Chapter 125: Exploding At A Touch (2)

Chapter 125 – Exploding At A Touch (2)

Translator: Srednazm

Editor: Crystal Crater

Just as Marquis Farang and Navier had feared, Koshar was in a murderous mood. He was not even close to exploding as he had already done so. Blood pulsed in his veins like hot lava.

Koshar wasn’t to be found at the Troby residence either. As soon as he heard Viscount Roteschu had left his home, Koshar went in pursuit of him.

Before he could get to him, however, several large, burly men stepped in his way. Koshar tried to sidestep them, but they continuously blocked his path. The men checked to make sure that no one else was around, then grabbed Koshar by the collar.

“Are you the pretty boy, Koshar Troby?”

Koshar frowned. He had gotten into fights many times, but rarely did anyone instigate it when they knew who he was. The only ones who were foolish to do so were completely wasted and not in a sane state of mind.

But if these people were confirming if he was from the Troby family, then that meant…

‘Someone has sent them after me.’

He let out a bark of laughter. The large man tightened his grip on Koshar and sneered at him. Koshar flashed him a wink, and the man roared directly at his face.

“What do you think you’re—”

But even before the man could finish speaking, his vision whirled as he was bodily thrown to the ground. The other burly men were surprised to see their comrade so easily flipped over, but they outnumbered Koshar and charged at him.

The encounter didn’t last long. Koshar, who had raged through countless battlefields, would never lose to some street boys who used their fists. Koshar drew his sword.

“You coward! Using a weapon!”

“Well, aren’t you the cowards for charging at me when I was outnumbered.”

Koshar swiftly defeated the five men, and he pointed his sword at them when they tried to run away. He walked over to the burliest man of all, pressing his weapon at the man’s groin.

“Who ordered you to come after me?”

“Wh-what do you mean, ordered?”

The man tried to remain faithful to his employer, and Koshar gave a wicked smile and said, “Bye-bye, future children!” Frightened, the man suddenly blurted out the information.

“It was a skinny middle-aged man! I don’t know his name!”

There were many skinny, middle-aged men, but Koshar roughly sketched out who it was.

Viscount Roteschu.

Koshar’s expression darkened, and the burly man gave a sharp intake of breath. Koshar flipped his sword and struck his head and every other man’s head with the hilt of his sword to knock them out, and then hid their bodies in an alley. Then, he called for a servant to confirm Viscount Roteschu’s location.

“He’s gone to the palace.”

“By carriage?”

“No, he’s walking. It seems that he’ll enter through a side entrance.”

“Get my horse.”

The servant brought the horse, and Koshar climbed on and moved quickly, the servant riding behind him. When they neared the palace, Koshar dismounted and ordered the servant to take the horse elsewhere.

Koshar remained hidden by a road where anyone travelling to the palace had to take, then spotted Viscount Roteschu’s form approaching. Koshar leapt out and grabbed him, and dragged him to a deserted road.

“Oh my god! What’s going on?”

Viscount Roteschu struggled with all his might, but could not escape Koshar’s strong grip.

“Get off me, you brat! Let me go!”

Viscount Roteschu shouted at the top of his lungs, and Koshar pulled out his dagger and held it next to the viscount’s face.

“See this?”

“!”

“If you yell one more time, I’ll drive this into your throat.”

“O-oh…!”

Viscount Roteschu shook with anger, but fear won over. Koshar was infamous for his animalistic fury, and Viscount Roteschu didn’t want to die a slow and painful death on this lonely road.

Viscount Roteschu fell quiet, and Koshar struck the side of his neck, knocking him out. Koshar brought the viscount’s body into an abandoned mansion, throwing him inside a room with no windows, and then closing the door. Though Koshar hadn’t prepared any ropes or chairs in advance, the room was furnished with them, as if someone had brought them there for a similar purpose. Koshar gagged and tied the viscount to the chair, then slapped his cheeks to wake him up.

