CHAPTER 8

Scarlet was so used to being diplomatic in her actions—because her allure was her best weapon, only second to her inhuman control over her own powerful Cataclysm, meaning she had to really hone her verbal and visual appeal to survive—but even she had to admit that the lengths human politicians go through to secure their positions could be, for the most part, very impressive.

It started when the guardian ninja of the Mansion, the only human betrothed to Hero Suzuki with hair as dark as his, came home from her guard duty in Constantius with a very special cargo in tow.

While Miss Mimori had been gone, the shinobi squadron apparently all stopped their activities that involved having to leave the Mansion. There was no data collection for a while, even when it seemed like Suzuki wanted to find something out. There was ominousness in the air: Scarlet knew how to fight and defend herself, but the ninjas were restless for some reason.

The reason why became clear when Lady Charlotte came back home. She entered the Mansion with haste, almost as much of a hurry as what she displayed when she left for Constantius the last time to enact a bill that she said ‘could not afford to wait any longer’ because lives were on the line. Scarlet was amused—Lady Charlotte was a very bright young woman, even if she was not one for academics the way Sage Vanaseid was. Lady Charlotte dropped many hints and musings like Scarlet’s own family used to, the same way Scarlet’s own family would drive the behavior of their prey, and from these, it was easy for Scarlet to determine what’s behind her mask. Underneath Lady Charlotte’s small frame and sweet friendly smile were the fangs of a very hungry predator—a tendency Scarlet noticed she saw a lot amongst human politicians. Not even demons were that power-hungry, and demonkind literally worshipped power. In either case, however, the expression on Lady Charlotte’s face when she returned to the Mansion was nothing like the composed look she usually wore.

For once, Lady Charlotte looked incredibly nervous, and she was letting her inner fangs show—as if for power display and also as a threat, not dissimilar to a cornered beast.

That, and Lady Charlotte really went up to Scarlet immediately.

That did not happen often at all.

“Miss Scarlet,” she whispered, “I need your assistance.”

Interesting. “This seems discreet. Shall we continue this in my chambers?”

“No—not your chambers,” Lady Charlotte hissed. “Wait for me in the dungeon.”

The dungeon.

Lady Charlotte simply never brought up the dungeon.

To begin with, the dungeon was the only odd feature built into the Mansion. The existence of underground locking cells underneath the basement was by no means odd to the place—Scarlet heard that many nobles of various other places also had dungeons underneath their mansions. Their mansions apparently sometimes double as the safest holding place for certain kinds of criminals, since a noble’s mansion is always tightly secured, and certain other nobles had … more private inclinations that would make use of those dungeons in certain other ways. Suzuki, however, was no nobility. He explicitly rejected an offer to be one. The Mansion was granted to him at the beginning of his quest, sure, but the dungeon was otherwise untouched. Rather than the dungeon, Suzuki had preferred to use the basement room for the more sensitive affairs, such as secret talks or the jumping point for his Teleport, so although the maids still occasionally clean the dungeon, it’s mostly just a part of the Mansion that nobody really used or talked about.

Then, out of nowhere, a dungeon rendezvous? Scarlet licked her lips.

With her sharp ears and sensitive skin, Scarlet also felt a lot of movement in the House. The ninjas were busy. The butlers were also looking restless. Something was happening that Scarlet wasn’t aware of—or something happened in Constantius, and Lady Charlotte had to bring the aftereffects back home.

Holding back her smirk for as long as she could, Scarlet took a stroll to the dungeon. Whatever happened, she knew it was bound to be fun.

Scarlet ended up not having to wait for long. She had lit all the torches on her way down; amidst the flickering lights and the quiet darkness, she picked up heavy steps echoing down the dungeon only after around five minutes of waiting. There was a rustling of clothes, louder than the usual noise made by Lady Charlotte’s pretty dresses. There were subtle steps Scarlet had associated with the ninjas. There were men’s grunts … the butlers?

Sshhack….

Was that something being dragged?

The silhouettes finally appeared near the holding cell. Two ninjas, one butler, and Miss Mimori walked in: the ninjas were dragging someone by his arms.

Scarlet raised her eyebrows. The man was bruised and beaten, gagged, and had his hands tied behind his back.

He was also stark naked.

The butler had a small knife stably pointed at the man’s neck, and Scarlet’s instinct told her that Miss Mimori was also very ready to kill.

Interesting. Scarlet took a closer look at the mysterious man: he was young, probably around the same age as Miss Mimori and Lady Charlotte. He looked thin and rugged, as if he’d been dragged through the elements. There were some healed bruises all over his body, although they numbered few compared to the fresh ones. Scars. Lots of them. Dirt on his legs with reddish hint of callouses, which probably meant he was barefooted for a good while before he got caught.

Scarlet could barely make out his thinned facial structure, but it’s all there at least: eyes, nose, and a mouth. Oh, only one earlobe. Hmm.

“Lady Charlotte wouldn’t bring anyone down to the dungeon for healing, so I assume that’s not what she’d ask of me,” Scarlet stated as the group carefully dragged the man to one of the jailing cells. Miss Mimori nodded.

