novelones Chapter 80: Handle It Yourself, Sir
Chapter 80: Handle It Yourself, Sir
As the man fell, two young priests in their twenties or thirties rushed forward, casting Illumination to save him.But it was futile.
Aaron reacted swiftly.
Realizing the man might have been assassinated, he ordered others to stay back from the priests and the body, dispatching members to seal the staircases.
He also instructed servers stuck on the second floor to close all windows, preventing any escape.
“Everyone, please stay calm and remain where you are. The Inspectorate will arrive within ten minutes.”
Aaron’s low, clear voice echoed through the building.
As an Authority path trait, his voice could project loudly.
Though it lacked mind-control power, his calm composure quelled the rising tension and chaos.
He then picked up the counter’s phone, not calling the Inspectorate but his father.
Aaron briefly described the incident at the White Slipper Club, asking him to report it, emphasizing that “Her Highness Isabel is here today.”
Aiwas and his group hadn’t reached the second floor, so they stayed on the first before the stairs were sealed.
He stood quietly by Aaron’s side.
Surprisingly, Aiwas had no advice to offer.
This plot was entirely new, and he hadn’t realized how capable this long-faced half-elf senior was.
Though Aaron froze briefly, he quickly took charge.
At just 21, a half-elf, his talent in handling crises was evident.
With such aptitude yet so weak, his focus clearly wasn’t on superhuman power.
Still, Aaron had the confidence to be willful.
As the third son, not the heir, and a half-elf with a 140–150-year lifespan, only an eighth of his life had passed.
He had time to grow—or regret—if he survived.
The Justice Minister’s call carried weight.
Aaron said ten minutes, but within five, a crowd burst through the door, stirring gasps.
Wearing black helmet-like hats and segmented leather armor, each with a pistol and short sword, over twenty inspectors flooded in, crowding the first floor.
They formed a human wall, encircling the scene.
Two white-gloved, black-suited inspectors followed, then heavy boots echoed outside.
An almost fully armored old knight in silver-white plate, sans helmet, strode in.
His graying, disheveled short hair and sharp dark-blue eyes stood out.
Visible scars marked his bronzed skin, faintly glowing silver.
Astonishingly, he carried a glowing white greatsword on his back—a weapon unfit for modern cities.
His eagle-like gaze swept the room, landing on Isabel.
“Greetings, Your Highness,” he said, half-kneeling, his voice aged yet steady. “By the Silver-Crowned Dragon, I will ensure your safety.”
Scattered inspectors knelt too.
This knightly half-kneel, exclusive to knightly families, symbolized submission to royal authority, seeking power, strength, and protection.
Only knights could perform it; others could only bow.
The ritual let them sense the recipient’s mood, intent, health, and confirm their royal bloodline.
Isabel, unfamiliar with him, nodded politely. “Thank you… please rise.”
The knight stood, moving to her side as inspectors began investigating the body and collecting scattered papers.
All eyes turned to Isabel.
Though she’d stood at the entrance for a while, not everyone noticed—some were too engrossed in conversations.
With her quarter-elf blood, Isabel looked younger but was over 1.6 meters tall.
Her blonde hair and back alone didn’t scream “Avalon’s sole princess” to passersby, especially in her school uniform, common among the university’s many blonde girls.
Her outfit resembled Haina’s blue-white uniform from her Moriarty manor visit—not Inspectorate gear but Royal Law University’s.
Women’s uniforms were white long-sleeve shirts with dark blue vest skirts; men’s were dark blue suits, with tie colors varying by department, all bearing the university’s left-chest emblem.
Isabel had never visited the White Slipper Club before.
On her first day, a murder occurred.
In over forty years since the club’s founding, no one had died here.
Fights happened, but never disabilities, let alone blatant assassinations.
The priests’ Illumination failed to save him—this was a murder involving advanced superhuman power.
Was it a failed attempt on the princess? A misunderstanding from her joining the club? Or pure coincidence?
Since most didn’t know the victim, hushed discussions spread.
“I’m Gordon, Red Queen District’s Inspectorate Chief,” the old knight said sternly. “Inspector-General Edward is en route. The First Air Cavalry has surrounded the building—no one will escape.”
A single death brought the Inspectorate Chief and Inspector-General personally—a speed impossible through normal channels.
It was because Princess Isabel was present.
Aaron’s quick thinking shone.
Seeing the handleless dark-gold blade, he knew it was beyond his scope and had his father alert the Red Queen District’s chief directly.
A dagger was one thing, but this handleless needle-like blade was an exotic weapon, used by a specially trained professional assassin.
The White Slipper Club required a Crystal Slipper badge for entry.
Yet, in a restricted political society where Avalon’s sole princess was active, a professional killer had infiltrated.
If Aaron mishandled this, the club—and even his father—could face Inspectorate scrutiny and secret investigations.
That’s why he called his father directly.
[Here’s the situation, sir—handle it yourself.]
The effect was clear.
Whether the assassin was still inside or had slipped away, reinforcements poured in endlessly.
Aiwas suspected even White Queen District’s Chief Kent got a call and was sending men.
Sherlock, Kent’s go-to “external brain,” was likely notified too.
“Chief!”
An inspector ran over, tense. “We’ve identified the victim! It’s His Excellency Ralph, Minister Droste’s chief private secretary!”
Lily, standing quietly behind Aiwas, widened her eyes in shock.
(Chapter End)