Viscount Roteschu stirred before his eyes flew open, and, panic-stricken, he tried to break free when he saw Koshar’s menacing expression. However, the gag muffled his yells and the rope restricted his movement. At best, he could only rattle the chair to the point where it almost tipped over. The viscount panted with effort, and Koshar grinned and touched the viscount’s ear.

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“I’m going to take the gag off now, so don’t scream. If you do, your ear will hurt very much.”

Your ear, of course, not mine. Koshar whispered it so quietly that the viscount could only shake with terror. Despite the warning, however, Viscount Roteschu started screaming as soon as the gag was removed. In response, Koshar grabbed his head and cut off one of his ears.

Despite Viscount Roteschu’s doubts before, he now experienced first-hand the terrors associated with Koshar. Pain exploded through his body, and he thrashed against his restraints. Koshar crammed the gag back in his mouth again to stifle his screams, and tossed the half-torn ear onto the floor while humming a tune.

Viscount Roteschu was half-conscious at this point, but he didn’t black out and managed a glare at Koshar. When Koshar brushed his forehead with blood-stained fingers, the viscount realized that there was no point trying to resist. The beast did not have an iota of empathy in him.

As Viscount Roteschu fell quiet, Koshar patted him on the shoulder and praised him, saying he should have been like this all along. A second later, Koshar struck him with his fist.

Why was Koshar hitting him when he was sitting still! The viscount tried to say something about the unfairness, but he couldn’t open his mouth to speak as Koshar’s fists continued to pummel him from all directions.

Koshar used him like he was a punching bag, and just as the viscount fainted, Koshar took out his pocket watch. Then, he put it away and stared at the limp man tied to the chair. Koshar knew from experience that his victim wouldn’t die, and he had calibrated his assault to cause intense pain but not disability.

Koshar slapped Viscount Roteschu’s face to wake him up again. The man blinked open his bloodshot eyes.

“Awake now, are you?”

Koshar smiled and gave his greetings, and took the gag out. Viscount Roteschu said nothing this time, but a few small groans left his lips. Koshar did not hit him this time, and instead pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the viscount’s bloodied lips.

“I was just going about as peacefully as possible to get the information I needed. Why did you have to be so violent?”

“Violent? You’re the one who was—”

Viscount Roteschu clamped his mouth shut when he saw Koshar’s eyes. Viscount Roteschu, after hearing that Koshar was investigating Rashta, had sent men with the orders to hurt Koshar so badly that he would be disabled for the next few months. That was probably when Koshar found out.

Koshar pulled up another chair and sat in front of him.

“Are you helping that woman?”

“What woman?”

“The Emperor’s concubine.”

“I…I…”

“Don’t even try to lie to me.”

“…”

Viscount Roteschu closed his mouth. He had visited Rashta so frequently that everyone knew they had a relationship. Koshar grinned.

“Speak.”

“What do you mean?”

“About that woman.”

“What about her…”

“Anything that would be of interest to me.”

Koshar did not even bring up the subject of how Viscount Roteschu hired men to attack him, as if he thought that matter long forgotten. Instead, his mind was bent on finding information about Rashta. Viscount Roteschu gulped.

“She’s a commoner.”

“Born a slave, right? She’s a runaway slave. You said it yourself.”

“Well…that was a misunderstanding…”

“Viscount, do you know how patient I am?”

“!”

“Not very much at all.”

Koshar lifted his lips in a horrible smile, and Viscount Roteschu felt a shiver run down his back. It was a type of smile one made before they killed someone.

Viscount Roteschu hurriedly answered.

“Yes, Rashta is a runaway slave!”

“I already know that. Next?”

“Next?”

“Her being a runaway slave was already known publicly for some time. Something else.”

Viscount Roteschu tried to rack his brain for what Koshar would want. Koshar was already rich, so bribes were out of the question. At the same time, Viscount Roteschu needed to appease him with a weakness of Rashta’s. Viscount Roteschu yelled his answer as soon as he found it.

“A baby! She has a baby!”

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