The Kingmaker System
Chapter 260 - 259. Crimson Reckoning (3)

Chapter 260: 259. Crimson Reckoning (3)

The news of the massacre at the black market spread through the capital like wildfire, within mere hours. Whispers of nobles and nouveau riche blood staining the streets filled the air, chaos unfolding in the wake of the carnage. The King and his investigators scrambled to make sense of it all, trying to restore order to the disarray.

But they wouldn’t get far. There would be no leads to follow, no trail to piece together, because I was the one who had slaughtered them, and Lyall’s men had ensured that all traces were wiped clean.

The disappearance of the documents, the absence of the Lord who had overseen the operation, would be the perfect puzzle for them to struggle with. It would be their mystery to chase, but I knew better than to think they’d ever solve it.

"I checked all the documents, Master," Lyall’s voice crackled through the communication device as I sat back in the armchair, tea in hand.

The device, no larger than a small stone, rested gently in my palm. A faint glow emanated from the small mana stone embedded within it, allowing us to converse from any distance without the need for traditional wires or buttons. The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, but I remained still, waiting for the right moment to put the next step of my plan into action.

"I found more evidence—several other slaves bought using the same insignia," Lyall continued, his tone steady but laced with concern as it seeped from the communication device.

"Can you trace the identity of this person?" I asked, swirling the tea in my cup absentmindedly as I focused on his words.

"It will be tricky," he admitted.

"Get Damon and his people involved. He might have the connections we need," I instructed.

There was less that I knew about the royal family of Denril than I would have liked. Information about them was scarce, like a web of secrets tightly wound and hidden from prying eyes. But if I were to unravel this mystery, if I were to find the person involved in the transactions and the shady dealings, I needed more. Much more. Yet, because of my lack of solid information, I was stuck—still searching for any clue that might lead me to them.

It was frustrating, to say the least. I could feel the pieces moving around in my mind, just out of reach. I knew this person existed, I knew they were somewhere, hidden behind layers of power and privilege. But without the right lead, I couldn’t even begin to make sense of the tangled mess of connections surrounding the royal family.

"Yes, Master."

"Is that bastard still alive?" I asked, mentioning George.

"Yes, Master. He’s still alive."

"Good," I replied, allowing myself a small, knowing smirk. "Keep him alive and don’t tell anyone about his location. He is an important pawn."

"Understood, Master."

"And about the victims," I started, "Keep them in a safe place until we’re here and then..."

"And then?" Lyall prompted.

"Send them over to the place that I tell you,"

With the amount of people I was gathering my town was going to be overpopulated. But then again, I could still put them in a safer place. A different place where they would be safe.

"Understood, Master."

There was a soft, almost imperceptible knock at the door, cutting through the tension in the air. I turned my head, pausing as I set the communication device down on the table beside me.

"I’ll speak with you later," I told Lyall, dismissing him. "Keep working on it."

"Yes, Master." The connection was severed with a soft, ethereal pulse as the glow from the mana stone faded.

"Come in," I called, my voice polite, though I couldn’t help the brief flicker of curiosity in my eyes.

The door opened, revealing Asher. His face was tight, jaw clenched with barely restrained tension. I tilted my head slightly, masking my curiosity behind a saccharine smile.

"Good afternoon, Sir Asher. Would you like some tea?" I offered, my voice light and pleasant.

I kept my gaze steady as Asher seemed to wrestle with his words. He stopped short, staring at me as though he was holding something back, fighting with himself over whether or not to say it. His fists clenched at his sides, his breath shallow and quick.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, leaning slightly forward, playing the role of the innocent, unaware girl, though inside, I was already piecing together his hesitation.

Asher gulped, clearly struggling, then inhaled deeply, as if steeling himself. His eyes finally met mine, still filled with that storm of confusion, doubt, and something else—concern.

"At-At what extent can Ace go to find something?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly.

I tilted my head, feigning confusion. "Pardon?"

