Chapter 87:

The director followed us all the way outside the building, bowing and scraping.

The director, who repeatedly spouted nonsense about hoping for a generous donation, only went back into the building after we were quite a distance away.

“What a tiresome fellow.”

“Indeed.”

He chattered so passionately that my head was throbbing.

From one to ten, it was all about money, so I grew tired of it all the more quickly.

“Anyway, how did you end up here?”

“I’d like to ask you the same thing, but I have a rough idea.”

“You were chasing the Kranacht case and the People’s Medical Center came up?”

“Hearing you say that, it seems you’ve reached the same conclusion.”

Aside from the director being a miser, there was nothing suspicious on the surface.

There might have been some shady dealings under the guise of donations, but there was no evidence yet.

“Since we’re working together for a change, let’s divide the roles.”

“I’ll follow Rapel around under the pretext of seeing how the actual treatments are done and check out the site.”

“Are you saying you’ll snatch the easy part first?”

“I’m sick and tired of dealing with guys like that. Political games are your specialty. You deal with him… please.”

As I furrowed my brow, Til reluctantly changed her tone to one of asking a favor.

I had intended to do it anyway, but I clicked my tongue as if I were doing her a great favor.

“This is the last time.”

“Yes, I am so grateful I don’t know where to put myself.”

Til retorted sarcastically, then turned, paused for a moment, and looked at me with narrowed eyes.

“About Brauder being captured this time, are you involved?”

“Has the news already spread?”

“It was in the newspaper that the Dukes held a meeting today.”

It seems Johann Geller has no intention of letting this slide quietly either.

It was clear that the Third Duke’s reputation would be dragged through the mud.

He was probably planning to tie him down with this to prevent any more foolishness in the future.

“I am involved, but I didn’t lead it. Your father did.”

“That old man? Why?”

“He suspects that idiot is behind the Kranacht incident.”

“No way.”

Til shook her head with a shocked expression.

Her face said there was no way a man who lacked even the ability to do so could have done it.

“Couldn’t he have been used precisely because he’s an idiot?”

“Even so, he’s too stupid. Using him would probably cause more problems.”

“And didn’t a problem arise? He got caught by your father and was kidnapped.”

“That’s true.”

Til chuckled and conceded.

I don’t know who had the idea of using Brauder, but it was certainly a bad move.

“Do you have any suspects?”

“At first, I thought it might be the First Duke, but now I’m thinking someone from Vestol is making a move.”

“That’s too broad. Do you have any idea how many people have a finger in Brauder’s pie? Looking at the way that medical center does business, it doesn’t seem like they’re only getting donations from one or two people.”

“That’s what we have to find out from now on.”

There was one thing I was sure of.

If there was someone spreading curses within the Empire, it couldn’t be good for me either.

***

A long line had formed at the clinic set up next to the slums.

If an ordinary citizen of the Imperial Capital had passed by this place, they would have run away from the piercing stench.

The appearance of those who visited the clinic was nothing short of wretched.

Occasionally, there were people dressed decently, but they were a minority; the vast majority came to the clinic dragging their tattered clothes.

“Next patient, please come in.”

As Rapel raised his voice, a patient clutching an arm that gave off a foul smell entered.

“How did you get hurt?”

“Got hurt by a piece of wood while doing manual labor.”

“When was that?”

“Damn it, why all the questions when you’re just gonna give me some medicine or ointment? Are all you Vestol folks that long-tongued?”

“It’s for an accurate diagnosis.”

One out of every two people picked a fight, bringing up Vestol, but Rapel continued the examination without a hint of being fazed.

“It will sting, so please bear with it. It’s to burn away the bad stuff.”

“Is there such a treatment… Ouch!”

“I told you to stay still.”

Til gripped the patient’s arm tightly.

Seeing Til’s fierce face, the patient quickly became docile.

“I’ve applied medicine and wrapped it in a bandage, so leave it be for a while. If it swells up badly again, come back.”

“It doesn’t seem much different… Alright, doctor.”

The patient, who had swallowed his complaint after seeing Til’s scowl, quickly went outside.

Just as he was about to call the next patient, a person who looked just as tired as Rapel came in.

“Doctor Rapel, go and eat.”

“Is it time for a shift change already?”

“It’s been a while. I was waiting for you to finish with the patient and just came in now.”

Rapel bowed and stepped out of the tent to stretch.

Til, who followed him out, grumbled as she looked at the tent.

“He says so proudly that he came in after slacking off.”

“It’s tiring work. We take turns covering for each other a little.”

“Doesn’t seem like you do.”

“I’m young.”

Rapel said with a smile as he received a piece of bread and soup.

Til, who only took bread, scanned the view of the clinic.

She had suspected that strange supplies were mixed in or that they were experimenting on patients, but they were literally only doing medical volunteering.

‘Are they doing the volunteer work properly as a cover?’

“Do you have something on your mind?”

“I have plenty of worries. But none worth talking about.”

Having cut off the conversation, Rapel gave an awkward smile and scratched his head.

The silence didn’t last long.

“That person who came with us yesterday, it turns out he was someone amazing.”

“It must be hard for you to keep your mouth shut, if you’re bringing up things like that.”

“People from Vestol are naturally talkative.”

It didn’t seem like there was much to find out from this clinic anyway, so she decided to indulge in his chatter.

