of Venelucia mission. He’d been told that if he succeeded in this mission, he could potentially reach department head level or higher.

The mission failed. Kain returned in a miserable state. His faith in the patience and perseverance he’d been so proud of disappeared.

Yet the Empire rewarded him anyway. The failed mission had produced unexpected results and ultimately prevented a war.

He was promoted. He received compensation. But since that day, Kain felt as though something important had been taken from his life.

The realization that success and failure lay outside his control. That even with deadly effort and exertion, results weren’t guaranteed. That many aspects of life lay beyond his influence, outside the borders of his control.

“This happens commonly to trackers,” Verneith had said, trying to comfort him.

“You’re so used to just watching and following targets that when you’re told to walk on your own, you can’t. Your seniors were the same, man.”

“How did they overcome it?”

“They followed their own shadows.”

Shadows. Kain sighed. A familiar shape writhed in the deep darkness. He was afraid to look at it directly. He needed to focus.

Kain loosened his mask slightly. Partly to dry the cloth covering his mouth and to breathe in fresh air.

In midsummer, the lukewarm breeze caressed his cheeks, wiped his lips, and flowed away. Annoyingly, this brought back certain sensations.

The warm yet soft feeling against his chest. The scent of mead and wine. The smell of palm fruit oil, the flesh-scent that bound his heart, and the moans that penetrated his ears. The feeling of bare skin against his legs.

‘Why did I do that?’

It was an incredibly stupid thing to do.

He could have simply given her more alcohol to make her sleep, or called for an attendant to resolve the situation quickly.

Yet he deliberately massaged her back and shoulders, even kissed her cheek, and finally embraced her.

Of course, Kain had plausible excuses.

Liliana’s robe was already half-undone, her upper chest clearly visible. While massaging her shoulders with a towel, the water-soaked cloth gradually slipped down.

If he had waited just a little longer, it would have slid down below her chest.

If he hadn’t embraced her, it probably would have fallen off completely.

If he hadn’t distracted himself by kissing her cheek, he would have seen everything.

Then, Kain wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself any longer.

The attendants waiting outside wouldn’t have come in to stop them. In Southern Kingdom etiquette, removing a robe in a bathroom was considered extremely vulgar and lewd, something that only happened in brothels.

But this wasn’t the Southern Kingdom—this was the Empire. Attendants routinely encountered such types of play and felt neither excitement nor displeasure.

Moreover, it was a lodging operated by the Royal Guard Bureau. The more such indiscretions by nobles and foreign envoys occurred, the more weaknesses the Royal Guard Bureau could collect as potential weapons.

He tried to convince himself it was something he had to do.

– How noble of you.

Something impossible rippled. The shadow of a dead person.

– You’ve become quite the son of a bitch. The kind that sits obediently when told to sit, tongue lolling. You used to resist from the waist up. Right?

Kain ignored it.

Thick clouds were coming from the west, and he planned to move as soon as they covered the moon.

The clouds swallowed the moon.

Kain lowered his posture and moved. A tile complained with a clack at being disturbed from sleep but soon quieted. He tied a knot to the gutter connection and lowered the rope.

Lighter and quieter than the first snow, Kain descended to the roof of the Inquisition building.

He untied the knot and retrieved the rope. After crossing to the inner garden side, he counted the balconies. Fortunately, no one was patrolling the inner garden.

He already knew the location of Haspel’s office. He had noted it while entering Heinrich’s office. Fourth floor, 16th balcony from the central entrance landing.

Lying flat on the roof, he surveyed the surroundings. He could see the Inquisition entrance and the first-floor guards.

Lights moving back and forth in the corridor suggested monks were moving about.

But the floors above were dark and quiet. He waited. His concentration kept wavering.

Skin. Body heat. Fragrance. Embrace. He shook himself like someone dusting off dirt. This was no time for distractions.

He securely tied the rope to a protruding stone and let it hang down.

Like a spider, he descended to the fourth-floor balcony, then gently swung his body like a pendulum. With a slight momentum, he safely landed on the balcony.

He untied the rope knot and carefully pulled it up. With a soft swish, the rope gathered obediently. He coiled it into a circle and tied it to his belt.

