Chapter 368: The Cornered Rat’s Last Bluff (Part 1)
The Cornered Rat’s Last Bluff (Part 1)
Victor followed his gaze before speaking again.
"You’ve done a remarkable job hiding."
"I’ll even compliment you for that."
"You nearly escaped."
The assassin felt every drop of blood in his body turn ice-cold.
His heartbeat thundered against his ribs so violently that he feared Victor might actually hear it. For the briefest moment, his vision blurred, and the lively sounds of the tavern seemed to drift far away.
He knows...
No...
Stay calm.
He’s testing you.
Years of surviving in the shadows had taught him one lesson above all others—never admit anything until every escape had disappeared. A skilled liar could still survive even after being cornered, provided he remained convincing enough.
He forced the fear sinking into his chest back down and slowly looked up at Victor.
His expression was carefully crafted.
Confusion.
Concern.
A hint of nervousness any innocent merchant might display after being accused by one of the city’s heroes.
Not too much.
Not too little.
Just enough to appear genuine.
He slightly furrowed his brows before speaking.
"Sorry, sir, I don’t understand what you’re talking about."
His voice carried honest bewilderment.
"I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else."
He spread his hands helplessly.
"I’m just a normal merchant."
"If you want, I can show you my papers proving my occupation."
A faint, uneasy smile appeared on his face.
"Even if you investigate me or ask around the city..."
"...you’ll receive the same answer."
The assassin finished speaking before quietly waiting.
Outwardly, he looked calm.
Inside...
His thoughts raced without pause.
The identity is perfect.
Every document is real.
Every witness knows me as a merchant.
No one can connect me to the fish stall anymore.
Before entering Fantom City, he had prepared several identities.
This merchant persona had always been his insurance.
Unlike many assassins who relied entirely on disguises, he had built this identity using his own face.
He had rented a house.
Paid taxes.
Sold simple talismans.
Spoken with neighbors.
Everything had been carefully arranged months in advance.
Even if someone investigated him thoroughly...
They would only discover the life of an ordinary traveling merchant.
That preparation was the only thing giving him even a sliver of confidence now.
Victor quietly listened until the assassin finished.
The handsome young man rested one elbow on the wooden table, lightly swirling the untouched mug before him.
His golden eyes never left the assassin.
Then...
The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly.
"Oh?"
"A merchant..."
Victor nodded thoughtfully, as though genuinely considering the answer.
"What kind of merchandise do you sell?"
His smile widened just a fraction.
"I’m curious."
The assassin answered without hesitation.
"I sell talismans."
"They’re meant to bring good fortune."
"I also carry different kinds of charms."
He scratched the side of his head sheepishly.
"Some help newlyweds wishing for children."
"Others are said to help lonely people find their future lover."
His tone sounded natural.
Even modest.
Like a businessman advertising ordinary goods.
Victor remained silent for a heartbeat.
Then...
He suddenly laughed.
Not a forced laugh.
A genuine one.
"Hahaha..."
The rich laughter immediately caught the attention of several nearby customers.
Some turned around in surprise before smiling themselves.
Victor placed his mug on the table with a soft thud.
"Talismans for good luck?"
He shook his head while trying to suppress another laugh.
"An assortment of charms?"
He looked directly into the assassin’s eyes.
"That’s hilarious."
"If you planned that from the beginning..."
"I might actually believe you have what it takes to become a clown."
Victor laughed once more before lifting the mug and taking a relaxed drink.
The amber ale reflected the warm lantern light.
His expression remained calm.
Completely at ease.
To everyone watching...
It looked like two strangers sharing a humorous conversation over drinks.
Only the assassin knew every word carried another meaning.
His palms became damp beneath the table.
He’s mocking me...
He already knows.
He’s simply enjoying this.
Still...
He couldn’t afford to lose control.
He lowered his head slightly, pretending to be embarrassed rather than frightened.
"I..."
"I really don’t understand what you want from me."
His breathing became just a little faster.
"Please—"
The final word had barely left his lips before he intended to raise his voice.
His plan was simple.
Draw attention.
Cause chaos.
If the entire tavern looked toward them, Victor would have to restrain himself.
After all, Victor had spent the past several days becoming Fantom City’s hero.
Surely he wouldn’t publicly attack an innocent merchant.
That tiny opening...
Might become his only chance.
But before another syllable could leave his mouth—
Everything stopped.
An invisible pressure descended upon him.
It wasn’t physical.
Nothing actually touched him.
Yet every instinct screamed in terror.
Victor’s killing intent quietly settled over the table.
There was no explosive aura.
No dramatic burst of mana.
Only a single strand of perfectly controlled murderous intent.
And that was more than enough.
The assassin felt as though he had fallen into an endless ocean of blood.
The air became impossibly heavy.
His lungs refused to expand.
His heartbeat slowed.
His throat tightened.
The words he wanted to shout never came.
His mouth remained open.
Yet no sound emerged.
Cold sweat streamed down his temples.
His entire body trembled uncontrollably.
Across the table...
Victor calmly took another sip of ale.
Only after setting the mug down did he speak.
"You see..."
"...Mr. Assassin."
His voice was quiet enough that no one else could hear.
"I’m trying very hard to build a better reputation among Fantom City’s citizens."
His golden eyes remained gentle.
"If you continue forcing my hand..."
"...I’ll simply drag you outside."
He casually gestured toward another table.
"And hand you over to my companion."
The assassin instinctively followed Victor’s gaze.
Clara sat several tables away beside Videl.
She quietly waited for Victor to finish his conversation, occasionally exchanging a few words with Videl and Aria.
Her posture looked relaxed.
Completely unaware of the identity of the man sitting across from Victor.
The assassin stared at her for a long moment.
She doesn’t know...
Not yet.
Victor calmly continued.
"If Clara discovers you’re the one responsible for everything that happened to her family..."
He paused briefly.
"...I doubt she’ll remain this calm."
The assassin subconsciously swallowed.
His lips had become completely dry.
The image of Clara discovering the truth flashed through his mind.
He remembered the hatred he had seen in her eyes after the tragedy.
If Victor truly handed him over...
Death might become the kindest outcome.