If You Are Suited for the Villain's Secretary - Chapter 91

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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If the Villain’s Secretary Suits Me
Chapter 91
***
“Damn it, damn it….”
Vargas pressed the communicator button anxiously.
Yet only static continued to sound—no response came back.
Vargas hurled the communicator away and tore at his hair.
“I should never have gotten entangled with that bastard Kaileb Crimson.”
The organization Fang, which had been doing quite well laundering dirty money from nobles and the wealthy, collapsed in an instant.
It was because of the dead Noel Marquis. The moment the money laundering became exposed, he unhesitatingly reported Fang to the Investigation Bureau without a second thought. Claiming he knew nothing, that he thought it was all legitimate work.
It was cutting off the tail to escape.
What Vargas did to survive the organization’s existential crisis was not much different.
By pinning the blame on his subordinates and throwing them into the depths of prison, Vargas managed to evade the investigation net. After “dealing with” Noel Marquis, who had betrayed him, he made a resolution.
Never to work with those noble bastards again. Never to shake hands with those old foxes blinded by self-preservation.
‘Why bother when there are so many easier prey—rabbits and mice—scattered everywhere?’
Creatures that quickly succumbed to intimidation and coercion.
Creatures that earned money on their own once thrown into the Labor Camp.
Poor, naive, and foolish commoners with families held hostage—too terrified to even think of reporting—became Fang’s new revenue stream, dutifully bringing their earnings.
‘Though occasionally unforeseen “accidents” do occur.’
By any measure, this was a fairly stable business model.
But Vargas had momentarily forgotten something.
The slush funds of Crimson that had scattered into thin air when the money laundering operation collapsed.
Because of those compromising funds, Kaileb Crimson—with whom he maintained relations through blackmail—was also a sub-marquis, a nobleman.
“I should have either ignored those funds or repaid them entirely and severed ties…!”
Just moments ago, Vargas received word that the Holy Knight Order had simultaneously raided Crimson branches throughout the entire Empire.
The premonition was ominous. A single branch would be one thing, but the entire Trading Company being investigated by the Holy Knight Order?
This was no mere audit of misconduct. A direct imperial decree to uproot Crimson entirely had clearly been issued.
Those sparks would inevitably scatter onto Fang as well.
Vargas bit his lip and frantically shoved gold bars and cash into his bag.
‘The subordinates below can handle the rest on their own.’
Though those “subordinates below” would hardly agree with that assessment.
But what could be done? There was no loyalty among people in this line of work. Once you cut off the tail, you can’t cut it off a second time, can you?
“I’m starting fresh….”
Rain poured down outside the window.
Vargas, donning a raincoat, slung the bag full of gold over his shoulder and opened the door.
Then he froze.
“Vargas Romero of Fang.”
His subordinates, already captured and forced to their knees, and the silver-armored Holy Knights standing behind them were revealed in a flash of lightning.
“We are placing you under emergency arrest on 27 charges, including the murder of Noel Marquis…or rather, 28 charges including the attempted escape.”
Bang—
With a thunderous clang, the handcuffs snapped shut.
***
Vargas, brought into custody by the Investigation Bureau, found himself
‘What?’
staring at the person across the table in utter bewilderment.
A woman. One who appeared to be no more than twenty years old. Her attire marked her as neither a Holy Knight nor an investigator.
Did he know this face? As Vargas searched his memory, he let out a laugh. “Ah, heh.”
“So you’re that ‘Grecia,’ aren’t you? That’s right? You were wearing glasses in the photograph.”
Iliana Grecia.
The woman whose name had appeared in the personal records Kaileb Crimson had been seeking out, and
“This is the first time I’ve laid eyes on you. Your father, Ruben Grecia, I know quite well. But I had no idea you were this beautiful. You don’t seem to take after your old man… Did you inherit your looks from your deceased mother?”
the daughter of the gambler Ruben Grecia.
Vargas rested his shackled hands askew upon the table.
In truth, even setting aside that father of hers, though her face was unfamiliar, her name was anything but. It appeared in the debt ledger without fail, month after month.
A daughter who, with singular determination to save her father, paid her debts with quiet diligence. A naive little mouse whose life itself had been mortgaged because her gambler father couldn’t abandon his family.
She was exactly Vargas’s type.
“So… did you come here curious about where your gambling father is?”
The type easy to exploit.
Vargas’s mind raced in an instant.
