#047. My Little Brother is Too Kind (2)

#047. My Little Brother is Too Kind (2)

I know how to cure Shoa.

An Elixir.

A panacea that cures all ailments, produced with a limited quantity once every few years.

The price, of course, is astronomical.

Needless to say, the powerful are first in line to hoard it.

The powerful don’t part with elixirs easily.

Not their own health, their own future.

To surrender such a thing, they demand assurance, a guarantee, that the one who consumes their medicine will, in turn, safeguard their health and future.

Nobles possess an abundance of talent.

They have no pressing need for Shoah, whose body is already broken beyond repair.

Even Gomora only awaited ‘disposal’; she was destined to be erased from the world, a human of no use to anyone.

Gula was different.

A nascent merchant guild.

Dealers in luxuries coveted by nobles.

He had the funds, but struggled to acquire talent.

He desperately needed Shoah.

Someone to discern and thwart the assassins who would target him and his guild, a former assassin like Shoah to protect him.

Gula could recruit Shoah, establishing the guild’s security, and secretly collude with the guild, guaranteeing its profits, in exchange for finding an elixir vendor.

Their interests aligned.

The chance of being discarded was slim.

Frankly, being protected until I die of old age is much better than dying from life expiration date.

‘There are requests where the reward is an elixir, but even the current Sodom Guild couldn’t even think of receiving the commission.’

What good is acquiring an elixir to save one life after dozens have perished?

It was a painful dilemma, but the decision was made.

Shoah is a woman of responsibility.

Her responsibility will only end when she has poured every remaining moment into protecting me and finally facing her death.

I know it’s selfish.

Still, I wished for her happiness.

Even if the happiness she desired was to remain by my side.

More than that suffocating happiness, I wanted to grant her a comfortable and peaceful life, free from pain, the lifespan her body was rightfully owed.

“Gula-ssi.”

And so, I went to see him.

A handsome man.

The word “gigolo”, a man who lives off women, came to mind first, such was his alluring appearance.

What would it have been like if this wasn’t a reversed gender society?

A young, educated female CEO with great beauty, perhaps.

How many would underestimate him due to his gender and age?

The skill to establish and manage his own guild while battling countless preconceptions and biases.

The virtue to lead employees who trust and follow him.

Each and every quality made him an extraordinary individual.

“Shoah noona has deep wounds in her heart. She was prepared to stain her hands with blood for her sibling, and has taken drugs that broke her body for a long time.”

“It is regrettable. It only embarrasses my weakness that I believe I need someone with such a tragic past to achieve what we both want.”

He was sincere.

Gula was a good person.

I knew it through meeting face-to-face, looking into his eyes and talking.

He too, was a man of responsibility.

A fine adult who knew what values humans ought to hold dear.

“Please, take good care of my sister.”

“I won’t disappoint you.”

On the way back after the conversation.

Shoa didn’t ask where I had been.

Nor did I bother to say.

Opening the front door.

Unable to set foot inside.

Raindrops falling on the umbrella.

I sensed a farewell.

Shoa spoke.

“I refuse.”

The wicked manipulator replied.

“Gulla believes that my sister will be happy with you. So…please, be on your way.”

* * *

The private room Shoa had left behind.

Her belongings were practically non-existent.

A first-aid kit containing disinfectants and painkillers.

A few meager articles of clothing.

A money pouch, untouched with thoughts of her younger brother.

That was practically all.

She hadn’t even taken a single thing.

“These are the traces of a life lived for her brother. If that brother wishes for my happiness and drives me away, there’s nothing to take. The me until today is dead.”

Shoa left all her belongings behind.

Whether the wet stain left on the floor was rainwater, or tears she had shed, I couldn’t tell.

Only that this moment was endlessly agonizing.

Shoa was truly ascetic.

And she had saved a great deal of money.

Money earned under Gomorrah.

Money earned by killing people.

She believed she was not worthy of enjoying that money; that it belonged to her brother.

For her brother’s happiness.

So that when her brother brought home a respectable woman to marry, she could at least buy them a house.

All the wealth she had earned for her brother, Shua’s happiness, was now left to me.

A clinking sound.

The thing, closer to a sack than a pouch, was heavy.

As heavy as her heart.

*Bang!*

A harsh, almost cruel, feeling settled over me as I surveyed the meager remnants. It was then that Gorgo, breathless, burst into the now-empty house, its owner long gone.

“Ian, you’re here!”

“Master Gorgo?”

“Shoa…”

“I sent her.”

“Sent? Shoa, you mean to the Gula Merchant Guild?!”

“Shoa lived her entire life for her brother. If there is any salvation in her wretched existence, it is freedom from him, I believe.”

“…If that is your decision, I will not stop you. But listen to the end. That is not what I came to say. The children you asked for information have brought some.”

The moment I heard the story, a chilling dread settled upon me.

* * *

Gula prepared to depart.

