Memoirs of the Returnee

Chapter 207: Ambition (3)

Ambition (3)

I’ve said it time and again, my body is far from ordinary. It’s because of the Perion that’s been memorized by my ?Notepad?’ circulates throughout my entire being.

It’s like being ‘marinated’ in Perion at all times.

Of course, I can’t use a magic body, but the five senses that have been permanently developed by the Perion don’t fade away, even in a no-mana zone.

These senses have been incredibly useful at the gambling table.

I could detect the faintest poker faces and read the subtlest psychological states that couldn’t be hidden.

On the other hand, I kept my own expression under strict control, not just my nostrils, fingertips, Adam’s apple, and the crook between my eyebrows, but even the involuntary muscles deep inside my body.

The ‘heart’ was a particularly effective trap.

Players usually have a tell; their heart beats the moment they see a good hand.

And when they get a bad hand, their heart beats when they bluff.

Since I used this principle in reverse, even haunting the most perceptive players.

It’s a trap that catches them because they’re experts.

“Contestant number 333, congratulations on advancing to the fourth preliminary round.”

“Yes, thank you.”

And so, I made it through the preliminaries.

…

“Is that so.”

Johanna signed the documents and responded. Her balancer, ‘Beckman’, bowed his heavy shoulders.

“Yes, he’s advanced to the fourth preliminary round.”

“Hah, is this why they say it’s all about luck?”

Johanna snorted with laughter.

“A twenty-year-old clearing the prelims that even lifelong gamblers barely scrape through?”

She put down her fountain pen.

“If he made it through the rounds, keep a close eye on him.”

“Me?”

“Yes. There are mafiosos among those I’ve bet with.”

Johanna handed the documents back to Beckman as she continued.

“They’re not the cleanest of players. Unlike me, they don’t accept defeat gracefully. If some unknown punk claiming to be my player makes it to the round, they’ll probably try to kill him.”

…

Beckman didn’t reply. Johanna’s eyebrows twitched.

“What, not to your liking?”

“No, I will do as you say.”

“No, speak up. It seems my balancer has some grievances?”

Johanna propped her chin on her hand. Beckman spoke softly, slightly averted from her gaze.

“You could have sent me.”

“You? To a gambling table?”

“Yes.”

“…Hmm.”

Apparently, this balancer felt some jealousy.

Johanna chuckled and shook her head.

“A balancer is a force to be reckoned with. Not something to be wasted on a mere gambling table. Your enemy isn’t the mafia; it’s Derek.”

Dealing with people like this was a bit uncomfortable and quite bothersome for Johanna. She would have preferred someone who lived and died for money.

“It’s because you’re valuable that I’m sparing you.”

“…Yes, I understand.”

Beckman stepped back. Johanna sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“Damn it… they should just do as they’re told without backtalk.”

That’s why she wished Belingham was under her command.

He would do exactly what was needed, without a hint of personal desire or undue loyalty.

“There are many who expect suspicious things…”

In that regard, Shion Ascal was quite similar to the old days of Belingham Kantar.

She didn’t have a hobby of stealing her sister’s things.

Not yet, at least.

* * *

The poker preliminaries had gone on for nearly 24 hours, so the sky was still dark.

Thank goodness it’s the weekend.

Or is it? Did I just waste the entire weekend?

Beep-beep?!

Suddenly, a car horn blared. It was a car parked on the edge of the road.

As I looked in that direction, vroom? the window rolled down.

“Hello?”

It was Bell Moore. He looked at me with a smiling face.

“…What do you want?”

“Hey, man. Is that how you greet your superior? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Did you used to do that in the past, Mr. Bell Moore?”

“Uh…”

Bell Moore looked away for a moment and then nodded as if he understood.

“Fair enough. If it were me, I’d have cursed the hell out of you internally.”

“Enough with that, what do you want?”

“Nothing much. Just on a mission.”

“A mission from the company, or a mission for Mr. Bell Moore?”

“A company mission.”

I picked up my Libra phone. There were no alerts or messages from the company.

“The company hasn’t said anything about it.”

“It’s a mission that doesn’t get transmitted through a Libra phone. Spies could be snooping in our Database.”

“…Spies?”

“Yeah. Get in.”

I got into the passenger seat next to Bell Moore. He immediately handed me a file and said,

“Have you ever heard of an organization called Vancheon’?”

“Vancheon?”

“Yeah. Vancheon.”

I knew it all too well.

It was the organization I had once been a part of.

I answered calmly.

“I don’t like the name to begin with.”

“Ha. But it’s not about the scales. Vancheon, meaning against the heavens. In simple terms, it’s a revolutionary group that aims to turn the heavens upside down.”

Edsilla is a nation of egalitarianism. There is no aristocracy, no ownership of fiefs, and no slavery.

But that’s just a fa?ade.

Libra has established fiefs in the sky, and the parliament is essentially the exclusive property of the nobles.

In the history of Edsilla, the only commoner Senator was Gerkhen.

