Chapter 170
The lord’s estate, the Noble Council chamber.
At the seat of honor at the central table of the chamber sat Lord Heo Yang-won, dressed in splendid attire. Three people were seated on each side of the table. Including the lord himself, these seven great nobles—the councilors of the Noble Council—could be said to stand at the pinnacle of Wyde City.
However, since the era of Heo Young-deok, the center of power had shifted to City Hall and the City Defense Force. The lord now managed those two departments and enjoyed the support of certain factions within the First City, and as a result the influence of the Noble Council had been steadily waning.
Even so, in a crisis like the present one, the opinions of the nobles could not be ignored. Even if Heo Young-deok were to return alive, he would still have to consult them. That was because they controlled private troops, estates, populations, and vast stores of resources.
If they were to exploit the chaos and begin drawing in wasteland wanderers, Wyde City would face changes unlike anything it had seen before.
Behind each noble stood exactly two guards. The same was true for Heo Yang-won. This had become a rule after the council’s founding, forged through repeated friction, leaks of secrets, coups, and bloody incidents.
Thus, only up to two guards were permitted inside the council chamber. The great nobles and their guards were allowed to carry weapons, but they were forbidden from openly displaying them. Wyde City’s regulations regarding weapons had originated from this very rule.
At one point, leaders of armed groups had even been barred entirely from bringing weapons or guards. In those days, they trembled at the thought that a sudden ambush might occur—or that, at a signal as trivial as the lord shattering a cup, dozens of marksmen might burst in and open fire without warning.
On the other hand, if there were no limits on weapons or guards, everyone would feel emboldened and clashes would erupt at the slightest provocation, inevitably leading to bloodshed.
As a compromise, guards were left outside, the number of escorts allowed inside was limited, and weapons could be carried only if kept concealed.
Under such conditions, even if someone wanted to blow an enemy’s head off, there was at least a moment’s restraint—and in that brief pause, neutral parties might step in to defuse the conflict.
Moreover, drawing a hidden gun took longer than usual. As a result, situations that had been growing dangerous often ended in absurd anticlimaxes.
To enforce these rules, strict explosive inspections were conducted before every meeting. It was to protect everyone present, in case someone decided to embrace death itself.
Standing to Heo Yang-won’s left was the machine monk Jeong-nyeom, his hooded robe pulled up. To his right stood his secretary, Mr. Yoo. Together, they represented both martial and civil authority.
That said, Secretary Yoo was by no means ignorant of combat. In his youth, he had dealt with countless enemies who sought to attack Wyde City or instigate bloody coups. Armed with nothing but a pistol in each hand, he had quelled every uprising.
Now, however, age had mellowed his temper, and after discovering his natural talent for administration, he had taken to repeating, as if it were a mantra, that peace was more important than anything else.
Heo Yang-won glanced around the room and smiled.
“You’ve all already confirmed what kind of incident has occurred in Wyde City, I presume.”
Instead of formal, rigid speech, he used a relaxed tone.
Seeing him lower his posture, Jo Gi-jeong, master of the Jo estate, stroked his beard and spoke.
“Lord, if you have something to say, say it plainly. This is everyone’s Wyde City. Who here wouldn’t lend their strength?”
Jo Gi-jeong, now past fifty, had a beard already streaked with white. Broad-shouldered and robust, he stood out in Ashland, where most people were gaunt and underfed.
The two guards he had brought with him were a handpicked member of his own private corps and his eldest son, just over thirty. He had brought his son so the young man could learn the customs and flow of the Noble Council.
“Everyone’s Wyde City…”
Heo Yang-won sneered inwardly, but outwardly nodded in agreement.
“Many casualties have already occurred, and we’re short on manpower. The wasteland wanderers could break through the City Hall defenses at any moment and surge into North Street. I ask that you dispatch your private troops from your estates and join us in counterattacking. We must drive the wasteland wanderers out of the city before they can unite into a true organization.”
Jo Gi-jeong quietly shifted his gaze to another man—his in-law, Morichi.
Morichi’s ancestors had been Red River people, but after generations of intermarriage he possessed many Ashlander traits as well. His features were gentle, his pores not particularly large. He had yellow hair, blue eyes, and deep smile lines etched into his face.
Morichi soon opened his mouth. As always, he spoke with an unhurried calm, as if even the sky collapsing would be no great concern.
“Lord, dispatching private troops is no problem at all. Wyde City belongs to all of us—how could we sit idly by and watch this unfold?
We’ll leave only the forces needed to defend our estates and cooperate fully with you. However, my troops aren’t regular soldiers. They’ve only been trained enough to guard estates and manors. Sending them out to counterattack would have no real effect.
Wouldn’t it be better to have our private troops defend North Bridge and City Hall in place of the City Defense Force and the lord’s guard, while the regular forces—the Defense Force and the lord’s guard—handle the counterattack?”
Since Heo Yang-won had spoken in Ashlander, Morichi replied in the same language. Judging by his fluent pronunciation and vocabulary, he had clearly put in no small amount of effort.
