“Probably today or tomorrow.”

Gilbert muttered this while sweeping the floor of the Hound headquarters, but no one responded. Today was the semi-annual deep cleaning day.

Like their dinners, participation wasn’t mandatory, but unless there was a pressing reason, most members took part in cleaning.

All the Hounds currently tidying up their assigned areas heard Gilbert’s words, and they all understood what he meant.

Their captain, Isaac, had been frequenting the Dia Rose casino for over two weeks. During that time, the Abrarum syndicate had likely been conditioning him with gold, women, alcohol, and all manner of tools to manipulate him.

Now they were probably ready to test their progress. Since Isaac likely had no concept of caution, he had likely already fallen completely under their influence.

The only thing left was to tighten the leash on him. Historically, this was the point where the leash was applied.

“He won’t die right away. Abrarum prefers getting people addicted to drugs first.”

The nonchalant response came from Derrygan, who was wiping down a table. His sharp eyes were focused on scrubbing out stains, and his intimidating demeanor did little to lighten the mood.

“Well, he’ll get to enjoy everything before he dies. He’s probably had his fill of women, and the drugs from Dia Rose are at least high-grade stuff, right?”

Gina, who had been half-heartedly dusting a display case, responded to Derrygan’s comment. The second eldest after Gilbert, she casually glanced at the dust she had just knocked onto the floor before yelling toward Selemin, who was washing windows nearby.

“Hey! Get over here and clean this up!”

“…That’s not my section.”

“Don’t backtalk, kid. Just clean it up when I tell you!”

“Why don’t you clean it yourself, old hag?”

Gina immediately radiated an intense killing intent, enough to frighten the faint of heart into submission. But Selemin, not one to back down, countered with her own.

“Here we go again.”

“Knock it off already.”

“At least finish before dinner.”

The other Hounds, familiar with such squabbles, shouted in annoyance, and only then did the two women retract their killing intent. As the group returned to their cleaning, Boros suddenly spoke up as if he’d just remembered something.

“Come to think of it, Gina, you might be wrong about them using high-grade drugs.”

“What do you mean?”

As a conman and womanizer, Boros often loitered near Dia Rose since it was frequented by wealthy individuals he could target. Knowing this, Damus asked if he’d learned anything, and Boros nodded.

“I overheard one of their guards say they’re planning to use Teal Miracle on the new captain.”

“What?!”

It wasn’t just Damus who was shocked. All the Hounds, pretending not to listen, turned their eyes toward Boros. Gilbert furrowed his brow and asked on their behalf.

“You’re on the blacklist and banned from getting near Dia Rose. Are you sure about this?”

“Aw, come on, Gilbert. A blacklist doesn’t mean much if you flash a few gold coins. And the guard who told me? It was White Fist. Why would an A-ranker lie to me?”

“Tsk.”

Gilbert clicked his tongue. If the information came from White Fist, it was worth taking seriously. White Fist was a renowned fighter in the city, recognizable by his signature white gloves. He had a disturbing habit of collecting gloves stained with the blood of his enemies.

What got him expelled from the adventurer’s guild, however, was the revelation that he also collected gloves stained with the blood of his victims—innocent women he had assaulted.

“The guy only went after small villages or towns far from the capital. That’s what made him even worse.”

“And the only reason he’s not rotting in prison is because he has Abrarum backing him.”

The Hounds were no strangers to dirty work themselves, but even they couldn’t condone White Fist’s actions. Though they did the empire’s dirty work, they weren’t in this line of work by choice.

Over time, a consensus had emerged among the Hounds: even if they dealt in filth, they were still allowed to despise others like White Fist.

“That’s enough. None of this is surprising. Let’s just get back to cleaning.”

Gilbert’s shout was meant to shake off the gloomy mood, but it didn’t do much. It wasn’t the first time the Hounds had lost a captain. In fact, it had happened so many times that it was almost expected.

The captain’s role in the Hounds had always been a precarious one, a position that came with frequent and often traumatic turnover.

It wasn’t that they hated Isaac, treating him like a dead man walking out of spite. Nor was it because they particularly liked him.

“Should we at least recover the body?”

