Upon seeing the Military Intelligence Section Six identification, the old man inside the door immediately looked terrified. Shade gave him a hard shove, making him stagger back a step, then took the opportunity to enter.
With a bang, he shut the door behind him. Raising his right hand to press down his hat, Shade stood in the shadows of the entryway. He was much taller than the old man, and now exuded an imposing air:
"If there's no problem, don't disturb me in the attic. Once I've taken the things, I'll leave on my own."
"Y-you—"
The old man clutched his cane with both hands, leaning crookedly against the wall. He had not expected the young man to simply force his way inside.
"Is there another problem?"
"N-no, but you can take his things. I'm not refunding the rent!"
He shouted hoarsely, looking frightened yet stubborn.
"Rent? Do you think I care about that?"
Shade deliberately laughed, then ignored the old man behind him and headed upstairs along the creaking staircase.
He was quite pleased with his acting.
Leimer had complained about this building's landlord in his diary. He was the typical sort who bullied the weak and feared the strong. When Leimer had first come to rent the place, the old man had tried to fleece him, but once the sailor revealed an even worse and nastier temperament, the landlord immediately offered a relatively fair price.
Anyone who could be a landlord in such a chaotic dockside district was no good person. According to Leimer's guess, the old man used a basement workshop to smuggle prohibited goods from the New Continent and produce some shady medicines.
It was truly baffling that someone his age was still doing such things, but Shade had no intention of investigating further for the