I’m Quitting Everything and Selling Cola

Chapter 141

Chapter 141. Counterattack (2)

"I knew you were no ordinary person, but I didn't realise it was to this extent."

Belheim, bound with rope, wore a faint smile. His composed face held not a trace of hope.

Only the air of resignation was abundantly clear. Having steadied his breath for a moment, Branch Manager Belheim met Jurgen's eyes directly.

"I will cooperate fully. I will tell you everything I know. However, may I make a request, considering the relationship we've shared?"

Belheim's plea — as though resigned to his fate, or simply exhausted. Aiden scoffed at that request, which seemed like a final desperate struggle.

"Has this man lost his mind? He aimed for your life and now he wants a last request?"

"……."

"Of course he should be spilling everything, one by one. Boss, it seems bankers have all had their consciences rot away."

At Aiden's sharp mockery, Belheim wrinkled his nose. But his gaze remained fixed on Jurgen, without so much as a twitch.

Jurgen read the desperation in those eyes.

"Go ahead and speak. If it's something I can grant, I'll hear you out."

Belheim's eyes went wide. As though he hadn't expected such an answer, despite having made the request in resignation.

"Boss? Is this really all right?"

But the one more shocked was Aiden.

Who was Hanbin? The Slayer of Dark Mages, the only existence the End Order feared. The very person who gave the Secret Burial Unit its eerie name. His way was to cut down anyone connected to the Order, regardless of reason or rank.

And yet now, that Hanbin, was offering to hear out the request of a core figure of the Order?

But Jurgen had changed greatly too.

Whether it was because of Burnout Syndrome, or whether the years had diluted his resentment toward the Order, he couldn't say. But right now, he wanted to hear Belheim's story.

***

Even after entering Devon Trust, Belheim had one goal.

To rise higher. He worked until his body broke. The Order gave Belheim intelligence gathered from across the continent, and Belheim's abilities were more than sufficient to make full use of that information.

When he came to his senses, he found himself bearing the title of Branch Manager at Devon Trust, having become an indispensable figure.

'Belheim, at your age, putting up a nameplate shinier than Branch Manager will invite a great deal of resentment. Instead, I'll give you my daughter as your betrothed.'

Count Devon held out his daughter. A daughter who had suffered from an illness of unknown cause since childhood and was already treated as nonexistent in social circles. He intended to use that useless daughter as a shackle to keep a capable son-in-law in place.

'I will not betray your trust.'

He thought it a good deal. Until he met her.

Belheim's fiancée, Silvia, was neither healthy, nor beautiful, nor wise.

'How do you do? I am Gideon Belheim…….'

'How dare a filthy commoner lay a hand on my person!'

She was a person with a thoroughly disagreeable character to boot. The illness that had tormented her for so long had stolen her health, robbed her of her looks, and even stripped away the capacity to consider others.

It didn't matter.

'Well, what can be done about it? I will serve you as well as I possibly can.'

'Spare me.'

This marriage was nothing more than a transaction. She was the key that would hand him the Devon family crest, and the stepping stone he needed to advance to the next stage. No more, no less.

Tedious additional duties mounted. Maintaining his performance as Branch Manager while also appeasing Silvia.

Silvia had a character that even Belheim, who had seen all manner of ugly things, could only shake his head at.

'Do you really think you can buy my heart with trinkets like this?'

She'd snap the chain of a necklace he'd given her and toss it into the rubbish bin in plain sight.

'I actually slept with the young lord of Viscount Teshua's family. He seems quite taken with me.'

She'd habitually spew falsehoods to provoke some petty jealousy.

'Get out! I won't marry a spineless milksop like you!'

Causing a scene for no reason at all was her routine. Enough to make even the great Gideon Belheim consider throwing it all aside and running away.

'Wh-what……! I told you not to come in!'

One day, Belheim discovered Silvia in tears. Curled into herself, she was consumed by terrible fear and rage at the illness relentlessly corroding her life moment by moment.

'Miss Silvia, would you hear what I have to say?'

He felt neither sympathy nor pity in particular. He'd sooner have felt smug satisfaction.

Yet thinking it a good opportunity to win her over, he offered kind consolation.

'……Thank you.'

A voice barely more than a crawl. From that day on, Silvia's attitude began to change, little by little.

A month passed, two months passed, three months went by.

Belheim sought out Silvia more frequently than before. The more their meetings repeated, the less often Silvia raised her voice at him when the two were alone.

Four months passed, five months passed, a year went by.

'Aren't you far too busy these days?'

'I wish I could come more often.'

Now the two would occasionally take walks together or exchange awkward jokes.

Belheim came to know many things about Silvia. The frustration and despair she felt, and her past belief that Belheim had in fact been mocking her all along.

'……I don't want to die like this. I don't want to die.'

Even her attachment to life. Standing before her as she clung to the hem of his clothes and shed pitiful tears —

'That wish — I will make it come true.'

What prompted these words must have been nothing more than a momentary whim.

