THE KILLING HOUR

Chapter 13 · Ghost Fox

[Grandpa] went silent. The opponent before him had been just a cunning criminal, but hearing him recite two articles of Federation Law with such ease deepened his conviction about this Fugitive called Zero.

This guy.

Was terrifying.

Why?

In the real world of the 30th century, criminals come in two types. One is the "Thug" — as the name suggests, most of them offend on impulse without thinking much, and though they have some force behind them, they're easy to catch.

The other is the "Ghost Fox." Compared with Thugs, Ghost Foxes are physically weak, but far harder to deal with, because these Ghost Foxes

study every counter-Federation strategy before making a move. They mask, disguise and misdirect everything — the law, the timing, the location, even their motive.

Even when caught, these Ghost Foxes exploit loopholes in Federation law to walk free. Often the Federation's people can only watch them leave the courthouse, helpless.

Once a Ghost Fox is involved in a crime, the courthouse staff must prepare for late nights and a war of attrition. Only that way might the other side show even the slightest crack.

And yet, of the criminals who qualify as Ghost Foxes, less than one in ten exists.

This Fugitive was definitely a scheming Ghost Fox.

Just a bit of money.

But Grandpa was absolutely certain that the Fugitive before him

"Don't worry, I won't offend a Second-Rank Judicator over something this small. It's just a game, I only want to earn a little in here." Kyle knew that even if he reported the man now, the worst he'd get was a fine.

And what would he face if he crossed a Second-Rank Judicator and exposed his own identity?

No need to think hard about that.

"In that case, we—"

[Grandpa] had just started trying to talk the kid onto the straight path when a knife stabbed into his leg before he could finish.

[Unbent +5]

The pain tore through [Grandpa]'s nerves, but he calmed down fast, eyes fixed on the Fugitive, saying nothing.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not a pervert who enjoys torturing you. I just need you to raise my rating a little."

"I'm sure you're getting a bonus on your end too. If you want to quit, you can leave anytime. This is mutual benefit, isn't it?"

Kyle took out some salt and sprinkled it into [Grandpa]'s wound, quite satisfied with the grimace on the man's face.

[Fearless +5]

[Fearless +5]

For Kyle right now, Grandpa was just a ratings farm. The other four had already been sent out of the game; this was the only one left to farm.

"Only [Fearless] went up, and not Intimidation?"

"Is it because you're not afraid of me at all?"

Only when Fearless stopped climbing did Kyle stop. God only knew how many times he'd stabbed Grandpa's leg by then.

"Afraid of you?"

"I've been through Federation special training. This is only a game — even in reality I wouldn't be afraid."

[Grandpa] wasn't lying. They really did receive that training. From the day he took this job he'd put his life and death aside. That was the attitude and spirit a Judicator should have.

"Is that so?"

Kyle seemed to have expected this, so he wasn't surprised. "Want a drink?"

"Before I send you off?"

"Drink, why wouldn't I?"

"I still don't know what game liquor tastes like. Speaking of which, drinking in-game isn't a violation, right? Haha." [Grandpa] grinned and motioned for the Fugitive to bring good wine for the send-off. To joke like this in his position—

and stay this calm — this Fugitive undeniably had the mental fortitude of a Ghost Fox.

Facing this Hunter who deserved respect, Kyle turned to the corner and brought out the wine he'd prepared.

Glug, glug.

As the red wine poured into the crystal glass, Kyle swirled it and held it to the Hunter's lips, signaling he could drink.

"Untie one of my hands. I don't like being fed."

As if afraid the Fugitive would refuse, [Grandpa] added—

"You don't think I can take you with one hand, do you?"

"I'm about to lose my first game. No perks for me?"

Kyle said nothing. He set down the glass, walked over and slowly untied one of [Grandpa]'s hands. The binding was unusual — each arm tied separately — so loosening one wouldn't let him run.

Bent over the ropes, Kyle was now within arm's reach. But as [Grandpa] had said, what could one hand do?

But what if, besides a hand, there was also a mouth? Die.

[Grandpa] was bound, and he knew the man would be watching that freed hand closely. Killing this cunning Ghost Fox with one hand

was pure fantasy. But he still had one card to play: when the Fugitive untied him, he'd bite out the man's throat.

The distance was just right.

Blood burst into [Grandpa]'s mouth — but what he felt wasn't joy. It was—

Because he hadn't bitten the enemy's throat. He'd bitten the arm that shot up to block.

"Rip."

He tore a chunk of flesh clean off.

"That's the stuff! Hahaha!"

"Bitter."

Blood sprayed from the bite. It hadn't hit anything vital, but with all his strength [Grandpa] laughed wildly and swallowed the flesh. It was his last strike.

And still, for all that struggle, he lost.