A Mastermind? No, I'm just the Live-In Son-in-Law-Chapter 31: Phantom Thief Bergen

All of it told the story of just how far this man had fallen.

“...Heh.”

Despite looking like death warmed over, he somehow found the will to drag his battered body to the door.

—Creeaak...

He stepped over empty bottles that clinked underfoot as he grabbed the doorknob and opened the creaking door, frowning as a sliver of light hit his face.

The hallway outside wasn’t even bright—just a slant of early morning sunlight coming through the iron-barred windows.

But for a man who had rotted for days in the dark without even turning on a light, that alone was blinding. Turning his head sharply to the side, he stumbled forward.

“What, still alive?”

Just then—a voice, laced with a sigh, came from across the room.

“If you’d stayed in there one more day, I was going to call the cleaners and have your corpse hauled out.”

A young woman, rare in the underworld, sat at the counter, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the man emerge in his sorry state.

“So? When are you paying your overdue rent?”

“......”

“I get that times are hard, but I’m no charity worker.”

The man walked over and sat silently on a chair by the counter. She shot him a cold look, delivering her ultimatum.

“If you can’t pay at least this month’s rent within the week, you’ll have to leave—”

“Cigarette.”

He cut her off before she could finish, extending a trembling hand with a sunken voice.

“Just lend me one smoke.”

“...Hah.”

Rolling her eyes, she let out a long sigh and tossed him a cigarette pack from her coat.

“Fine. We’ll call that your rent. Now get out.”

“......”

“There are more than enough corpses in this part of town, but I’d rather not be the one cleaning them up.”

The man stared blankly at her for a moment, then silently ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ pocketed the cigarette pack and shuffled out of the inn.

“Once a big shot... how did he end up like this?”

Watching his back as he left, the woman pulled a pipe from a drawer, stuck it in her mouth, and muttered,

“...Well, maybe if I’d had a family of my own, I’d understand.”

“......”

“But that kind of thing’s a luxury around here, isn’t it, Bergen?”

The name, thrown out carelessly, made the man pause briefly at the doorway. But soon, with his head bowed low, he stepped out into the underworld’s streets, where sunlight fell yet the air remained cold and lifeless.

The source of this c𝐨ntent is freeweɓnovēl.coɱ.

—Tink...

Like a beggar tossed into the street, the man—Bergen—pulled a cigarette from his one remaining possession, the new cigarette pack, and lit it.

—Tick...

But either the gas was gone or the lighter was faulty—it gave only a weak metallic clink.

“Hah...”

Despite trying repeatedly to spark it, Bergen finally tossed the lighter aside and let out a hollow laugh as he slumped to the ground.

“Guess it’s about time I died.”

He muttered in self-deprecation, lifting his head to take in the sky he might not see again.

“...Huh?”

But then he frowned and began glancing around.

“What the hell is this...?”

Strange things happened in the underworld daily, but even by those standards, today was unusual.

Pasted along the dirty, stained walls of the street were pristine white posters—completely out of place and evenly spaced.

“Tch, more damn paper...”

But what was even more striking was the way people were reacting to them.

“Should I just rip them all down?”

“Shhh. Keep your voice down.”

In a place full of discontent and degenerates, the posters should’ve already been defaced or torn.

Yet everyone passing by glared at them resentfully—but not one dared to touch them.

“Don’t know who has the power to pull off something like this here?”

“...That old bastard just won’t die, huh.”

Thanks to that, the posters retained their pure white color, completely out of sync with the underworld around them.

“If you’re going to threaten someone, do it like usual—quietly.”

“I told you to keep it down, damn it.”

But Bergen, who didn’t care in the slightest what they were about, lost interest quickly and stood up to bum a light from the grumbling thugs who had just pulled out their smokes.

“What the hell is a ‘broken lily’ supposed to mean, anyway? Posting that crap all over town...”

But then he froze, eyes dazed, when he overheard one of the thugs muttering nearby.

“And what’s with all this cryptic code...”

“...Excuse me.”

“Wh-what?”

Bergen, as if entranced, shoved his way between the thugs and scanned the poster rapidly.

—Grit...

Soon, a low grinding sound came from his clenched teeth.

“The hell’s his problem?”

“...Hey, just leave him alone.”

One of the thugs, irritated by Bergen’s sudden intrusion, reached toward his pocket where he kept a knife, but—

“If he can understand that message at a glance, then whatever it is, he’s got ties to that old man.”

“...You think so?”

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything worth taking from him anyway. Just let it go.”

“Tch.”

The first thug spat on the ground, bumped Bergen’s shoulder with his own as he passed, and walked off.

“Hope you get stabbed and die in a gutter.”

Still grumbling, he reached into his pocket to light a cigarette—only to freeze.

“What the—where’s my lighter?”

“Huh?”

“My knife’s gone too?!”

He patted his pockets frantically, bewildered.

“Pfft. Did someone pick your pocket?”

“Shit. How the hell am I supposed to survive here without those?”

“Well, that lighter and knife weren’t even yours to begin with, right?”

“That lighter had a magic stone in it. Damn it, what rotten luck...”

Brushing off his friend’s snide comment as a joke, the thug angrily tossed his cigarette to the ground.

—Sssss...

Watching the whole scene unfold from behind, Bergen quietly lit his cigarette with the new lighter he had “acquired” just seconds earlier.

“...Guess it’s not time to die just yet.”

And as he slipped the freshly “acquired” knife into his coat, the fire in his once-dead eyes began to blaze once more—for the first time in a long, long while.