Vancheon aims to topple that system.

“Vancheon operates on the premise that Edsilla’s system is unfair… They particularly despise Libra, you know?”

It’s an obvious point. Vancheon is ultimately anti-Libra. Libra is deeply embedded in every social structure of Edsilla.

Soon, Edsilla will degenerate into a puppet state under Libra’s control.

That’s how the world was before my regression.

“But this organization is quite extensive. They have a head, but it’s a cell organization, so it’s hard to find out anything. Moreover, the number of commoners is overwhelmingly large in this social structure, right?”

Bell Moore gestured towards the file. It seemed he wanted me to open it.

“So. There are a lot of cockroaches among the commoners who knowingly or unknowingly cooperate with Vancheon. There’ll be many inside Libra, and even more outside.”

I opened the file.

A list of suspects compiled by the Intelligence Agency from their own investigation.

It was almost like a Death Note.

“You’ll have to search for it. This is a standing order. If they’re Vancheon, you can kill them; if it’s just an ordinary industrial spy, get a confession and report back.”

Vancheon.

They never succeed.

Yet, their lineage continues.

Even after Zia becomes Chairman, and before I die, they persist without crumbling, carrying on their beliefs.

It’s a difficult path.

Because there are few who truly act for the sake of ‘belief.’

Vancheon failed because of traitors.

Those who are always looking for a chance to betray their comrades, those who joined with the intention to do so from the start, those who couldn’t withstand torture and turned, those who threw their comrades into hell for the sake of their children’s study abroad expenses…

I know quite a few of such faces.

After all, I’m someone who climbed up to a significant position myself.

“If I find them, do I go alone?”

“Yeah. I’m a bit tied up, you see. But there, I’ve checked a few guys, see? I’ve got a rough hold on their tails, so just interrogate one of them today and report back. It’s a gift from your superior.”

Bell Moore grinned. He seemed to be in a very good mood.

Indeed, his clothes had changed completely. From head to toe, he was decked out in luxury brands.

He must have really clung to Derek’s coattails.

“And take this car too.”

He opened the door.

“The car?”

“Yeah. What kind of superior would I be if I couldn’t do this much? Take care.”

Bang!

Bell Moore closed the door. I moved to the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel, closing my eyes for a moment. I activated my five senses sharply.

So that I could hear even the faintest sound of the engine like a surge…

It’s certain.

There’s a bug.

Probably, the inside of the car is being recorded as well.

I opened my eyes. There were already a few names checked off by Bell Moore on the list.

One name caught my eye.

Thump-

I closed the file.

* * *

Near Libra Station, there are many buildings. Most of them are residential sections where Libra employees live.

‘Cooper’ is one of them. A goose father who has left his daughter and wife in the south.

As a researcher for Libra… he is leaking information.

“…”

I stand inside his house. In the shade of the curtains, in that darkness, I quietly stare at the door.

Clunk.

The lock is undone.

Creeeak—

The door opens, and a middle-aged man, in the midst of taking off his shoes, halts awkwardly.

“Wh-who are you—”

“Good evening.”

I bow my head slightly to him.

“Please come in. It’s nothing serious.”

The man, with his hair half-lost, stares blankly at my tie.

“…Did you come from Libra headquarters?”

“Please take a seat.”

I point to the seat in front of me with a faint smile.

“No… even so, trespassing is…”

“There’s a matter at hand. Please understand.”

He hesitantly approaches and sits down.

“What’s the matter that…”

I hand him a piece of paper. Cooper tilts his head in confusion.

“…What is this?”

Still smiling, I ask him back.

“Can’t you see?”

Cooper’s eyes then fill with a strange light. On his paper, the word [Statement] must be written in large letters.

“What am I supposed to declare…”

“If I say it out loud, it will only make things worse.”

Before my regression, Cooper was discovered not by me but by the Libra Intelligence Agency.

His future was terribly grim.

He survived with an arm severed, but received a punishment worse than that.

His wife and daughter.

Libra killed them.

They left him alive in a world turned into hell.

“What am I supposed to declare if I don’t know…”

“I won’t say it a second time.”

I do not wish for that future. Knowing that he becomes a greater avenger than I, blowing himself up in Libra’s Aerial Garden.

“Write the statement yourself. With your own hands.”

Therefore, I intend to give him a choice.

The punishment will vary greatly depending on the ‘quality’ of the information and ‘where’ it was leaked to.

“And.”

I place a sword on his desk.

The well-honed Nether blade can slice through human flesh with a mere touch.

“Cut off your own arm.”

“…”

Cooper’s breath stops for a moment.

Then, he gives up on excuses.

“Cut off… my own arm?”

“Of course, you have a choice.”

I gesture towards his arm.

“If not your arm.”

I tap the sword lightly with my finger.

“Then the necks of your wife and daughter.”

“…”

His breathing wavers. Sweat pours down his face. His glasses slide down, and the violent pounding of his heart reaches me as well.

