Since I Don't Know Anything About It, Shall We Break Up, Your Majesty? - Chapter 67

He swallowed dryly and watched Shantes’ expression.

No one knew exactly where Shantes Devled came from.

But one day, he took control of Karien’s underworld, backed by Schultz Tartien’s influence.

He was as cruel as a butcher in his methods and showed no mercy to anyone, regardless of who they were.

‘I don’t know what kind of petty thief it was, but if I caught them, they won’t die easily.’

“I, I see! I don’t know who dared to rob this place, but I’ll investigate thoroughly. We, we don’t have time to be standing around like this, do we? I’ll be going now!”

Revett swallowed hard and slipped away from the back alley.

Shantes glanced at the departing inspector, then kicked Toreso, pushing him away.

“Ugh!”

Shantes stepped on Toreso’s broken arm as he rolled on the dirty floor, and entered his warehouse that had been ransacked by the masked individuals.

‘This damn…….’

How on earth did they know that his safe was hidden here?

It was a place where items used for shows were haphazardly piled up, and occasionally used as a resting place for gang members.

There weren’t even any proper items, and the underlings came and went frequently, so why would they rob a place like this?

‘Could there be a traitor?’

A crude padlock was awkwardly attached to a dirty wooden box.

At a glance, it didn’t look like a safe at all.

There were about a dozen boxes with such padlocks in this warehouse, and the boxes themselves were crude, as if used to store goods.

‘How did they know to target only this one?’

Of course, this wasn’t his only safe.

He had stored them evenly in his mansion, workshop, office, and government house.

They were all valuable and important items that anyone would want to steal.

But what was hidden here wasn’t that level of item.

It was something important to Shantes, but potentially useless depending on who took it.

“If I catch whoever it is…….”

Grinding his teeth, he came out, kicking things roughly.

Even then, Toreso was still motionless with his head on the floor.

Toreso was the only witness.

Of course, it was a dark situation, and the intruders were wearing masks, but that wasn’t Shantes’ concern.

Shantes roughly lifted Toreso by the collar.

“Toreso, you must find that rat. If you don’t find it within a week, you know what will happen to you.”

He muttered grimly, pulling the collar tightly as if strangling him.

“……You can look forward to it.”

Then Shantes grabbed Toreso’s broken arm.

“Uuuugh!”

He pushed him down as he writhed in pain and said roughly,

“What are you dawdling for! Move!”

Toreso, who had been groaning in pain, got up hurriedly and limped out of the alley.

* * *

Don Jose, an architect who said he came from Italy across the sea, raised his shoulders high and pointed to the cityscape visible through the carriage window, saying,

“From here to there. We’ll push back about 102 parts of distance and build Your Grace’s ‘La Fondre’ in that place.”

His accent was strange, but Schultz nodded silently at Don Jose’s confident words and examined the design.

‘La Fondre’ meant ‘Palace of Arts’ in Henesian.

Henesy was the capital of Romania, the most prosperous country of art in history, and those who knew romance often longed for Henesy.

The birthplace of comprehensive art that will fully embody that longing!

Schultz looked at the street where his ‘La Fondre’ would be built with eyes full of desire.

It was just a block away from the Cissus Opera House.

Close enough that you could see the arrogant roof tip of the Opera House if you just turned your head slightly.

The resistance from the theater owners already established there was too great to push away the Opera Street.

Even though the Cissus Opera House held the top position there, the rest of the theater district wasn’t at a level that could be ignored.

‘Well, they’ll all die eventually anyway. Because of this La Fondre Road.’

So Schultz chose to push Frank Street, a block away.

Although not as much as Opera Street, this was also a fairly commercially developed street.

Even so, it was a place with weaker influence compared to that place.

The shabby communal housing called tenements was the residence of small merchants or fallen lower nobility, and most of the shops were miscellaneous stores used by common people.

He took away the rights of two tenement apartments and seven shops in this area for his La Fondre.

Of course, it was a fair deal since he gave them appropriate compensation before kicking them out.

Whether they were satisfied with that ‘appropriate compensation’ or not, it wasn’t important to Schultz.

