Chapter 43

“…”

I would love nothing more than to stay far away from danger and live peacefully while raising chickens.

Isaac gazed out the tavern window and sighed.

The brilliant full moon made every joint in his body ache anew, and he thumped his lower back and shoulders with his fists. Most of the witches remaining in the kingdom were likely resting quietly in seclusion tonight.

All except the three creatures now busily scurrying around his feet again.

—Every last witch must disappear from this land.

The prince’s words abruptly returned to him, along with the emotion unmistakably contained in that quiet murmur, which had seemed to slip from Kaiyan without conscious thought.

They were pure, unadulterated hatred.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Isaac sighed again, his spirits sinking further. No one enjoyed the feeling of being hated, but remembering those words from the prince made him feel unusually miserable.

“Is our guard oppa ill? Why are you sprawled out like this?” asked a waitress approaching with a tray loaded with newly ordered drinks and plates of food. She set everything down without showing the slightest strain and peered at Isaac. “Here, have some liquor and cheer up.”

His colleagues, who had been enjoying themselves beside him, immediately began shouting. “His superior works him too hard. Give him something to restore his strength, pretty noona.”

“Should I?” the waitress replied without missing a beat. “Want me to feed it to him with my mouth? Oh my, now that I look properly, he has exactly the kind of face I like.”

She was entirely unfazed by the men’s lewd teasing. The waitress pretended she was about to drink Isaac’s beer herself, then laughed and held the glass to his lips. She pulled Isaac, who looked young enough to be her nephew, against her ample chest and fed him the drink, radiating the confidence of a woman who could dismiss such crude jokes with a snort.

Fine. Play with me here too. Everyone can just play with me wherever I go.

Isaac surrendered his limp body to her and quietly drank. That was when he noticed a man entering the tavern. Wait. Isn’t that the insanely expensive information broker I saw earlier? The thought drifted through Isaac’s sluggish mind. Then he saw the man who entered immediately behind him.

Isaac’s mental haze vanished instantly.

The newcomer’s hair was black, his skin had been darkened, and thick padding altered the bridge of his nose and the shape of his jaw. The disguise was astonishingly convincing. But there could not be two pairs of those cold, indifferent, piercing blue eyes.

It was the prince.

“…”

Their eyes met.

Isaac coughed and spat out his beer. Kaiyan seemed to realize at once that Isaac had recognized him. Yet, the prince simply turned his gaze away, and Isaac hurriedly bowed his head, pretending to wipe up the spilled beer while everyone around him shouted, “Hey! That’s disgusting!”

Damn it. I wish I hadn’t recognized him. Why did I have to notice?

The information broker surveyed the tavern before guiding Kaiyan toward an empty table in the back. It stood behind the thick pillar against which Isaac had been leaning, partially enclosed by a wall. In a tavern this loud, it was the sort of place where no conversation could be overheard by ordinary people. Even with the pillar between them, Isaac remained acutely aware of the two men settling down on the other side. He fell silent and merely sipped his drink.

Why is he here?

Then, he understood.

Kaiyan had never intended to rely solely on the information Isaac brought him.

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re spilling it!”

Brick pointed emphatically from across the table, and it was only then that Isaac realized he had been nursing a beer only to pour half the contents down his own chest. Olsen scrambled to hand him a stack of napkins.

“Look, if you’re truly that sick, just head home. You look like hell tonight.”

“I will… as soon as my shoes come back.”

Isaac wiggled his stockinged feet under the table, an overwhelming urge to flee gnawing at him. Ignoring the snide remarks from his colleagues about his strange, listless demeanor and his apparent fragility, Isaac dropped his forehead onto the hard surface of the table.

“Yeah, get some sleep, buddy,” a voice murmured, draping a heavy coat over his head.

Isaac closed his eyes beneath the fabric. With his body sagging under a leaden fatigue and his vision obscured, his remaining senses sharpened into razor-thin points. The pungent, grease-heavy aromas of food and spilled alcohol wafting from nearby tables assaulted his nostrils. Voices, near and far, melted into a dissonant, chaotic roar.

Yet, cutting through that static, a single voice pierced his hearing with unnatural clarity.

It was a tone he knew all too well. One to which his ears were, for reasons he rarely cared to acknowledge, hyper-sensitive.

“…There are quite a few of them.”

Moments like this served as a stark reminder of the witch’s blood he normally preferred to pretend was not coursing through his veins. Among the cacophony of the tavern, a conversation that should have been buried under the ambient noise separated itself and drifted into his consciousness.

“They possess tremendous wealth and influence,” the information broker replied. “There are four court magicians involved as well…”

Isaac briefly entertained the thought that it was reckless to discuss such matters in a public house, but he quickly dismissed it. Perhaps this was the safest venue of all. The roar of the tavern was so deafening that patrons had to shout just to be heard at their own tables, and the open layout made it nearly impossible for anyone to approach unseen.