It was because of Shoa’s words a short while ago, when she had come to find him.

“I will visit my brother’s grave. In the meantime… prepare to leave. I no longer wish to remain in this village.”

He had acquired the veteran assassin he sought.

Even though Teresa’s son, Ian, sent Shoa, it remains unsure if Teresa, the Clan Leader of the Teresa Clan, would agree.

“Father. I may not return for many years, but trust me. When I return, I will treat you like royalty. We’ll move to a proper mansion in the capital.”

“It’s alright. You’ve introduced me to a new bride, just live a long life together. For old folks, having grandchildren is the greatest act of filial piety.”

Gula smiled and returned to his establishment.

He had left one shop open with an employee to maintain contact with his father, so there wasn’t too much to worry about.

Hoping the shop would be doing well, Gula witnessed citizens screaming as they ran through the streets.

“…”

An ominous feeling washed over him.

They were coming from the direction he was headed.

The location of his shop.

It couldn’t be.

That feeble comfort was instantly denied.

The display case was shattered.

His employee’s corpse rolled across the floor.

Staring down at the spilled coffee grounds, Gula snapped out of it.

“Guards! Help me! This is murder!”

“Someone, please call the guards!”

His desperate cries were useless.

Murder within the city.

Yet the guards did not move.

There was only one reason.

An existence even the guards feared.

The Inquisitors.

It was well known that the Aristocratic Council made use of the Theocracy.

The attack of the Inquisitors, under the orders of the nobles, had begun!

“Jon! Peter!”

The lodgings, too, were reached a step too late.

Strewn about, the bodies of his staff, who had followed him up to Sodom Village for a moment of respite.

They had been ambushed with ruthless efficiency.

He couldn’t not know who the leader was.

Everyone was dead.

Gula was next in line.

*Thwack!*

A projectile, hidden by the doorframe, flew from the windowsill.

At the window, an Inquisitor, heavily armed beneath a thick robe, was drawing another dart.

Almost tumbling down, Gula fled the building, taking the stairs in great leaps.

‘The carriage. Get to the prepped carriage and run. The driver is a dedicated man from our guild. Ready to go at a moment’s notice.’

He didn’t mind the pouring rain, flinging his umbrella aside as he ran, and was finally able to feel relieved.

Shoah was by the carriage.

The only person he trusted to protect him had arrived.

His face brightened, but his pace slowed.

Ten steps from the carriage, he halted.

The driver’s seat was empty.

His gaze then fell to Shoah’s hand.

Her left arm was smeared with blood.

As if she had squeezed a person and burst them.

“Why… why this?”

Shoah was one of the attackers.

Gula couldn’t understand.

Not after the price he had promised.

No one else could match that offer.

Why would she do something so foolish?

Once, Shoah had felt the same.

But now, her hands stained, she understood the reason.

“I heard about the secret of the *coffee* you deal in from Ian.”

He could try to deny it.

He could feign ignorance.

But Shoah’s resolute face told him any attempt would be futile.

“The nobles wouldn’t uncover the coffee’s secret. Ian. It must be the workings of that boy, the prodigy.”

“A liquid created by diluting the polluted magic stone dust produced when a demon summoning fails. A mana poison, one that threatens the body, but awakens the brain to heighten concentration. The so-called Devil’s Drink, *coffee*.”

“I could make money. I truly needed the help.”

“I know. You swore it by the Contract God.”

“Was it a matter of conscience?”

Giving a demonic drink to people whose lives had been ruined by doping?

Because of the numerous tragedies that might occur as addicts tried to summon demons to create their own supply?

“Ian was sad that you almost sent me to a guy like you.”

“You’re a wicked child, aren’t you? It’s a lie, isn’t it? You’re happy to have a reason to stay by that child’s side.”

Shoa didn’t deny it.

Gula felt a pang of regret.

If only I were a little younger.

If only I had realized the awakening effect on the human body caused by the magic stone powder from the failed demon summoning ritual at an earlier age.

That assassin could have been me, not Ian, reflecting my dead younger brother.

“It’s truly a shame. If only I were a bit more clever, if only I had met you at a younger age and stolen your heart.”

Shoa’s left arm lifted Gula by the throat.

“That will never happen. You’re not Ian.”

The headless corpse fell to the floor.

Shoa was able to remain in the village.

The Inquisitor obtained a result to submit to the Aristocratic Assembly.

Ian cooked dinner for Shoa upon her return.

“I’m sorry. I was short-sighted. I was beside good people and briefly forgot how difficult it is to trust anyone in this world. I’ll never entrust Shoa, my sister, to anyone else again.”

Watching Ian’s eyes, heavy with self-reproach, Shoa felt a surge of elation.

“I don’t resent you.”

Shoa embraced Ian, pressing his head against her chest with her right hand.

This one embrace made her sadness vanish like melting snow.

It wasn’t a bad day for her.