***

“Haa...”

It had already been a week since I had Alfred distribute those flyers—no, posters—throughout the underworld.

“Fame just means more work...”

I’d wanted to take a nice, long rest, but thanks to the mountain of letters that had poured in ever since my name became known, I was once again stuck in my office, groaning over paperwork.

‘...Even though they know full well I’m engaged to Lady Meredia, why are there so many nobles trying to introduce me to their daughters?’

Sure, many of the letters were harmless social invitations, but quite a few were clearly laced with ulterior motives. By the time I’d finished sorting them and incinerating the sleaziest ones, night had already fallen.

“Master, are you really sure about this?”

“...About what?”

Exhausted, I used Lunelle’s concerned voice as the perfect excuse to dodge work. I turned to her with a bright smile.

“The code you included in the underworld posters... it had the Count’s estate address.”

She was absentmindedly stroking the hilt of her sword—a rare sign of unease from her.

“Don’t worry. The only person who can decipher that code is Bergen.”

I had my reasons for confidence.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

After all, the cipher that included the estate’s location was one Bergen himself had created—to play with his missing daughter.

Naturally, unless you were the player in the original game who used that exact method to contact Bergen, no one else would have enough samples to even begin to interpret it.

“I was able to crack it...”

I thought I heard Parsha mumbling something in protest from my right, where she was now almost finished with the mountain of documents. But considering she had analytical skills that were basically supernatural, she didn’t count.

“And besides... I have you, Miss Lunelle.”

“...!”

Even if someone like Parsha showed up to hold me accountable for plastering the underworld with mysterious posters, I had Lunelle.

There was a reason I hadn’t let her out of my sight since the moment we launched the flyer campaign.

“If this plan goes well, I think it’ll be time to proceed with the second ritual.”

“Ah...”

“And soon, I’ll get you a new sword too. Something grand, to replace that worn-out blade. You deserve it.”

It was about time I properly rewarded her dedication, so I brought up the benefits I had already planned for her. She looked at me, dazed for a moment.

“...Even if I have to burn through the rest of my life, I’ll slaughter any intruder who sets foot on this estate.”

“No need to go that far. Haha...”

“Then I’ll just chop off their limbs and use them as an example...”

“What on earth did they teach you at the knight academy?”

Still, judging by the chilling gleam in her eyes, she was plenty motivated.

“Anyway... it’s about time he showed up.”

Just as I muttered that to myself while reaching for a pen to start replying to all the sorted letters—

“That’s what I think too.”

Parsha, having finished her stack and now lounging idly, suddenly spoke, her eyes shining with meaning.

“My analysis—no, my calculations say the timing should be just about right...”

As she turned to look at the door, I followed her gaze with a puzzled expression.

—Knock knock...

Right then, a knock echoed from the door.

Maybe it was Sasha with good news? I responded immediately.

“Yes, come in.”

“......”

“Hm?”

But instead of Sasha’s usual timid voice, there was only silence.

“Sasha?”

“Ah!”

Just as I stood up with a puzzled expression—

“Watch out!”

Lunelle, also looking confused, suddenly flared with killing intent and shouted.

—Ssshhhk...!

The moment her voice rang out, a thick, acrid smoke began to leak through the slight crack in the door.

“Master—mmph!”

I quickly clamped my hand over Parsha’s mouth and began casting every protective spell I knew on her.

“Hmm.”

A flash of something in the smoke—then a knife burst through the fog. I frowned.

‘...Well, yeah. No one dumb enough to use poison gas on a white mage known for healing and detoxification...’

It was irritating, like I’d just lost a psychological battle. But I wasn’t scared.

Because that sneak attack was never going to reach me.

—Clang!

Just as expected. With one fluid motion, Lunelle drew her sword and deflected the incoming knife that had almost reached my face.

“...Khak!”

“You dare attack my master...?”

In the blink of an eye, the assailant—so fast I couldn’t even clearly make out their form—was kicked hard in the gut and sent flying by Lunelle.

“Don’t move.”

“Kh... damn it...”

Staggering back to his feet through the smoke, the attacker was met with Lunelle’s sword already pressed to his throat.

“I allowed a threat to reach my master’s side... I should be executed just for speaking after such failure...”

Finally catching her breath, Lunelle spoke in a mix of shame and disbelief.

“...Until the attack, I felt no presence. No bloodlust. Nothing.”

I understood how she felt. Normally, she would’ve noticed something long before an assassin even crossed the estate wall.

“He must be a top-tier assassin. I should kill him on the spot...”

“...Calm down, Lunelle.”

But if this intruder was who I thought he was, then even Lunelle at full awareness wouldn’t have detected his approach.

“Even if his presence was hidden, he wouldn’t have tried to kill me.”

Like Meredia, Parsha, and the Emperor herself, there was one domain-defying skill he possessed—what I could only call an authority beyond magic.

“If he killed me, the lead he’s been chasing would be lost forever. He was probably trying to take me hostage to force my hand.”

To confirm, I tossed the idea out loud. The man, still pinned beneath Lunelle’s foot, began trembling.

“Isn’t that right?”

“You son of a bitch...”

“Enough glaring. Answer me.”

Judging by that reaction, this man in the hood was indeed the one I had been searching for.

“The world-renowned master thief... Mister Bergen.”

Now, it was time to—no, not to persuade.

“Wouldn’t you like to see your lovely daughter again?”

“...!”

It was time to lower the rope. Time to offer him salvation.