I Just Needed Someone to Hate - Episode 6.2

Because on nights without Edmund, she would find herself wondering things like, “Why did the Director hire a man with underworld mannerisms as an agent?”

Besides, Edmund seemed to naturally assume that her fiancé, Ludwig, was a low-level thug.

For a supposedly trustworthy agent of the Criminal Intelligence Bureau, he was remarkably skilled at picking the pockets of the Bureau’s director.

What if he was one of Don Becallone’s men, sent to deceive her?

What if he was someone who might kill her at any moment?

What should she do?

It was a part of her that throbbed incessantly, unable to ignore the feelings she had realized. And yet, he really was an agent of the Criminal Intelligence Bureau.

“Thank you.”

So, this gratitude was genuine.

— …….

“And you don’t have to worry about me. Really.”

No words came from the other end of the line. Nevertheless, Vivianne felt like she could read the unseen person’s expression.

“I knew everything and still asked to be taken to this villa.”

— …….

“Please, get a good night’s sleep now.”

Vivianne lightly kissed the receiver and hung up first. Her gaze shifted to the lighter on the table some distance away.

She wanted to get up and grab it, but her feet wouldn’t move.

Vivianne carefully sat on his bed, drew her bare feet up, and hugged her knees. And she estimated how long it would be until Edmund returned.

Realizing it was a habitual thought, she reminded herself that she needed to stand on her own.

“If I ask you to save me, will you help?”

“Anytime, as long as Don Becallone isn’t involved.”

Because when she needed to be strongest, that man wouldn’t be there.

‘He was supposed to go to Mirabolta Street to get the drugs.’

She couldn’t ask him to accompany her to Mirabolta Street. Especially since he was an agent who had almost been hunted down by Don Becallone because of his involvement with her.

‘I’m useful, so the head of the underworld might spare me after hearing the offer, but not Edmund.’

It seemed like moving alone was the only answer.

After much deliberation, she picked up the pistol she had found in the man’s jacket pocket instead of the lighter, her hand trembling.

‘I can do this much on my own. I have to be able to do it on my own from now on.’

Perhaps because she had nothing to lose, her steps were light. As soon as Vivianne realized her feelings, she learned not to rely on them.

She knew better than anyone that love couldn’t be begged for.

❖ ❖ ❖

The car Edmund was in dropped off the organization’s lawyer in front of a lavish building and disappeared. The lawyer bowed to the departing sedan and turned to enter the conference room, which was as luxurious as the building’s exterior.

At the end of his steps, countless gazes fell upon him. As he moved to find his seat without concern, someone spoke after a moment of silence.

“Hey, Consigliere.”

One of the bosses, seated around the oval table, snapped his fingers.

He was the head and founder of a world-renowned haute couture brand. The man who, in their empire, “traded in leather,” according to what he reported to Edmund.

Everyone had been growing bored of sitting uselessly in this place, so their eyes naturally shifted in that direction.

The middle-aged man who had spoken was sitting arrogantly next to the head seat, as if the chair was merely supporting him, smoking a cigar. His well-groomed mustache was impressive.

‘Consigliere.’

He didn’t bother pointing out that they didn’t call the organization’s advisor that in the Daatro Empire. Instead, he kept his place next to the head seat and turned to look at the boss who had spoken.

“It’s been three hours since we started waiting here.”

The boss was fiddling with a pocket watch with his other hand. His arrogant gaze touched the watch’s glass before returning to the organization’s lawyer.

“We all think it was a fair price to meet the legendary ‘Don Becallone’ of the Daatro Family, but we need to know how much longer we have to wait to avoid wasting time.”

“The Boss is taking care of personal business because there is a family that has been dealing in forbidden items.”

The boss, who seemed like he would have shut his mouth at this point, let out a laugh that sounded almost like a cough and met his gaze.

“What did the underlings trade? Women?”

“…….”

“I heard Don Becallone hates that sort of thing with a passion. He’s always been aristocratic. Noble.”

“…….”

“It’s admirable that he didn’t get to that position by selling women to the heads of state.”

Scanning his face with his eyes, the boss closed his mouth after seeing the many men in black suits standing by the wall, about to cross the line with words like, “Then did he sell men?”

In his home country, his organization would have his back, but this was Daatro.

He had heard that the reason why the ‘Commission,’ the board of directors of the underworld organization, didn’t exist in Daatro was because the position of the boss who ruled this place was so solid.

The underworld here was a force that had grown outside the control of the military.

Therefore, the Family was maintained by a deformed structure that relied more on the leader’s insight, which had taken the organization out of the cracks in the regulations, than on the organizational power of the family.

The boss was arrogant, but he didn’t want to go against the temper of someone like ‘Don Becallone.’

“Drugs?”

But he couldn’t help being bored. The boss brought up another of his guesses to the Daatro Family’s lawyer.

