The Insomniac Assassin

48th Night

‘…Sleepy.’

It was an absurd thing for an assassin to say, but recently, Cedric had been suffering from insomnia.

The reasons were diverse.

The pressure to revive a clan on the brink of extinction.

The weight of protecting the remaining members.

The burden of ensuring every job was executed perfectly. All kinds of worries never ceased. It would be more surprising if he *could* sleep properly in that state.

Moreover, all those worries eventually converged into one major concern.

That major concern was: ‘Are the things we are doing actually helping the Minister?’

Of course, Cedric, along with the rest of the Shaper clan, wasn’t genuinely devoted to the Minister yet.

They had volunteered to become slaves under his command, but that was merely to survive, not out of loyalty.

‘Even so, there’s no turning back now.’

Not that he had any intention of betraying them, but with the demonic contract already sealed, betrayal was physically impossible.

And frankly, the Minister’s rewards were exceedingly sweet.

He’d arranged for the purchase of several adjacent buildings in their entirety, allowing the clan to reside together. He bestowed generous rewards each time, more than enough to eat their fill at every meal.

Furthermore, he’d created identities for them, granting them the status of legitimate Imperial citizens, allowing them to blend seamlessly into the fabric of the capital.

Thanks to him, they enjoyed a standard of living incomparable to their days as fugitives, a lifestyle far more comfortable and secure than even their ancestral home.

Once tasted, such sweetness is never forgotten, not by anyone.

Even for a clan of assassins, that held true.

Perhaps even more so, for a clan of assassins constantly facing death, it was a temptation nigh impossible to resist.

‘The problem is, maintaining this life requires continuing to be useful to the Minister…’

Shaking his head to dispel the fleeting images of his wife and young children, Cedric took a deep breath and knocked on the Minister’s office door.

Having received permission, he entered and presented the Minister with the merchant guild’s projected business plan, which his clan had newly investigated.

The Minister, frowning at a strange board composed of three small chessboard’s joined together, didn’t even glance at the report. Before Cedric could even speak, the Minister spoke first.

“The merchant guild desires to establish a commercial district in the capital, you say?”

Initially, Cedric had been disconcerted by the Minister’s prescience, but now he was accustomed enough to be able to respond.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Hmm. His Imperial Majesty isn’t pleased, but Councilor Erickson is lending his support. A chance the anti-aristocratic faction, with its coffers running dry, simply can’t afford to miss, I presume.”

As the Minister suggested, the anti-aristocratic faction, having had their sources of revenue systematically cut off—including the previous drug trade and the Fighters’ illegal gambling ring—had been promised a substantial sum from the merchant guild in exchange for pushing the commercial district project through.

That information was, in fact, included in the report.

Though he had somehow discerned it without even looking.

‘How does he know things we only discovered after running our legs off …’

Even as Cedric wondered if the Minister had eyes in the very sky above the capital, the Minister continued.

“The aristocratic faction is experiencing a similar funds shortage but unlike the anti-aristocratic faction, who has only recently begun to accumulate wealth, the aristocrats have generations of stored wealth to rely on.”

Therefore, he added, they had not engaged with the merchant guild. The Minister reached out and moved a piece on the board.

“From now on, the Shayfer clan will use its infiltrated agents to incite the Imperial citizens to oppose the commercial district project. Any reason will do. Invoke height restrictions, advocate for the protection of capital merchants. Anything goes, so long as it doesn’t lead to armed conflict.”

Cedric’s mind raced.

At first glance, it sounded like the Minister wanted the commercial district project to fail, but that couldn’t be the case.

‘The Minister values balance above all else. He wouldn’t simply allow the anti-aristocratic faction to languish in a perpetual financial crisis.’

In other words, he had to ensure that the anti-aristocratic faction could resolve its financial problems, which meant ensuring the commercial district project succeeded.

So why the deliberate instigation of opposition?

The answer was obvious.

“Understood. I will maneuver the situation to extract the maximum possible from the Merchant Guild.”

The Minister’s head inclined in acknowledgment.

