Hero’s Downfall Report

39 – Devotion with a Sword (14)

Even the commercial and tourist city of Magdeburg must abide by imperial laws. The most prominent is the curfew rule from 9 PM to 4 AM the next day.

It wasn’t a complete prohibition, but the regulations were extremely strict.

No arming oneself, not walking in groups of four or more, and everyone must carry a lantern or a candle. One must comply with the night patrol’s inspection, and if violated, not only immediate arrest and detention on-site but also fines were imposed.

Unless there was a case of emergency, reasonable individuals preferred waking up early the next morning.

After even the garbage collectors finished their work and left, only the Magdeburg patrol and volunteer guards remained on the streets.

The Magdeburg patrol preferred night transportation for a reason. It was much better to comfortably transport in the empty streets at night than to navigate through the crowded masses in broad daylight.

So, everyone was accustomed to nighttime transportation. As the night was dark, incidents like carriage wheels getting stuck in mud puddles or jamming between broken paving stones happened occasionally.

It was like the small accident that occurred in front of the Inquisition Headquarters now.

The kind guards promptly responded to the request of Magdeburg soldiers. They didn’t completely clear the main gate.

Three of the four went down, and one remained behind.

However, with just that level of preparation, Cain could infiltrate the sanctuary effortlessly.

Clad in a black robe that clung to his body like an assassin of heretics.

Silence guaranteed by black bison leather shoes. The cudgel tied to his belt makes not even a rustling sound, wrapped in cloth and leather.

From the versatile folding blade used in the East to the black bison backpack. All he wished for was that the loot would fit into the backpack.

He had to walk from the main gate to the religious tribunal along the inner outskirts trail.

After climbing to the top of the castle wall tower at the end of the trail, lowering a rope, and anchoring on the tribunal roof, he would infiltrate through the balcony.

Pause, walk. Sit or lean against the wall. Rather than rushing, he moved cautiously. For a mission like this, it’s better to move carefully than hastily.

“It might take some time.”

The guards posed no significant problem.

As the stylish guards from the military intelligence agency mentioned, they were concentrated around the prison and barracks buildings, making them almost invisible to Cain heading towards the religious tribunal.

The problem lay with the monks.

It was easy to recognize them as they leisurely walked holding torches. They were either reciting hymns or slowly memorizing prayers.

The rhythm of the hymns and the cadence of the prayers matched their footsteps perfectly. Probably for measuring time.

They were more interested in themselves than the surroundings.

Unless occasionally lowering their backs and stretching, they showed no interest in anything protruding from the bushes or building walls.

But the weakness of the monks’ vigilance and security skills, combined with stepping into the circle of light, posed a different problem.

As the night progressed with the repeated process of walking and stopping, it became deeper. Looking at the inclination of the moon, it seemed to be around 1 a.m. in the early morning.

For even an average guard, this time felt like a cozy bed. A time when the silence and chill of the night felt as comfortable as a familiar mattress.

The monks’ steps faltered, and their pronunciation became slightly slurred.

Cain matched his steps to the monks’. Someone who caught the subtle echo turned their head, but there were only bushes and shadows there.

The monk nodded and continued on his way, while the relieved Cain pressed his body against the castle wall.

The old and newly built parts of the castle were mixed haphazardly. That meant that the walls were rough enough to scrape hands and feet.

Furthermore, it was not an exposed area, but rather a cozy building and the inside of the wall. There was no chance of being swept away by the wind.

Cain grasped the protruding part and climbed up to the top.

The top of the tower was a gentle cone shape. Cain stretched his body out. The moon, with a bite taken out of it, was bright.

It was bright enough to comfort someone who was sleeping or a weary monk rubbing their sleepy eyes.

So, he had to hide his body until the clouds passed. Fortunately, he wasn’t discovered.

“I did it.”

There was no excitement. To Cain, who climbed the sheer cliff like a spider, this was nothing more than a walk in the park.

In theory, a security agent should be able to perform all roles perfectly.

So, Lily should be able to infiltrate using a rope, and that idiot Godfrey should be able to handle assassination and covert missions.

But they didn’t ignore excelling in specific fields.

Lily was expected to handle combat, arrests, and surveillance. What Cain excelled at the most was hiding, infiltrating, and tracking.

Tracking required perseverance, concentration, and a significant level of disguise ability.

It was a task that required long-term endurance and patience rather than short-lived explosive concentration. It was also the most challenging field for nobles who were accustomed to life going their own way from a young age.