Belheim sought out a high-ranking priest of the Order and requested treatment for Silvia.

There was even a respectable pretext — that in order to become the Devon family's son-in-law, his fiancée had to remain alive until the wedding. Since he was already serving as the Order's treasurer at that point, the negotiation was not difficult to arrange.

'Belheim……! I'm cured! They said I'm completely cured!'

The End Order was as capable as it was wicked. Capable enough to fully cure in a single month Silvia's illness that no priest had been able to treat.

'It's all because of you. It's all thanks to you.'

'What have I done?'

'No! It really is because of you, I'm telling you!'

Silvia knew nothing. Neither that her miraculous recovery was by the power of the End Order, nor that Belheim's mind had in fact been filled with nothing but thoughts of using her.

'Thank you. Thank you so much, Gideon.'

But at her face lit up with a smile as joyful as a child's, he felt a lightness he had never felt in his life before. A weightlessness like setting down a heavy burden from his shoulders.

Yet the one who knew nothing was not Silvia alone.

Belheim had committed a foolish mistake that was incomparably worse than hers.

Silvia collapsed. Vomiting black blood, just like her mother.

Belheim went straight to a high-ranking official of the Order and lodged his grievance.

'You said she was cured! She collapsed yesterday. That would be contrary to our agreement.'

Before Belheim as he pressed for answers, the Order's Cardinal wore a thin, unpleasant smile.

'Ah, it would be around that time, wouldn't it. I had quite forgotten.'

'Around that time……?'

'It's fine. If she continues to draw on the Order's power going forward, she can live forever. So long as your loyalty to the Order does not waver.'

The End Order never bestows favours without compensation. The moment he realised this, a noose that could not be removed had already tightened around Belheim's neck.

"……Count Devon won't care whether his daughter lives or dies. If I die, she will die as well."

"You did something foolish."

Aiden clicked his tongue repeatedly after hearing Belheim's lengthy tale.

"Anyway, vile men always have plenty to say at the end. Is there a single person in the world without a story? Do you think you'll move my heart with melodrama like that?"

In the eyes of the mocking Aiden, tears were welling up, glistening.

"I beg of you. You may take my life whenever you wish — just give me a grace period. At the very least, enough that Silvia won't end up as a plaything in the Order's hands……."

"What is it you want done?"

Jurgen asked. Belheim threw himself forward eagerly, as though he'd found a glimmer of hope.

"I intend to make contact with the Church. Until now it was impossible due to the Order's surveillance, but as you can see, there is an opening now."

Belheim spoke while looking at the assassins who had become frozen statues of ice.

"I will liquidate my remaining assets and find a safe place where she can stay."

They were words backed by resolve.

Belheim knows the degree of importance his role within the Order carries.

He manages the flow of funds across the entire North, laundering the donations and offerings of the 'devotees' — The fact that his point of contact within the Order was a Cardinal is testament to this.

All the more reason that the moment he betrays them, he will be the first target for elimination. Being a 'target for elimination' by the End Order is, in practice, a death sentence.

"Give me three days. Turn a blind eye. After that — whatever becomes of my life, I don't care. I will cooperate fully."

Belheim spoke with determination.

"I cannot allow that."

Jurgen said firmly. The face of Belheim, whose last hope had been crushed, crumpled all at once.

"No matter how carefully you hide and spirit her away, the Order's pursuit cannot be stopped."

"That sort of thing—!"

"We must pull out the root."

Belheim wore a blank expression. Because he couldn't understand what Jurgen was saying.

Pull out the root? Admittedly the display of force Jurgen had shown was impressive — but the opponent was the End Order.

"Cooperate with me. When everything is over…… at the very least, I'll see to it that you avoid the scaffold."

The words that followed sounded equally absurd. To spare someone who had been involved with the Order this deeply from execution.

Was he saying he was the Queen himself?

"When you say cooperate—"

"Even now, information on the Order is scarce. The most qualified person to understand how those funds move would, after all, be someone who has worked beneath them, wouldn't it?"

"Oh? There's some risk, but it makes sense."

Regardless of what reaction Belheim showed, Jurgen continued his words.

"It seems like it could be a worthwhile endeavour. Whatever organisation it may be, seize their purse strings and they'll be gasping for air. Hmm, while we're at it, perhaps even establishing a dedicated department……."

At the sight of the two of them, who seemed to have lost their grip on reality, Belheim clenched his teeth.

"That would be the best-case scenario, but…… is it a realistic prospect?"

"Don't you fret. The Boss here is far more extraordinary than you think."

Aiden smirked.

"Might I ask which noble family you belong to……."

As Belheim voiced his suspicion, Aiden glanced at Jurgen and held his tongue. The reason he had consistently stuck to calling him 'Boss' up until now was precisely because Jurgen was concealing his identity as much as possible.

"Hanbin."

"Pardon?"

Before Belheim, who couldn't trust his ears, Jurgen spoke his name clearly, unmistakably.

"Hanbin Ainsworth."