The Hunting Dog of the Prestigious Family Has Returned Chapter 90

There was a place draped in white cloth amid the ramshackle shantytown of the slums. Between sagging planks and rusted corrugated roofs, that white cloth stood out conspicuously despite being stained with grime.

Anyone could see it was threadbare cloth, yet for the sole reason that it was ‘white,’ this place passed as a religious facility. Even amid the stench of sewage and the musty smell of domestic waste drifting in from the surroundings, a peculiar sense of calm seemed to emanate from within the cloth.

And beneath that cloth, a scene continued of Society of Truth believers praying, eating, doing laundry, falling asleep, and waking again. Their repetitive daily rhythms and murmured prayers mingled with the damp air to fill the space.

“It truly is a holy site.”

Those were the first words out of my mouth after arriving here, guided by Father Jeong.

Faint candlelight filtering through narrow gaps, the murmuring that drifted out through them, and the fishy damp produced by wet scraps of cloth and sweat-soaked bodies.

Drawing a breath, the unpleasant air seeped deep into my lungs.

Over all of it was painted a single slogan.

‘For the Order.’

A phrase as naive as they come, yet it was not something I could simply mock.

Because on the faces of the people living their lives repeating that slogan, something strangely like hope resided.

A refuge barely reached by those who were welcome nowhere else.

Was the way they trusted and followed the cult leader so fervently born of the anxiety that this refuge might disappear? Or was it because, having already lost everything else, they clung to the one thing that remained?

“Originally, this place was nothing more than the bottom of an empty sewage processing plant. It was where the most destitute even among the outer district people gathered.”

Father Jeong Suhan, who had been leading me forward, spoke quietly. His shoulders were slumped, and his gait carried a hesitation different from before.

The end of his words was composed, but within those eyes there was a subtle trembling.

Something like guilt. Or hope for someone he still wanted to believe in. Those tangled emotions cast a faint shadow over his face.

“But after that friend… after Baek Donghyeon arrived, a great deal has changed.”

As he said, something here had clearly changed. They had apparently weeded out the unsavory types, because at least the believers visible to us, while stealing glances at our party, did not openly bare any hostility.

It was considerably better than other districts where people would pull out a pocketknife at the slightest opportunity.

“So, Young Master. Whatever else may be true, the idea that Baek Donghyeon directed the terrorism…. No matter how I think about it, I find it impossible to believe.”

“It is not a matter of whether you believe it or not, Father. It is already a fact.”

“B, but……!”

The Father’s voice cracked. His eyes shifted uneasily, as though trying to deny reality.

“Do not worry. I have no intention of harming your friend.”

How long he will remain your friend is another question.

As I walked like that through the believers gathered here and there.

“Uncle Suhan! You came!”

Two rather fair-featured women noticed Jeong Suhan and came running to greet him.

Though they wore white garments stained with old dirt, the way they radiated something despite that created a strange sense of unreality at odds with this dank slum.

“Oh, you said you were staying at your lodgings today? Are you sleeping here tonight perhaps?”

In Joseon speech. The accent even sounded natural.

Calling him ‘Uncle’ meant they were quite close.

‘Are they acquaintances of the cult leader, or playthings of the order disguised as acquaintances?’

I could not know for certain, but neither possibility could be ruled out.

Before that thought had fully run its course, Mooyoung, who had been standing at my back, slipped quietly forward and whispered in a low voice.

“They are phase power users.”

“Which of the two?”

“Both.”

……Unbelievable.

Three phase power users who even a corporate city would covet.

Including the bomber from a few days ago on top of that, and that already made four phase power users.

A strength entirely unbefitting what should be an ordinary religious organization. Where on earth had they gathered ability users like this?

And judging from Mooyoung’s tone and expression, their capabilities were by no means shallow.

“But the person with you is…?”

“You’re from Joseon, yes? Your clothes… they’re just so refined.”

Smiling as they spoke, but their eyes told a different story. A sharpness hidden behind friendly smiles could be felt.

Like predators before prey, sizing up our strength and intent.

Now then, what to do.

Whether to push through this situation or not.

I was already feeling tired at the prospect of a fight breaking out so soon, and was deliberating.

“Natsuki, Miyuki.”

A low voice came from inside the tent.

“Bring the guests in. They are distinguished visitors.”

A clear, finely tuned voice, like an actor’s.