If patience and endurance were considered talents, Cain’s abilities surpassed anyone else in the security agency.

He knew that himself, and when he went on the mission to the Duchy of Venetia, his confidence was at its peak. He had heard that if he succeeded in this mission, he could even reach a position higher than a section chief.

The mission failed. Cain returned in a miserable state. His belief in patience and endurance, which he had considered something to be proud of, disappeared.

Yet the Empire rewarded him. The result of the failed mission brought about unexpected consequences and ultimately prevented a war.

He was promoted. He received rewards. But since that day, Cain felt like something important had been taken away from his life.

The realization that success and failure lie beyond one’s control. The undeniable truth that no matter how hard one strives and exerts effort, the outcome may not align. Much of life is about acknowledging the aspects that are beyond one’s grasp, outside the borders of one’s own domain.

“It’s a common occurrence for a tracker.”

Bernice’s words, meant to console him.

“I’m so used to just following the target that if told to walk alone, I can’t. Your seniors were the same, kid.”

“How did they overcome it?”

“They chased their own shadows.”

Shadows. Cain sighed. In the thick darkness, a familiar form wriggled. Staring directly was frightening. He needed to gather his wits.

Cain loosened his mask slightly, allowing the cloth covering his mouth to hinder his breath and taking in the fresh air.

Midsummer, a tepid breeze caressed his cheeks, wiping his lips. Then, annoyingly, a sensation came to mind.

The dense yet soft texture against his chest. The scent of honey and wine. The aroma of coconut oil, the musky fragrance that entangled the heart, and the moans that pierced the ears. The touch of bare skin against his legs.

‘Why did I do that?’

It was a truly foolish act.

He could have just given her more alcohol to make her sleep, or called for an end, and the matter would have been resolved quickly.

Yet, he chose to mold his back and shoulders, aligning his face with hers, and in the end, embraced her.

Of course, Cain had a plausible excuse.

Lily’s gown was already halfway undone, and her upper chest was fully exposed. As he draped a towel over her shoulders and massaged her, the wet fabric gradually descended.

If he had waited just a little longer, it would have effortlessly flowed down below her chest.

If he hadn’t embraced her, it probably would have completely slipped off.

If he hadn’t turned his eyes away, pretending to align his lips with her cheek, he might have seen it.

In that case, Cain wouldn’t have been able to endure any longer.

The timekeepers waiting outside wouldn’t have come in to stop them. In the southern kingdom, it was considered vulgar and obscene to throw off one’s robe in the bathroom, something that only happened in brothels.

But this was not the southern kingdom, it was the empire. The timekeepers were accustomed to such types of indulgence, so they wouldn’t feel any excitement or discomfort.

Moreover, this was a lodge operated by the imperial guards. The more incidents of nobles and foreign diplomats engaging in such escapades, the more weaknesses the guards would naturally discover.

It was something that needed to be done. Cain deceived himself.

“Stay noble.”

Something impossible surged. It was the shadow of a dead person.

“You’ve grown into a real bastard. Sit!” It was the kind of bastard who sat quietly and licked his lips when told to. Before, he would have flinched from the waist. Isn’t that right?

Cain ignored him.

Thick clouds were coming from the west, and he planned to move as soon as they covered the moon.

The clouds swallowed the moon.

Cain lowered his posture and moved. The roof tiles complained, disturbed from their sleep, but soon fell silent. He tied a knot at the edge of the gutter and lowered the rope.

Lighter and quieter than the first snow, Cain descended to the rooftop of the religious tribunal.

He untied the knot and retrieved the rope. After crossing towards the inner garden, he counted the steps of the balcony. Fortunately, there was no one patrolling the inner garden.

He already knew the location of Haspel’s office. He had seen it beforehand while entering Heinrich’s office. 4th floor, 16th balcony from the central entrance staircase.

Lying on the rooftop, he surveyed the surroundings. He saw the entrance of the religious tribunal and the security guards on the first floor.

He saw lights flickering in the corridor, indicating that the priests were moving.

But the floor above was dark and quiet. He waited. His concentration kept wavering.

Touch. Temperature. Fragrance. Embrace. He shook his body as if shaking off dust. This was not the time to be relaxed.

He securely tied the rope to a protruding stone and let it hang down.

He slid down like a spider until he reached the balcony on the 4th floor, then gently swayed his body from side to side like a pendulum. Giving it a slight recoil, he safely descended to the balcony.

Undoing the knot, the rope is gently pulled. Swish, the rope obediently gathers. It is rolled up and tied around the waist.

