The Brave Never Gets Their Trousers Wet

Goethe wasn't the least bit offended by Morey's blunt words.

Because he knew that what the other party said was true.

And he had no reason to refuse.

Unless he wanted to face an even stronger enemy, one who wielded unknown powers, all on his own.

The only reason he had managed to take down the previous opponent was sheer luck.

First, he had the advantage of terrain.

Second, his opponent lacked experience.

But now, his enemy was this man's mentor, someone far more experienced and powerful. Goethe knew he had no chance of winning alone.

So—

"Alright."

Goethe nodded.

"Good. I look forward to working together."

"At eight o'clock tomorrow morning, someone from Black Sail Security will provide you with further details."

With that, Morey glanced at his pocket watch one last time, then turned and left, not giving Goethe another chance to ask questions.

Goethe watched his retreating figure, his brows furrowing slightly.

There was something strange about this man.

It was as if an invisible barrier separated him from everyone else.

But it wasn't the usual arrogance of someone who had gained Supernatural power, looking down on ordinary people.

It felt more like…

A lack of familiarity.

As if he wasn't used to speaking with strangers.

That hurried departure, it was almost as if, having finished his business, he wanted to escape as quickly as possible.

But…

Was that even possible?

Would someone with supernatural abilities, and an official position as the local head, be afraid of talking to strangers?

Or was there something else going on?

Goethe pondered the thought as he casually placed the glass bottle he had been holding onto the table.

The bottle was open, stuffed with a rag, and filled with kerosene.

It had been one of the backup plans he had prepared earlier, though he hadn't needed to use it.

Just like he hadn't used [Bloody Honor].

But just because he hadn't needed it this time didn't mean he wouldn't need more of it in the future.

With that thought, Goethe shook off his distractions and began cleaning up the battlefield.

A stronger and more mysterious threat was looming, and he needed as many trump cards as possible to stay alive.

And nothing could instantly boost his power like[Bloody Honor]

Working with Morey should offer some level of security, but Goethe had always preferred keeping his fate in his own hands.

After all, no one could guarantee that accidents wouldn't happen. Goethe knew that better than anyone.

Unfortunately, none of these gunmen carried any[Bloody Honor]

"Didn't they kill my parents, uncle, aunt, cousin, and aunt's family?"

"Were they only hired to target me?"

Goethe frowned instinctively.

If his guess was right, then this situation was even worse than he had imagined.

Because his enemy wasn't just powerful, they also had an entire network under their command.

It seemed that just when he thought things couldn't get any worse… they did.

Goethe sighed, then turned his gaze toward Swart, who was staring intently at the kerosene bottle.

The police chief whose pants were still wet immediately flinched like a frightened bird, shuffling two steps sideways. He slipped, lost his balance, and fell.

Right onto the corpse pinned beneath the door.

Face to face.

"Ahhh!"

"…Hmm?"

After the scream came a drawn-out, questioning hum.

Goethe narrowed his eyes.

"Something wrong with him?"

He walked over and asked.

"That's Delber, a wanted criminal with a bounty of 50 gold crowns. I'll give you 60 if you hand over his corpse."

Still supporting himself on the floor, Swart hurriedly put some distance between himself and the body before making his offer.

And as he spoke, he put on an expression as if Goethe had just hit the jackpot.

"Oh?"

"It took me a hell of a lot of effort to take him down, so…"

"You'll have to pay more."

Goethe stared at the police chief, eyes gleaming with calculation.

Almost instinctively, he began reassessing Swart's maximum value, his past profession had trained him to be particularly sensitive to situations like this.

Especially when money was involved.

Swart, meanwhile, felt like a wolf had locked onto him.

Shifting uncomfortably, he still forced himself to continue.

"Seventy."

"Seventy gold crowns is my absolute limit. That's all he's worth."

He emphasized his words.

But that very insistence made Goethe sense his urgency.

"Is that so?"

Goethe gave him a leisurely look, then stated flatly—

"That's just the official bounty, isn't it?"

"There must be a private bounty as well."

"And besides…"

"Turning him in will earn you quite a bit of merit, won't it?"

Goethe's remark about the private bounty was purely a guess, based on his original memories.

The old Goethe had tried looking for help in hunters' taverns before.

But…

A penniless man had no right to hire mercenaries.

As for the merit he mentioned—

If Swart had the chance, of course he would want more power.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have proposed the previous deal in the first place.

"How much do you want?"

Realizing he couldn't fool Goethe, Swart hesitated for a moment before asking.

"One hundred gold crowns."

"No way—"

"100 gold crowns is just the base price. If you're willing to pay an extra 50, I can testify on your behalf, telling others of your bravery. Of course, you'll need to pay another 50 to buy a dry pair of pants from me. After all, a hero shouldn't be standing around with wet trousers."

