chapter 12: The king’s black and dirty hand

Has the spirit of the people returned, or are there hidden hands at play?

At exactly 8 PM, the police arrived at the scene after receiving several reports. 

What they witnessed was shocking.

The police found about 15 black cars. 

Five of them were completely burned with passengers inside, while the remaining ten had come to a halt due to their tires being blown out, in addition to the explosion of the first five cars.

From the investigators' analysis, they concluded that the criminals had been waiting for the victims to cross a specific point. 

As soon as the cars passed that point, explosives planted in the ground were detonated, causing the first five cars to blow up.

Afterward, with the other cars stopped, they were attacked from all directions with a specific type of weapon that fired vertically-aligned bullets. 

One source said that it was difficult for analysts to describe the shape of bullets and their ability to move without changing direction.

This conclusion was drawn from the distinctive bullet marks scattered across the cars.

Strangely, some of the bullets showed burn marks, while others did not. 

Experts attributed this to the use of incendiary ammunition, but they couldn't explain the lack of flammable materials at the crime scene. The only fuel present was the gasoline in the car tanks, which remained untouched.

There were also signs of resistance.

After the cars were stopped and fired upon, the guards opened the doors. They appeared to be armed, but oddly, not a single bullet was fired from their side.

Even stranger was the manner of their deaths. They were either killed with knives, evident from the wounds on their necks and joints, or with hammers, as some of their skulls were brutally crushed.

This raises the question: how could a group armed with long-range weapons be killed with close-combat weapons? And even if the attackers were fast enough to reach them, how did none of the guards manage to fire a single shot before being killed? Does that even make sense?

That was the analysis of the crime scene.

As for the motive behind the crime, it was revealed that the victims were a group of personal bodyguards and businessmen. What caught attention was the identity of the businessmen. Since their names are legally protected, their identities remain unknown. However, it was noted that they were the same individuals previously accused by the government and politicians of working to destroy the kingdom's economy.

So, I wonder: has the spirit of the people returned? Has their passion for their kingdom reignited, or are there hidden forces plotting something else?

This was Suzy Loney. Until next time. Long live the Nameless Kingdom.

As the program ended, I set the screen aside and lay back on the bed, my arms behind my head. 

The room was dark, illuminated only by strands of moonlight seeping through the glass window. 

I stayed in this position for about two hours, trying to sleep. But how could sleep come when my head was filled with so many thoughts?

Adding to that was a cold breeze brushing against my body, causing me to shiver occasionally. 

I kept wondering where the breeze was coming from. I had closed all the windows, yet it persisted.

I tossed and turned, hoping sleep would take pity on me and visit, but damn to his mother—it had no mercy.

Suddenly, I was overcome by a strange feeling. I tried to ignore it, but every hair on my body stood on end. 

I opened my eyes and instinctively sat on the edge of the bed, placing my hands beside me.

I looked around and my eyes fell on a dark spot. I didn't understand at first until I found myself saying:

"Come out."

From the pitch-black darkness emerged a man. 

No, a man whose face bore wrinkles, yet it was impossible for him to be old due to his small frame.

Judging by his body, I'd give him no more than 20 years of age. My certainty was further strengthened by his clean-shaven face, despite its aged appearance.

"Why did you reveal yourself to them?"

His voice was that of a young man, in stark contrast to his face, which belonged to someone in their final days. Was it some kind of illness?

His lack of aggression and his question gave me the impression that he wasn't an enemy. 

But who was he, and how had he entered my room past all the guards watching the mansion? Did the body's owner give him a key, or did he enter through a secret passage? I couldn't think of anything other than questioning him for more information.

"What are you doing here?"

"You're the one who should answer that. Your carelessness forced me to kill them, which will delay the Boss's plans."

Kill them? He killed those pigs and their guards? How did he manage that alone? No, he must have had men with him. 

Wait, the Boss's plans? There's a Boss? What kind of mess am I in?

"Everything happened so quickly. I handled the situation; killing them wasn't necessary."

"It was an order from the Boss. He said there are still people among the populace who might riot. It's better to get rid of them and find replacements."

It seemed that this person standing before me was a liaison between me and the Boss he mentioned.

Hold on—how did he know what happened in the meeting? I was sure he wasn't among the guards. 

How could I not notice someone with a face like his? Even his outfit—a black hat and sunglasses, despite the sun having set long ago—was suspicious.

"Why do you seem so lost in thought? Are you experiencing side effects from the operation?"

The operation? He knows about it. 

So, he's aware that the assassination attempt was staged. 

What kind of operation had this body undergone? I couldn't find any records about it, and the doctor was killed by Hank. 

The only thing I knew was that it involved the head, based on the scar I discovered after waking up. 

My only conclusion was that the operation had failed, resulting in the death of the body's owner and allowing me to take his place.

"A little. I felt some confusion after waking up, but I'm fine now."

It was clear that if the Boss learned I had lost my memory, he would get rid of me.

"What about the serum? Any signs of interaction?"

The serum? What now? Just as I began to process what had been said, a new piece of the puzzle was thrown at me. My head felt like it was going to explode.

"Not yet."

I said the first thing that came to mind. I needed time and rest to analyze all of this shit.

"Number Two is waiting in the car. Aren't you going to the arena?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

I ended my disjointed sentence only to realize the word arena, which made my face betray my confusion. 

Fortunately, the man had already turned his back and merged with the darkness once more. Though I could no longer see him, I still felt his presence.