"Can he... kill to get what he wants?" Asher’s voice was barely above a whisper now. I was a little surprised by the question.

Who did I kill now?

I raised an eyebrow. "Who... did he kill?" I asked, though my voice trembled just a touch, like I wasn’t sure whether I should be playing dumb or genuinely shocked.

Asher hesitated, his eyes flickering away for a moment, and I could see the inner conflict twisting inside him. He didn’t want to say it, but he was desperately trying to get the words out. I knew he was reaching for something more, but I needed to know what he thought he knew.

"Please, just answer my question, Mirielle," he said, his tone firm now. "Can Ace kill people to get what he wants?"

I knew the answer, of course. But I didn’t say it aloud. I just thought it, a fleeting moment of clarity. Yes, of course. But I couldn’t let him know that. Besides, where on earth did he get an evidence of Ace being involved in this?

I sighed, and the words came out as carefully measured as I could manage. "Only if the people are evil..." I said, my voice wavering just enough to seem uncertain.

Asher didn’t look convinced. "Did he... get evidence of this? How would he even know?" My thoughts were racing now, trying to figure out what he had actually found, if anything.

"Asher, please," I said, now standing and stepping closer to him. "Tell me what he did."

Asher’s shoulders slumped, his hands instinctively reaching up to massage his temples as if trying to shake off the tension building there. "I... I don’t know for sure if it was him. But since the incident took place in the domain that you and Ace are involved in, I can’t help but be suspicious."

I felt a small flicker of relief. No evidence. Just suspicion. Lyall’s men would see the next day then.

I allowed myself to relax, leaning back against the armrest of the chair and letting my posture soften. Asher was still watching me, as if trying to read some hidden truth in my expression. His gaze was intent, but I kept my face neutral, too composed.

"I’m sorry," Asher spoke again, his voice tight with concern. "But I still think that you shouldn’t be associated with a man like Ace. He... He isn’t the right one for you, Mirielle."

I smiled to myself, the thought of Asher playing the role of a beloved second male lead with a tragic fate crossing my mind. In another world, in another story, perhaps that would be his fate—devoted, misunderstood, noble, yet doomed. But this wasn’t a romance drama, and I certainly wasn’t the good female lead. No, I was something much more complex, much darker. A twelve-year-old girl, wearing multiple identities like layers of clothing, each one serving a different purpose in a game that only I fully understood.

People like Asher, noble and well-meaning, would inevitably have to suffer for the greater cause. It was a simple truth, one that existed in the shadows of every grand scheme. He wasn’t going to be a hero in this story—he was merely a tool.

The only kindness I could afford him was the pity of knowing that I’d use him until he no longer had any worth. And when that time came, I’d move on, because this mission of mine had no room for weakness, no room for attachment. People like Asher? They were disposable, no matter how charming or good-hearted they might be.

At night, I leapt from the window, unfurling my wings as the cool air rushed against my face. The sky stretched out before me, dark and endless, the stars faintly twinkling as if watching my descent into the unknown. With a powerful flap, I soared higher, heading straight toward the massive palace that loomed in the distance.

If there was any information to be found, it would be from the source itself. No second-hand leads. No middlemen. Straight to the horse’s mouth.

As I neared the towering walls that enclosed the palace, I halted mid-air, hovering just a few feet away. The structure was grand, an architectural marvel, but what caught my attention was not its beauty—it was the shimmering distortion that rippled before me.

"A barrier, huh..." I muttered, my voice barely audible against the whispering winds.

A dome of mana restriction, vast and pulsating, surrounded the entire palace. The air felt charged, the barrier humming with latent power designed to keep intruders out—or secrets in. My eyes narrowed, studying its intricate patterns, each line of mana woven with precision and intent.

This wasn’t standard protocol. The palace never had a barrier like this before. Someone had gone to great lengths to set this up. Someone paranoid. Someone desperate to hide behind the shadows.

But who?