The two women immediately made a gesture of deference and guided me inside the tent. The wariness that had been visible until moments ago had vanished entirely. Their movements were perfectly controlled, like puppets.

The inside was like another world entirely.

Unlike the ruins outside, the interior was neatly arranged. Old but clean carpet covered the floor, and religious symbols, crude as they were, hung on the walls.

In a space furnished to resemble an old cathedral, a modest but carefully prepared dining table had been set. Along with the smell of warm food came a faint scent of incense.

And seated around that table…. children frantically shoveling food into their mouths.

“……Tch.”

My brow furrowed on its own.

The sight of children eating at this hour, past midnight, was far too contrived.

The children’s eyes had no life in them, and they were mechanically working their spoons as though performing an assigned role.

‘Is this staged deliberately to be shown?’

While thinking that, a man who had been playing with the children quietly raised his head and walked toward me.

His movements were slow and graceful, like an actor on a stage.

“I am deeply sorry for not coming out to greet you personally. As you can see, I was in the middle of a meal with the children.”

An exceptionally tall frame and long hair that fell down his back.

Under the lighting, his white garments looked unusually clean.

His appearance, benevolent at a single glance, was the spitting image of the Jesus who appears endlessly in the scriptures of Catholics.

No, more precisely, he had made himself appear that way.

Every gesture and expression felt thoroughly calculated.

“Are you Baek Donghyeon?”

“It is an honor that the renowned Young Master would know my name. I am Baek Donghyeon, who leads the Society of Truth, however inadequately.”

Baek Donghyeon introduced himself formally and extended a hand, but I maintained a cool expression and did not accept the handshake.

His hand remained suspended in the air for a moment, then was withdrawn without the slightest sign of embarrassment.

“……May I ask why you came to see me despite having no wish to exchange pleasantries?”

“The incident that occurred this evening. You gave the order, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I did.”

Baek Donghyeon spoke without a moment’s hesitation.

“Kyoichi had lost his family to corporate city officials, so he was a young man with particularly deep resentment toward the corporate city. For that reason, he willingly took on the most difficult task in this undertaking. I will not forget his sacrifice.”

At Baek Donghyeon’s words, the two women beside him took on solemn expressions. But whether a terrorist I had never met lived or died was none of my concern.

What mattered was the fact that this man used his followers like disposable tools.

I addressed his words without delay.

“I hadn’t expected you to confess so readily.”

“A confession, you say. Does the Young Master intend to arrest me, then?”

Arrest.

As though sensing a threat in those words, sparks flared in the eyes of the two women standing at the entrance. The air around them pulled taut again.

The slow movement of hands going to their backs made clear they were ready to draw weapons the moment anything happened.

But only for a moment.

“Do not move carelessly.”

At Mooyoung’s single razor-edged word, both women froze in place.

Mooyoung’s phase power had overwhelmed them.

That presence bore down on the entire space like a vast shadow, and even the flow of air seemed to grow heavier.

Pressure enough to make even the flickering of the candle flames seem to still.

Sensing instinctively that this was an opponent they could not defeat, the color drained from the two women’s faces.

I felt like ordering Mooyoung to kill that unsettling man on the spot, but… the time was not yet right.

“No. Nothing of the sort.”

I pressed lightly on Mooyoung’s shoulder as he moved to draw his blade.

At that brief contact alone, Mooyoung withdrew again as quietly as a shadow.

His presence faded instantly, but the lingering echo of overwhelming menace remained in the space.

I stepped forward one pace and, keeping my gaze fixed on Baek Donghyeon, spoke.

“Your efforts to strike at the corporate city looked rather admirable to me. I thought I might lend what strength I can, however inadequate.”

“Lend strength, you say…. Are you saying a power clan of Joseon will cooperate with us?”

“Why. Don’t you want that?”

His answer was a moment slow.

Even for that serpentine man, this was apparently outside his predictions.

Baek Donghyeon looked me up and down as though trying to probe my true intent, then posed a question.

“I would venture a brief guess: I imagine the Young Master has come here to assist Young Master Kim Hyunwoo, the central figure of this expedition.”

“Sharp.”

“Even so, you would help us? We who committed an act of terrorism against your ally, the corporate city?”

“What do I care. Whether you set off a bomb in the corporate city or drive a knife into President Shimazu’s back, that has nothing to do with us Joseon. Or rather….”