The moment Morichi finished speaking, Jo Gi-jeong and the other council members immediately voiced their agreement. At that instant, a vein at Heo Yang-won’s temple twitched. His hand tightened on the armrest of his chair.
Then Secretary Yoo signaled subtly to the lord. As always, his gaze said that peace came first.
Only then did Heo Yang-won force a smile and speak.
“I understand your concerns. I, too, plan to select the uninjured among the Defense Force and the guard to lead the counterattack. But their numbers alone may not be sufficient, which is why I mentioned drawing on some of your private troops if necessary.”
The nobles exchanged glances. Jo Gi-jeong was the first to speak.
“Very well. Let’s do it that way.”
The other nobles raised no objections. After all, they owned property on East Street, West Street, and South Street as well.
They were, by nature, the true owners of warehouses, hotel proprietors, rice shop owners, and major shareholders in nightclubs. Wouldn’t they want the wasteland wanderers dealt with as quickly as possible to protect their assets?
After issuing orders to formalize and implement the decision, Heo Yang-won moved on to the next issue.
“The disturbance will stabilize soon enough. So we need to discuss what comes after.
Many commoners living outside North Street have died. This winter will be far harsher for them than usual.
I intend to take the lead in donating some food to provide relief—so that their lives may improve, even a little. Yes, medical supplies as well. There are many injured, but few who can afford treatment.”
The moment he finished speaking, Jo Gi-jeong shook his head like a clapper.
“We don’t have surplus food. And it’s only been half a day—how much could the city’s food supply have decreased? If people just tighten their belts a bit, they’ll manage through the winter.”
To him, it was absurd. Why should he support or help people who weren’t his own? Morichi agreed.
“Indeed. What does it matter if a few commoners die? We already have more than enough slaves to work for us.”
Another councilor, Jang Yoo-shin, added his voice.
“That’s right. If they cause trouble, we can simply drive them out of the city and turn them into wasteland wanderers. Once things stabilize and we begin selling food, countless people will come to Wyde City and fill any labor shortages.”
At the nobles’ opposition, Heo Yang-won raised a hand and pressed his temples. His head felt as if it were ringing.
“You need to consider that the families of the private troops live outside North Street. If they turn their weapons around, we’ll be forced to flee to the First City.”
Jo Gi-jeong laughed heartily.
“Lord, there’s no need to worry. Our troops’ families all live on our estates.”
But that’s not true for the City Defense Force…!
The vein on Heo Yang-won’s forehead throbbed even harder.
As more nobles voiced their opposition, the ringing in his head grew unbearable. Soon, phantom voices echoed in his ears.
Blow them up! Blow them up!
His eyes grew increasingly vacant. One hand pressed against his forehead, while the other clenched a small, exquisitely crafted black remote hidden in his pocket.
Blow them up! Blow them up!
As the devil’s whisper continued, his breathing grew ragged.
At that moment, the doors of the Noble Council chamber burst open and a guard rushed in, shouting,
“Lord! Udik urgently requests an audience!”
Outside the door, Jang Mok-hwa caught sight of Heo Yang-won’s eyes with her keen vision. Something was terribly wrong—his gaze was filled with confusion and madness.
“Hurry!”
She shouted to Udik and immediately drew her pistol, firing at the crystal chandelier hanging above the council table.
Seong Geon-woo also drew his gun, twisting his body to guard Jang Mok-hwa’s back.
A gunshot rang out, followed by the sound of shattering. A rain of glass shards fell onto the table.
Except for Heo Yang-won, the council members were all fairly old. Perhaps because they had lived through past wars and upheavals, they reacted swiftly to the gunshot.
Morichi, slow of speech but quick of action, slid smoothly beneath the table. The rotund Jo Gi-jeong bent low and fled his seat, dragging his son with him into a corner.
Meanwhile, the guards drew their weapons and aimed toward the door.
Heo Yang-won, startled by the gunshot, briefly shook off the devil’s whispers—but only for a moment, before being consumed by them once more.
His eyes bloodshot, he was about to slam down on the remote—
When he suddenly closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair, losing consciousness entirely. He had fallen into a deep sleep.
It was the effect of the forced sleep Udik had cast on him. Thanks to the brief opening created by Jang Mok-hwa, Udik had been able to hurl himself forward, rolling to close the distance.
At the same time, however, Udik saw a thick, pitch-black gun barrel enter his field of vision. The machine monk Jeong-nyeom had him at gunpoint. Udik hurriedly shouted his conclusion.
“The priest hypnotized the lord! He planned to die here and take everyone with him!”
The guards and external security who had been moving to attack Jang Mok-hwa and Seong Geon-woo froze.
Without lowering his gun, Jeong-nyeom extended his metal arm and tore open Heo Yang-won’s coat. Strapped around the lord’s waist were several explosives—high-performance models produced by Orange Company.
Had they detonated, not only everyone in the council chamber but also those in the adjacent rooms would have perished. The machine monk Jeong-nyeom might have been the only survivor.