“That is indeed so, Lady Scarlet. It’s … something else entirely.”

There was darkness in her voice—darkness that reminded Scarlet of the days she had to command her own fortress in the prolonged war against the races. She couldn’t help but grin. “Was this your doing?”

Miss Mimori gasped an awkward surprise. “Oh, no! No, no. Only partly. He was mostly worse for wear when we found him. I only dealt the decisive blow.”

That was even more intriguing. Dealt the decisive blow? Most would think that people of the Mansion were the kind who’d rescue battered men such as their current captive. Lady Charlotte might be cold, but she wasn’t cruel. Lady Charlotte was a soldier, true, but she had none of the makings of a murderer. If anything, Scarlet believed that folks like her own self or Miss Mimori would be the likelier killers than Lady Charlotte could ever be.

So why would Lady Charlotte find such a broken man and not order him healed?

Why would she instead direct him to this dungeon?

“Pardon my tardiness,” Lady Charlotte’s voice echoed in the same hurry she’d displayed this whole day since she returned. The Mansion truly had never seen her in such a rush before. “Miss Hojo, is everything in order?”

“Yes, Lady Charlotte.”

Lady Charlotte frowned. Scarlet vaguely remembered her reprimanding Miss Mimori before about just calling her by her first name, something Miss Mimori seemed to always struggle doing. Presently, however, there was no struggle here, because the battered man they brought here showed absolutely no sign of life other than his nearly inaudible breathing and the very indistinct rising and falling of his chest.

The butler and the ninjas had dragged the person into one of the cells, so everyone followed suit.

Scarlet didn’t remember anyone really replenishing the dungeon supplies (since the place was never used, anyway), but apparently the ninjas were ready with chains—the chains were nothing like holding chains, of course; they’re small and compact, which complemented the ninjas’ silent, shadowy actions, but they were twisted around each other a few times that they looked to be as thick as the typical holding chain. Also, it didn’t seem like they needed a lot of those. They just had to keep the prisoner’s arms and legs tied and immobile.

Under the dim flicker of the dungeon lights, Scarlet realized that the tense fierce look had yet to dissipate from Lady Charlotte’s face.

“Alright,” Scarlet said. “Lady Charlotte, may I inquire regarding the questions I am wordlessly asking you?”

“Certainly. We found this man killing slaves.”

Scarlet raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t expect you to be so personally involved with such an infraction.”

Let alone retaliate to such a degree, Scarlet was going to add, but Lady Charlotte shook her head. “Not just any slaves. He killed … important slaves.”

Scarlet was about to raise a point regarding how a slave could be considered singularly important, but she held her tongue. She was vaguely aware that mankind was distinct from demonkind in this fashion: physically, mankind resembled each other a lot. In other words, their average physical strength was shared by … well, most of their population. Which, consequently, meant that entities like slaves could function as most normal humans could, on average. Meaning, they’re the best form of physical labor humankind could ask for, and humankind needed this physical labor for a lot of things.

In conclusion, any crisis involving slaves could be a crisis that affects everyone. In a way, slaves could be ‘important’. Maybe. Demonkind never really had slavery the way humans described it: as something systematic and ruled by law. They usually did away with mankind as something more akin to livestock rather than laborers.

“You said slaves, plural,” Scarlet noted. “Did he get away with many kills?”

“I’m not sure how many he had killed personally,” Lady Charlotte answered as the ninjas linked the chains on the man’s arms to a hook that hung from the ceiling. “Miss Hojo captured him in the act after I asked her to monitor a few important slaves in the area I was working. I was hoping he would tell us his deal.”

Lady Charlotte wasn’t sure how many slaves the man had killed? That would mean many slaves did die. Of murder, specifically, since she seemed rather adamant about squeezing this man for answers.

Scars, bruises, marks, callouses … Scarlet could only conclude that the man was left out in the elements for a good amount of time, and he was probably either barefooted or entirely naked. The man would’ve been considerably toned if he didn’t seem so malnourished.

… huh.

Toned.

Healed scars.

Probably either barefooted or entirely naked….

Scarlet could feel the ends of her lips curling into a smile. Barely, but it’s creeping up quickly. Lady Charlotte seemed to realize that at the same time.

“That’s why I wish to ask for your help, Miss Scarlet,” Lady Charlotte said. “While this man is alive, we need to know what is happening. Why he killed the slaves, how many he personally did, how many others like him are there if he wasn’t alone….”

“And who they’re working for, because he clearly didn’t do this out of his own volition,” Scarlet whistled. “How far may I go, Lady Charlotte?”

Lady Charlotte held her breath for a second. Then, as her mouth opened, her soft whisper landed on Scarlet’s ears: “As far as it takes.”

Scarlet’s smile broke into a full grin. “As you wish, My Lady.”

It truly had been a while since she tried her hand at interrogation. When else would she get a task like this?

Scarlet swore she would get her answers, no matter what.

*