A Mastermind? No, I'm just the Live-In Son-in-Law-Chapter 30: Godfather (2)

“If this goes wrong, cleaning up afterward will be a mess...”

“Hey, get your head straight. It’s not like we’re trying to off that old guy in the backroom or something.”

Just like that new criminal gang that had the nerve to tail Whitney’s group as they boldly walked through the underworld like it was a neighborhood stroll.

“We just need to time it right and kidnap those two following that old man.”

“And after that?”

“You idiot. Can’t you see how close they seem? Just threaten or blackmail them, and we’ll get money or some benefit out of it.”

Of course, these types were the very definition of trash—lacking any real plan or strength. They were destined to be dealt with at the hands of Lunelle, who had already silently reached for her sword.

“Target confirmed. That’s definitely the one.”

However, when it came to one of the traditional underworld factions that had seeped into the shadows stretching like spiderwebs throughout the alleys, the situation was slightly different.

“...He is someone the Great Shadow desires. Capture him alive at all costs.”

Though they had just received the order a few minutes ago, the black mages scattered across the underworld had enough strength to at least contend with Lunelle.

“The lives of the others don’t matter.”

At that very moment, the alley where Whitney and his companions stood grew thick with killing intent.

“...Alfred, may I speak with you for a moment?”

“Hm?”

As Whitney entered the shop, Lunelle, about to follow him, suddenly stopped in her tracks and approached Alfred, who was behind her.

“I don’t think we can ignore the people tailing us any longer.”

“Hmm. You think we’re being followed? Then why not inform the Young Master instead of me?”

“...Please don’t play dumb.”

At her words, Alfred tilted his head slightly, but his eyes narrowed a bit at Lunelle’s quiet accusation.

“When you stepped out in front of those people earlier, I definitely sensed the energy you gave off.”

“Hoho...”

“Why have you hidden that level of power all this time?”

Alfred, now smiling bitterly without a word, finally spoke.

“It’s an old promise I made with the Young Master’s father—the Count.”

Looking up at the sky for a moment, he brushed the matter aside with a regretful expression.

“Please don’t tell the Young Master. It’s one of the few wishes this old man still holds.”

“...If he asks, I’ll have no choice but to tell him the truth.”

“Hm. I do like that loyalty of yours.”

With a faint chuckle at Lunelle’s flat response, Alfred turned his gaze toward the shop Whitney had entered.

“When the Young Master said he was going to the slave market, I was so anxious, thinking he might be following in this old man’s footsteps...”

With a soft, fond smile, Alfred murmured to himself.

“...I’ll take care of those bugs lurking in the dark.”

But in the next moment, his gaze shifted toward the shadowed alley, and the air around him turned chilling with a bloodlust unthinkable for someone his age.

“They’ve always been the real troublemakers in the backstreets, after all.”

“Will you be alright?”

Still, considering his age, Lunelle asked with a slightly concerned expression.

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve stretched a bit.”

But when she saw the dense magical power swirling around Alfred’s hand as he answered nonchalantly, she quickly realized her concern was unnecessary and turned away.

“Then I’ll deal with the trash quickly and rejoin you—huh?”

But just as she gripped her sword hilt, preparing to clash with her master’s enemies, she suddenly wore a puzzled expression.

“Hmm?”

Alfred, who had been staring at the unnatural darkness cloaking the alley, did the same.

“Alfred. This is...”

“...Indeed. Something’s not right.”

Updat𝓮d from frёewebnoѵēl.com.

The thick killing intent that had just moments ago filled the alley had completely vanished in the blink of an eye.

“Did they read our strength and flee?”

“I don’t think so. If that were the case, we would’ve noticed something.”

Lunelle offered a reasonable guess, but Alfred shook his head, his eyes locked on the strange smoke drifting where the enemies had been.

“...It seems they vanished right in front of our eyes.”

“What?”

“I don’t know who did this, but it looks like someone quite powerful has stepped in.”

Still, even he couldn’t offer a clear explanation.

“But to think even the black mages, who have high magic resistance, were reduced to dust...”

With the knowledge he had, there were very few people capable of something like this.

“Unless a white mage on the Count’s level revealed true killing intent, there’s no way this could’ve happened...”

Stroking his beard and trying to come up with a rational theory, Alfred suddenly trailed off, eyes wide.

“...Wait, a white mage?”

A face he’d forgotten for a moment because of how familiar it was suddenly popped into his mind.

“No, no way. There’s no way the Young Master would...”

But quickly shaking his head, he tried desperately to push away the ominous suspicion rising within him.

“Ha-ha, Alfred.”

“...Huh!”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Just then, at the sound of Whitney’s voice beside him, Alfred nearly retired a few years early, whipping his head around with a ghost-stricken expression.

“This place was a bust too. Just a bunch of low-level scum wasting my eyes.”

“......”

“And so much trash. No matter how much you clean, there’s always more.”

Even though the door hadn’t opened once, Whitney was suddenly standing outside beside him, smiling while uttering words that sent a chill down Alfred’s spine.

“Well, we’ve got a long road ahead, so I’ll stop complaining now. Time to move to the next place...”

“Th-the crystal orb! Hand it over!”

“Huh?”

“Oh dear, Parsha. You should still be reading fairy tales at your age...”

As Whitney looked blankly at him, Alfred suddenly snatched the communication crystal orb out of his hand and hugged it to his chest, groaning.

“...I’ll devote myself even more from now on, Master.”

“...?”

Whitney looked at him in utter ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ confusion, which only deepened when Lunelle quietly approached and spoke in a tone full of awe.

