[AFYC] Chapter 66

//Belated chapter. Sorry for lack of updates, have been swamped with work and not feeling motivated lately.

——

That wasn’t all. 

The hem of his top-quality suit, which cost nearly a million Kertes, reeked of fish, and his stomach churned from all the coffee he had consumed. 

The worst target he had ever dealt with was a woman who spent her days in prayer, but on reflection, even she seemed better than this. 

“At least she found my face charming.” 

Wait a minute. 

As the words left his mouth and echoed back to his ears, a shiver ran down his spine. 

The sense of confidence he had always taken for granted suddenly felt shaken as he realised that much of it stemmed from his appearance. The image of Seo Ah, who had spent the entire time at the market with her face buried in a coffee cup, flashed before his eyes. 

At the time, he had been too irritated by the chaos of the market to notice, but now, looking back, it seemed that the target had no interest in his appearance or in Abel Sting as a person. 

“....” 

What followed the initial chill was a sense of unease, tinged with an awareness of impending danger. 

Abel, who had planned to drown his sorrows in drink and pass out, suddenly stood up. Nighttime had a way of evoking peculiar feelings, so he decided it might be wise to make another impression on the target. 

But even that proved to be difficult. 

“Why are the lights off?” 

“She seems to be sleeping.” 

“What do you mean? It’s not even 10 o’clock.” 

“They turned off about 30 minutes ago.” 

She’s not a child going through a growth spurt, so why is she going to bed so early? 

Wait a minute. 

If she goes to bed this early, what time does she plan on waking up tomorrow? Could it be that she’ll want to go back to the market...? 

Suddenly alarmed, Abel called out to one of the wolves. 

“Hey.” 

“Yes?” 

“If she asks if there are any other markets in Vieux, tell her there aren’t any besides the Central Market. Make sure everyone in the mansion knows to say the same.” 

But even that didn’t go as planned. 

“Apologies, but Madam Barbara has instructed me to prepare for another market visit tomorrow.” 

“....” 

This time, his target was an exotic foreigner who seemed utterly uninterested in his appearance and had a deep affection for the marketplace. 

With a sour expression, Abel returned to his room and sat down to draft his report. He stared at the pre-printed form for a long time before finally picking up his pen. 

At around 8:20 a.m., the target visited the Central Market. Observations: browsing, browsing, browsing... 

List of purchases: one sausage, one notebook, one candy, one sausage roll. Coffee... six cups. 

At approximately 6:05 p.m., the target returned to the mansion. Lights out at around 9:30 p.m. 

The report he was preparing for Oscar seemed utterly pathetic. No matter how hard he tried to make it sound more substantial, the more he wrote, the more it revealed itself to be a shallow account. 

What made it worse was the nagging feeling that the following day’s report, and the ones after that, would be just as dull. 

Abel ran a hand over his face. 

“Make sure to succeed and put everyone in their place.” 

Whether it was Barbara or the combat team, he was determined to prove them wrong. But deep down, he had an ominous feeling that it might be his own pride that would take a hit. 

And that premonition began to turn into reality the next day—slowly at first, but then openly and unmistakably. 

♔♔♔  

In a dark, windowless chamber, devoid of night or day, the iron door, made entirely of metal from floor to ceiling, creaked open with a jarring noise. 

“Ugh, I can’t stand the smell in here.” 

A man with a snake tattooed on his bald head, where hair should have been, entered with a look of disgust. He sharply smacked the back of the man who had opened the iron door, snapping at him. 

“Clean up the blood and flesh as you work! The stench is unbearable!” 

“I’m sorry!” 

The subordinate immediately bowed deeply in apology, while the snake-tattooed man grimaced and walked past him. His gaze fell on the figures in the room, the ones he referred to as being “butchered.” 

“They’re tough, really tough.” 

There were two individuals tied to chairs. 

“You see what I mean? It’s times like these that remind you that humans are animals. How can you even call this a person anymore?” 

Though he laughed and joked, considering the condition of those tied to the chairs, it was no laughing matter. 

Their skin had been flayed in some areas, revealing raw flesh mixed with blood and pus, giving off a foul odour. Their abdomens had been sliced open, with their entrails spilling out, already starting to rot from the ends. Their wounds ranged from partially healed to freshly inflicted, none of them light.