"The Boss instructed me to inform you that an investigation committee will visit you tomorrow to take your statement, as you're connected to the victims. He also emphasized that you should be cautious—the investigation will be led by someone of exceptional intelligence."

As his voice faded, so did the sensation of his presence. 

I quickly rushed toward the spot where he had disappeared, but there was only a wall. 

I ran my hands over it, hoping to find a secret passage or something, but to no avail—nothing.

He came, dumped a pile of questions on me, and vanished.

I stood frozen in place, surrounded by darkness with no light to guide me, forgetting the moonlight spilling through the window.

I took a deep breath. 

Number Two was waiting for me in the car. 

Where was this car? Turning around, I approached the window and opened it, spotting a black car with its headlights on—a sign that its driver was inside.

It seemed no one knew the body's owner snuck out at night. 

If I tried leaving through the front door, what would be the point of sneaking out?

The thought of how to reach the car crossed my mind. Was there really a secret passage in the room? All signs pointed to it.

But I couldn't think any further, so I took the shortcut.

I opened the door and stepped out of the room, heading toward the kitchen. 

I had never been there before, but there was always a backdoor somewhere in the kitchen. With these thoughts in mind, I moved swiftly and silently.

I couldn't believe I was sneaking around in my own house just to avoid the servants noticing me. 

I was a disgrace to the wealthy. A disgrace to the nobles.

I continued walking with light, quick steps, barely making a sound. 

I was surprised by how skilled I was at it, making me wonder if I had been a thief at some point in my life.

I descended the stairs into the mansion's corridors. 

It was truly massive. 

I crossed paths with several servants multiple times, but I avoided them with absolute ease. 

No wonder that old-looking young man could come and go as he pleased. 

Damn it, I need to create a new system. 

At this rate, the mansion isn't a mansion anymore—it's a park where anyone can come and go as they please.

As I neared the kitchen, I saw servants going in and out, carrying large dishes, their faces tense. 

Their mental state intrigued me, and curiosity got the better of me. I decided to follow one of them to see what was going on Behind my back.

When the maid reached the large door, I realized it was the room where I used to dine with Ivana alone—Azaria had told me that. 

The maid entered, and it wasn't long before she came back out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I snuck up quietly and peeked inside. 

There, I saw a girl sitting in one of the chairs, voraciously devouring a three-tiered cake. 

As if that wasn't enough, I noticed it wasn't her first course—there were about four empty plates of the same size, as if they had been executed by her. Of course, who else could it be but Ivana?

I couldn't comprehend that the girl who always had an emotionless face now displayed every emotion imaginable. 

Fear was there, sadness was there, and even tears streamed down her cheeks. 

What had happened to reduce her to such a state of breakdown?

But given my limited time, I decided to overlook the matter for now and save it for later.

I resumed my thrilling journey to the kitchen, only to find it full of maids indulging in their favorite hobby: gossip.

"What's wrong with her today? I've never seen her like this before."

"It's not like we know much about her. We've only known her for a short time."

"You're right about that. But she's crying—did she have a fight with the Master?"

"It's normal to fight with him. He's a monster disguised as a knight on a white horse."

"Did he hit her?"

"I wouldn't put it past him."

"Evil. very evil. She probably fell into his trap because he's handsome and rich, only to be shocked by the truth."

Bitches. 

Whose side are you on, exactly? No, no, they're tarnishing my reputation right in front of me. 

Who's the innocent one here? Maybe she is a gold digger, considering how handsome I am.

After some thought, I realized their words made sense. 

It seemed I had forgotten myself—I am a gangster. What reputation was I even talking about?

"I don't understand why Miss Azaria likes him. She doesn't allow a single word against him. It seems she fell into his trap a long time ago."

Azaria is truly my girl. One of her nails is worth all of you bitches combined.

Amid their fascinating discussion, an older maid entered, looking as excited as if she had won the lottery.

"Do you know who the Master's wife is?"

They all responded in unison:

"Who?"

The question seemed to have exhausted them, as they desperately tried to figure out the answer.

"Her first name is Ivana. And her family name is…"

"Is…?"

The maids crowded around her, their eyes glowing dangerously, making the older maid feel threatened. 

She hesitated, realizing she might lose her life if she dragged it out any longer.

"Bloodsoil."

Damn it. Damn it. I couldn't take it anymore. I stepped out in front of them, and they froze in place, fear overtaking them.

"Leave. Now."

It took less than a second for the kitchen to empty out. The only sound I could hear was the footsteps of the maids fleeing for their lives.

My eyes landed on the back entrance. 

I opened it to find a long path lined with trees. I followed it, and at the end, I found the black car waiting for me.

I opened the door and sat in the back seat. 

The driver began driving without a word, and I didn't care where we were going as much as I cared about my wife's family name.

Why? Why? Why am I the son-in-law of the most terrifying family in the kingdom?

The king's black hand. 

The king's dirty hand.

How did this even happen?

******************A word with the best author in the world******************* 

Emiric: The best writer in the world, are you there?

Author: Firstly, I am the best author in all worlds.

Emiric: Of course, of course, you are the best in the Milky Way, galaxies, worlds, and all timelines even…

Author: Don't make it long, What do you want?

Emiric: Sorry for taking your precious time. I just wanted to ask if you could tweak the plot a little...

Author: No.

Emiric: Just hear me out—it'll be better.

Author: No.

Emiric: Son of ...

Author: What?

Emiric: Son of good people.

Author: That's what I thought.