“You don’t have much time.”

Suddenly, his heart stops.

The trembling in his entire body had ceased.

He simply gripped the sword with empty eyes as if he had made up his mind.

And then—

“Arghhh…!”

He pressed down on his own arm.

Sssshhhk!

Blood spurted out like a fountain. His left arm was cleanly severed. Bone had been separated from bone. I watched intently as it happened.

This is a necessary evil.

By sacrificing one arm, your family can live.

You can avoid the future where you become a meaningless avenger and meet a dog’s death.

“…Now, please write the statement. And don’t forget to stamp it with your seal.”

With his remaining right hand, he scrawled out the statement. With a face pale as if he might faint at any moment, shaking with breath, he confessed to leaking information to which company, and then stamped it with his own blood.

I accepted the document.

[I have leaked important solar research results from Libra Station to the corporation Astel…]

The leak was not to Vancheon. At least, his own confession said as much.

Thus, it ends with a confession.

I stood up and said,

“Laptop. Notebook. Mobile phone. Burn them all.”

So that no other evidence can be found.

“…Understood.”

“You’ve had a hard time. You should go to the hospital. You’re losing a lot of blood.”

I opened the door and stepped outside.

The middle-aged man’s sobs trickled into my ears as I descended the stairs.

But it was unavoidable.

This is the lesser evil.

* * *

The following midnight.

“…He cut off his arm, you say. A researcher named Cooper Joel?”

“Yes.”

I reported to the Intelligence Agency team leader along with the statement.

“I didn’t kill him. Killing him wouldn’t recover the information, and such a person is better off alive as an example, I judged.”

“…Of course, there’s no need to kill. Industrial spies should be severely punished, but there’s no need to be as violent as you. They’re not like us, who use swords or magic. Less educated, perhaps?”

The team leader grimaced at the blood-stamped statement.

This team leader, under Derek, probably dislikes everything I do.

Therefore, he will insist that my actions are excessive.

“Was it too much? Were there no other pieces of evidence?”

“I’ve confirmed the transfer details of the secret accounts. However, the other devices had already been destroyed by him.”

“…So that’s why this mess. As always, those who weren’t raised properly stand out.”

The man sneered, fiddling with the cigarette in his mouth.

“Go back. This isn’t an achievement or anything of the sort. It’s rather something to be punished for, but I’ll end it here on my terms.”

With a dismissive wave of his hand like shooing a fly, I bowed to him.

“I’ll take my leave.”

“Go on.”

Things had turned out more or less as I had expected.

Except for the fact that I wanted to kill this team leader more than I had thought.

……

Somewhere deep underground in Edsilla, there is a place that no one knows about. A place that no one should know about.

It’s the hideout of Vancheon.

“Urgent news. Mr. Cooper’s arm has been cut off.”

“His arm?”

The sudden report prompted an urgent question from the Vancheon executive.

“Yes. Fortunately, it seems no evidence of his collaboration with us has been found.”

“…How could there be? We left no trace. How is Mr. Cooper’s condition?”

“Not good. He needs to be hospitalized soon, but his life isn’t in danger…”

The executive let out a faint sigh, pressing his temples while looking up at the corkboard in the center of the office.

Under the word [Main Enemy], there were quite a few people listed.

At the very top was [Sherlock]

Right below were [Derek] [Johanna] [Jade].

And below them, the ‘Balancers’ who were essentially in key positions at Libra.

“What about the face of the guy who cut off his arm?”

“It’s here.”

Codename ‘Turtle’ handed a photo to the executive, adding,

“According to Owl, he’s recently been included in the list of Balancer candidates.”

“Balancer candidates?”

“Yes. His name is Shion Ascal. Owl described him as ‘a person driven by a very dangerous loyalty.'”

Owl is ‘Riley,’ who operates within Libra.

She holds one of the most important and dangerous positions in Vancheon, so very few within Vancheon know her true identity.

“Tell Owl to lay low as much as possible.”

“Yes.”

The executive pinned Shion Ascal’s photo just below the Balancers.

“What’s this? He’s good-looking?”

This was from ‘Lynx,’ who was idly smoking. Lynx wasn’t sharp-faced for a predator but had a bald head with a mustache.

“…Is now the time for such comments?”

The executive glared at him. He waved his hand dismissively.

“No, no~ Just saying he’s good-looking. Can’t even make a comment like that?”

“His father is said to be a knight of Libra.”

“…Tch.”

The executive clicked his tongue and took note of Turtle’s information.

[Shion Ascal]

[Father: Dale Ascal, a low-ranking knight from Libra]

[Background: Three generations serving Libra, starting with his grandfather]

[Current: One of the Balancer candidates]

[Distinctive Point: Wishes to belong to Zia, the youngest of four siblings]

“Do we need a codename for this guy too? If he’s a Balancer candidate, he must be somewhat significant.”

Lynx asked. The executive pondered for a moment before nodding.

“For now… let’s call him ‘Mad Dog’.”