Feeling a mix of relief and triumph at having given the correct answer, Cedric bowed deeply and carefully withdrew from the Minister’s office.

Almost collapsing, he dragged himself to a bench in the intelligence department’s garden and released a long, drawn-out sigh. Someone approached.

“Rough day, newbie.”

“You’re surely Owl’s…”

“Leader John Burghardt. This is our first proper introduction, so don’t worry about it, Cedric Shafer.”

Staring blankly up at him, Cedric accepted the paper cup John offered.

Coffee.

With the first sip, it felt as if caffeine bloomed through his entire body.

“Haa, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. May I join you?”

“By all means.”

The two men sat side-by-side on the bench, sipping their coffee while gazing up at the clear sky for a moment.

Had it been minutes?

When about half the coffee remained in his cup, John spoke.

“It’s difficult now, not being used to it, but you’ll manage somehow as you go.”

“…Have you lot gotten used to it by now?”

“No, not at all.”

John smiled faintly at Cedric’s bewildered expression, tossed back the rest of his coffee, and rose to his feet.

“Still, I happened to overhear you just now, and it seems the Minister is being relatively considerate of you.”

“*That* was being considerate…?”

John shrugged at Cedric’s appalled question.

“You’ll find out when you attend a regular meeting someday. What’s truly terrifying, that is. Consider this a piece of advice, or perhaps a warning, to prepare you for then.”

“Advice?”

“The answer is always right in front of you. Just don’t forget that.”

John crumpled the paper cup in his hand and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

Cedric watched John’s retreating figure for a moment before standing up.

Time to get back to work.

—

Damn it. Nosebleed, again.

Must’ve blown my nose too hard.

It’s been happening too often lately.

“Minister?!”

Embarrassed, I held my nose shut as Celine bolted from her chair and hurried over to me.

Don’t make such a fuss over a little nosebleed. It just makes it worse.

“Are you alright? Let me see. Move your hand. Quickly!”

No way. Would you want to show people if something was gushing from your nose?

More than that, she’s standing way too close. Things are… touching.

A grown woman shouldn’t act like that. Back off.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so stubborn!”

Celine even tried to use force to see how I was, but I stubbornly held my nose, and a struggle ensued for a while.

“Enough. The bleeding’s stopped.”

“Let me see… it has. But Minister, your clothes are a mess.”

I’d say you’re at least fifty percent responsible.

As she said, my clothes were stained with blood, but I always kept spare shirts in the Minister’s office, so all I had to do was change.

“This one, right? I’ll help you change.”

“Get out.”

I choose not to think about how she found the clothes I hid where only I knew.

Fortunately, she simply left this time.

The problem is that she only left.

Through the slightly ajar door, I met Celine’s eyes as she watched.

It’s not something I want to say myself, but what is there to see that she’s peeking?

Is she some kind of pervert?

Hey, Knights!

“Close it.”

“Tch.”

She even clicked her tongue, that one.

At any rate, only after the slightly open door was shut could I change my clothes.

What was that? Just changing clothes, and I’m suddenly this exhausted?

Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt dizzy.

Low blood sugar, perhaps.

I thought of changing and grabbing a chocolate, then remembered I’d emptied the snack stash in my desk drawer a few days ago.

Seemed like I’d stashed a good amount, but I’d mindlessly nibbled it all away.

No choice then. I’d have to mooch some more off His Imperial Majesty.

So, I opened my office door, intending to go to the Imperial Palace, only to find Celine losing her balance. I had to catch her.

“T-thank you. But where are you going?”

“To the Imperial Palace.”

Their pastry chefs make the best sweets. My siblings and I used to steal them all the time when we were little.

Lost in fond memories, I left Celine behind and entered the Palace, heading towards the Audience Hall.

Oh, looks like we have guests.

“So, you *did* come.”

Did he know my snack supply was running low?

I looked up, half-expecting he’d prepared some treats to share, but instead the Emperor gestured towards the guests and said,

“As you may have already surmised, the small kingdom of Klamor has fallen.”

?

I just came for some sweets, and now I’m hearing something this huge?