The Lazy Boy Is, In Fact, the Strongest and Most Brutal Assassin. - Chapter 2: Night Dwellers.

Night Dwellers.

The northernmost end of the continent’s grand road begins in the land of permafrost and cuts through several small nations before it reaches its terminus in the southern desert country of Escalis-Mimir.

Despite the extreme cold of the north and the intense heat of the south, the road is most traveled through the small nations situated in between, as the harsh conditions at both ends make regular passage less common.

These small nations, in this context, number seven in total: Neder, Kalkata, Froinveil, Mirabel, Ternoir, Goa, and Vespio. Among them, four—Froinveil, Mirabel, Ternoir, and Goa—are situated on fertile black soil. These nations, with similar agricultural-based economies and flourishing trade along the grand road, share a closely related culture and are often collectively referred to as the “Four Sisters of Prosperity.”

However, these sisters have recently shown signs of a brewing conflict.

It started just a few months ago.

A scuffle between the industrial guild and tax collectors in Ternoir escalated into a full-blown riot. Contrary to initial expectations that it would be swiftly suppressed, the unrest evolved into a revolution, ultimately leading to the collapse of the monarchy and the establishment of a republic.

A republic suddenly rising in the midst of monarchies did not sit well with the neighboring royal families. In response, Mirabel and Goa immediately sent troops into Ternoir. Meanwhile, Froinveil, under the cautious—some would say indecisive—leadership of its king, remained passive, adopting a wait-and-see approach.

Amidst this tense situation was the capital of Froinveil, Saint Togan.

Located right next to the eastern gate that faced the grand road was a guardhouse. Inside, a burly man stood with his arms crossed, glaring down at a dejected blonde boy, whose head hung low in defeat.

The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties, a massive figure with a face more reminiscent of a bear than a human, fierce and intimidating.

As for the boy, though he had the blonde hair and blue eyes typical of northerners, his features seemed dull and lacked the brightness one might expect. There was a certain disheveled, shabby air about him, and his posture—hunched over, scolded—evoked the image of an abandoned puppy.

“Il, think about the position you’ve put me in by recommending you,” the man growled.

“… Yes, I’m sorry,” the boy mumbled.

The setting sun streaming through the window cast long shadows across the room, and the boy’s small, shrinking figure bowed even lower on the stone floor.

“Gaspar was an exceptional guard, you know.”

“… Yes, I know.”

“After Gaspar died, I pulled some strings to get you in as an apprentice, knowing you had to support your family…”

“I’m grateful to you, sir,” Il replied softly.

The old man—Bodoin, the captain of the guard—poured water from a jug into a cup and downed it in one go. It seemed he had yelled so much that his throat had gone hoarse.

The lecture had already stretched on for over half an hour, and the other guards, fearing they might get caught in the crossfire, had quickly left.

Il, seeing his colleagues leave, made the mistake of letting a flicker of hope cross his face, thinking the scolding might soon end. Unfortunately, that slight show of relief only fueled Bodoin’s anger further, leading to the current extended round of reprimands.

“It’s not just today! You’re late every morning, you sleep through the lectures, and when you’re on patrol duty, you slack off and fall asleep again! And to top it all off, during training, when we had a mock battle, you threw down your sword and ran away! What on earth are you thinking?”

As Bodoin’s brow, furrowed in anger, gradually began to droop with disappointment, Il realized that the scolding was far from over.

“Do you even understand the situation this country is in right now?” Bodoin demanded.

“I-I do!” Il stammered, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

Bodoin fixed his stern gaze on the boy and asked in a deep, gravelly voice, “Then say it.”

“Um… Mirabel and Goa have called for troops to be sent to Ternoir.”

“And what else?”

“A-And… Ternoir has requested aid from us as well.”

“Exactly. Once the king decides which side to support, we’ll be thrown into war, and we’ll be fighting on the front lines.”

Il, relieved that he’d managed to give the right answers, exhaled and rubbed his chest in relief.

But Bodoin’s questioning wasn’t over yet.

“Then what else?”

“Eh!? W-what else? Um… uh, that… well…”

As Il’s thoughts spun wildly, Bodoin let out a loud sigh and glared sharply at him.

“Night Dwellers!”

“Oh, right! Yes, that’s it!”

“Don’t just say ‘that’s it’! There are rumors they’re the ones who killed Gaspar. If you, his own son, can’t even remember that, how do you think Gaspar could ever rest in peace?”

—Night Dwellers.

For the past two years, rumors had been circulating in the city of San Togan about this assassin group. It was said they would kill anyone for the right price, no matter who the target was.

No one knew their numbers, nor had anyone actually seen them. Still, the whispers of their existence continued to spread.

“But isn’t ‘Night Dwellers’ just an urban legend? Are we really sure a group like that exists?”

Bodoin’s face hardened further, his mouth set in a firm line as he glared at Il, who was now nervously laughing.

“They definitely exist. Their methods may vary, but there are too many unexplained killings for it to be a coincidence.”

“Wasn’t it something about saying a password under a window with brown curtains?”

“Yes, that’s the rumor, that saying the password there allows you to contact them.”

“But, Chief, we patrol the streets every day, and I’ve never seen a house with brown curtains. If one did exist, people would switch them out immediately to avoid suspicion.”

“That part of the rumor is probably a diversion. The brown curtains might be a code for something else. There must be a different way to make contact.”

“Another way to make contact, huh…”

Feigning deep thought, Il couldn’t help but smirk inwardly. Somehow, the conversation had shifted, and the long-winded lecture seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Bodoin, still serious, didn’t notice Il’s silent relief. He was too engrossed in the topic of Night Dwellers.

“Yeah, there’s got to be something more to it. These kinds of rumors don’t spread without a reason. If we could figure it out, we might just be able to track them down.”

“Ah, y-yeah, maybe…” Il nodded absentmindedly, his mind already drifting elsewhere. He had dodged the bulk of the lecture, and that was victory enough for now.