The Lazy Boy Is, In Fact, the Strongest and Most Brutal Assassin. - Chapter 21: No Life King: Part 1

No Life King: Part 1

The room, with green curtains covering an entire wall, was bathed in the faint glow of a spirit stone lamp. Beneath the dim light, a woman, her white hood pulled low over her face, quietly sat down in one of the two chairs placed across from each other at a small table.

The voices of the boy and the dancer, which had faintly echoed from the window facing the alley just moments ago, had already faded away. A hard, midnight silence, characteristic of the night, filled the room, accompanied by a subtle ringing in the ears.

The woman in the white robe—Kurikara—had been quietly replaying the question the boy had asked her earlier.

“Couldn’t you save him?”

The question was simple, but its meaning was sharp. The problem wasn’t the content of the question. The issue was that the boy, that boy, had asked it. That “worst illness.”

A ruthless assassin whose normal emotions had long since died. A messenger of hell who no one, no matter how strong, could defeat, and who hesitated for no one. Whether the target was good or evil, old or young, male or female, if the job was accepted, their approach was terrifyingly neutral.

A death that was always the same.

That god of death had asked her, despite all the evil she had done in the past, with the face of someone seemingly good: “Couldn’t you save him?”

It seemed she would have to reconsider her view of that boy, even if just a little.

Knock… knock.

The faint sound of a hesitant knock echoed in the quiet room, followed by the face of a silver cat peeking through the slightly opened door.

Silver hair, matted with horrible tangles. Eyes devoid of life, like glass beads. A face that gave no sense of gender. The dim light’s shadows gave the boy an almost ghostly appearance as he softly spoke.

“I’ve returned.”

“How was the No Life King?” the woman asked.

“There were no issues… I will send him across the boundary before the night ends. I received that response.”

“Then, he will begin immediately. He is an honest person.”

***

“Calm down a bit…”

Two flashy women leaned in from both sides, lovingly stroking Hiluluk’s chin and cheek, whispering softly in his ear.

Hiluluk’s expression was filled with irritation. While his mistresses were not afraid of this, the subordinates in the room were not so unaffected. Trembling with fear from the palpable tension, they shrank back and lowered their gazes.

Ignoring the fingers of the mistresses as they caressed his cheek, Hiluluk glared around the room. He then asked his subordinates with a voice that sounded like he was forcing his emotions down.

“So, have we found that bastard Toruk yet?”

“I-I’m sorry. For now, we’ve blocked all the gates to keep him from leaving the city…”

“Tch.”

Hiluluk clicked his tongue, and his subordinates all flinched in unison.

Toruk’s whereabouts were still unknown. The money earned from selling that mansion was the most profitable part of this job. If a rookie had made off with it, Hiluluk’s reputation in the underground world would be ruined.

Earlier this morning, an informant had reported that Toruk had appeared at the Ward Workshop. Hiluluk hurriedly gathered his subordinates and rushed there, but by the time they arrived, it was already empty. While they had dealt with the young ones from the Boardwan family, Toruk was nowhere to be found, nor were the blacksmith siblings or the noisy dancer.

He had them search the house thoroughly, but they couldn’t find any clue related to the “Method Of Dark Green Steel.”

The worst-case scenario was that Toruk had already found the “Method Of Dark Green Steel” and was planning to flee with that girl, Shia. It was no wonder Hiluluk was so irritated.

At that moment, one of his subordinates, glancing out the window, suddenly called out.

“Boss! There’s someone strange outside… heading this way.”

“Strange person?”

Hiluluk waved the women’s hands away and stood up, directing an annoyed gaze out the window.

Outside the window, beyond a low hedge, lay the main street of the nightlife district. Prostitutes were luring men, young men were laughing and walking arm in arm, while a homeless man staggered past. In the middle of this usual scene, a loud, clanking sound was heard. A person clad in full armor, an outdated, anachronistic suit of armor, was marching through the street.

“What’s that? Some kind of street performer?”

In Hiluluk’s annoyed voice, there was a hint of curiosity.

A street performer. That was probably what the people walking around thought too. They pointed at the archaic figure and laughed, occasionally getting close to touch or poke at the surface of the armor.