He unfolded his knife and inserted it between the balcony doors. Like Heinrich’s office, Haspel’s office balcony latch also closed from top to bottom.

It could be easily released by gently pushing upward.

It unlocked. He gripped the hinge area with his right hand and slowly turned the doorknob with his left. There was a creaking sound, but it wasn’t loud—quieter than the wind.

Kain stepped inside. He closed the balcony door and wedged a piece of cloth under the door to secure it.

The moonlight shone adequately but not enough to fully illuminate the interior, so Kain picked up a desk mirror and placed it on the floor.

After adjusting the angle, the room became reasonably well-lit.

The smell of old paper was foul, probably because the room hadn’t been ventilated for a long time.

The structure was similar to Heinrich’s office, but there was no large table or chairs. Only Haspel’s desk and chair remained, though the desk was large enough for four people.

Every step on the wooden floor produced a creaking sound and raised old dust. It was unwelcome.

‘The emblem will open the way.’

Haspel had clearly said that. Kain took out the emblem, but it didn’t magically indicate the location of the correct documents.

Instead, he noticed something else.

Haspel appeared to be an extremely meticulous and systematic person.

He had attached classification tables and bands to the bookshelves, with the tables organized by major cases and the bands arranged by year and chronological order.

The shelves were filled with all kinds of heresy inquisition trial records, witch and wizard trials, doctrinal education enhancement meeting attendance, Inquisition lecture plans, textbooks, foreign case studies, and the Pope’s words.

‘Found it.’

Finally, he found a classification with a red border and white cross. Content related to the Demon King.

But disappointingly, all the covers were academic books. “Understanding the Shadow.” “On the Revival and Identity of the Demon King.” “Why the Seven Virtues Could Defeat the Demon King.”

Wondering if the covers might be misleading, he took them out to examine, but they weren’t. Honest titles with honest content.

Kain closed the book immediately. He scanned from top to bottom, but there was no secret diary anywhere. The creaking sound became more irritating.

‘It creaks?’

Kain carefully stepped forward. Creaking meant the floor was slightly elevated.

And the noisy spot was the wooden floor right in front of the Crusade-related bookshelf.

Taking a chance, Kain felt around the floor and briefly examined it in the moonlight.

The dust accumulation was noticeably less than elsewhere.

He inserted his folding blade into the floor gap. The rattling sound became more distinct.

With confidence, he used the folding knife as a lever and pushed up. A hidden secret space with five books was revealed.

Books without covers and unfinished reports lay there. The handwriting matched that in Haspel’s Inquisitor’s manual.

He opened a book. The writing was too fine to read clearly, but he could see strands of hair meticulously glued to the pages.

This was undoubtedly the diary of sins that William had written. But all the text was in code. Haspel’s unfinished report seemed to be part of an effort to decipher that code.

Without hesitation, Kain picked up the diary and the report. He placed them in his prepared buffalo leather pouch and sealed it tightly.

He restored the floorboard to its original state.

With the systematic, organized destruction of clues about the Seven Heroes’ identities and tracking leads, he hoped this wouldn’t remain a mere scandal.

Judge Malachia was right. This shouldn’t be just about tarnishing the Seven Heroes’ reputations.

Who was harming them? Who held grudges against them? Who was crushing them with such cursed power…

It would be good if something useful could be gleaned from this diary, Kain thought.

Click.

He held his breath. It wasn’t a sound he had made.

Click. Click.

No doubt about it. Someone was trying to pick the lock outside by inserting wire.

Judging by the intervals between sounds, this wasn’t someone working randomly but someone who knew proper disassembly techniques. It wouldn’t be long before the door opened.

He pushed the backpack under the desk. He quickly moved the mirror from the floor back to the desk. The only blind spots were the darkness and the large desk.

Kain crouched beside the desk. There was no other option but to watch the intruder’s movements and shift his position cleverly.

If there were two or more people, he’d have to knock them out with his club and escape.

Click.

The door opened.

The corridor was dark, with no lighting. Judging by hand movements, footsteps, and infiltration time, this person was quite proficient in this type of penetration.

The moonlight revealed the intruder. It was a nun wearing a veil. On her face, she wore a wooden mask. Carefully, she closed the door.

Kain gripped his club.