“Sorry, what?”

Derrygan’s casual suggestion drew Boros’s attention, along with everyone else’s. Acting as if it was nothing, Derrygan continued.

“He’ll die eventually, and we’ll have to deal with the aftermath. The empire will demand answers from us. It might be easier if we retrieve his body in advance.”

Even without being a Hound, anyone with sense could tell how absurd Derrygan’s suggestion was. Teal Miracle was so costly and rare that even Abrarum wouldn’t waste it lightly. They wouldn’t kill Isaac in a single day after using it.

All the Hounds knew this. Yet their words betrayed that logic.

“Maybe we should.”

“It would save us the trouble of searching for his body later.”

“Boros knows the layout of Dia Rose better than anyone, right?”

“I’ll grab the map.”

Despite their earlier indifference, the Hounds began gathering one by one. Isaac’s personality didn’t matter to them. What did matter was that they wanted to feel like they’d at least tried—even if it was futile.

Of course, Isaac had entirely different plans.

“Think logically. If I clogged the toilet, why would I still be looking for a restroom?”

I protested seriously against their accusatory stares. If I had clogged the toilet, it meant I’d already used it—so why would I need another one?

I was even prepared to call on the women who had fainted earlier to testify on my behalf, but unfortunately, the guards weren’t interested in hearing me out.

The commotion had drawn others to gather around the guards. They were all suitably intimidating, as expected of enforcers for a massive crime syndicate.

“Who are you, really?”

“Who am I? Isaac Meyer—wait, no, Blata. I’ve been a customer here for over two weeks. Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

I felt genuinely offended. If they were planning to drug me and manipulate me, the least they could’ve done was conduct a proper background check.

“Don’t play games. How are you still standing after ingesting Teal Miracle?”

“Teal Miracle? Oh, is that what you call it here?”

The name had a sophisticated ring to it, though calling it a miracle was a stretch.

“If I may clarify, we used to call it ground hell-toad skin.”

“Hell-toad…what?”

Explaining to the guards, I suddenly realized something odd.

Why is that stuff even here?

“Damn it! What nonsense are you spouting?!”

It seemed like my explanation had come across as mockery. Before I could clarify, the guards erupted in fury.

A guard with white gloves unleashed an aura and lunged at me. Unfortunately, I have no interest in holding hands with men.

Crunch.

“...Huh?”

I casually deflected his hand, grabbed his throat, and twisted. Another guard let out a dumbfounded noise. Unlike the soldiers from the Kingdom of Meyer, these city folk were slower to grasp the situation.

Still just standing there, huh?

“This counts as self-defense, right?”

“Everyone, prepare for battle!”

Too late, buddy. You should’ve yelled that ages ago.

“What you should’ve said was, rip him apart!”

“Kill him!”

I managed to make it to the restroom without delay.

Boom!

“What…what the hell?!”

In the manager’s office, Paris had been browsing the guest list for his next victim when the entire building shook. Startled, he ran to the window.

It wasn’t an earthquake. The street outside was intact, and curious onlookers were staring at Dia Rose in confusion.

Realizing there was trouble, Paris called for his guards.

“Hey! Is anyone there? Report the situation!”

No response. That was strange. Normally, they’d have arrived before he even called.

“Hey…?”

Just as Paris, gripped by a sense of foreboding, decided to check for himself, the door opened.

Relieved, he prepared to berate the tardy employee—until he saw the visitor and his face went pale.

“Hello.”

It was Isaac. He was dressed in nothing but a blood-soaked bathrobe, dripping crimson onto the floor. Paris immediately understood what had turned the pristine white robe red.

“Sorry for the wait. I got delayed in the restroom.”

It wasn’t a lie.

“Someone! Anyone, help!!!”

“There’s no one left. So don’t bother screaming.”

Isaac’s calm tone terrified Paris. His legs trembled violently, his limbs ice-cold with fear.

“This…can’t be the same idiot…”

Isaac smiled. The foolish grin Paris had mocked earlier was nowhere to be found. He could only wonder how he’d ever dared to underestimate the monster standing before him.

“Ugh!”

Paris reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a pocket watch.