Of course, full plate armor was not a rarity. Mercenaries passing through the country sometimes wore full plate armor, and the royal army soldiers all wore it as a matter of course.

However, the full plate armor that the person was wearing now was the unusual part.

It was likely made hundreds of years ago, from an era when the blacksmithing techniques were much more rudimentary than today. The iron used was thick and clunky, resembling a large barrel. And for some reason, it was marching straight toward them.

“Maybe some nobleman’s son, embarrassed about his first visit to a brothel, decided to wear his family’s ancestral armor to hide his face?”

One of the subordinates said, barely holding back a laugh.

Ridiculous. It’s ridiculous, yet…

“Well, the things nobles do are often a bit off, so I wouldn’t say it’s impossible…”

Hiluluk’s expression shifted. The irritation that had been there earlier was now replaced with curiosity.

As they continued watching, the armored figure in full plate armor reached the brothel and stopped. A prostitute approached it. Watching through the window, Hiluluk guessed they were probably thinking the same thing as he was. The prostitute spoke to the armored figure, stifling a laugh.

In response, the figure in full armor nodded twice and then scratched its head in an almost bashful manner. Seeing this, Hiluluk’s mistresses giggled and laughed at his sides.

Once the prostitute led the armored figure inside the brothel, Hiluluk’s subordinates, eager for a bit of fun, started heading toward the hallway, but Hiluluk quickly scolded them.

“Idiot! Don’t do something that’ll make the guest uncomfortable. If it really is a noble’s son, he could end up being a VIP!”

“Y-yes… Sorry.”

The subordinates apologized but still couldn’t hide their curiosity. Some of them even pressed their ears against the door, trying to listen to the sounds from the entrance.

“Ah, it sounds like the prostitute’s giving them an explanation,” one of them commented.

“Just leave it already…” Hiluluk sighed, exasperated by the constant commentary.

Just as he spoke, an unexpected scream echoed from the entrance. “Gyaaaaaaaah!”

At the same time, several screams could be heard from the second floor, where the prostitutes’ dressing rooms were. Most likely, they were startled by the sudden scream, not understanding what was going on.

“An entrance!”

As Hiluluk rose from the sofa and shouted, the two mistresses beside him shrank back, trembling with fear. The subordinates, startled, grabbed their weapons and rushed toward the door. They tried to open it and rush out of the room one after another.

The moment one of the subordinates opened the door, he didn’t even have a chance to scream before his skull was split cleanly in half, and his body crumpled to the floor.

“What?!”

A look of shock, a swallowed breath, splattering blood, and the strong scent of iron filled the air. In the span of a single breath, the atmosphere in the room changed drastically.

On the other side of the open door stood a blood-covered figure in full plate armor. As the body of the subordinate, split down the middle, hit the floor with a thud, both of Hiluluk’s mistresses screamed in terror at the top of their lungs.

“Who the hell are you?!”

At the same time as Hiluluk’s shout, one of his subordinates lunged, swinging his sword wildly. However, his strike was interrupted when the blade of the mysterious armored figure swung out, knocking the subordinate across the room. He crashed into the stone wall, his skull bursting open like a squashed tomato, blood and brain matter splattering everywhere.

“…Nocturnal, Night Dwellers.”

The figure in full armor slowly stepped into the room with a metallic clink. With a short gladius resting on his shoulder, the armored figure casually introduced himself as the name of a dark legend of assassination, as if he were greeting old acquaintances.

“If it weren’t for the request, I wouldn’t have intended to retaliate. But unfortunately, a boundary line has been drawn beneath your feet. And it is my job to push you beyond it,” he said.

As he spoke, the armored figure raised the visor of his helmet. In stark contrast to the mistresses, who were screaming incessantly, the men all stood frozen in stunned silence.

Their eyes widened, mouths agape. Everyone would look like that if they saw someone they thought was dead. That’s right, if they saw someone they thought was dead.

The face that appeared from beneath the visor was that of someone they had meticulously dismembered and killed not long ago.

A glimpse of fiery red hair peeked out from the steel helm, and the figure’s eyes, soft with pity, stared directly at Hiluluk.

The man’s name was Haiker.

Just recently, he was the gentle young man that Hiluluk and his group had slaughtered in the dark.