I curled the corner of my mouth and continued slowly.

Deliberately cutting off the words for a moment, as though savoring Baek Donghyeon’s unease.

“Japan reclaiming its vast mainland territory is… not exactly a welcome outcome from our perspective either.”

Baek Donghyeon’s eyes shifted ever so slightly. And then immediately, a smile returned to his face.

“……Quite true.”

At the end of a silence that sounded like an abacus clicking inside his head, he raised his gaze and looked at me.

As though the unease of a moment ago had never existed.

“I would need to hear the details. Shall we have some tea?”

“No. I’ll leave it at just this for now. And one more thing.”

I drew a small communicator from my pocket and handed it to him.

“Thanks to your terrorism, the corporate city is seething with fury. By now, suppression forces will already have sortied. It is possible they are already surrounding the outskirts of this slum.”

Baek Donghyeon’s eyes flickered for just a moment.

“Young Master, that’s…!”

“Get out in time.”

Father Jeong Suhan, who had been watching from behind, opened his mouth with a flustered look, but I cut him off and continued what I had to say.

“Otherwise, everyone in this place will die.”

With those words, I turned my back and made my way out of there. There was no reason to stay any longer, no need to keep looking at that hypocrite’s face.

On the way back to the accommodations.

I walked carefully over ruins where the traces of people once having lived were unmistakable.

Firelight reflected on puddles of water, the smell of old oil seeping through shards of broken metal. Behind me as I passed through such a road, the Society of Truth’s sanctuary was quietly sinking into itself.

Like the fates of those left behind within it.

“Are you all right?”

“All right with what?”

While walking along like that, Taewoong, following behind me, carefully opened his mouth.

“About passing information to a terrorist. I sympathize with your concern for the residents’ safety, but if this matter were to leak out, there is a possibility it could become a problem….”

“Ah, there’s no need to worry about that.”

I waved my hand dismissively, as though speaking of the weather.

“Whether I told them or not, that side isn’t going to run.”

“……What?”

At those words, Mizutani, who had been walking alongside, looked at me with a puzzled expression.

Faint noise beyond his visual sensors stood in for his bewilderment.

“What do you mean they’re not running? Are you saying he’ll leave his own followers to die?”

“Of course.”

I answered immediately.

“If the followers are massacred at the hands of the corporate city, that chaos will shake the entire outer district. Watching religious people who never once fought back, who only did charitable work, being trampled mercilessly….”

“Even the destitute, who have nothing, will nurse poison in their hearts. Is that what you mean?”

I nodded, and at those words Taewoong, who had been listening, opened his mouth.

“Won’t that be dangerous? Depending on how it unfolds, the cult leader himself could die….”

“Think about the phase power that man possesses.”

I raised a finger and explained.

Baek Donghyeon’s phase power trait was bodily regeneration.

A near-perfect restoration of lost parts, an ability that could, quite literally, bring someone back from the threshold of death.

“If he can apply that ability to himself, then in the middle of a massacre, he can play the role of a ‘saint’ resurrected.”

“In other words, the Young Master’s passing on the information was to properly gauge the extent of his ability?”

“Exactly.”

“W, wait! Wait a moment, Young Master!”

I slowly turned my head toward Father Jeong Suhan, who could not find words.

Was he fed up with my tone, showing no concern whatsoever for the safety of the slum’s people?

His face had gone white with despair and disbelief.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re going to let Donghyeon’s followers die on purpose? How could you, how could you possibly…..!”

“When I questioned him about the terrorism, Baek Donghyeon admitted to it. You heard the conversation, Father, so you know?”

I addressed Father Jeong without mercy.

“The terrorist’s name was Kyoichi, I believe? The fact that he referred to him by given name rather than surname suggests they were quite close. He strapped a bomb to that person and sent him off with orders to die.”

The Father’s expression looked confused.

Well, understandably so. Just learning that a friend he had not seen in years had become the leader of a cult was enough to make one’s head spin, and now he turned out to be a terrorist on top of it.

It would be difficult to accept all at once.

“…If you cannot bring yourself to believe it, take this opportunity to see clearly.”

But I spoke firmly to that Father Jeong.

Without an ounce of sympathy, so that he would face the harsh reality directly.

“Your friend is going to drive this slum straight into the fire.”

Using the blood and screams of his followers as an offering, to make himself a saint.