Clatter, clatter.
The carriage rolled over the waterlogged road, splashing filthy water all over the pedestrians who failed to dodge in time.
The sewage, reeking of feces, naturally drew angry glares from the pedestrians. But just as curses rose to their lips, they caught sight of the emblem on the carriage and immediately backed down.
A police carriage!
Knowing full well what that emblem meant, the pedestrians shut their mouths, lowered their heads, and continued on their way.
Dirty clothes could be washed clean.
But broken bones, even after being set, could leave them crippled.
The driver flashed a malicious, gleeful grin.
He was not a police officer, merely a patrol officer.
Yet at that moment, he felt he had even more standing than a police officer.
Woolt, sitting inside the carriage, naturally knew what had happened.
But the chief did not care.
He did not even care about patrol officers, let alone commoners of even lower standing.
In his eyes, these commoners were merely expendable resources for generating his wealth.
Apart from those few men of equal rank, only a tiny fraction of the people in South Los warranted his attention.
And he would almost never encounter the latter.
Because the Count of South Los lived in seclusion, the nobles of South Los also favored that way of life.
One lord had even announced that his entire family would withdraw from society to curry favor with the count.
Of course, Woolt considered that nothing but a show.
The entire family had indeed withdrawn from society.
But they owned a Manor on the outskirts of South Los, complete with a wine cellar, a mill, and a freshwater well. Beyond the Manor lay nearly sixteen hectares of farmland, not to mention that their master huntsman could take servants into the forest to hunt whenever he pleased.
The place was practically a miniature kingdom.
And that lord had become its king.
Woolt would gladly stay there too, if he were in his place.
And there were plenty of nobles like that in South Los.
When will I become someone like that?
Woolt sat in the carriage, indulging in his fantasies.
Becoming chief of the Shire District was certainly not his final destination.
Strictly speaking, it would be his starting point.
From there, he would acquire a knighthood, then receive the count's commendation and become a true noble—like those lords, he would own a Manor, farmland, hunting grounds, and even a proper fief.
At the thought, Woolt's face filled with smiles.
But a moment later, that smile darkened.
He had already paid far too much to secure the position of chief of the Shire District. Failure was no longer an option. Now Audo's death had cost him a bargaining chip, and the remaining men would surely start getting ideas again-especially those two old men left in the Harbor District.
He had seen their greed firsthand.
By tomorrow morning at the latest, once news of Audo's death reached their ears, he would have to bleed himself dry again.
Worse still, he did not have enough cash to meet their demands.
Which meant he would have to hand over some of his assets in exchange.
The thought of losing at least one cargo ship made Woolt grit his teeth. Then he could no longer hold back a muttered curse.
"Greedy bastards!"
Because he had also remembered the two chiefs of the New and Old Districts, and that bastard in the Dort District.
The two chiefs of the New and Old Districts would cost him another shop!
As for the Dort District?
"Sarah, you won't blame me, will you?"
Woolt murmured to himself.
He hoped his mistress could help him "invite" the chief of the Dort District-the man had once told him he was very interested in his mistress.
He hoped that interest would last a little longer.
At least until he secured the position of chief of the Shire District.
"We're here, Chief!"
The patrol officer driving the carriage turned and jumped down. He opened an umbrella before pulling open the carriage door.
Garden Street was another middle-class neighborhood near West Merck Avenue. Unlike Kirk Street, which was less than two hundred meters long, it was longer and covered a larger area.
Naturally, housing prices were somewhat cheaper.
Still, the house Sarah lived in was rented.
As for buying it?
What a joke. Woolt would never do anything so foolish.
To Woolt, Sarah was merely a toy he used to unwind.
But when he needed that toy to do something for him, Woolt was quite attentive. First, he straightened his appearance, then felt the jewelry box in his pocket.
Inside was a ring set with a crystal.
Sarah had been begging him for it for a long time. This time, he would grant her wish as payment. Surely she would not disappoint him.
With that thought, the chief stepped out of the carriage and headed toward the two-story building he remembered.
It was already dark, and the rain had started again, making the already dim surroundings even harder to see.
Even a street inhabited by the middle class lacked lighting, forcing Woolt to slow his pace.
I hear the Inner Bay already has gas lamps to light its streets. I wonder when South Los will get them.
As he thought, Woolt took the umbrella and refused to let the patrol officer follow him any farther.
He did not want more people to see Sarah.
That would make disposing of her later much easier.
"Chief, would you like me to wait for you?"
The patrol officer asked ingratiatingly.
"Come pick me up at eight tomorrow morning!"
After a moment's thought, Woolt gave that answer.
He still had to return to the Harbor District tomorrow, and without a horse, walking was hardly a good option.
"Yes, Chief!"
The patrol officer bowed, then headed toward the carriage.
Woolt turned and approached the steps.
Neither noticed the two spiders drifting out of a corner and landing directly on Woolt.
Ding, ding!
At the sound of the doorbell, the young woman saw that her lover had arrived and eagerly opened the door, delight written across her face.
Woolt obligingly smiled. In the light spilling from the room, the young woman found that smile warm and charming.
She threw her arms around Woolt, and the two headed inside.
Neither noticed the two uninvited guests slipping in with them. Under the light, those guests swiftly scurried into Woolt's pocket and wig.
A fleeting flash of light illuminated the distinctive markings on the spiders.
They were-
Hourglasses.
Symbols that marked the passage of time.
Now, they seemed to count down the moments left in a life.
A short while later, the sounds of arguing, a slap, crying, and a shattering vase came from the room.
During the argument, Woolt raised his voice.
When the slap rang out, Woolt swung his arm.
As she cried, the young woman's voice brimmed with hurt.
When the vase shattered, Woolt cried out in pain.
Then there was silence.
By the time another sound came, the young woman had changed her clothes and hurried out carrying a suitcase. She was so panicked that she did not even shut the door properly.
Standing in the shadows, Arthur looked at Woolt lying in a pool of blood inside the room and raised a hand.
The two black widows were retrieved.
They were among the tools Old Charlie had left behind, and quite hard to come by.
Arthur did not want to lose them just like that.
After placing the two black widows in the specially made Spider-Keeping Box, Arthur prepared to leave without so much as another glance at Woolt.
He had been bitten more than once by two black widows, then struck over the head with a vase.
He was as good as dead.
The plan had, if anything, gone unexpectedly smoothly.
He had the young woman to thank for making the entire process much simpler, and the outcome even more favorable for him.
Instinctively, Arthur looked at the young woman's retreating figure and thought to himself.
Every gift bestowed by fate has already had its price secretly marked. I wish you... hmm?!
Before you continue