"You go in and tie them up," Kenley said, pulling three pairs of handcuffs from behind his waist. "Use their belts to tie their legs—sailor's knots. That way, the more they struggle, the tighter it gets. Then gag them."
Without hesitation, Klein took the handcuffs and stepped into the room. Following Kenley's instructions, he first cuffed their hands behind their backs. Then, one by one, he unbuckled their cloth belts, tore off sections to gag them, and tightly bound their legs.
While Klein handled the prisoners, Kenley stood watch by the door, gun drawn—"Despair" in hand. His eyes caught movement: a man coming up the stairs, swaying casually, holding a paper bag filled with bread and butter. Halfway up, the man turned—and their eyes locked.
"Stop," Kenley said coldly. "Don't move. Hands up."
The man's lips twitched. Trying to play it cool, he gently lowered the bag and slowly raised both hands. "Sir, I think there's been a misunderstanding..."
"Walk up slowly. No sudden movements. The kidnappers have already been apprehended."
At the word "kidnappers," the man's face changed. He abruptly kicked off with his left foot, trying to bolt downstairs.
"Night," Kenley said calmly, speaking in the Hermes language.
Bang!
A bullet tore into the man's right leg. He screamed, clutching his calf as he tumbled down the stairs.
Kenley reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a used Sleep Charm, tossing it down after the wounded man. Hearing the noise, Klein emerged from the room.
"What happened?"
"There was a fourth kidnapper. I bluffed and said they'd all been caught, didn't expect he really was part of the group. I meant to put him to sleep along with the others, but... throwing with my left hand is still garbage." Kenley glanced down at the man writhing in pain below, who was now trying to crawl away.
Bang!
Another shot cracked—right into the floor in front of the man's head.
"Don't move," Kenley warned coldly. "Next one goes in your skull. Blood's a pain to clean up."
Then, more casually, he asked, "How's Little Elliott?"
Klein knew that question was directed at him.
"He just woke up. Scared, but otherwise unharmed."
"What about downstairs?"
"I'll stay and watch. You go tie that one up." Kenley holstered his gun and headed down the steps. Flipping Despair around, he struck the fourth kidnapper hard on the head with the handle, knocking him out cold. Then he slung the limp body over his shoulder, carried him back upstairs, and expertly tied him up using his belt—like a human dumpling.
Klein watched silently. The way Kenley tied knots... it felt oddly familiar. Like something from one of those shady crime thrillers in his past life. Efficient. Brutal.
Definitely worth learning.
"Hey, Little Elliott, don't be scared. You'll be going home soon." Kenley ruffled the boy's hair, then stood and dusted off his hands. "Klein, lend me your walking stick. Go find a nearby patrol and have them send backup. You brought your trainee inspector ID, right?"
"Yeah." Klein handed him the cane, a little reluctant. "What do you need it for?"
"To hit people," Kenley said, blinking innocently. "Smacking with the gun hurts me more than it hurts them."
Klein: ...
He swallowed hard. "...That's a brand-new walking stick."
"I know." Kenley gave a solemn nod. "I'll treat it like a treasure."
As Klein headed out the door, Kenley's voice rang out behind him: "Don't forget your umbrella."
...Alright. I'll bring it.
Klein smiled faintly and left. A few streets over, he found a pair of patrolling officers. Once he flashed his credentials, the officers didn't hesitate. They brought him straight to the station, sent a man to notify the Vicrol family, then gathered four colleagues and followed Klein to the scene.
"Hey!"
Little Elliott was standing in the room, Klein's walking stick in hand. He raised it high—and whack!—brought it down on the head of a dazed kidnapper trying to wake up. The man gave a pathetic groan and passed out again.
"That was fun!" Elliott clapped with laughter.
...Damn it. My walking stick...
"Heh, kids are naturally curious," Kenley chuckled, then turned to the officers. "Take them away. The credit's all yours."
The officers beamed at the words. Each grabbed one kidnapper and left the room, waving and thanking both Kenley and Klein with wide smiles.
After all, who doesn't want credit falling from the sky?
Just then, heavy footsteps thundered up the stairwell. Mr. Vicrol—round as a tank—and his butler Kelly burst into the hallway. Kenley pulled Klein a step back to avoid getting trampled.
"My dear Little Elliott!" Vicrol scooped the boy into a crushing embrace, tears streaming down his face. The sheer intensity of the love made even the hardened Kenley and Klein a bit misty-eyed.
"As long as he's safe... thank goodness..." Butler Kelly murmured, quickly shedding his outer coat to wrap around Elliott's thin shirt.
"Ahem," Kenley cleared his throat. "Mr. Vicrol, congratulations on the reunion. Now—cash or check?"
"If it's a check, please add a five percent service fee and hand it to our lovely receptionist. These cases don't pay for themselves."
Klein silently nodded beside him.
This was no small payday—and they'd wrapped it up in just two hours. However it got split, Klein's poor wallet was about to be reborn.
"No problem," Mr. Vicrol said quickly. "Kelly will handle everything." He awkwardly set his son down, then gave a deep bow to both Kenley and Klein. "Please accept my deepest thanks."
"We humbly accept," Kenley replied, handing Klein back his slightly scuffed walking stick.
He followed Butler Kelly to an empty room on the second floor. There, Kelly solemnly removed a wallet from inside his coat, bursting with crisp, green ten-pound notes—each printed with George I's stern face.
"Thank you... thank you so much," Kelly said, handing Kenley a stack of twenty notes.
Kenley smiled casually. "It's nothing. We're just glad to bring him home safely."
He paused, letting his eyes linger on the butler.
"I was right, wasn't I, Mr. Kelly?"
"...I don't know what you mean," Kelly said nervously.
Kenley's eyes narrowed.
"Your concern for Little Elliott went far beyond a servant's duty. You even convinced your master to post a 200-pound reward. If Vicrol isn't as wealthy as claimed, that amount's a fortune."
"From the moment you entered the room, your eyes were on Elliott's condition. Not out of obligation—but habit. Daily, parental care."
"I wouldn't have thought twice... if not for that expression on your face. Guilt. Affection. The kind only a father could show. That kind of emotion... can't be faked."
Kenley took a slow step closer, voice soft.
"Judging by Mr. Vicrol's... physique, I'd say fathering a child wasn't easy."
Kelly said nothing.
"And judging by your reaction... I'd say I was right."
Kenley smiled knowingly.
Klein stared, stunned. He hadn't expected such a bombshell twist at the end.
Every secret has its price.
Kenley raised his head proudly, his gaze flicking between Kelly's face and the bulging wallet in his hand.
He smiled like a man who already knew the ending.