Yes, selling drugs would make the land dirty. Very dirty. Seeing that he wasn’t answering, it seemed like he was very close to the answer.

What a clean businessman.

Gambling.

The water trade.

Murder Incorporated. Finance. Trade. Defense industry. Mining rights, railway construction rights, and various other rights. Labor unions.

The man folded and unfolded his fingers in the spreading smoke.

“What, is he planning to run for the House of Representatives or something?”

He was already interested in legalizing casinos, so it was obvious. He wanted to get into politics.

Twenty Questions was always a very fun game.

The boss, who had been looking up at the Daatro Family’s lawyer, thinking that this time he had the right answer, quickly became bored.

“The Boss is not interested in politics.”

What a boring answer.

“The Boss uses politicians directly.”

Yes.

I see.

He had to be that great for me to fly in on a private jet and wait here for three hours.

“By the way, Consigliere.”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t call the organization’s lawyer that.”

“Is it true that people call you ‘Icarus’ instead of your name?”

The boss said, tapping his cigar on the ashtray with his thick index finger.

“The arrogant human who flew too high chasing the sun and fell to his death. Unlike his immigrant parents, he hid his past of earning money like a dog and entered Hamilton School, a prestigious boarding school in Daatro, to live honorably, right?”

“…….”

“The Prime Minister’s son took pity on him and extended a hand to him when he was about to drop out due to the terrible bullying by the young masters, right? But look at this, as soon as he graduated from college and became a lawyer, he’s wagging his tail at Don Becallone like this.”

The boss continued.

“He chased high ideals and became the very thing he hated the most, so what else could he be but a foolish human who flew too high towards the sun and fell into the sea and died? In the end, one’s origins are more important than cheap sympathy.”

“…….”

“Hey, man. We share the same nationality and region, even if our backgrounds are different, so is there any need to be so stingy?”

At the end of his words, the boss took out a black and white photo onto the round table.

It was a photo of Edmund Colt and Vivianne Mergoville together on a wealthy neighborhood street.

“He was three grades above you, right? I heard he was worshiped like a god at Hamilton School.”

It was a photo that the organization’s lawyer, ‘Icarus,’ had to retrieve.

“This man is not Edmund Colt.”

“Are you saying you don’t even recognize your benefactor’s face anymore?”

The boss said, as if he was bored. Icarus couldn’t take his eyes off the photo. Benefactor. How could he not recognize the face of the boss he served?

In this situation, it would be more accurate to say that he recognized him too well.

The man in the photo was not the Criminal Intelligence Bureau agent tied up in some basement, but his superior, who ruled the underworld of the entire empire, and the boss of the ‘Daatro Family.’

Even the Prime Minister would have recognized him at once. There was no father who couldn’t distinguish between his son’s face and a disguise.

That was why he had the photo with only Vivianne’s face on it, with the Salenner Hotel in the background, published in yesterday’s evening paper.

Currently, Edmund Colt’s real face could not be exposed to any media outlet.

“Did you hear?”

Icarus opened his mouth.

“I heard that Prime Minister Colt used a Criminal Intelligence Bureau agent instead of his only son to approach Miss Mergoville.”

The organization’s lawyer had to maintain his composure in any situation.

He could not tolerate the recklessness of provoking an opponent he could not handle, nor the cowardice of bowing his head to pressure. The silence meant that everyone here was listening. Icarus continued.

“Everyone here knows that Ludwig Rex, the son of the Senate Chairman of this land, is a quasi-member of our Daatro Family.”

Icarus spoke casually, but it was valuable information that even the Prime Minister of this land had not been able to obtain concrete evidence of. Secret glances were exchanged across the huge round table.

He had heard of ‘Don Becallone’s’ reputation, but he never imagined that he would be above the laws of the empire.

Ludwig Rex must have had his father, the Chairman of the Senate, who hated to step forward himself, behind him. And the Chairman of the Senate was the Chief Justice, the apex of the judicial power in this country.

“Ludwig Rex, the second son of the Senate Chairman, is engaged to Vivianne Mergoville. The agent who was attached to that woman.”

Icarus’s finger pointed to Edmund Colt’s face.

“This man’s code name is ‘Edmund Colt,’ named after the Prime Minister’s son. He is an agent who was assigned to Project Hyde, and his real name is unknown. He is a veteran who served as a Major in the Army.”

It seemed that he was an agent dispatched to uncover judicial corruption in this country. The target of approach was the Senate Chairman’s son’s fiancée.

“I know that Don Becallone has helped us several times with the leather supply issue.”

Everyone here fell silent at that one sentence. There were more than a few who had struggled with the leather export ban, the luxury tax issue, and the distribution of alternatives.

“If this photo spreads, and later the story circulates that this was the Prime Minister’s peaceful intelligence operation, the ruling party, which is trying to eradicate the underworld forces, will easily keep its seat.”

