The Most Valuable Head

The old woman brandished her withered arms, delivering a resounding declaration that defied her frail physique.

Her words ignited a spark in the eyes of the gang leaders, many of whom had been pushed to their limits. They seemed to envision the idyllic scene she so vividly painted.

Justice!

Peace!

Autonomy!

A Lower City belonging solely to them! How beautiful, how utterly… enchanting.

****

A sudden snort of laughter shattered the pleasant illusion.

“What in the world? A council? Hahahaha… a council… a union? Am I hearing things?”

At the bar, Ewan Campbell clutched his stomach, convulsing with laughter as if he had just heard the most uproarious joke in existence.

“My dear… The Mediator. Surely, you aren’t unaware of what the current council truly is? It’s nothing more than a gathering of pot-bellied, brain-dead nobles, bickering like children and serving absolutely no purpose. Yet, you wish to emulate them?

Or perhaps you genuinely believe that these men beside you, who are quick to draw knives and hack at each other, can sit together peacefully and discuss matters?”

“Such issues, I believe, can all be resolved,” The Mediator nodded earnestly, her conviction unwavering. She was the Mediator of the Lower City, and under her esteemed authority, everyone would sit together in harmony, jointly charting the future of their district.

“Ah, is that so?”

Ewan Campbell stared at the old woman for a long moment before retrieving a handkerchief to dab the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“I actually thought you were someone formidable. It turns out you’re merely a fool, abusing your status as a ‘mistress’ to act with impunity.”

‘If a so-called Lower City, belonging only to them, were truly established, they wouldn’t find fairness, peace, or autonomy. Instead, they would be greeted by the iron cavalry of the Royal Knights.’

‘To play at forming a council right under the Emperor’s nose… Little lady, do you not know how the word ‘beheading’ is spelled?’

“You—”

The old woman’s face contorted into a sudden snarl, as if Ewan Campbell had struck a raw nerve. But her eyes quickly narrowed with malice.

“Go on and laugh, boy. I don’t think you’ll be arrogant for much longer. Once we all unite, you’ll be nothing more than a lamb to the slaughter.

When that time comes, I’ll rip your face off entirely and use it to adorn my collection room. Then you’ll know the consequences of enraging me!”

“But you won’t have that chance.”

“What?”

“I said, you won’t have that chance.”

Ewan Campbell lowered his hand, his expression returning to calm. Yet, his pale blue eyes, shadowed by the brim of his top hat, gleamed with utter mockery.

“It’s opportune. I shall use you to demonstrate another facet of my power to those still hesitating, and incidentally, to verify whether the unity you speak of is truly viable.”

“What exactly do you mean?”

‘Does he mean… he’s going to kill again?’

A strong sense of unease suddenly welled up in The Mediator’s heart. She instinctively recoiled, seeking refuge among the people behind her. However, those who had just moments ago been swayed by her words now unanimously chose to retreat.

The Mediator’s eye twitched. She cursed these useless people under her breath.

But then, she suddenly straightened her chest, stiffened her neck, and glared at Ewan Campbell, declaring fiercely, “If you want to kill, then kill! Let everyone see that you are nothing but a madman who kills indiscriminately! A madman earns no one’s approval!”

She appeared ready to face death.

Yet—

Glancing at the old woman’s trembling legs, Ewan Campbell’s mockery deepened. He lowered his gaze and asked softly, “Do you know why I call myself Bruce Wayne?”

“Wh-why?”

“Because while I possess no superpowers, I do have another formidable ability.”

As The Mediator’s eyes widened with growing fear, Ewan Campbell slowly extended a finger and pointed it at her.

‘It’s… it’s coming, isn’t it?’

The Mediator, knowing she was utterly powerless to resist, resignedly closed her eyes, preparing for death.

However, after a brief wait, death did not arrive.

Instead, a rich, clear voice spoke, audible to everyone present.

“Now, The Mediator, your head is worth one hundred million.”

