Episode 24: Red Star (2)
I sprinted along the wall, bouncing from one side to another, ricocheting off the ceiling to gain speed.
Just as Esren reached for the emergency exit, I grabbed his nape with one hand and slammed him to the ground.
Pinned beneath me, Esren thrashed, struggling to break free and swing his sword.
I crushed his elbow with my knee, the sound of bones snapping echoing.
“Argh, aaagh!!!” he screamed.
Despite the piercing pain, he clung to his sword. As he began to summon Aura, I stabbed both shoulder tendons with my blade.
It wasn’t a refined technique—just a crude jab. But it was enough to make him drop the sword.
“You crazy bastard…!!” he spat.
“Still got some fight in you,” I replied.
His screams reverberated through the corridor.
Moments later, I dragged the immobilized Esren Park out of the auction house.
***
In a dilapidated warehouse, I locked the door and sat Esren against the wall, still bound at the waist. He was bleeding, gasping for breath.
“…Spare me, and I’ll give you anything—money, whatever you want.”
A clichéd line. Typical for a criminal suddenly abducted, I suppose.
“Sure, sure. I’ll let you live, so spill everything you know about the Red Star.”
Esren’s expression went blank, then he let out a hollow laugh, as if realizing he was caught.
“…If I talk, I’m dead anyway, even if you spare me.”
“But I’m still sparing you, right?”
“You son of a—”
I pretended to flip through a report. Somewhere, I’d read that acting like you already know something works well in interrogations. Time to test it.
“Start with what you’ve done,” I said.
“…I don’t know anything. I just did what I was told from above.”
Thwack.
I kicked his shin without a word. Infused with Wave energy, the impact was like a steel bat at full force. His bones twisted, and he screamed. For good measure, I kicked twice more.
“Try again.”
“Aaagh!! Alright, alright…!!” he gasped.
“Then talk.”
Another kick. Esren, drooling in pain, hung his head. Was it really that bad?
“I just distributed test subjects and corpses supplied from above. That’s it—distribution, nothing else.”
“How does the auction’s profit flow?”
“That’s…”
I slashed his hand with my dagger, severing his left pinky. No wedding ring for that hand anymore—unless someone loves a half-crippled guy like him.
“…Nine-tenths of the profits go up, and we split the rest.”
“What do they do with the funds?”
“I don’t know.”
I raised the dagger again, and he yelped, panic in his eyes.
“It’s true! I swear! I don’t know what they do with the money!”
“So you lied about not knowing before?”
“You’d have broken my bones anyway!”
Cross-verification was needed, but he’d talked. I couldn’t understand his reasoning. Why resist when spilling would’ve been easier? And wasn’t his dialogue a bit… off?
Whatever. Time to move on.
“Who gave the orders?”
“I don’t know their names. I swear. It’s all coded—James, Charles, Louis, that kind of crap. Once a month, supplies come. I prepare accordingly. That’s it…”
“Did you see their faces? Any distinguishing features?”
“Not every idiot has a distinctive tattoo like that bald moron.”
His tone irked me, so I kicked his other shin. One was already broken, bent backward.
“Aaagh!! What now?! I told you everything!”
“Be more polite.”
“You kidnap me for info and expect manners?!”
“If you’re going to talk, being polite might hurt less.”
“…Fair point.”
I interrogated Esren further, uncovering more details. The higher-ups supplied test subjects, slaves, and goods to him. He hosted auctions based on their instructions. Surprisingly, Esren knew less than expected.
However, a few notable points emerged. The higher-ups always referred to the test subjects as “failures.”
The auctioned items always left traces of their origins, however subtle. Esren speculated that the participants were being used for something larger.
“Master,” Astier called.
I turned to her. She was already collecting lists of test subjects and evidence from a location only Esren knew about.
“Physical evidence secured,” she said.
I looked down at Esren Park, who had passed out from pain after spilling everything he knew. Astier, sorting the documents, glanced at him with a subtle expression.
“Talked more easily than expected,” she remarked.
“He doesn’t seem to like pain,” I replied.
“Not the type to enjoy it, I guess.”
“Maybe not even that.”
“…Oh.”
Astier glanced at me, tilting her head.
“I have a question for you, Duke.”
Her address had shifted back to “Duke.” Perhaps because Esren was unconscious?
“What?”
“Have you done something like this on the northern front?”
“No. Never.”
“I think I’m starting to understand what kind of person you are.”
Astier poked Esren’s cheek with her finger. He didn’t stir, almost as if he were dead.
“Hmm. We should tie him up properly. Some fake unconsciousness to escape,” she said.
I found a rope nearby and secured him to a pillar. Astier wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Can we take a break now?” she asked.
“No reason not to.”
“Just ten minutes. Eleven’s too indulgent.”
“Twenty’s fine too.”
“No, ten’s enough.”
Astier pulled a candy from somewhere and popped it into her mouth. A sweet scent filled the air. When I looked at her curiously, she explained,
“Sugar’s crucial during operations. Can’t let low blood sugar impair judgment.”
She tossed one of the two candies toward me. I stared at it.
“Don’t like candy?” she asked.
“Not that I dislike it… I’ve just rarely had it.”
On the northern front, meals were mostly jerky.
“Then give it a try. It’s decent enough,” she urged.
I put Astier’s candy in my mouth. The pure sweetness of sugar, free of artificial sweeteners, spread across my tongue. As she said, it was decent—not worth buying, though.
Astier tucked the candy back into her pocket with a practiced motion, distinct from how she handled weapons—a casual, everyday habit. Sitting on a worn chair, she retied her braided hair.
“Are you used to killing, Duke?” she asked.
“You’re full of questions today.”
“You don’t have to answer. Just curious.”
A brief silence followed. Astier gazed at the ceiling before speaking again.
“I’m not used to this work. It’s put me in danger countless times, and I still feel the same.”
I glanced at her leg, wrapped in bandages, the area near the wound stained red with blood from her fight with Esren.
“Do you think this job suits you?” I asked.
“That’s hard to deny.”
“Ever thought about quitting?”
Astier looked at me, and I met her gaze. Her gray-blue eyes reflected my scarred, rugged face. Widening my view, I saw a woman with neatly tied brown hair, exuding an intellectual air.
“Did everything you did on the northern front suit you?” she asked.
Her question was sharp yet strangely pure. I didn’t know why it felt that way, but it struck me as clear. Was it because of that, or something else? I couldn’t answer hastily.
Astier looked at me with steady eyes, replying as if she’d heard my unspoken response.
“Same here.”