Applying for Heritage Status!
Tick-tock, tick-tock
The second hand on the alarm clock relentlessly continued its relentless march, creating an atmosphere of extreme tension within the cramped yet luxurious study.
"Where's the money? Tell me, or you'll lose your head." A masked figure stood in the study doorway, backlit, making his features impossible to discern.
The businessman, bound to the chair, trembled violently. Cold sweat instantly soaked through his expensive shirt. His eyes widened in panic. "Ahhh! You... you... you... who are you? Why are you in my house?!"
"I can answer your question." The figure leaned forward slightly, a chilling aura emanating from them. "But are you sure you want to waste so much of your precious time playing this question-and-answer game with me?"
Fear instantly shattered the merchant's mental defenses, and cries burst forth uncontrollably. "Waaaaah, sir, I... I have elderly parents and young children to support, please, please..."
"Crying? Crying counts as time too."
Tick-tock, tick-tock. The second hand relentlessly approaches its final deadline.
The merchant struggled frantically, his mind racing, hastily attempting to negotiate. "This, sir, please have mercy! Whoever pays for my life, I'll pay double! No, I'll pay triple! I can pay even more!"
There was no response; all he heard was a quiet countdown.
"3...2...1..."
Ding ding ding ding--!
The sharp, piercing sound of the alarm clock suddenly filled the room.
A flash of cold light, and the sharp blade was instantly pressed against the merchant's neck. The icy touch terrified him. The merchant could no longer hold on and screamed:
"Rich! Rich! I'll tell you right now! All the money is hidden in the secret door in the basement!"
The blade slowly moved away from Daerdufu's neck. As soon as the cold touch disappeared, the merchant felt completely drained and slumped into the chair, panting heavily, cold sweat dripping down his chin.
A figure in the shadows reached out and picked up the alarm clock from the corner of the table, turning the knob with their fingertips. The crisp sound of gears turning echoed in the closed study.
"Tell me properly, how have you been using the guise of charity to amass wealth?"
Daerdufu was distracted, his eyes darting around, still trying to bluff his way out.
"I... I don't understand what you mean, sir. I have always sincerely helped the poor, and it's all written in the newspapers..."
The moment the words were spoken, not a single unnecessary warning was uttered.
The figure slightly lifted his foot, then suddenly exerted force, kicking hard at Daerdufu's bound calf.
"Snap--!"
The ear-piercing sound of bones breaking suddenly exploded in the quiet study.
"Ah--!!"
A piercing, excruciating pain instantly swept through his body. Daerdufu's pupils contracted sharply, a shrill scream pierced his throat, and his body twisted uncontrollably. His upper body, tightly bound by ropes, struggled desperately, cold sweat pouring down like rain. His broken lower limbs twisted helplessly, the intense pain almost tearing his consciousness apart.
Tick-tock, tick-tock
The piercing screams filled the entire study, but the alarm clock on the desk remained unmoved, its gears turning steadily and methodically, its regular sound almost cruelly calm, dutifully moving forward as always.
The figure slowly stepped forward, raising the short blade again, its cold gleam reflecting the merchant's terrified and distorted face.
"Like I said, if you can't say it before the alarm goes off, you'll lose your head."
"I... I established a charitable shelter, claiming to take in homeless orphans, and appealed to the people of Fontaine to donate Mora traditional currency), food, and clothing..."
"Many noble lords, under the guise of donations, are actually using charitable accounts to evade taxes and deceive the officials of Court of Fontaine. With nobles taking the lead, the ordinary people of the city are inspired and are following suit, generously contributing!"
"Once the money is received, all the Mora supplies donated by the nobles will be returned to their original source; as for the donations from ordinary people, we will split them 30/70! I will take out a portion of the supplies, place children as a storefront, and invite reporters to take photos and publish them in the newspaper, so that at least I can maintain an image of being a philanthropist."
The figure's brows furrowed slightly, and his tone carried a hint of mockery:
"After all this trouble, you only get 70% in the end?"
Daerdufu shook his head hastily, his face turning deathly pale:
"Seventy percent goes to those noble lords. I can only get thirty percent, and that depends on whether they're willing to give me a handout."
"How can you grovel before these people like a dog and still reap such huge profits?"
Daerdufu's throat bobbed, and he offered a bitter, numb, low-pitched defense:
"Well... you're not wrong. I do have some reputation in the Fontaine business world, which gives me the right to get involved. Countless people would rather kneel than find a way in, they don't even have the chance."
Ding ding ding ding--!
The sharp, piercing sound of the alarm clock suddenly filled the room.
The moment he heard the bell ring, Daerdufu was terrified, twisting his body wildly and screaming in agony:
"Aaaaaah, my lord! My lord! I've confessed everything I know! Please don't kill me, please don't kill me! I beg you!"
A flash of cold light.
Daerdufu closed his eyes and awaited death, but the expected bloody pain did not come; the sharp blade simply and cleanly cut the ropes binding his limbs.
The restraints dissipated, and the soreness from the prolonged muscle tension swept through his entire body. Daerdufu subconsciously let out a long sigh of relief, the joy of surviving a close call just beginning to surface in his heart.
But the next second, the figure turned to the side, reached out, and casually pushed the white paper and ink pen on the desk in front of him.
"Write down all your crimes, along with the list of nobles involved."
Daerdufu's face drained of color instantly; he shook his head repeatedly, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
"My lord! You're practically killing me! Those nobles are incredibly powerful; once the list is exposed, they'll stop at nothing to retaliate against me..."
Swish--
A cold blade suddenly appeared between his neck and neck, its biting chill clinging to his skin, cutting off any words of excuses he might utter.
The figure spoke in a flat tone, leaving no room for negotiation:
"If you don't write, you'll die now."
Daerdufu stared at the blade so close to his face, then at the blank paper on the table. The excruciating pain from his broken leg continued to gnaw at his nerves, and a double dose of fear crushed him.
His teeth chattered, and he reached out with trembling hands to grasp the quill pen.
"I... I write... I write..."
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
The alarm clock still stood quietly to the side, its gears still turning slowly.
The excruciating pain continued to tear at his broken leg, Daerdufu's hand, gripping the brush, trembled uncontrollably as he meticulously listed the crimes and noble names on the paper.
A blank sheet of paper was gradually filled with writing. He abruptly put down his pen, turned around with difficulty, and spoke urgently to the figure in the shadows, his tone deliberately ingratiating:
"My lord! If you spare my life, I have many more secret hiding places for money that I haven't revealed! Besides, I know all the despicable crimes committed by many high-ranking nobles! If you spare my life, I'll tell you everything..."
A soft chuckle came from the shadows.
"OK."
Just those two words instantly filled Daerdufu with ecstasy, and his heart, which had been hanging in suspense, gradually calmed down. He had gambled correctly and finally found a way to survive.
A muffled thud.
Without warning, the sharp blade pierced his chest and firmly embedded itself in his heart.
Warm blood quickly soaked through the luxurious clothes.
Daerdufu's eyes widened in disbelief as he looked down at the blade in his chest. A hissing sound escaped his throat as all joy froze, replaced by overwhelming despair.
The figure leaned slightly forward, and a cold, mocking whisper reached their ear:
"They didn't mention it when they confessed their crimes, and now they're trying to use information to bargain."
How interesting, someone actually dares to negotiate with me under these circumstances.
Daerdufu's limbs twitched weakly a few times, and his remaining life force rapidly ebbed away.
His accumulated wealth, his carefully cultivated facade of philanthropy, and the connections he used to curry favor with the powerful and wealthy, along with his greedy life, all vanished in this study.