The soldiers, upon hearing the words, dared not take matters into their own hands. They stopped what they were doing and awaited Kino's response.
Milo was not lying. His son was undoubtedly a fool. Just like now, as his father lay bleeding from brutal wounds, the imbecile babbled incoherently, even wiping the blood from his father's face and licking it off his hand.
Seeing Milo's pitiable state, Kino sighed in resignation. "Fine, considering your cooperation earlier."
Milo relaxed, muttering in a low voice, "Thank you... thank you..."
Yet, things did not unfold as he had expected.
Kino took a silver moon coin from his chest, and with a swift flick of his long fingers, sent it spinning through the air.
"Ding." The coin danced like a butterfly in flight, light and shadow twisting as it spun before landing in Kino's palm, which he placed flat on the back of his hand. "King or laurel?"
Milo froze. "My lord?"
Kino spoke indifferently. "Typically, the odds of the heads or tails of a moon coin should be 50/50. However, I've noticed that the laurel side has more intricate cut-outs, making it slightly lighter. Statistically, it's more likely to land facing up. So the odds are approximately 49.99% for the King and 50.01% for the laurel, or perhaps an even smaller deviation. Based on expected value, I would recommend you choose the laurel."
Milo's composure cracked as he repeatedly bowed, pleading, "My lord! Please... Spare my son..."
"According to the Daguland Anti-Smuggling Regulations, you have trafficked military-grade contraband. Your son is liable for the same punishment. I am attempting to save him. King or laurel?"
"My lord..."
"King or laurel?"
Milo's eyes trembled as he gazed at the figure standing against the sunlight. He clenched his teeth, realizing he could not escape this fate. His son's life hung on the outcome of this silver coin.
The moon coin, the official currency of Daguland, bore the image of the founding monarch, Daguland I, on the obverse, with the royal family's crest—the laurel—engraved on the reverse.
Milo, born into a merchant family, had spent his life surrounded by moon coins.
Now, that very coin would determine his son's fate.
Heat surged through him, sweat thick as paste...
After a long, internal struggle, Milo decided to trust in the wisdom of Daguland's ancient greats.
"King!" he almost shouted, his voice raw with desperation.
Kino opened his hand, revealing the outcome. All the soldiers instinctively looked toward it.
On the back of Kino's hand, the laurel gleamed, exuding the scent of death.
"Ah, well." Kino raised his hand, and from the sleeve, a hidden crossbow bolt shot out, piercing Milo's chest, and impaling his still-beating heart.
With a swift motion, the crossbow was reloaded, aimed, and fired again. The second bolt struck the foolish, grinning imbecile beside his father's corpse, ending his cursed life.
To spare the father the agony of losing his son—that was Kino's courtesy.
Surveying the bodies scattered around the room, Kino's tone was as casual as if discussing the weather. "Open them up, I bet you'll find nothing but salt crystals inside."
At the mention of the word "bet," the soldiers shuddered involuntarily, yet dutifully set to work.
They sliced open the bodies of the merchant caravan guards, and as expected, inside were transparent bags filled with salt crystals—more than 15 pounds in total, which could fetch at least 1,000 silver moons on the black market, equivalent to 20 years' salary of a civil officer.
For profit, men will risk their lives, and such a vast fortune could hardly deter smugglers from taking the plunge.
One soldier, unable to contain his excitement, stammered, "We've struck gold! If we report this smuggling operation, we'll be heavily rewarded by our superiors!"
Kino's voice suddenly cut through the air, cold and commanding. "This matter must not be reported. I want each of you to bury it in your hearts."
The soldiers froze in shock. "Why conceal such a great accomplishment? If we report it, we'll be hailed as heroes!"
"Hero?" Kino gave a brief smile. "Who are you planning to report to? The royal family? If you have connections, perhaps you could gain an audience with a member of the royal family, or even the king himself. But following the proper protocol, we can only report to the higher authorities in the main city. With such a significant accomplishment, do you think they'll faithfully relay your message, or will they claim the credit for themselves? Even if they are a paragon of selflessness, what about their superiors? And their superiors' superiors?"
"Moreover, don't forget that the kingdom's borders have yet to uncover any salt crystal smuggling, a delicate balance—everyone is negligent, yet no one is guilty. Once we file the first report, this equilibrium will be shattered."
"Shirin Town has now uncovered the smuggling ring of the Mirlo caravan—what of the past smugglers? Every month, hundreds, even thousands of caravans pass through Shirin Town, how many of them are smugglers? With the black market flooded with salt crystals, can we be certain it all originates from Shirin Town? Should we bear full responsibility for this? And to avoid being implicated, will the higher-ups push us to take the fall?"
The soldiers exchanged silent glances, the air thick with tension.
Kino spun the Silver Moon between his fingers, his expression indifferent. "Don't fantasize about being a hero; heroes rarely live long. Be a smart man."
Paladin spoke tentatively, "These salt crystals are a threat to us, but we can't directly report them. So, should we destroy them?"
"Ding." Kino flicked the Silver Moon to Paladin, as if rewarding his eager suggestion. He smiled. "Close, but destroying them would be a waste. I will handle this personally. Just don't make a sound."
Paladin received the Silver Moon with trembling hands, his respect evident in every movement.
He glanced around at the soldiers, his voice taking on a chilling edge. "Listen closely! I know each of your home addresses. For the sake of your wives and children, I suggest you keep your mouths shut!"
The soldiers lowered their eyes, responding meekly.
Tivon, a sergeant under Paladin's command, stood among them, his heart heavy with unease.
Whether it was Kino's skill when assassinating the caravan guards or his handling of the aftermath, everything about him was a far cry from the incompetent officer he used to be.
Tivon could not comprehend the drastic change in Kino. Whether his past weakness had been a facade, or if some divine blessing had transformed him, it no longer mattered—he had to please him. He could no longer afford to scorn him as he once did.
Tivon glanced at the bodies strewn across the floor, then stepped forward, his voice trembling slightly. "Administrator, this place is in chaos. I am willing to dispose of the bodies for you."
But Kino, seemingly unhearing, turned to the others. "So, who here is willing to clean up the bodies, clear the site?"
Tivon was taken aback, assuming Kino had not heard him. He raised his voice. "Sir, I am willing!"
Kino looked around at the dazed soldiers, his expression puzzled. "What's this? No one wants to do this dirty work? Should I do it myself?"
In that instant, Tivon felt a cold shiver run down his spine, spreading to his limbs, as though he had plunged into an ice-cold abyss.
The soldiers exchanged glances, uncertain of the unspoken tension between Kino and Tivon, and none dared speak.
Paladin's eyes darted nervously, summoning his courage to step forward. "I'll do it!"
Kino's expression softened with approval. "Very well. Thank you."
Paladin, taken aback by the unexpected praise, replied, "Sir, I am your subordinate, there is no need to thank me..."
"It is the most basic courtesy, is it not?" Kino said, turning to leave, his smile lingering. "Courtesy is the most important virtue of a human being. I hope each of you remembers it."
Throughout the exchange, Kino never once looked at Tivon, as though he were invisible.
No, not even a corpse would be ignored to such a degree.
This utter disregard was no longer treating him like a corpse, but as if he had never existed at all.
........
The following day, Tivon vanished.
Not by fleeing—Shirin Town was located at the border, with strict patrols and checkpoints. Even a cat running through the streets at night would be spotted. No one could escape under the cover of darkness.
But there was no body, no trace—he simply vanished, as though he had never been born, never lived in this world, leaving no evidence behind.
A fleeting illusion, a masterpiece of art.