“Why are you all acting like this?”

It was truly unfair for him, who had only stepped out the back door after finishing the investigation and complained about the trash strewn across the road.

***

Meanwhile, at that moment. A few blocks away from Whitney’s group, in a quiet street—

“Tsk.”

Surprisingly, it was Lady Meredia herself who was quietly letting her jewel-like eyes gleam in the shadows, pulling her robe back over her face and suppressing the magic she had just unleashed.

“Really, some people just can’t help but make everything troublesome.”

Though Alfred and Lunelle had been present, it was Meredia who had gone so far as to use even the power within her jewel—something she rarely displayed—to strike back forcefully.

But anyone who might’ve had objections to that decision was no longer in this world, in more ways than one.

“...L-Lady Meredia! As you instructed, I’ve gathered the information.”

“You’re late.”

Still glaring in the direction of her fiancé, she turned her chilly voice on the informant who had suddenly appeared at her side.

“M-my apologies!”

“Forget it. Just keep talking.”

Realizing that her mood had been especially volatile lately, the informant flinched, glancing nervously at her still-scowling expression before cautiously beginning to speak.

“The information guild didn’t have anything concrete on your fiancé. Just provocative and disrespectful rumors about you, my lady.”

“Like what?”

“For example... reports of you and Sir Whitney blushing while whispering intimately in a carriage... or that you’re treasuring a handkerchief he gave you...”

“Enough. What else?”

As Meredia cut him off mid-sentence—perhaps without even realizing it—the informant took it as a sign of her fury. A cold sweat ran down his back as he hurried to change the subject.

“Actually, there’s a lot more on his younger sister and someone presumed to be a close aide—Lunelle...”

“That’s all you have to say?”

But when her gaze grew even colder, he broke out in a nervous sweat.

“T-this one is uncertain and trivial information, but...”

In the end, he squeezed his eyes shut and blurted out what even he had considered the most useless fact.

“S-Sir Whitney is apparently very fond of origami.”

“......”

“I-I figured it was too silly to share, but... there’s so little information to go on...”

He braced himself, trembling slightly in anticipation of the punishment that was sure to follow from the now-silent lady.

—Clink...

But what flew toward him was not a blade of killing intent, but a leather pouch heavy with gold coins.

“...That’s enough.”

“R-really?”

Blinking in disbelief, the informant looked up, only to see Meredia already turning her back and walking away.

“From now on, I want every bit of information on him, no matter how trivial.”

“...Y-yes, ma’am!”

“If you’ve got time to answer, then get to work.”

“Understood!”

Without even glancing at the bowing informant, Meredia issued the command and continued walking.

“Hmph.”

Then suddenly, she stopped and glanced sidelong toward Whitney, who was bickering with his companions a few blocks away.

“Origami, of all things... What a childish hobby.”

That evening, high-end papermaking workshops across the Empire erupted in celebration after receiving a massive bulk order from House Embergreen.

***

Time passed. The sun, which had lent a sliver of light even to the underworld, finally set, and darkness began to descend over the streets.

“It’s getting dark now.”

Rubbing his sore lower back, Alfred frowned and began cautioning Whitney.

“As obvious as it may be, the underworld at night is several times more dangerous than by day.”

“Mm.”

“Why don’t we head back for today and return another time?”

“I’d love to stay out all night, but I guess I don’t have much choice...”

Of course, Whitney never expected to find Bergen in a single day. Still, the sense of dissatisfaction was hard to ignore.

“Parsha, do you happen to have any good ideas?”

—Mmm... ah! Yes!

When he tossed the question with a sliver of hope toward the crystal orb Alfred was holding, Parsha’s voice—bright with excitement—returned, despite having been half asleep.

—Master, how about a change of perspective?

Whitney’s expression turned thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly.

—Instead of you searching for him... why not make him come searching for you?

“......”

—Surely there must be something he would risk his life for?

Alfred instinctively tensed up, recognizing that this shift in Whitney’s expression was always the precursor to a particularly ominous idea.

—Like... say, if his fiancée were taken hostage, like that Crown Prince...

“You’ll get us all in trouble saying stuff like that...”

In a panic, Alfred swiftly disconnected the call and tucked the crystal orb into his coat before anyone could overhear Parsha’s heretical suggestion.

“Ahaha...”

That was the moment Whitney’s signature eerie laugh began to echo through the empty backstreets of the underworld.

“Parsha is such a clever girl.”

“Young Master?”

“How could I not have thought of that...”

Alfred, eyes wide with unease, now watched as Whitney pulled a notepad from his coat and began scribbling something down.

“Alfred. Could you mass-produce flyers—no, posters—with this message and scatter them throughout the underworld?”

Taking the memo from Whitney, Alfred tilted his head as he read it aloud, his eyes gradually narrowing.

“‘Before the broken lily wilts, decode the cipher below and come alone...’”

He had long since resolved not to question Whitney’s methods, but this one was simply too suspicious to ignore.

“...What exactly does the ‘broken lily’ mean?”

After a long pause, Alfred cautiously asked the most crucial question.

“Ah, it’s the missing daughter of the man I’m trying to find.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Her name’s Lily.”

And so Alfred could only stare at him, dumbfounded, at a complete loss for words.

“Well, I encoded it in a format only he would understand... so this should light a fire under him, don’t you think?”

“Oh... my word.”

Even to the former godfather of the underworld, Whitney’s smile—so sly and radiant as he whispered that—looked utterly, irredeemably wicked.