“Hm?”

The Mediator froze.

She opened her eyes, frowning in confusion, unable to comprehend Ewan Campbell’s meaning.

‘One hundred million?’

‘My head is worth one hundred million?’

‘What does that even mean?’

‘Can you kill me with a mere declaration?’

‘Ridiculous.’

But just then, she heard breathing.

Heavy, animalistic breathing. And the prickling sensation of avaricious gazes, all converging upon her.

She jolted awake, feeling a bone-chilling cold envelop her body. Turning, she shrieked hysterically at the crowd, “Don’t fall for it! This is his scheme! A scheme!”

“This isn’t a scheme; it’s a promise.”

Ewan Campbell habitually adjusted his top hat, gazing at the crowd with a playful, clown-like smile, much like an actor taking a curtain call. “You all climbed to your positions step by step, so you should know better than anyone. At a time like this, I would never lie. If I say one hundred million, not a single Aemil will be deducted.

Furthermore, whoever successfully claims the head of our dear Mediator will be allowed to leave here safely, and I will not seek any retribution afterward.”

Ewan Campbell raised three fingers to the sky. “I swear upon the Goddess.”

‘I swear upon the Goddess.’

These words resonated like a spell. The previously observant gang leaders grew restless.

One hundred million.

Coupled with a promise of safe passage.

For them, it was an irresistible temptation.

And the only price they had to pay was to kill the mistress of a grand noble.

‘Haha, a mistress. She’s already so old; how could that grand noble possibly remember her?’

‘Those so-called connections no longer held any deterrent power.’

‘As for prestige… can that be eaten?’

It was simply a profitable venture with no losses.

Still, no one made a move immediately.

Everyone remained hesitant. They weren’t fools; they wouldn’t blindly rush in for one hundred million.

To act now for that sum would mean… acknowledging this man’s authority, recognizing his status as superior to their own as gang leaders.

“Don’t fall for it! Don’t fall for it! Think about what I just said—unity! Only unity will work now! Don’t let that man divide you! Are you content to remain beneath others?”

The Mediator’s face was pale, and she continued to plead in a trembling voice.

Even if she were a fool, she knew this was her only path to survival.

But in reality, no one was listening to her anymore. A mere glance into their eyes revealed that the idea of equal unity was nothing more than a pipe dream.

Everyone was silently contemplating, weighing the pros and cons.

‘Is one hundred million not enough?’

Ewan Campbell’s eyes flickered. ‘Then I’ll add more…’

But before he could utter his increased offer, a piercing hum interrupted his thoughts.

The Mediator suddenly let out a scream, then collapsed to the ground, howling in agony.

A mist of blood permeated the air as a magic-infused arrow directly pulverized one of her calves into a bloody mess.

Everyone turned in shock, looking at the one who had pulled the trigger.

Rat King Sam.

“Sam?”

Ewan Campbell raised an eyebrow in surprise, turning to the dwarf-like figure. “I didn’t expect you to be the first to act.”

“Why be surprised? I’m simply making what I believe to be the correct choice,” Sam Jade said, his face still expressionless, as if no one could fathom his thoughts at that moment.

He slowly approached The Mediator, raising the repeating crossbow in his hand once more.

“Sam! You, you bastard, are you truly in league with him?”

Amidst the excruciating pain, The Mediator shrieked, her eyes bloodshot. But then, an arrow slicing through the air turned her shriek into another scream.

Sam Jade shot her other foot, saying nonchalantly, “Don’t misunderstand. No one despises this fellow more than I do, what with him putting a knife to my throat and deceiving me.”

“Then why… you!”

“But there’s one thing he said that I wholeheartedly agree with.”

Sam Jade continued to cock the crossbow, then aimed. This time, too, it wasn’t at a vital spot.

“—Since everyone needs a master, why not him? At least, unlike those stingy and cowardly nobles…

He’s truly willing to pay one hundred million.”