“The Guild has ordered its members to restrain their activities for the time being, largely due to the deteriorating atmosphere following the recent incidents,” the broker continued. “Under these circumstances, even Roverni would struggle to deploy magicians openly.” He paused, his tone dropping lower. “Which implies that this time, he may send the most reliable hand at his disposal. The most dangerous asset he can move without revealing his own involvement…”

He let the sentence trail off into the gloom.

“And the witch?” Kaiyan asked.

His inquiry was short, clipped, and devoid of preamble.

The broker’s silence stretched, lingering longer than before.

“It appears certain that Roverni has never made direct contact with the witch. However, the energy displayed during the Sider incident could not have been channeled by a human magician. They must be linked in some capacity, though I cannot yet determine the nature of that tether.” He lifted his beer to wet his parched throat. “If I cannot verify the connection, I assure you, no one else in the world will manage it either. Nevertheless, I intend to continue the investigation—eek!”

SQUEAK

A bizarre, high-pitched squeal shattered the broker’s grim, professional veneer. Isaac’s eyes flew open and he bolted upright, straining to see.

“What in the hell are those? Where in the blazes did you little beasts come from? Go on, get! Shoo!”

Filled with a mounting, cold dread, Isaac leaned around the support pillar. On the empty chair adjacent to the men, three small, exceedingly familiar backsides were lined up with military precision. All three creatures were staring with unblinking intensity at the broker’s dinner plate, strings of drool hanging freely from their mouths.

Isaac knew them perfectly well.

“What is this? Are you looking for a handout? Get out! Animals have no business begging for human meals! You damned thieving strays, I’ll tan your hides and throw you out into the street!”

The information broker glared and shouted, waving his arms. In response, the three cats rolled their enormous, glassy eyes toward him and began to mewl.

“Mrrrow… Mrrrrow…”

Their cries were so impossibly fragile, sorrowful, and pathetic that even Isaac, who was intimately acquainted with the true, terrifying nature of these creatures, felt his heart soften in a painful, visceral way.

“Now, don’t you try that! Don’t think you can manipulate me with those noises! No means no! Human food is heavily seasoned. It’s toxic to animals!”

The broker continued to roar at them, but his actions betrayed his words. He plucked a succulent piece of meat from his plate, dropped it into his water glass to rinse it thoroughly, and set it before the trio. The cats lunged with predatory grace, chewing frantically while emitting eager, rapid-fire clicking noises.

As the broker continued to rinse and dole out meat, he muttered under his breath, “Slowly, you gluttons! You’ll choke yourselves. Who on earth is going to find you a veterinarian if you stop breathing? And don’t you dare get comfortable with this. Even if I wash off the salt, you mustn’t develop a habit of eating human food.”

He then bellowed toward the bar, “Another plate of roast goat! No seasoning!”

Isaac sat frozen, paralyzed by the sight. The broker remained entirely preoccupied with his duties as a feline chef, while Kaiyan watched the spectacle in stoic silence. The cats, ignoring both men, stood with their tails held high, completely consumed by the business of gluttony.

“Where did these little monsters even come from? What kind of cat has eyes as big as lanterns?” The broker washed another slice of meat. “Hey! Slow down! Chew before you swallow, you little beasts! Does your owner starve you? What a miserable, rotten bastard.”

Isaac, who had been half-risen, torn by the impulse to claim them, felt a sudden, sharp sting of indignation. After being unwittingly insulted by the stranger, he quietly sank back into his seat.

I don’t starve them. And I am certainly not their owner.

“Oh, my heavens! How did these cats even get into the tavern?”

A waitress approached with a fresh tray, saw the creatures, and let out a sharp shriek. She hiked up her sleeves and snatched the heavy fireplace poker propped against the wall.

Isaac had no choice but to lunge to his feet.

“W-wait! They’re mine. I am terribly sorry.”

Under the judgmental glares of the surrounding patrons, he bowed repeatedly, shuffling toward the table. The cats continued to chew with wet, rhythmic smacking sounds, not even deigning to glance at their supposed master.

Kaiyan, who had been observing them with keen interest, lifted his gaze.

“They are yours?”

“Uh… yes. More or less.”

“I feel as though I have crossed paths with them before.”

Kaiyan muttered the words as if to himself. Isaac offered a weak, strained laugh and broke into a cold sweat, unable to find an appropriate response.

“They’re yours?” The broker glared at him. “Do you starve them? Why are they devouring that meat like they haven’t had a meal in weeks?”

Isaac had left their bowls piled high with food before he even departed his home. He could only glare bleakly at the cats as they continued to stuff themselves, chattering and chirping between bites.

Goat! Goat! Goat really is the finest meat. Are they not serving wine?

Typical witches. They had completely lost their sense of propriety over a bit of roast goat. It was expensive fare that even Isaac loved but could rarely afford.

“Anyway, if you’re their owner, hurry up and remove them.”

The broker glanced uneasily toward Kaiyan, clearly displeased that a stranger had intruded on their meeting, then waved Isaac off with a flick of his hand. Isaac bowed again, reaching out to gather the three felines.

Before his hands could touch them, Kaiyan spoke.

“Let them finish the meat already on the table.”