After a time spent holding back restless enemies, Hatan finally had a moment’s reprieve. Sinking deep into his chair, he let out a long, heavy sigh.

“…Tiresome.”

It was not that he minded killing for the Mutran family. From the start, Hatan had been indifferent to the suffering of others.

He was simply weary of blood.

Even fine food grows dull when eaten every day—how much worse, then, to breathe in the rancid stench of blood as if it were his daily meal?

“Lord Hatan.”

Caro’s voice called from beyond the door, drawing a faint frown to Hatan’s brow.

“Enter.”

For the most quick-witted man in the household to disturb his rest could only mean something urgent. And indeed, when Caro entered in haste, his expression was far from ordinary.

“We’ve just had word from Bishat.”

At that name, the languor draped over Hatan vanished in an instant, his presence sharpening like drawn steel. Straightening in his seat, he exhaled once before asking in a low voice:

“They’ve discovered it.”

“Yes.”

“Certain?”

“There’s no conclusive proof yet, but interrogation will begin within two or three days. They say it’s too late to flee.”

Instead of cursing, Hatan clicked his tongue sharply. The one who had bungled the matter wasn’t here, and venting his anger on Caro would serve no purpose.

“And your judgment?”

“It seems we’ll need to divert through a cleanup.”

“Let Miltan finish it.”

“……”

The silence that followed spoke plainly enough.

If Miltan could have resolved it, there would have been no need for this report. Caro’s very presence here meant the task would fall to Hatan himself.

“Hah. What’s wrong with everyone these days?”

“…Forgive me.”

The Mutran family had never been a powerful house.

Its influence was small, but it had grown steadily thanks almost entirely to Hatan and his kin, Has.

Using his extraordinary cunning, Has seized control of local interests and economic rights, gradually tightening his grip on them. In turn, Hatan mercilessly cut down those who sought to block the Mutran family’s path or lurk in its shadow.

Thus, the family achieved a degree of stability, although swine-like nobles still interfered in its affairs from time to time.

One such noble was Rahat of Bishat.

As Bishat was neither strong enough to pose a serious threat nor particularly troublesome, they merely planted spies to observe its movements. It is often easier to control an enemy by exploiting their weaknesses than to destroy them completely.

However, a foolish subordinate had now allowed this secret to be uncovered.

Suppressing his surge of rage, Hatan pressed his tongue against his molars.

“Are they certain our spy is from Mutran?”

“…It seems they aren’t, which is why they haven’t arrested Tran outright.”

At Caro’s words, Hatan’s face twisted in fury. He snatched up the sword resting against his desk.

“Idiotic bastard.”

In such a situation, sending a message back to Mutran would, of course, reveal his location. In order to silence any whispers, the house that had harbored him would have to be destroyed.

“If he’d only kept his mouth shut and borne the interrogation, we’d have found a way to pull him out… tch.”

Clicking his tongue, Hatan strode from the room. Behind him, Miltan and the warriors waiting outside fell in line.

“Finish it tonight.”

He closed his tired eyes and then opened them again.

There was no other option. Once more, he would have to be himself. He had hoped to be free of the stench of blood this month, but that hope had already disappeared.

They would need faster spies. Or harsher training. One way or another, something would have to change.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

The stench of blood was as repugnant as ever. It smelt like rusted iron, thick with corrosion; like pus left to fester.

Hatan wrinkled his brow faintly at the stench filling the air.

Pulling his sword from Bishat’s lord’s heart, he muttered irritably at the lifeless hunk of flesh he had left behind.

“You should have known when to stop resisting.”

He wiped the blade clean of every drop, then gave Miltan a nod.

Miltan led the warriors as they scattered the piles of corpses throughout the house. Then, having doused every corner in oil, they set fire to the building.

To all appearances, it was clearly a massacre carried out in a single night. Yet, at least in appearance, it would be disguised as arson. This would give the Empire no reason to investigate further.

“Don’t flaunt it so openly. When you leave, put a decent cloak over it.”

That was the Emperor’s concession: he wanted to keep Hatan as his own blade.

Hatan had always abided by it.

In truth, his actions aligned neatly with the Emperor’s desire to weaken the old noble factions. It was not mere benevolence. Nevertheless, it worked to Hatan’s advantage. At the very least, it spared him the trouble of cleaning up afterwards.

“You’ve returned.”

“Retrain them. All of them.”

The first words out of Hatan’s mouth upon arriving back at the Mutran estate were laced with irritation. Caro bowed, understanding.

“How would you have it done?”

As he took off his bloodstained outerwear to change, Hatan paused to think.

On second thought, he realized that all of the spies they had sent had been male. No wonder they were so clumsy and easily exposed.

“Unless they’re keeping their heads as decoration.”

Hatan clicked his tongue again. If only he had ten more men like Caro and Miltan—no more, no less.

“Diversify them.”

“You mean their professions?”

“That too.”

What Hatan had meant was gender, but Caro’s interpretation wasn’t wrong either.

With a sharp gesture, Hatan ran his fingers through his hair, still clotted with dried blood. He gave a curt nod.

“Have them pose as physicians, or tutors, or at the very least, musicians. That would serve well enough.”