It was a more peaceful option than the military getting involved. No one would be unfairly interrogated in connection with this, and no civilians on the streets would be hurt.

“What I am requesting on behalf of Don Becallone is that all of these photos be retrieved before they spread.”

Soon, an agent’s bloodied ID was placed on the round table.

A fake passport and a letter from the Prime Minister met the cold air in turn. It was clear that it had been obtained from the man the Prime Minister had directly dispatched without a doubt. It was obvious which side the flag of victory would be leaning towards in this intelligence war.

“Don Becallone has proven his friendship to everyone here.”

“…….”

“Now, he is requesting your opposition.”

Icarus finished speaking, looking at the business tycoons. Now that this had become a matter of trust, the family that reported the fact that they had just learned, that the Prime Minister’s plan was already going according to the head of the underworld’s wishes, would become an enemy of the Daatro Family.

Those who backed them would not protect the traitors either.

But there were always those who overestimated what they had. The news of their assassinations would serve as an excellent example.

Moreover, what better way to lower the Criminal Intelligence Bureau’s guard than to have the words ‘the underworld forces are watching the Prime Minister’s son’s substitute’ enter the Criminal Intelligence Bureau through the mouths of the heads of global corporations?

The survival report, disguised as an agent, used the Criminal Intelligence Bureau’s communication network, which had not yet been cut off. If that wasn’t enough, he would report everyone related to the informant as a ‘Daatro Family’ quasi-member.

Then, he would watch them get purged.

If there were no traitors, they would reach a clean and good conclusion by retrieving all of the problematic photos as they were.

If there were traitors, he could take this opportunity to report the agent’s survival to the intelligence agency and, while he was at it, frame the informant’s acquaintances as underworld associates and send them off cleanly.

“It seems that Don Becallone is very late because things are delayed.”

Icarus gave a neat, but businesslike smile for the first time.

“Everyone seems to be busy today, so would you like to come back next time?”

His two hands, clasped together, were as polite as could be.

❖ ❖ ❖

“There is a way to get it from the dealers who trade drugs illegally on Mirabolta Street, which is an hour’s walk away.”

Drugs. Illegal trade.

That woman was at the end of all of Edmund Colt’s memories. Even when he heard that story.

Occasionally, in his head too.

Certainly, even when he shouldn’t be thinking about it, like now.

Edmund stopped trying to light a cigarette and walked out of the car. The driver, wearing a hat with a deep brim, closed the car door and bowed.

By the time Edmund arrived at a warehouse on the outskirts of the district, the situation had already been taken care of. The Nelvinos Family’s action team members, who had tried to sell the drugs without him noticing, were lying on the floor as corpses.

Only the executives had been subdued by his men and were kneeling.

Edmund lowered his gaze diagonally and slowly scanned their faces one by one.

Among them, there was even a daring man who muttered, “What, I thought Don Becallone was coming, but it’s just a fancy young master?” but he was silenced by a kick from Edmund’s action team member.

“As you said, we found the cold medicine.”

When a man who seemed to be the head of this place opened the lid of a huge barrel, countless pills appeared.

Edmund moved and picked one up. The report continued.

“It seems they were doing something wrong with this as a material. We just discovered that they had locked up two ‘cooks’ and captured them. They didn’t distribute it domestically, but look at this.”

At his gesture, another man handed Edmund a ledger. Reading the items, he could easily understand what the Nelvinos Family was trying to do.

“It’s a trace of them trying to ship the goods. It seems they needed a place to divert attention externally, so they handled other drugs as well, but the real money was on this side.”

“They were even running a shell company.”

“Yes. It seems they were outwardly disguised as a warehouse rental business.”

Edmund returned the ledger and slowly scanned the faces of those kneeling on the floor.

“The second one is missing.”

“He’ll be waiting for them at the dock.”

“Find him and take care of him. Dispose of the goods.”

“Yes.”

“It looks like only some congressman or plainclothes police officer has come!”

As Edmund Colt turned his back on them, a voice full of recklessness echoed loudly in the warehouse.

Before he could even twitch an eyebrow, silence came with a loud gunshot. As soon as his gaze was withdrawn, his henchmen carried out the order to dispose of them. Beast-like screams echoed.

“Bastards…. Bastards who are in cahoots with the nobles.”

With the next gunshot, a pleading voice was heard, and heard.

“Traitors!”

Heard.

By the time Edmund stepped over the corpses and leaned against the outside of the warehouse, there was finally no sound.

Edmund took out a hip flask from the waist of a corpse that had been pushed outside and quenched his thirst. Blood was dried on the mouth of the flask, leaving a fishy taste at the end.

He missed the feeling of his throat burning, hoping there would be poison, but it was just ordinary absinthe. Nostalgia for the feeling of desperately gasping for air, longing for more, or spending the dawn exhaling a breathless relief that he was alive, stung his throat.

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