AWLITEB Chapter 9

Isabella settled into a seat at the bar.

The man Genos had targeted sat two people away from her. Close enough that if she concentrated, she could hear his voice.

"A lady like you came here alone?"

A bartender with an overgrown beard approached, laughing roughly.

Isabella pulled her cloak's hood forward and opened her mouth, feigning indifference.

"One beer."

"You drink too? Got a man to take you home?"

"If you don't want to sell it, don't."

Isabella pulled out a single silver coin and showed it to the bartender with practiced nonchalance.

One silver coin held the value of ten copper coins—the price of ten beers.

The bartender's hand shot out to snatch the silver.

"Need change?"

"No, just bring the beer quickly. And don't talk to me anymore."

Isabella waved her hand dismissively. The bartender handed over a beer without complaint.

The tavern was loud, and unless the bartender made a point of announcing her gender at the top of his lungs, people wouldn't care about her. Everyone was too busy wallowing in self-pity about their wretched, petty lives.

Isabella leaned back slightly to observe her target.

He looked to be in his late twenties with rough stubble. An ordinary face you'd see anywhere in the neighborhood, but with something dank and unwholesome about him.

Isabella felt the thud-thud-thud pounding in her chest as she took a sip of the beer the bartender had just brought.

She swallowed the alcohol down her throat while her eyes tracked the target.

He drained the last drops of his beer with obvious reluctance, glancing at the bartender but not ordering more. Probably a matter of his purse.

Then it happened.

"Lend me ten gold coins. How about two coppers interest per month?"

A poorly dressed woman approached the target and whispered.

Isabella perked up her ears and drank her beer.

"I heard you have money. That interest rate is reasonable, isn't it?"

But the man shook his head expressionlessly.

"Not interested. I don't do money-lending."

"That's mean! You're supposed to be rich. Can't you lend it just once—"

"I said I'm not interested."

The man glared at the woman.

She ground her teeth as if her pride had been wounded.

"So the rumors about you being rich were all lies. Poor bastard."

The woman snorted derisively and left.

Rumors about being rich?

Isabella narrowed her eyes, thinking.

If he'd really turned the woman away because he had no money, the statement about not doing money-lending would have been unnecessary.

Besides, his tone had been firm and serious, with a strange politeness that didn't fit Tanje Street.

The man wasn't from Tanje Street.

Isabella became certain of this and scrutinized his body more intently.

Even sitting on a backless stool, his posture was straight, and compared to other men who let their greasy hair hang over their shoulders, his hair was short and neat.

He also sent looks of contempt toward others who laughed loudly, made noise, threw flirtations at women, and even bought them.

A fallen noble?

No. Weren't nobles the ones most shameless about buying people?

The man had used polite speech with that street woman just now. Even a fallen noble wouldn't speak respectfully to a street woman.

Then...

"A knight."

Isabella murmured quietly.

Commoners could become knights too, if they had the skill. The man must be a former knight. For whatever reason, he'd been expelled from his order and ended up on Tanje Street.

Once you became a knight, your position was guaranteed until you were too old to move properly. So for someone this young to have quit being a knight, dishonorable discharge was highly probable.

"Another beer here."

The man raised his hand toward the bartender. A beer ordered after long deliberation.

But the bartender's face showed discomfort, unusual for someone taking an order. He reached out to accept the copper coin while frowning.

"Don't know if I should keep taking cursed money."

The bartender's grumbling made the man flinch. But he didn't snap back at the bartender.

A beer was set down roughly, and the man lifted his glass with a hardened expression.

Cursed money?

Isabella bit her lip, thinking.

If it were just stolen money, he wouldn't hear words like that.

Besides, the street woman had mentioned hearing rumors he was rich, so the man seemed to have money in some capacity.

But then, why had he hesitated so much over buying one beer?

If it really was wealth gained through something deserving to be called cursed money...

"...Guilt."

Yes, guilt was the only answer.

Isabella let out a long breath of relief.

This was enough. She'd gathered all the necessary information.

Only the practical execution remained.

She stood, pretending to go to the bathroom. As she walked, she examined the metal bracelet glinting on the man's arm.

A bracelet with a button-release lock.

Isabella glanced at the man as she turned the corner toward the bathroom.

He gave off a strangely... sorrowful atmosphere.

Yes, sorrow.

"A man drowning in self-pity."

Isabella's lips curved upward.

She knew exactly how to handle him.

Standing behind the corner to kill some time, Isabella's eyes met Genos's in the shadowed corner.

Genos was watching her while taking a sip of cheap liquor that didn't suit him. Even with the cloak covering him, his gaze gleamed with unusual intensity.

A person utterly out of place in this shabby, filthy tavern—yet somehow, strangely fitting with its underlying viscous atmosphere.

"The more I look at him, the weirder he gets."

Isabella muttered and pulled her gaze from Genos. After taking a deep breath, she lifted her cloak slightly and tore her own dress.

The riiip of tearing fabric disappeared easily into the tavern's noise.