“He was called Count Valheit, I believe.”

“Yes, they say he’s the real power in the Empire, didn’t you know?”

“I’m not interested in politics.”

“They say even the newly enthroned Emperor is the Count’s puppet.”

I doubt that.

She raised her head to object, then just shoved bread into her mouth.

There was no reason to defend that smirking fellow.

“The director was happy that a big shot had come, but I was a bit worried. There’s no way a person like that would support us with a pure heart.”

“Most of the people who support you guys don’t have pure hearts. I'm even planning to donate just to get my underlings treated for a slightly cheaper price.”

“That’s pure enough. I know many people invest for other purposes, but they’re still people who care about their reputation. When I looked him up, it seemed the Count actually enjoys having a bad reputation.”

“Surely there can’t be someone that twisted.”

It was true that Valheit made good use of his bad reputation, but whether he liked it was another matter.

Probably?

“I’m not an Imperial citizen, so I wouldn’t know. What do you think, Til?”

“Seeing as the country hasn’t fallen yet, he probably doesn’t intend to ruin it.”

Blaiher was better than the former Emperor, he went around solving various internal problems of the Empire, and for now, there were no major disputes with the Dukes.

What else was there?

Just as she was feeling a bit of self-pity for trying to come up with excuses, Rapel’s gentle, smiling face hardened.

“If there is a person who intends to ruin the country, then that person would be a bad guy, right?”

“I suppose so. Why is there someone like that in Vestol?”

“To be precise, it’s that they don’t care if the country is ruined, or if people suffer as a result.”

“That’s a bit much.”

“For example, they’d say that technology should just be passed on to the person who can best utilize it, and that value judgments are unnecessary.”

“Huh?”

Til’s eyebrows, which had been listening blankly, twitched slightly.

That sounded very familiar.

“It doesn't sound like you’re talking about a politician, is it someone you know?”

“You’re sharp. It’s about my master. It’s no exaggeration to say he’s a genius who will never be born into this world again.”

As Rapel spoke of his master, his tone was tinged with respect and disappointment.

“He made a great many amazing inventions. But he doesn’t have the slightest intention of using them for the suffering people. He says his technology is meant for those who need it most, not for the shitholes rolling around on the streets.”

“That’s harsh.”

It had to be Professor Zain.

The long-winded speeches he used to spew when the commander was around were exactly like that.

“So you quit and left?”

“In a fit of anger. The research I was doing was probably all scrapped. I don’t regret it much. It’s better to be able to help people.”

With a face that anyone could see was full of regret, Til sighed.

This guy was too soft to be under that eccentric old man.

“So you’re going to spend the rest of your life treating people one by one?”

“Yes, probably.”

“That’s just like putting saliva on a wound. You need to treat the festering part.”

Like Valheit.

She decided not to say those words out loud.

It was cringey.

After a moment of thought, Rapel nodded his head.

“That seems right too. Still, I should treat the patients in front of me first.”

“Right.”

So naive.

She let out a pleasant snort and rose from her seat.

***

Old Man Strauss was not at all pleased with the young people who had suddenly shown up at his appraisal shop and were whispering amongst themselves.

The young men, who identified themselves as belonging to a group he’d never heard of called count shadow corps, tried hard to prove they were affiliated with the Eight Council.

Even the suspicious Old Man Strauss eventually accepted that they worked for Count Valheit.

‘If only it had stopped there.’

Under the command of a tomboyish young lady, the count shadow corps brought an enormous amount of printed material into the appraisal shop.

Seeing his neatly organized appraisal shop become a mess, a sigh escaped him automatically.

“Old Man Strauss! Is it okay if I put this in the office?”

“Do as you please.”

“Thank you!”

The tomboy greeted him cheerfully and moved several boxes with a whoosh.

“We’re all here, Ede.”

“Good. Now we need to think about how to distribute this.”

“We can use the urchin gangs. It doesn’t matter if they get caught anyway.”

“Hmm, I don’t know much about that side of things. You take charge of that, Wilhelm.”

“Yep.”

“We’ll send a few to the newspaper companies. Especially to the tabloids. Be careful not to get caught.”

Good heavens, what on earth are they doing?

Thinking about what the Count was plotting, he began to feel anxious.

The atmosphere was similar to when he had come to drop off Blaiher and when he had come to pick Blaiher up.

“I don’t know if I should ask, but what is going on?”

“I don’t know much. I was just told to receive this and distribute it.”

“…Is that really okay?”

“Because it’s an order from the Count.”

The one called Wilhelm stared sharply at Old Man Strauss.

At that killing intent, the old man decided not to ask any further.

The old man picked up a pamphlet from a box.

On the first page, in large letters, was written The Surprising and Terrifying Truth About Vestol Doctors.

Opening the utterly untrustworthy pamphlet, a sentence written in stimulating, blood-red letters caught his eye.

It is said that Vestol doctors learn not only the medical arts that save people, but also the curses that kill people.

It was nonsensical.

In all his life, he had never heard of Vestol doctors using curses.

No, wait?

He thought he’d heard a rumor during the war that Vestol had used curses in battle.

‘The Count must be really bored.’

The old man indifferently put the pamphlet back in the box and returned to his armchair.

Unaware of the fact that in a few days, he would realize he had been mistaken.

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