Specialty

The Kung-Fu industry is like a supreme restaurant.
Even if you peer into the kitchen, the ingredients there do not look as splendid as the dishes that are beautifully plated on luxurious plates and carried to the table.
-Jack Welch (1935–2020, the legendary manager of General Electric)-

If you asked me to pick the moment that thrilled me most, I would choose, of course, the time when I uncovered the truth of a bizarre murder case no one even dared to solve, but that did not mean I had no interest in Kung-Fu crimes other than murder.

A murder case, by analogy, is like a roast dinner.

Other crimes are no different from snacks or a speciality one devours as a palate cleanser when the Mind Palace is peckish.

And a kidnapping case, perhaps in the world where I once lived, but in Europe Murim where the higher one’s status, the more likely their Kung-Fu is formidable, was a rare kind of crime one did not commonly encounter.

The aim of kidnapping is usually a ransom, and if you took someone of low status, it would be impossible to squeeze out a large sum.

In other words, kidnapping was no different from a speciality I could not often partake of.

‘In this case, the circumstances are a bit different, though.’

In particular, this case differed in character from the crimes I had solved in the past, in that the culprit had kidnapped not the wealthy, but a poor Italian mason.

Of course, the fact that the bastard’s purpose was money was no different this time either.

‘That the culprit failed to grasp Gelder’s cash flow, does that mean he is not directly connected to the masons working in the workshop?’

Most of the sculptures displayed in the workshop used Carrara marble imported directly from Italy.

It was only that the cash on hand was not enough to pay the ransom, but Gelder, the owner of the workshop, possessed considerable wealth.

No matter that they were foreign laborers, he was paying wages to four capable Italian masons, and he had the means to produce a massive Sword Debate chess set that used large quantities of precious metals, including gold.

The problem was that his assets, namely those marble sculptures, were not the kind of goods that sold quickly.

If there was no customer to buy them, the sculptures were dead stock that took up space.

He had somehow caught Her Majesty’s eye through skill, but perhaps because of the shop’s location, wealthy customers still had not come.

No matter how I thought about it, I had never seen the name Gelder Workshop in newspaper advertisements, and judging by the fact that the shop interior had not long finished its renovations, it seemed they simply had not yet begun proper promotion.

If Beppo, whose skill was far more astonishing than what I had seen in that other world, had not been kidnapped, rumors would have spread in the near future and it would have become a shop beloved by nobles and wealthy gentlemen.

In that case, the culprit of this incident had clipped the wings of a bird trying to soar into the sky.

“It cannot be. It must never be.”

No matter that one cannot know heaven’s will, and cannot decide what is produced from the earth.
No matter that the vast current swirling chaotically through the martial world changes a person’s fate.

I have always believed.

In the principle that the efforts of those who plant both feet in their place (one foot is acceptable for wounded soldiers) and live day by day must bear fruit.

When people call the society of duelists “Murim” and liken it to a forest, it is not to make everyone stare up at the few great trees that grow to the top of the sky.

In a forest, trees bear fruit, and insects and birds gather.

Because common folk like Gelder and the masons exist, even the loose community of those who hold blades can become a forest that casts a cozy shade for someone else.

The vicious underworld pack that harms common folk and steals hope from them must pay for their sins in prison.

“Then, I’ll be off.”

I bid Gelder farewell and left the workshop.

In my head, I was constantly replaying the contents of the ransom letter Gelder had shown me.

The amount demanded by the culprit who sent the ransom letter made by cutting and pasting newspaper letters was a full 2,000 pounds.

Considering that a reporter working at the Homeless Clan’s newspaper received a weekly wage of 2 pounds and a finance worker in Westminster received a slightly higher weekly wage of 3 pounds, the underworld was demanding, in exchange for Beppo’s life, a vast sum amounting to thirteen years’ salary for an ordinary middle-class commoner.

Of course, this was an amount Gelder could cover if he disposed of three or four sculptures at a low price.

The problem was that collectors who bought expensive sculptures in bulk still had not shown interest in Gelder’s shop.

Like other firms hoping to obtain a Royal Warrant, Gelder must have supplied the Sword Debate chess set with almost no profit, in order to appeal to Her Majesty.

As a result, when faced with such a predicament, he had no usable cash and did not know what to do.

“They said that if the ransom was not paid, they would cut off and send one finger every three days…….”

The ransom letter arrived last night.
Though it was not leisurely, there was still enough time.

“I suppose it would be fine to solve it without haste.”

It was absolutely undesirable for word to leak that I had begun investigating the case, so I frightened Gelder by saying there might be someone around Beppo tied to the culprit.

However, from the beginning, I never thought there was someone among the workshop masons who gave the culprit information.

“The sales ledger was kept in an easy-to-see place.”

Whenever a displayed sculpture sold, or a customer placed a commission, Gelder diligently recorded information in the ledger.

Even with only a brief look before leaving the shop, it was clear at a glance that Gelder Workshop’s cash flow had run into trouble.

