Atonement, About it's Cruelty - Chapter 21
Thud.
A cigarette with a lingering ember fell beside her prostrate form.
The brothel owner couldn’t bring herself to look at Oscar and instead stared at the cigarette that had fallen beside her. The cigarette’s smoke, rising in the empty air, reflected in her despairing eyes. As she could hardly breathe, the wolves around her began to move, as if they had been waiting for this moment.
Silent tears streamed down her face. Her life, which felt like a mire, seemed to flash by in front of her eyes. She had started to feel like she was getting by
While she thought this, she continually begged for her life.
Please, save me. I’m sorry, please save me.
The fear of death made her forget the passage of time. She repeated the same plea over and over like a broken machine.
How many times had she begged for her life?
“So, we could have avoided this if we’d just understood each other and kept things reasonable.”
At the sudden voice, she turned her head with a creak, finding a wolf glaring at her with irritated, red eyes. It lowered its body smoothly, like a shadow settling, and locked eyes with her.
“You said it would take between seven and nine hours, right?”
She nodded like she was in a trance.
The wolf straightened its body with a fluid motion, then stepped on the still-burning cigarette to extinguish it.
“Don’t wander around unnecessarily. It’s no trouble to find you, but if you make me look for you, I’ll add a fee on top.”
“…yes, yes…”
“Try to live a good life, will you?”
With these incongruous words, the wolf rummaged through the room one last time before disappearing through the door.
She sat there in a daze, unknowingly touching her neck.
But even the brief relief of being alive was overshadowed by the dread that if the woman didn’t wake up… She vomited again and again, her stomach emptying of anything left as a chill of summer night’s terror swept over her.
* * *
The Elite Agents of Marquis Reinhardt’s Family, commonly known as the Wolves.
When Reinhardt was still a Margrave in the border region, these men were the private soldiers. As time passed, they gradually retreated into the shadows.
They were given more dangerous and secretive missions:
Espionage, disruption, assassination, and search operations.
As they began to carry out these missions one by one, they evolved from knights to agents and eventually came to be known as the Wolves.
The Wolves had only one goal: to remain loyal to their master, who had raised and nurtured them.
Without a nation or ethnicity of their own, they were solely affiliated with Reinhardt. Reinhardt was their nation, their ethnicity, and their master’s goals were their own.
Rephrasing this grotesque loyalty, it meant that those who did not develop such loyalty were either expelled or eliminated and thus could not be called Wolves.
The exact number of Reinhardt’s Wolves, their whereabouts, or their activities were all secrets. Even after the King of Luxen, the homeland, betrayed them, he did not know, and most people were unaware that the Wolves even existed.
However, some had surfaced above the surface.
One notable figure was Simon von Bernheim.
Simon, with his blonde hair and red eyes, was one of the rare Wolves who came from nobility. He was renowned for his impeccable handling of tasks, both externally and internally.
Externally, he served as Oscar’s secretary and was a director at the Reinhardt Steel Company. Internally, he was responsible for managing and coordinating the agents within the Marquis family.
“Call the doctor in advance, and if the woman’s condition is still the same by 5 a.m. tomorrow, bring the brothel owner.”
“Yes.”
As Simon walked through the corridor of the Ritz Hotel’s Royal Suite in Felpe, issuing orders to his subordinates, he quietly opened the suite’s door and entered.
Oscar was apparently taking a bath, as the sound of water was audible, and the Wolves moving inside approached quietly.
“We have secured the key.”
Simon examined the key handed to him by his subordinate.
“The replica is already prepared; it just needs to be engraved. And this is the key holder’s certificate and identification.”
As Simon glanced through the certificate and identification handed to him, his eyes narrowed.
“I’m not sure what this writing is.”
“Yes, it was also put on hold by Felpe Bank for that reason.”
Simon returned both the key and the certificate and instructed,
“Duplicate it exactly and bring the interpretation. Leave the key by the bedside for His Excellency to see.”
“Understood.”
“Also, make a copy of the key holder’s certificate. When the replica key arrives, place the original back where it was without being noticed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Simon gestured for his subordinates to leave once their work was done. He then walked past the busy Wolves and headed towards the open room, as he needed to check the woman’s condition.
The woman had become a living key. Considering the banking laws in Felpe, it would be extremely problematic if she died or went mad.
Simon gently pushed the woman’s shoulder as she lay curled up. She had no strength at all and was easily nudged by his light touch.
Under the hazy moonlight, her pale lips seemed to shimmer with the warmth of her breath.
Simon, looking into her vacant eyes, clicked his tongue softly. He then sent the guards who were stationed outside the woman’s room away, thinking it would not be wise to leave such a state of the woman to the rough hands of the men on the scene.
After confirming she was still alive, Simon came out to find Oscar emerging from the bathroom. As usual, Oscar was casually dressed in just his pajamas.
“I have secured the key, identification, and the key holder’s certificate.”
One of the Wolves, who had placed the key by Oscar’s bedside, immediately brought it to him. Oscar took the key and examined it leisurely before asking,
“What’s her name?”
“……”
“The woman. What’s her name?”
Oscar’s eyes, which had been fixed on the room where the woman was, now turned to Simon.
“We’re unable to interpret the identification. Felpe Bank has also put it on hold for now.”
“Find out the status of Felpe Bank and the King of Felpe, and bring the interpretation of the identification within a week.”
“Understood.”
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