chapter 22: The Scum is still in the mansion

First, he'll exploit the fact that I was in the arena.

Second, he'll try to extract some information about the girl, Amy.

But that won't be enough. I can come up with logical arguments that will leave him with nothing against me. So, what is he relying on? What is he planning?

"Is there a problem, Mr. Emiric?"

I put the phone back in its place, my expression unchanged.

"Insects."

"What?"

Even in his surprise, he doesn't let any expression escape his mask of indifference.

"I'm saying, there are some insects in the mansion. They're waiting for my approval to use pesticides. I told them it's not the right time; the guests might suffocate. By the way, do you have any particular allergies?"

"Mr. Emiric, I understand your friendly nature, but I kindly ask you to stick to the topic at hand."

"Oh, sorry, sorry. My apologies. I'm a bit of a talker. Please forgive me if I stray off-topic. You know how hard it is to change bad habits, haha."

He lets out a fake laugh. He could've just ignored me, but he's keen on steering the investigation back on course. I, on the other hand, am just as determined to derail it. Let's see who will end up dancing to whose tune.

Even though I'm at a disadvantage now, I must not come across as someone unwilling to cooperate.

"Back to what we were discussing—do you have any explanation for why the girl wasn't among the bodies?"

"No, I have nothing to say other than that she was a beautiful, sensitive girl. I had an enjoyable conversation with her. The last thing I remember is that she left with them."

He retrieves his phone, and it seems like my answers are starting to irritate him. Good. This is just a friendly conversation—he can't pressure me even if he doesn't like my answers, or if I don't answer at all.

"What was the purpose of the meeting?"

I exhale smoke from my cigarette, followed by a sip of coffee, which is almost finished. I make sure my movements are as deliberate and slow as possible.

From the unfortunate moments I've shared with him, I've figured out two things I can use to unsettle him:

It is his arrogance. He may try as much as possible to hide it, but I know.

"Just business-related matters. I'm sorry I can't share the details with you—you know how it is, business secrets."

"The victims being at your table is normal, but the girl—what was her role in all this?"

I place my hand on my chin, my gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"Well, I remember she was a guest of one of the attendees."

"Aren't business dealings supposed to be secret? How could you allow a stranger to sit in on the meeting?"

Damn it. He's clinging to every word I throw at him.

"Well, I'm weak when it comes to women. I couldn't kick her out after she entered the mansion."

I place my hands behind my head and let out a laugh. Damn it, I need to work on my laugh—it's terrible.

He was about to continue when I interrupted him abruptly.

"By the way, do you have any information about her?"

He wanted to brush off my question, but it wasn't a big deal, so he let it slide. After all, this is just a friendly conversation.

"We couldn't determine her name or anything."

I interrupted him again.

"I'm not asking about her name. I mean her phone number, her address, or even her bra size."

The best way to unnerve a serious person is to act like a pervert. I'm just pretending. I'm not a pervert.

And for the doubters out there—Amy is in the underground prison right now. I could go down and get her measurements myself, just so you know.

He takes a second to decide how to respond.

"We couldn't gather anything that matches your interests. Our investigations regarding her are still empty."

"Take my words back, don't pass on my regards to whoever collected the information. He's not good at his job."

"We didn't have enough time—"

Suddenly, he realizes the trap he's walked into. He scrambles to piece his thoughts back together, trying to return to the main line of questioning. But it's too late.

"I'm sure he has high grades, but as I said, that's no indication of intelligence."

A spark flashes in his eyes, vanishing just as quickly. But I can catch it.

"Are you against the kingdom's policies and how it manages the education system?"

"I'm against a lot of things. What? Aren't we in a democratic kingdom where I have the right to think whatever I want?"

He notices the tone he's using to question me and his inappropriate wording. He knows he's slipped up. I could end the conversation here, and no one would blame me. With these thoughts, he'll rush to correct his position before I can exploit it.

"Every citizen has the right to say what they want. I apologize for my tone—I was surprised that someone with high grades like yours would have this opinion."

"Alright, alright. Let's not get tense. We're not at war here. As for your question, I oppose anything that disrupts anyone's life."

"The kingdom didn't know prosperity until it adopted the current education system."

"Exploitative organizations wouldn't have found a way to destroy students' health without the educational system allowing it."

"..."

another pause between us. He begins organizing his papers. 

What is there to organize? Psychopath. It's just his way of calming himself and getting his thoughts back in order. I'm no different from him.

I take the last sip of my coffee and a long drag from my cigarette to calm myself.

Damn it. Instead of ending this conversation, I let my emotions take over after seeing how fiercely he defended his stance.

Everything flashed before me. Damn it. Let the past go so it can let you go.

After quickly calming myself, I use the situation to keep him from returning to the main point.

"Look at yourself. I bet you've come across plenty of desperate cases that needed help, haven't you?"

"Everyone is responsible for themselves. Why do you oppose your kingdom and stand with people who would let you die?"

Every word he says fuels my anger.

Who is he talking about? Children—children who know nothing but the two people who brought them into this world. If children abandon their parents, who will take care of them? The kingdom that didn't even care for your needs, despite you being one of the top achievers in the entire kingdom? The same kingdom that constantly claims day and night that its sole focus is education.

