A Villain's Way of Taming Heroines

Damn it, you bastards!

Swordfish's eye twitched as he mentally cursed his "companions." He thought they were in this together, only to realize he was the one being played. And now it seemed... they were all being played!

"One or two could be dismissed as individual actions within the guild."

The girl pressed her hand on the piled-up parchment scrolls, "But thirty-nine... How do you intend to explain this, Mr. Swordfish?"

"..."

Swordfish first cast an expressionless glance at his comrades, who usually jested with him, only to find that they all guiltily averted their eyes. Resigned, he sighed and extended his hand towards Marlina, "May I see the contract scrolls?"

"Please do."

Swordfish pulled out four scrolls from different positions, finding that their contents and format were identical, as if mass-produced!

The contracts began with "Sworn by the name of Duke of Azuregold, Namo Azuregold," which was the most common form of contract in the Western territories under the Duke of Azuregold's jurisdiction. By writing this phrase, it was understood that the Duke served as the notary, and any breach of the contract could be reported, thus solidifying the transaction's nature right from the start.

Swordfish quickly identified the reason why so many Executioners had sold information—it was ridiculously simple: the price offered was too high.

Indeed, for adventurers, any problem could be solved if the price was right.

Moreover, the contract explicitly stated that no one could disclose any details of this transaction to anyone else. Combined with the fact that no one dared to admit they had sold Faust's information... it resulted in almost everyone in the Executioners "selling" Faust.

But was this really selling out? Nonsense! Most of them had never even met Faust. At best, they only knew that Faust often took on commissions to help commoners, and that was it.

Could this be called information? Could this be called betrayal of Faust?

Swordfish's temples throbbed. The facts were clear, yet they weren't.

—The contracts explicitly stated, "Exchange information about Faust for compensation"… Damn it, they even signed their names! Thirty-nine scrolls piled up here!

After reading the scrolls, Swordfish massaged his temples and exhaled deeply.

He looked up at Marlina, his expression complicated, "Lord Faust wouldn't be this petty, would he?"

"Indeed, Mr. Faust wouldn't concern himself with you all."

Marlina replied calmly, "This is entirely my personal doing. However… I hope you don't harbor any illusions, Mr. Swordfish."

"Whether Mr. Faust cares about such betrayal, you might already have your own thoughts. But do you think you understand Mr. Faust better, or…"

The girl tilted her head slightly, a harmless smile on her face, "Do I understand Mr. Faust better?"

Marlina was acutely aware of her advantage, bestowed upon her by Ansel.

It was not merely Faust's name, but more importantly... the very definition of Faust's existence.

Is he tyrannical or benevolent? Is he indifferent or passionate? Is he narrow-minded or magnanimous? No one knows what Faust is like, except for Faust himself, and...

And, as Faust's servant and his spokesperson, herself.

However, Marlina did not intend to squander this gift recklessly. On the contrary, she aimed to ensure that while wielding this gift, she also preserved Faust's image. If it weren't necessary to control the Executioners' branch in the shortest time possible, she wouldn't have resorted to such means.

Swordfish looked at the serene and gentle girl before him, his fingers twitching involuntarily.

He found it absurd.

The Executioners... a renowned, top-tier commission guild in the entire Western territories, with its president, York the "Knell", being a top-tier fifth-stage extraordinary being, and Swordfish himself, as the vice president, an experienced fourth-stage extraordinary being.

Externally, they were famed; internally, they were brimming with talent... Even though it was just a branch in Dispute Fortress, they were being manipulated by a mere mortal?

In such an absurd and ludicrous manner?

Margarete's point was simple: now, I have evidence that nearly your entire guild sold out Faust's information—regardless of whether the information sold was meaningful, regardless of whether this was entrapment, the question remains, did you sell it?

An entire guild "targeting" Faust like this, what does that mean? Are you courting death?

But where did she get so much funding for these transactions? Oh, she's a follower of Faust, abundant funds are natural... But did Faust really grant his mortal follower the authority to squander so much money at will?

Swordfish had countless questions, but he could only remain puzzled.

This matter could be trivial or monumental; if taken seriously, Faust could kill everyone here without leaving a trace, or he might simply dismiss it as inconsequential... But no matter the scale, Swordfish had no right to negotiate. To speak with Faust, they would need their leader.

As for now...

"Miss Gretchen, you say... this is a personal act, correct?"

Swordfish displayed a congenial and kind smile. "If that's the case..."

He stood up, carefully piled the scrolls together, placed them back in the bag, and respectfully handed them to Marlina.

"What can I do to assist you personally?"

The seasoned adventurer grinned.

*

When Ansel stepped through the gates of the Executioners again, Ravenna was still nagging in his ear:

"If you want to kill time, why not help me see what else can be improved... How about optimizing the endurance? I feel that—"

"Lord Faust!"

The overly enthusiastic voice interrupted Ravenna, causing her to frown slightly. "What's gotten into him? Why does he look at you like you're his long-lost father?"

Ansel observed Swordfish approaching them, a brief look of contemplation crossing his face before returning to his usual expression.

"What's the matter?" The typically aloof Faust mimicked her Miss Scholar beside him, frowning and tapping the hilt of his sword lightly.

This gesture drained at least thirty percent of the blood from Swordfish's face, prompting him to explain frantically, "No, nothing to trouble you about, just..."

The man cautiously explained, "Do you have time to meet with our leader?"

"No."

The dark-haired youth didn't even inquire who their leader was, coldly uttering the word and heading straight to the second floor to accept a commission.

Unable to grasp the situation, Swordfish could only follow from a distance, his expression uncertain, as if making a difficult decision.

"Nothing?"

Ansel raised an eyebrow slightly as he stood before the bulletin board. "No commissions today?"

"There aren't always commissions for you every day," Ravenna gave Ansel's arm a light slap. "I think that last cat was deliberately caught and brought to the Upper District just to give you something to do."

By this time, Swordfish had arrived not far behind Ansel. He glanced at the empty "Civilian Commissions" section and, before he could speak, saw the dangerous man turn his head, expressionless, to look at him.

"No civilian commissions today?"

"Well, it's not that, it's because... because..."

Swordfish hesitated for a long time before finally taking a deep breath and responding solemnly, "Because we... have decided not to accept civilian commissions anymore."

"...Hmm?"

The confused sound came not from Ansel, but from Ravenna.

Not having commissions could be seen as a good thing, in a positive light, it could mean one less troublesome person. But not accepting civilian commissions was different... Although Ravenna had criticized Ansel's peculiar way of passing time, she still hoped he would continue taking such commissions, helping more civilians in need.

"Ansel, what's going on?"

Miss Ravenna, only visible and audible to Ansel, shook his fingers. "Ask him what he means by that."

But Ansel said nothing. He merely turned back to the empty bulletin board, and after a few seconds of thought, his lips slowly curved into a smile.

"You just said..."

Faust tilted his head slightly, a hidden amusement and delight in his eyes that no one could see:

"Your leader wants to meet me?"

*