“It will take some time. Nobles won’t be satisfied with half-baked skill.”

“Better that than rushing it.”

“Understood.”

“And…”

Hatan’s gaze fixed on Caro as though he had just remembered something. The mention of women reminded him of something he had briefly set aside while dealing with urgent matters.

“That woman?”

“When you say ‘that woman’…”

“Lishan, or whatever her name was.”

“Ah! That woman—she’s staying in a storage room in the annex.”

“Storage?”

He had spared her life when he could easily have killed her, instead plucking her up. Wherever she was staying on the Mutran estate was certainly better than the squalid Plum Garden she had once called home.

Still… a storage room? Was that necessary?

Perhaps his doubt showed on his face, because Caro quickly added,

“She insisted on staying there herself.”

Hatan gave a half-hearted nod, indifferent.

“Move her to a vacant room in the annex. Wash her clean and bring her to me.”

At his command, Caro hurried out. Hatan, watching his retreating back, recalled their earlier exchange.

“A female spy…”

He tapped his chin with his long fingers.

To him, women were unnecessary — at times, even a nuisance. Occasionally, when desire overcame him, he would share a bed with one, but he had never been interested in women.

However, women were always interested in him.

“They might prove useful, after all.”

He hadn’t expected much, but perhaps one could turn out more useful than he imagined.

“Lord Hatan, it’s ready.”

Caro’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Prepare the bath.”

The servant at his side bowed and moved at once to make arrangements. Hatan changed quickly into clean clothes and left the room.

Tonight, he would test Litisha’s worth.

It wasn’t a night when desire stirred in him—but if she truly proved useful, perhaps even a desire he didn’t feel would be drawn out.

✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦❘༻༺❘✦ ✦❘

By the time Hatan entered the room where she waited, the hoot of owls filled the midnight air.

“……”

One of his brows arched high. For a moment, he wondered if he were seeing things.

“…Hah?”

Inside the room, the woman was nodding off, her head bobbing with drowsiness.

Leaning on one leg, he let out a dry laugh.

He had killed the people she had been with right before her eyes, and now she was sitting there, summoned by him in the dead of night. She was neither anxious nor fearful; she was dozing like a child.

The tension on his face finally broke as the absurdity inside him reached a head.

This woman was clearly not ordinary. He should have realized earlier, when she had spoken so calmly about returning to the garden, despite having witnessed people dying right in front of her.

Letting out another dry laugh, Hatan strode towards her. Sensing his presence, she shook her head slightly before looking up at him.

His expression hardened at once.

“Good evening.”

She rose mechanically to greet her visitor.

Hatan dropped into a chair with rough indifference, eyes raking her up and down.

“What’s with your appearance?”

As if not quite understanding the question, her muted voice faltered.

“…Pardon?”

She had just finished a luxurious bath, scrubbed in fine oils unlike anything she had ever known in her life. By any measure, this was the finest she would ever look.

And yet…

“Have you been starving?”

“…What?”

“I asked if you’ve been starving. Haven’t eaten?”

“Ah…”

At last she seemed to understand, lowering her head.

“I had no money.”

“Money?”

His expression twisted and irritation flashed in his voice.

What nonsense was this? No money, so she hadn’t eaten? Was someone in the Mutran household charging her for food?

Hatan called out sharply and summoned Miltan. The warrior entered at once.

“You called, Lord Hatan.”

“She says she hasn’t eaten because she has no money. What kind of bullshit is this?”

“I’ll look into it.”

When Miltan left, silence settled briefly over the room.

Hatan turned his gaze back to the woman.

“Who treated you like that?”

She blinked up at him, as though still unable to grasp his meaning, her eyes searching his face.

“Who told you that you had to pay for food?”

“……”

“I asked who spewed that nonsense.”

As though testing his patience, the woman only stared at him blankly instead of answering.

“Who—”

“No one ever said that.”

Just before Hatan’s irritation broke, she finally gave a reply.

He drew in a long breath, finding it no easy task to exercise patience after so long, and pressed her again with more precision.

“Then why did you say you had no money?”

“Because I don’t have any.”

“Having no money and food are—”

In that instant, a thought struck him.

“…Don’t tell me. You actually think you have to pay for your meals?”

The woman tilted her head, as if wondering why he was asking something so obvious.

“Hah. Unbelievable.”

Whether she was naïve or simply foolish, her vacant gaze prompted Hatan to cover his face with one hand as laughter spilled between his fingers.

“How long have you been starving?”

“…About two days.”

Since she had arrived at the Mutran estate, no one had bothered to keep an eye on her. She therefore went back to the Plum Garden, where she had once lived, and ate a piece of bread that she had hidden before she was taken — bread that was on the verge of spoiling.

“Truly absurd.”

Two days? Her appearance suggested far longer. She looked less like someone who had skipped a meal or two, and more like she had gone months without eating.

Spy or not, her body needed to be restored before anything else.

Hatan’s brow furrowed as he almost called for Miltan out of habit. Instead, he summoned another warrior.

“Have food prepared. Tell Miltan to return.”

As the man turned to leave, Hatan stopped him once more.

“Make sure it’s easy to digest.”