‘If there are any who resist, it’s good for me.’

Schultz looked down at the Henesian-style columns and Parisian-style building design with arrogant eyes.

The architect he invited from across the sea was certainly quite skilled.

Schultz liked this overwhelming appearance of the building reminiscent of a royal palace.

It was then.

“No, it can’t be!”

“What is this all about! This is our home! You can’t just take it away!”

“Who is going to demolish our homes!! We won’t let our homesteads be taken away so easily!”

Somehow a group had gathered, occupying the street and staging a sit-in protest.

Schultz frowned as he glanced at the scene through the carriage window.

‘These illegal occupants have quite loud voices.’

As Karien became known as a city of pleasure and culture, word spread that one could make money without farming.

Naturally, illegal immigrants flocked in.

Now the inspections have become strict, but just 4 years ago, rat-like people of unknown origin would crawl in and freely set up on the sidewalks to live.

‘Filthy creatures.’

Judging by their appearance, these were clearly the lowest of the low among the residents here.

As he looked out the window with cold eyes, Don Jose, who had heard the sounds of protest, flinched his shoulders and said worriedly,

“It… it seems there’s resistance from the residents…… Can we really proceed with the construction like this, Your Grace?”

“……Don’t worry about it. There are experts for that matter.”

And as soon as Schultz finished speaking, those ‘experts’ poured out onto the street en masse.

* * *

Shantes Devled was the one who handled Schultz Tartien’s dirty work.

Mainly things related to the citizens that he was reluctant to deal with himself.

Unlike local nobles, central nobles were heavily involved in commerce and were making quite a bit of money from it.

At some point, factories started to appear on the farmlands of this country, and with the emergence of steam-spewing trains, workers were needed to operate the parts.

These ‘workers’ had no land, no money, and no self-respect.

The scariest thing about such people is that once a certain line is crossed, they charge in without thinking.

These days, such people often gather and shout about things like ‘rights’ and ‘duties’.

It was ridiculous.

What rights do the lower classes, who are no different from cockroaches, have?

Duties, maybe, but not rights.

These were words that would astound and appall the noble lords who firmly believed that status was bestowed from heaven and class was given by God.

Of course, Shantes was not a noble either, and strictly speaking, he was one of those lower classes, but…

It wasn’t an important issue for him.

After all, the one behind him was Schultz Tartien, the foremost noble in this country.

He gave an annoyed look to the protesters gathered before him.

‘To think I have to come out personally to deal with these things.’

Last night, due to the unidentified thugs who raided his club, many of his main gang members were injured or taken away.

Of course, his gang wasn’t small enough to be affected by just that, but the main personnel were busy looking for those thugs, and since Duke Tartien hated waiting, he had no choice but to come personally.

“You’ve all heard the negotiation offer, right? What more do you want that you’re making such a fuss?”

“We’re not asking for anything! How can we stay quiet when we’re about to lose our home overnight…!”

“How is that place your home? All this land belongs to the king or nobles.”

“W-we made a contract to do business here! We have legitimate rights!”

“Ah, that… You mean the one from 10 years ago? You’re complete scoundrels. How can you bring up a contract from so long ago?”

“But His, His Majesty has acknowledged…”

“Ha! Our king is an idiot. You know it, I know it. He barely got to that position because the nobles set it up for him, you believe in that?”

“But this case is…!”

“Listen, folks. Take the money Tartien’s side is offering while you can. If you keep resisting like this, you might end up getting kicked out empty-handed without even that.”

“……!”

“What, you think I’m lying? Want me to show you how scary those people can be?”

The faces of the gathered people turned pale at Shantes’ threat.

Some who were frightened started to back away saying, “See, I told you we should just take the compensation and leave,” but many were still standing firm.

A heavy silence fell over Frank Street, which had been full of energy from the confrontation between Shantes’ group and the protesters.

“……You’re going to hold out? Well, alright. Let’s see how long you can last.”

Shantes smirked and nodded, and his subordinates standing behind him moved.

These men, carrying threatening weapons, started to damage the street as they swarmed out.

“No! Stop it, you bastards! Stop!”

It was the beginning of screams, not protests.