Then she messed up her neatly arranged hair and rubbed her makeup until her eyes and lips were smudged. She removed her earrings and necklace, stuffing them into her pocket.

Preparations complete, Isabella walked quickly out from the corner. She deliberately bumped into people here and there.

Her appearance immediately drew the vagrants' attention. Before she even reached the target, several men grabbed Isabella's wrist.

"Where are you rushing off to?"

"Why don't you stay and play!"

The men's snickering made her skin crawl. Though she'd staged this deliberately, she still felt like insects were crawling all over her body.

"N-no. Let me go."

When Isabella stammered, the vagrants' laughter grew louder.

Then it happened.

"That's enough!"

The target shouted and blocked Isabella's path.

"She said no."

"What's it to you?"

A drunk vagrant raised his voice, but his companions stopped him.

The target glared at the vagrant once, then checked on Isabella.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-yes... I'm fine. Thank you."

Isabella passed the target and staggered as if dizzy. The target quickly supported her.

"Sit for a moment."

The target seated Isabella beside him and ordered her a glass of water.

The bartender glanced at Isabella and handed over the water.

Isabella took the water with trembling hands, drinking while taking several deep breaths.

"Thank you so much... May I ask your name?"

Isabella asked with exhausted eyes.

The target looked at Isabella with eyes full of sympathy and answered.

"Marok."

"Marok... You're my life's savior. Thank you so much."

Isabella bowed her head from her seated position.

Marok frowned at Isabella's torn dress and ruined makeup.

"You don't seem like someone who belongs in a dangerous place like this. Why are you here?"

"My husband..."

Isabella buried her face in both hands with a sob. Marok waited patiently. After crying for a while, Isabella lowered her hands and spoke in a trembling voice.

"He committed a crime in the knights' order... and lost his position as a knight."

Marok's heart sank.

Isabella felt it too and continued speaking.

"He definitely committed a great crime, but... couldn't they forgive him just once? My husband lived only as a knight, and to be dishonored like that..."

Marok felt his chest ache as he asked carefully.

"So what happened to your husband?"

He unconsciously gripped Isabella's arm.

Isabella shook her head quietly.

"I don't know. He disappeared... I received a letter saying he'd been expelled from the order and waited for him, but no matter how long I waited... he never came home. That was a year ago."

Isabella wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"So I've been traveling all over the empire searching for him."

"But no matter how much your heart aches, to come all the way to Tanje Street... such a dangerous place."

"But I have to find my husband. I can't sleep worrying he might do something terrible. One mistake... shouldn't one mistake be forgivable? He was a sincere knight who thought only of the empire's safety."

Isabella spoke with accusation in her voice, choking up.

At the same time, Marok's eyes began to moisten.

"I agree. Everyone... everyone deserves one more chance. Everyone has moments they can't help."

He stared into space, struggling to hold back tears.

Isabella glanced at the bracelet on his wrist.

Up close, she could see letters inscribed on the bracelet. Scrawled cursive, not easily readable.

Now it was time to take that bracelet.

Tanje's nose-stinging stench of blood and filth increasingly reminded her of the White family basement.

Isabella wanted to complete Genos's task quickly and escape this street. A fierce desire rose in her throat.

'I want to take it. I want to take it.'

Isabella stared at the bracelet on his wrist and unconsciously licked her lips.

In that moment, a thick fragrance began emanating from Isabella's body, slowly enveloping Marok.

Marok's head whipped toward Isabella. His face flushed instantly.

Their gazes collided precisely.

Isabella could feel that alien, somehow tantalizing sensation too.

'Seduction.'

The witch's third ability.

Isabella instinctively knew she was wielding it.

She concentrated to remember this sensation.

"Ah, this..."

As the ability's effect gradually faded, Marok quickly turned his head. His earlobes remained red.

"F-forgive my rudeness. I didn't realize I was staring at a married woman's face for so long..."

"It's all right."

Isabella grasped Marok's wrist.

Marok jumped but couldn't bring himself to look at Isabella out of embarrassment.

"For the first time in over a year, my heart felt at ease for a moment. Thank you so much."

Isabella whispered and pressed the bracelet's button.

Click—with a small sound, the bracelet opened, and Isabella immediately slipped it into her cloak pocket.

"Such excessive praise..."

Marok still couldn't look at Isabella.

"But if I stay longer, I fear I won't be able to maintain my fidelity to my husband. I'm so lonely, so exhausted, and you're so warm."

Marok had no answer.

Isabella slowly stood to avoid looking suspicious.

"Thank you, Sir Marok."

Isabella passed Marok and walked out of the tavern.

Marok watched her retreating figure with regretful eyes but couldn't bring himself to follow.

As Isabella had guessed, he still retained a knight's manners and patience.

But the next moment, as Marok habitually touched his braceleted wrist, his entire face contorted with rage.

He stood abruptly with an expression completely unlike before. Murderous intent filled him.

Marok ran out of the tavern.

From his corner table, Genos watched this calmly and took another sip of liquor.