Chapter 58

Why did information regarding Django’s hideout—or rather, information about Django in general—carry as much weight as a nation’s prestige? Why was it considered a value that commanded the world’s attention?

It was because Django’s very existence was tacitly recognized as “untouchable.”

Originally, Django was a private detective who made a name for himself through sheer brute force. He solved cases in extremely dangerous areas where government-affiliated detectives wouldn’t dare set foot, such as the deepest reaches of dungeons or active conflict zones.

Because of that, he was constantly followed by ominous legends, rumors, and urban myths.

They said Django possessed terrifying combat abilities. They said he had secretly obtained several Holy Relics. They said he had numerous world-class adventurers as his subordinates. They said he held scandals involving various nations and their wars. They said he took on dirty jobs for various influential figures within dungeons and on battlefields.

The biggest problem of all was that some of those rumors were actually true.

Before long, Django began to wield a silent, dark influence over the world. Influential figures from every nation had their dark secrets gripped by him; they feared Django and the invisible military force he commanded. Using that fear as a foundation, Django expanded his reach and built a vast network of connections.

As his reach expanded, more information flowed in. As his network grew, his power accumulated.

Before anyone realized it, a situation had developed where everyone loathed Django, yet no one could lay a finger on him.

If one made a clumsy move against him, there was no telling what skeletons might come out of the closet.

Furthermore, Django himself understood that he was viewed as a threat, which was why he began to thoroughly conceal his own information.

The general consensus among powerful figures was that the reason “Django of the Wasteland” kept subordinates—and even allowed three of them to operate independently—was simply a system to ensure he never had to show his own face in public.

Naturally, as an official of the Royal Detective Agency, I knew this. So did Bob, who was a member of the Royal Knights and a nobleman.

Perhaps that was why the interior of the carriage was filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation that rivaled our tension and anxiety.

“Is it a certainty that there’s a ‘bug’ within Shark?”

Ignoring our complex state of tension, Kirio asked the question while fiddling with her hair.

Bob blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the bluntness of the question. He then made a bitter face.

“They’re everywhere. Django’s sympathizers are nesting all over the world. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Even in the Knights?”

“And the Detective Agency.”

Bob glared at me with a hint of murderous intent.

“I certainly can’t deny that,” I admitted easily.

Bob looked away and continued, “Regardless, even without the matter of Django’s hideout, there’s no doubt this case would be the focus of global attention. Either way, it would have been a major incident with the country’s prestige on the line.”

I agreed with that.

Whether Django was involved or not, the moment I was named as a member of the Blue Wolves, it became a global issue.

The Blue Wolves were currently the world’s largest criminal organization, and to date, no high-ranking executive had ever been captured alive. It was embarrassing to say it myself, but if Van Holmes—one of the Six Detectives of Pangea and Assistant Deputy Director of the Shark Royal Detective Agency—was a member of the Blue Wolves, he would undoubtedly be executive class. If they caught me alive and tortured me, they might finally reach the heart of the Blue Wolves.

The only problem was that I wasn’t actually a member of the Blue Wolves.

“Hmph, just as I thought.”

Bob, who had been staring at the passing scenery outside the carriage, snorted as he saw the proportion of greenery in the landscape increase.

“What is it?”

“This direction leads to Blackwood. There’s no mistake.”

A proud light shone in Bob’s eyes, seemingly satisfied that the predictions of his own Royal Knights had been correct.

The carriage drove between decaying trees of an unimaginable age. Eventually, the sunlight was blocked by the branches and leaves, casting everything into shadow.

It was Blackwood.

The carriage moved across the damp, moss-covered ground.

“The air is humid,” Kirio muttered quietly.

Then, without any warning, the carriage came to a halt.

“Hmm?”

“Huh?”

“Oh?”

We looked at each other at the sudden stop and waited for a while, but nothing happened. The driver didn’t say a word.

“I guess this means we should get out?”

To my uncertain question, Bob answered with equal lack of confidence.

“I suppose… so?”

In any case, the three of us stepped down from the carriage.

As if it had been waiting for us to disembark, the carriage immediately began to drive away.