If the masons were connected to this incident, they would not have presented an absurdly short deadline of cutting off one finger every three days.

That is, the culprit knew Beppo, but knew nothing about his workplace.

The moment they threatened to cut fingers, the possibility that this was Beppo’s own act vanished as well.

“The method of cutting off and sending the kidnapped hostage’s fingers was a method the underworld factions of southern Italy liked to use.”

Moreover, though Gelder, a German immigrant, likely did not notice, there was a section in the letter’s wording that confused active and passive voice.

This, too, was a mistake Italians who learned English often made.

I suspected a likely suspect was a splinter member of an Italian Mafia faction said to have recently taken root in the East End.

“So the bastards running rampant in southern Italy, including Sicily, have landed in London as well, and now I meet them like this.”

As Italy unified into one kingdom and strengthened its national power, Italian underworld figures expanded their influence as well.

They were not satisfied with securing firm influence in Italy alone, and began advancing into other countries by blending among immigrants.

Since many Italian and Jewish laborers lived in the East End, I had long known that underworld bastards would be mixed in as well.

I simply did not lay a hand on them, considering they had not engaged in conspicuous activity until now.

Because if they crossed to London to flee vendetta and lived severing ties with the past, there was no need to send them to prison.

But if they harassed other immigrants like this, it was a different story.

“Taking this chance to deal with the underworld pack operating in the East End wouldn’t be bad.”

I caught a carriage and moved west for about ten minutes.

The culprit who kidnapped Beppo was likely a fairly clever bastard, so he would be considering the possibility that Gelder might try to solve the case without paying the ransom.

Since it was possible they were watching me, for now I had to behave as if I were an ordinary customer who had visited the shop.

“Let me off around here.”

Only after I had gotten some distance from Stepney did I get out of the carriage.

By now, the ones tailing me would have relaxed and gone back.

“Then, shall I set out again.”

For now, I decided to organize my load and move.

“To think being unable to use one arm would be this inconvenient.”

The Heavenly Demon Cane I had hung by merely resting the handle onto my left hand, still stiff and unresponsive, was swaying precariously, and as I could not tell when it might fall at this rate, I decided to switch it to my right hand.

“There, that will do.”

Using my teeth and my right hand, I firmly tied both ends of the cloth-wrapping around the Unicorn Salamander’s Horn to my paralyzed left arm, finished my preparations, then used lightness skill and sprang onto the rooftops.

-Tatat!!

Using stealth arts, I began sprinting back toward Stepney again, avoiding people’s eyes.

My destination was, of course, Beppo’s home, which I had heard from Gelder beforehand.

A ten-minute walk from the shop.

On the outskirts of the East End, in a place where the darkness was deeper, the sculptor’s home was located.

A street lined with many cramped houses.
All of them were places foreign laborers rented.

Perhaps the people here had no money even to light a lamp, for I felt no sign of life.

Since they had to rise early, finish Breath Control, and begin work, it seemed they were already asleep.

“They seem happier than ordinary paupers.”

Considering that poor common folk in various places slept each night leaning on paid ropes, the circumstances of the residents here seemed far better.

Those living here would at least be people who had learned specialized skills not easily replaced.

“Is it here?”

Finding the address Gelder had given me, I immediately drew an Essence Blade from my fingers and cut the rusted lock.

The moment I entered, I could understand exactly what had happened in the mason’s home.

“……They took everything that could be worth money.”

The one-room home was filled with emptiness.

Aside from things that would not make money even if sold, like notebooks full of repeated sketches and croquis made for study while training sculpture, everything was gone.

Since it was a kidnapping for money, it seemed the culprits had taken all of Beppo’s belongings as well.

“From the ransom letter sent to the shop as well, they seem accustomed to this kind of crime.”

Looking at the footprints messily stamped in the room, the number of culprits was at least three.

Judging from the fact they didn’t fear Gelder reporting to the police, the underworld pack that took Beppo seemed to be brazen bastards.

“In Italy, if a member of an underworld pack is captured or killed, it is routine for the one who leaked information to be avenged, so did they commit the deed in London the same way?”

Judging by the fact they thought the savage logic of force that worked in Italy would work here too, it seemed they had not been in the British Empire long.

“……It would be best to find one of the pack and extract information.”

Just in case, I engraved the shapes of the footprints left in the mason’s room into my mind, then formed a plan.

Those were the only clues left in the room.
I couldn’t find even the scent of tobacco leaves that had lingered on the letter.

It was the work of a fairly clever bastard with clean execution.

I couldn’t find a proper lead in the mason’s room.

In that case, I had no choice but to use the most useful clue among those in hand.

“I should find the one who sent the ransom letter first.”

Gelder had said.
That the one who delivered the ransom letter was a postman, and the sender was not written.

I didn’t think the postman was a member of the underworld pack, but his words became a major clue.

Because.

“I need to meet Sir Fawcett.”

Because the Postmaster General who commanded all of London’s postmen was my master’s friend.