If not for my mother's money, which she gave you, you wouldn't have made it through your first year at university. Have you forgotten that you came from a poor family?

"Are you saying you relied solely on yourself? I mean, no one helped you?"

"No."

The answer comes with an unwavering certainty. Not a hint of hesitation. He doesn't even take a moment to think. What else was I expecting from him?

"It's hard to believe. Was your family wealthy?"

"I wasn't rich."

"But from what I know, you'd need financial support to manage life at university. Are you seriously saying no one helped you at all?"

I don't know why I keep pressing on this. Maybe I can't believe his denial.

"Who needs to bend their head to get something done, I was sure I could make it on my own—and I did."

His words are one thing, but the speed of his response is another. He has practically abandoned the investigation now, almost as if he wants to ensure that I've bought into his narrative and beliefs.

"It must've been difficult for you, right?"

"Without holding firm to your beliefs, yes, it would be difficult. But everything passes…"

"I'm talking about your name."

You want to play games? Let's play. I've had enough of defending myself—it's time to go on the attack.

"W-What about my name?"

"I know a thing or two about names. It seems like your family didn't expect much from you to name you that."

Finally, the mask of indifference begins to crack. He's still holding on to it, but I can see he's struggling to keep it intact. Let's see how far he can go.

"I think you're mistaken."

"No, null—doesn't your name imply emptiness? A hollow person? I'm pretty sure I read that somewhere…"

"I said, you're mistaken."

His voice suddenly rises, and he walks straight into the trap. 

It's over.

I stand up quickly, forcing him to rise as well.

"I didn't mean…"

I don't give him a chance to fix the situation.

"I was told this would be a friendly meeting, but raising your voice in my home with such disrespect? I will not tolerate it. Isn't it enough that I live under constant threats, carrying my life on my shoulders? And now I'm being insulted in my own house?"

Exaggeration is the key.

Of course, he knows what I'm doing. But what can he do? Clearly, he's been instructed to avoid provoking me to the point where I have an excuse to shut down the investigation. Otherwise, they'd need an official warrant, which would require solid evidence to summon me.

I move towards the desk quickly and press the button that allows the sound to be heard by null.

"Yes, sir."

"The meeting is over. Mr. Null is preparing to leave."

"Understood."

There's no going back now. He's failed to extract anything from me, leaving empty-handed.

"I really didn't mean to overstep."

At least say it in a way that sounds believable, you bastard.

"It seems your investigation is hollow, Mr. Null. I'm willing to discuss anything with you, but raising your voice in this mansion? That is something I will not tolerate. This mansion isn't called the Ghost Palace for no reason."

It pays off to occasionally eavesdrop on the servants' gossip—you learn useful things.

In the kingdom's strict hierarchical system, there's a rigid law about filing reports. If you omit any detail, no matter how small, you could lose your job.

When he files his report, it will be reviewed repeatedly in the hope of finding a flaw that would justify issuing an official subpoena.

It's a complicated process, but based on it, a "spirit of the people" might just pay you a visit.

So, I'm better off giving them plenty of nonsense to deal with.

It's just a precaution on my part—I don't know the subject of the death "spirit of the people."

"Excuse me, may I use the bathroom first?"

Damn it, I have no reason to stop him.

"Go ahead"

 I say through clenched teeth, wondering what he's up to.

This time, I pressed the button without allowing the sound to spread.

"Everyone, prepare yourselves."

"Understood."

I cut the line and waited for a minute. What is this Scum doing in there? Is he giving birth?

Finally, the bathroom door opens, and he walks out of the office. I follow closely behind him.

As we walk toward the main door, all my men are standing at attention. Each time we pass one, they bow their heads and fall into step behind us. I don't care what the Scum thinks—it's best to be cautious.

I don't miss his glances at me as my erratic movements catch his attention. One moment I'm to his right, the next to his left. Sometimes I advance a bit closer, and other times I take wide steps back.

With every glance he throws my way, I think to myself: Don't worry. You'll understand soon enough.

Seconds later, we reach the mansion's front door, where his men stand waiting in the grand hall leading to the exit. 

Why are these pigs inside instead of waiting outside? What's going on here?

He turns and extends his hand.

"Once again, I apologize and hope we meet under better circumstances."

A fake smile spreads across his face. He's clearly planning something—but what?

"I'm not a hypocrite. I didn't like your behavior, and I'm not comfortable shaking your hand."

He withdraws his hand without showing a shred of embarrassment on his thick face. He simply turns and begins to walk away.

I don't know if it's instinct or the serum this body took, but every hair on my body stands on end. 

Without realizing it, I take a step back…

Boom!

The sound of an explosion erupts outside the mansion, followed by shouts:

"They're trying to assassinate the Deputy Chief!"

The moment those words hit everyone's ears, the sound of weapons being drawn fills the air.

My men surround me, while his men surround him. Everyone is armed and pointing their weapons at the other.

"How dare you attempt to assassinate a government official? Are you planning a coup?"

Damn your mother. 

So this was your plan all along.