The moment Goethe named his price, Swart gasped, but he was immediately cut off.

The sheriff fell silent.

Telling the story himself and having someone else vouch for him were two entirely different things.

More importantly, as Goethe had pointed out, he needed this achievement.

His superior, the current commissioner, was set to retire in two years.

And he wasn't the only one vying for the position. If he wanted to stand out among the competition, this gunfight with the outlaws was an invaluable accomplishment.

Gritting his teeth, the sheriff made his decision.

"Fine!"

Seeing Swart agree, Goethe smiled and casually added, "One more thing—fix this place up exactly as it was before."

"No problem."

Having already agreed to the previous conditions, Swart didn't care about this minor request. after all, he could easily get reimbursed for the repair costs once he submitted his report.

But then, Goethe continued.

"And one more thing..."

"Another one?"

Swart's eyes widened. He had thought himself greedy, but the man before him was on another level entirely.

This guy could squeeze water from a stone!

And what was even more infuriating was how precise his demands were!

"Just two more things," Goethe reassured him. "First, look into a 'Doctor Hode' for me, he was my grandfather's personal physician."

Goethe's smile faded, his gaze turning icy.

Of all his deceased relatives, only his grandfather had died of a sudden illness. The rest had simply... disappeared. And it was only after his grandfather's death that the disappearances began.

In other words, his grandfather's death was the starting point of it all.

And the cause of death had been diagnosed by none other than Doctor Hode.

The previous Goethe had never doubted it.

But now?

Goethe saw it as a breakthrough, a way to uncover the truth behind [Bloody Honor].

As for why he was having Swart investigate?

By sunrise, he would be heading to Black Sail Security, leaving him no time to do it himself.

And Swart's status as sheriff made things much easier.

Swart hesitated again.

He had no desire to get involved in anything that strayed too far from normal human understanding.

But looking at Goethe, he knew money wouldn't buy this man off.

Just look at the hatred in his eyes!

And everything that had happened tonight!

Goethe had deliberately put himself at risk to draw out his enemies, and when they emerged, he had slaughtered them all without hesitation.

As for threatening him with force?

Setting aside their difference in skill—

In Swart's eyes, Goethe wasn't afraid of death at all!

After all, he had already struck a deal with Lord Morey. He could have just waited and cooperated patiently, yet he still chose to take matters into his own hands and search for clues himself!

Clearly, vengeance was what kept him going.

For some reason, that thought firmly took root in Swart's mind.

Goethe didn't mind the sheriff's wary yet sympathetic gaze.

In fact, this was exactly what he wanted.

He needed a new image to replace the one the former Goethe had left behind.

And what better disguise than that of a vengeful seeker?

Any changes in his behavior or speech would become perfectly reasonable under this guise.

"And the last thing?"

Swart didn't agree or refuse immediately. Instead, he asked what Goethe's final request was.

If it was too much, he'd refuse outright.

A promotion was nice, but his life mattered more.

"I need to pick a few weapons and some ammunition from the ones on the ground."

Hearing this, Swart sighed in relief.

This was even easier than fixing the house.

Evidence?

As the sheriff who had taken down Delber's gang, he was the one who decided what counted as evidence.

"Fine, I agree."

"I'll bring you the money tomorrow morning."

"Now..."

"Where are my pants?"

The sheriff demanded.

Goethe grinned, turned, and tossed a pair of trousers from his room. He made sure not to touch Swart directly at least, not until the man had washed his hands.

Then, Goethe started picking through the revolvers and daggers he had collected earlier.

"These pants don't fit properly!"

"Damn it!"

"Who would believe that a pair of trousers costing 50 gold crowns wouldn't fit?!"

"50 gold crowns could buy me twenty pairs at the best tailor in Lustre!"

Swart grumbled under his breath.

"A sip of water in the desert is worth more than gold," Goethe replied without even looking up, still examining the weapons.

Delber's two revolvers were undoubtedly the finest.

Well-maintained, their polished metal gleamed under the candlelight. The ivory grips, slightly yellowed with age, made them stand out even more.

Goethe picked them up, spun them expertly, and slid them into the holsters under his arms.

The gun holsters had belonged to Delber as well, along with the hidden bullet belt that could be tucked into his waistband.

Next, he strapped a sheathed dagger to his lower leg, the very same dagger he had taken from the first attacker he had killed.

With everything in place, Goethe finally felt a long-lost sense of security wash over him.

Just then, a distant commotion announced the arrival of the city patrols.

And the journalists.

Swart didn't even glance at his tardy subordinates. Instead, his gaze swept over the reporters. Taking a deep breath, he mentally rehearsed his speech before stepping forward with a confident smile.

But he had forgotten one thing—the pants didn't fit.

And in his excitement, he took a bold, powerful step forward.

Rip!

The sound of fabric tearing echoed through the street.

Swart froze, his s