Normally, we would have been panicked to see it leave, but we were too distracted by something else to care.

“This is…” Bob let out a breathy whisper.

Ahead of our line of sight was a plaza where the trees had been cleared away. Two white buildings stood there.

One was a stone structure about three stories tall, roughly the size of a frontier fortress. Standing about five meters away from it was another building that looked like a shorter, one-story version of the first.

“So, this is the hideout?”

As I spoke, I felt a sense of incongruity calling this a “hideout.”

The stark white, rectangular stone buildings didn’t fit the image of a hideout—something usually tucked away in a dark, hidden basement. Rather…

“It looks like a hospital.”

“Sharp of you.”

It wasn’t Bob or Kirio who responded to my unintentional mutter.

“Who’s there!?”

Led by Bob, who overreacted by drawing his sword, Kirio and I also braced ourselves at the sudden voice.

“It’s more of a laboratory than a hospital, though.”

The owner of the voice, who had suddenly approached us—or rather, appeared out of nowhere from our perspective—was a woman.

She was a woman with silver hair who looked like a mannequin. She wore a robe of white and black, but upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a doctor’s white coat splattered with blood that had dried into a dark black.

“Um, who are you?”

Leaving Bob aside as he remained in a combat stance with his sword drawn, I decided to ask the question.

“Rose. Some people call me ‘Slaughter Rose,’ but just Rose is fine. It’s not like I actually like the nickname.”

Her phrasing and tone of voice were perfectly ordinary, but looking at her face, her mouth barely moved as she spoke. Her doll-like quality seemed to stem from this total lack of facial expression.

Slaughter Rose.

One of Django’s three disciples, she possessed dangerous anecdotes that more than lived up to her unsettling moniker.

“Nice to meet you.”

Since it was our first time meeting, I offered a standard greeting.

“Ah, nice to meet you too!”

Kirio hurriedly followed suit.

“Well, aren’t you polite.”

Without changing her expression at all, Rose tilted her body slightly while keeping her spine as straight as a mechanical doll.

“Hey!”

Still brandishing his sword, Bob grew irritated.

“What business does a disciple of Django have with us!?”

While his attitude was poor, I shared the sentiment behind his question, so I remained silent and watched how things played out.

“For now, I thought I’d give you a tour of the laboratory.”

In the face of Bob’s hostility, Rose remained as impassive as a mannequin.

“This is the ‘laboratory’?”

Kirio glanced at the two buildings.

“Yes. The larger one is the laboratory. It’s my research facility, and it serves as the hideout for Django’s gang.”

“Gang?”

Something about that phrasing felt off, so I questioned her.

“Yes. That’s why it’s not just Django; Hauser is waiting for you, too.”

“Unarmed Hauser…”

Bob’s eyes widened, and he tightened his grip on his sword.

“Do you really think we’d just waltz into enemy territory like that?”

“Eh? You aren’t coming?”

Rose managed to sound puzzled through her voice alone.

“No, we’re coming.”

That was the whole reason we took the carriage this far, after all.

“Me too.”

Naturally, Kirio agreed.

“You guys! At least try to play along with my posturing!”

Seemingly genuinely angry, Bob turned his sword toward us in a fit of rage.

“I mean, even if you say that…”

Even if we tried to negotiate here, I had no idea what conditions we should accept or what demands we should push for. We simply lacked too much fundamental information.

Honestly, it looked to me like Bob was wound too tight and was just spinning his wheels.

However, seeing this arrogant man so incredibly tense actually started to make me nervous as well. As I thought, this really was a major incident—enough to make even someone like Bob high-strung.

“Tch.”

Bob clicked his tongue; he definitely looked like he was panicking.

It wasn’t as if he was in a position where his life depended on claiming all the credit for himself.

“Anyway, this way please. Not everyone has arrived yet.”

Rose led the way, but her words caught my attention.

“Everyone?”

If she just meant that Django and Hauser weren’t there yet, I didn’t think she would have phrased it that way.

“Yes, everyone. We have many guests this time.”

Dropping that ominous hint, Rose walked briskly toward the laboratory without a single backward glance.

After sharing a brief look, the three of us hurried after her.