So much so, that a saying spread among the people:
"No amount of wealth or followers can protect your life. If you've become the target of the Black Moon, prepare for death."
Arrogant as it may have sounded, that was the level of fear the Black Moon commanded—until their leader made a fatal mistake.
'The problem was when they started assassinating nobles,' Max thought.
To be honest, the noble who was killed wasn't anyone significant—just a rural baron on the Empire's far edge. His fief consisted of nothing more than a tiny village. The leader of the Black Moon had seen this contract as insignificant.
"It should be fine. It's just a rural baron," he had thought.
Who would care about the death of a minor noble from a backwater region? Nobody in the capital would even notice. In contrast, commoners would grow more fearful of the Black Moon, knowing that even nobles could fall at their hands.
It was an incredibly foolish assumption. The moment the noble's assassination reached the ears of the lords, their response was immediate.
"Are these lunatics begging for death?" the lords had exclaimed.
And just like that, the Black Moon was crushed. Enormous bounties were placed on every member of the organization, and the lords issued orders to eliminate the Black Moon from their territories. Anyone suspected of being part of the Black Moon was executed on the spot throughout the Empire.
The knights, especially those of noble blood, hunted down members of the Black Moon relentlessly, often pursuing them to the ends of the earth to sever their heads. Even commoners were eager to hunt the assassins, hoping to improve their fortunes. Some assassins were even killed by mobs of beggars driven mad by the bounty.
'It took only two years for the organization to collapse,' Max recalled.
Considering their previous notoriety, the Black Moon's fall was shockingly swift. The eradication efforts were so thorough that even now, 15 years later, the bounties remained active despite the organization being long defunct.
Max, who had once been a member of the Black Moon, was no exception.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Max stammered.
"Don't pretend, Number 21," Sylas replied.
"...!"
Max's face crumbled at the mention of "Number 21"—the number he had been assigned when he was a rookie assassin being trained by the Black Moon. It was information that even most other members of the organization didn't know!
"How... how do you know that?"
"There are ways to find these things out," Sylas said, leaning casually against the wall, as if relishing the mystery he was creating. The truth, however, was much simpler.
'Obviously, I read it in your diary,' Sylas thought.
In his previous life, both Dani and Helena had relentlessly tormented Sylas. The insomnia tactic Max had attempted this time was one of the many forms of harassment Sylas had endured back then.
At the time, not knowing the cause of the strange noises that disrupted his sleep had driven Sylas to the brink of madness. People thought he was losing his mind, and his complaints of suffering were met with mockery.
It wasn't until much later that he learned it was all a scheme by Dani and Max.
'That's why I killed you when we met again,' Sylas thought, recalling the day they reunited years later, after the count's death, when Sylas had been driven out of the family.
Sylas had tracked down Max to a western estate and, since Max hadn't recognized him, he had quietly followed Max back to his hideout before attacking him.
"You bastard! Finally, I've caught you!""Gah! Y-Young Master?! Ugh!"
Max hadn't even been able to put up much of a fight, and Sylas had beaten him senseless for about thirty minutes. Eventually, either because Sylas had struck him wrong or because he had failed to control his strength, Max had died during the beating.
Fortunately, Sylas had managed to get off with just a fine due to his noble status.
'I found your diary then, too,' Sylas remembered.
After Max's death, Sylas had searched his hideout out of curiosity, wondering why Max had come to the western lands. That was when he had found the diary, hidden carefully but not well enough to evade discovery in such a temporary shelter.
"Kill me, please," Max said now.
"Isn't it usually, 'Please spare me,' in situations like this?" Sylas responded.
"Is there even a way for me to live?" Max muttered, his face showing that he had given up. He had been branded a noble assassin, so he was already a dead man. All that remained was whether he would die quickly or painfully.
"What if there is a way for you to live?"
"…!?"
Max's eyes widened in shock. Was there really a way out of this situation?
"Is there really a way?" Max asked, suddenly hopeful.
"There is, but only if you do exactly as I say," Sylas replied.
"Tell me! Please, tell me!"
"But first, let's clear one thing up. It was Dani who put you up to this, wasn't it?"
"…Yes."
Max hesitated for a moment before answering. At this point, he no longer cared about any retaliation from Dani. What could be worse than the fate he was already facing? Sylas, satisfied with the confirmation, smiled.
"Good. Here's what's going to happen. Until my father returns in the morning, you'll stay here. When he arrives, he's going to interrogate you, and you'll do this…"
Sylas proceeded to explain his plan in detail. It took quite a while to go through everything, and as Sylas spoke, Max's expression gradually shifted from attentive to one of utter disbelief.
"You're joking, right?"
"I'm not. I'm completely serious."
"You think that will actually work? For real?"
"It will, at least here."
In a household full of romantic knights like Count Leonard, such a plan was bound to succeed. Even the knights under the count were so much like him that there would be little opposition.
After some thought, Max sighed deeply and said, "Before I do as you say, I have one request."
"What is it?"
"In the kitchen, there's some ground wasabi. Roll it into a ball the size of my pinky finger and put it in my mouth."
He needed tears—lots of them.
"An assassin! In my domain, of all places, an assassin!" Count Leonard bellowed in fury as he returned in the morning. The knights stood by nervously, swallowing hard at the sight of their lord's unprecedented rage.
"What happened to Sylas? If he was injured in any way…" the count began, his voice trembling with concern.
"Please, calm yourself, my lord. Young Master Sylas is completely fine."
Werner, the senior knight, took charge and tried to calm the count. Although it was a dire situation, the outcome had been the best possible one.
"As I mentioned earlier, my lord, the young master is unharmed. In fact, he fought the assassin alone and subdued him. So please, calm yourself."
"Huff… huff…"
The count gripped his trembling hands tightly, working to suppress his rage. As his mind regained some clarity, he began to see the situation more clearly. An assassin had infiltrated the estate, yet it was Sylas who had turned the tables and subdued the attacker?