The folding knife is unfolded and pushed through the balcony door. Just like Heinrich’s office, Haspel’s office balcony curtains are pulled up and down.

It can be easily released by gently pushing it up.

It’s undone. Kane holds the latch with his right hand and gently turns the doorknob with his left hand. It creaks, but not loudly. Smaller than the sound of the wind.

Kane stepped inside. He closed the balcony door and wedged a piece of cloth under the door crack to secure it.

Moonlight shone adequately, but it wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the interior, so Kane picked up the table mirror and placed it on the floor.

Adjusting the angles here and there, the room became bright enough to see.

Due to lack of ventilation for a long time, the smell of stale paper was unpleasant.

Heinrich’s office and the structure itself were similar, but there were no large tables or chairs. Both the desk and the chair belonged to Haspel alone. The desk was large enough for about four people to use.

With each step on the wooden floor, a creaking sound accompanied by a cloud of dust rose. It was not pleasant.

“The banner will open the way.”

Haspel clearly said so. Kane took out the banner, but it didn’t magically indicate the correct location of the information.

Instead, something else caught his eye.

Haspel seems to be a very meticulous and systematic person.

He had attached labels and tags above and below the bookshelf. The labels were mainly focused on major events, and the tags were arranged in chronological order by year and time.

It was filled with various kinds of records of heresy interrogations and trials, witches and wizards trials, attendance at doctrinal education reinforcement meetings and lectures at the heresy inquisition office, textbooks, cases from foreign lands, and the words of the Pope.

“I found it.”

Finally, he found the classification with a red border and a white cross. It was related to the demon king.

But disappointingly, the covers were all academic books. “Understanding Shadows.” “The Revival and Identity of the Demon King.” “Why were the Seven Virtues able to defeat the Demon King?”

Perhaps the covers were different, he thought and took them out to examine them, but they were not. Honest titles with honest content.

Cain immediately closed the book. He scanned through it from top to bottom, but there was no secret diary anywhere. The creaking sound bothered him even more.

‘Creaking?’

Cain cautiously set his foot down. Creaking meant that the floor was slightly raised.

And the source of the noise was right in front of the Crusade-related bookshelf, on the wooden floor.

Feigning deception, Cain groped the floor and examined it briefly in the moonlight.

The dust piled up there was noticeably less than in other places.

He slid the sharp edge of the knife into the gap in the wooden floor. The creaking sound became clearer.

With confidence, he used the knife as a lever and pushed it up with a sweep. A hidden, secretive space and five books were revealed.

There were unmarked books and what seemed to be hastily written reports. The characters resembled those in the inquisitorial instructions of Haspel.

He opened the book. The characters were intricate, making it difficult to read, but meticulously glued strands of hair were visible.

It was undoubtedly William’s diary of sins. However, the characters were all encrypted. The reports written by Haspel seemed to be part of the effort to decipher the code.

Without hesitation, Cain picked up the diary and the reports, put them in a prepared waterskin pouch, and sealed it tightly.

He restored the wooden floor to its original state.

In the midst of the systematic destruction of clues about the traces of pursuit and the identity of the seven warriors, Cain hoped that it wouldn’t be reduced to a mere investigation.

Judge Malachia’s words were true. It should not be merely a blemish on the personalities of the seven warriors.

Who was harming them? Who harbored resentment against them? Who was suppressing them with such cursed abilities?

If there was something to glean from this diary, Cain thought.

Click.

He held his breath. The sound wasn’t from him.

Click. Click.

No doubt about it. Someone was forcing open the lock from the outside with a wire.

From the intervals of the sound, it could be inferred that this was not a haphazard attempt, but rather the work of someone who knew the proper technique of dismantling. It wouldn’t be long before the door opened.

I pushed the backpack under the desk. I quickly lifted the mirror from the floor onto the desk. The only places that could be considered blind spots were the darkness and the large desk.

Cain crouched next to the desk. Other than subtly shifting his body while keeping an eye on the intruder’s movements, he had no other options.

If there were two or more people, his only choice would be to knock them down with a baton and escape.

Click.

The door opened.

The corridor was pitch black, with no lighting. Judging from the hand movements, footsteps, and the time of intrusion, this person was quite skilled in this type of infiltration.

The moonlight revealed the intruder as if to say, “Where’s the moon? Let me have a look too.” It was a nun wearing a veil. She had a wooden mask on her face. She carefully closed the door.

Cain gripped the baton tightly.