How had this woman, neither a Holy Knight nor an investigator, gained access to the Interrogation Room?
‘She claims to be La Mar’s secretary, but that alone wouldn’t have granted her entry clearance. Kaileb Crimson was always cursing the La Mar Director, but a Merchant Guild master wouldn’t have the power to control the Investigation Bureau.’
If the Guild master had possessed such influence, Kaileb would have seized control of the Investigation Bureau long ago.
Vargas arrived at the most rational answer within the bounds of his understanding.
Judging by her lovely appearance, she must be the lover of some high-ranking official or nobleman. That would explain it.
Upon hearing of his arrest, she had asked her lover for a favor to meet with him.
To obtain whatever information she could about her father.
If that were the case?
‘Providing this girl information about her father in exchange for a comfortable and pleasant prison life… wouldn’t be impossible.’
Though he’d been captured alongside his lackeys, Vargas had revealed little to his organization members. Information was best kept monopolized.
In other words, the intelligence locked within his mind held value.
‘I’m not even hoping for a sentence reduction.’
That bastard Kaileb Crimson had probably spilled everything anyway.
Then, negotiating within reasonable bounds wasn’t a bad choice at all.
Ah, there’s always a way out when you’re clever enough.
Vargas marveled at his own quick thinking and opened his mouth.
“Of course I can tell you. But I should get something out of this too, shouldn’t I?”
“…What do you want?”
For the first time, the woman responded. Vargas felt a surge of triumph within.
“Well… let’s start by discussing my treatment in prison. I’d like a solitary cell. I’m particular about my sleeping arrangements, you see.”
“….”
“The Southern Detention Facility is rather unpleasant. The facilities there are far too dilapidated. I’d prefer if you were transferred to where the more distinguished individuals reside… the Central Third Detention Facility, you know? That would be ideal. Well, for now, this much? Quite modest, isn’t it?”
“…Yes.”
“Then once this is reflected, we can discuss further….”
“Very well. I’m sure you will.”
Vargas’s brow furrowed at the woman’s sardonic murmur.
“Your tone is rather unpleasant, isn’t it?”
“Then bear with it for now. Because from here on, it’s my turn to speak.”
The woman, answering with indifference, tapped the table deliberately—tap, tap—before continuing.
“I know.”
“….”
“My father escaped your Labor Camp long ago, along with several others. And you’ve been keeping it quiet.”
Vargas froze.
…How could she possibly know?
He had believed all along that he’d been captured because Kaileb Crimson had exposed him. Therefore, any information Kaileb didn’t know, the Investigation Bureau wouldn’t know either.
Vargas had only told Kaileb Crimson that Ruben Grecia, Iliana Grecia’s father, was in his Labor Camp—he had never mentioned the escape.
But how?
“However, you intended to keep this fact hidden from me while collecting interest. And the victims who fell prey to your methods aren’t just one or two.”
“How did you…!”
“In fact, you didn’t even inform the Debt Collectors working under you about this for ‘smooth collection,’ so when my assigned Debt Collector, Thomas, protested after learning what had happened, you sent him to the Labor Camp.”
The woman, who had been speaking while looking at the table the entire time, suddenly lifted her eyes to meet Vargas’s gaze.
“Yes, I know everything.”
“Wh-what….”
It happened in an instant.
A sharp sensation—his breath caught.
It was truly strange. Merely meeting eyes with a woman who was less than half his size, yet Vargas suddenly felt goosebumps rise along his spine.
This woman, the walls surrounding him, the desolate wind—all of it suddenly felt terrifying.
“And through this conversation, I’ve learned one more thing.”
The woman slowly rose to her feet.
Vargas flinched and tried to pull his chair back, but the bound chair wouldn’t budge.
“You’re afraid of running into your former organization members, aren’t you?”
“…What?”
“A solitary cell, the Southern Detention Facility is undesirable—it’s all because you fear your subordinates, now crippled and imprisoned, will seek revenge on you. You lorded over them outside, but inside prison, you’re nothing. You know that.”
The woman, having struck precisely at what Vargas feared most, looked down at him.
“I don’t know what misunderstanding you’ve made, but I didn’t come here to negotiate. I came to inform you.”
“….”
“The legal experts of La Mare will be working toward your ‘labor sentence.'”
“W-wait….”
“Then take care of yourself.”
Before opening the door to leave, the woman smiled faintly.
“In a twenty-person cell.”
Vargas’s remaining face had gone deathly pale.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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