The Pinecone Hotel’s status as the most expensive hotel in Lustre was well-deserved.

  Goethe stood in the suite on the top floor, looking down—

  There were eight attackers in total.

  By now, they were all lying defeated on the ground.

  And what about the hotel staff?

  Not a single one was injured.

  Because the battle ended the moment it began. The attackers didn’t even have time to react before they were riddled with bullets from rows of long guns that extended from the second floor of the hotel.

  "The hotel’s security must have at least 20 people!" Goethe counted the guns that had just appeared and then glanced down at the receipt placed on the table.

  It clearly stated—

  Room 802, 5 gold coins per day.

  ...

  A price that would deter any ordinary person.

  But it was worth every coin, wasn’t it?

  Back in his hometown, Goethe had never minded using others' strength, especially when it was justifiable.

  However, the key was still his own strength.

  Goethe was well aware of this.

  And he wouldn’t forget it.

  Tap, tap, tap!

  The sound of footsteps grew louder as they approached.

  Goethe raised his glass and looked toward the door.

  The glass contained lemon water included in the room price.

  If it were a different time, Goethe wouldn’t mind enjoying a drink. But now, his focus was on the door.

  Thud, thud, thud!

  "Come in."

  Goethe spoke as he walked back into the outer room of the suite and sat on the sofa.

  The door opened, and two people walked in.

  One was a tall man, nearly two meters in height. Even in a suit, his muscular build was evident. His face was fierce, with a scar under his eye that added an extra layer of brutality.

  Beside him stood a police officer.

  The officer froze as soon as he saw Goethe sitting on the sofa.

  Clearly, he recognized Goethe.

  In fact, since Goethe had shown up at the police station the previous night, his actions had already made the officers remember his face in the shortest time possible.

  Because…

  Each time, someone died.

  From Soko at first, then Tucker, and the gas leak incident in the shady part of the street.

  A disaster!

  An omen!

  That was how the police officers privately referred to Goethe.

  Of course, it was in private.

  On the surface—

  "Good evening, Mr. Goethe," the officer greeted politely before glancing around. "Isn’t Captain Swart with you?"

  "He should still be at the Garden Club," Goethe replied.

  "There might be trouble. If possible, you should send more people to pick him up," Goethe suggested.

  He didn’t know Swart’s current situation.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  But if he could help the man out, he wouldn’t mind.

  On the condition that...

  Swart was lucky enough.

  "Understood!"

  "I’ll head there right now!"

  The officer, eager to leave, quickly turned and left the room.

  Now, only Goethe and the imposing, muscular man remained in the suite.

  "I’m Regrey, the head of security at the Pinecone Hotel."

  "Welcome to the Pinecone Hotel."

  "I also hope you have a pleasant stay. Let’s avoid any more unpleasant events like tonight."

  Regrey, the head of security, said with a pointed tone.

  Goethe understood clearly.

  The Pinecone Hotel wasn’t a sanctuary.

  It wasn’t possible for them to provide protection every time he got into trouble.

  This time, it was because he had entered the hotel that they were compelled to intervene.

  But this was a one-time thing. There would be no next time.

  "Of course."

  Goethe smiled in response.

  Regrey was polite, without any excessive words or actions, and besides, Goethe had benefited from the situation.

  It was best to take the win and leave it at that.

  "Thank you for your understanding."

  "If you need any service, just ring the bell."

  "We have attendants available 24/7 to provide you with sincere service."

  Regrey bowed slightly before backing out of the room and gently closing the door behind him.

  Goethe remained seated on the sofa, not getting up.

  He was waiting for news.

  Or more precisely: Morey.

  Time passed, second by second.

  Goethe’s expression grew more serious.

  Although he didn’t know how someone with ‘Supernatural’ powers would fight, he knew that the longer this dragged on, the worse the outcome might be.

  This wasn’t about ‘Supernatural’ powers, but because Morey had likely prepared thoroughly!

  In this situation, a swift resolution was the best choice!

  Unless…

  An accident happened!

  Whoosh!

  Goethe took a deep breath.

  No plan, no matter how perfect, is immune to unexpected twists.

  "I hope it's not the worst-case scenario!" Goethe silently thought to himself.

  If the situation turned out to be one where Morey was killed and turned the tables, Goethe would likely have to break the agreement he had just made with Regrey, the head of security.

  Meanwhile, Goethe didn’t rush out to look for Morey.

  Facing the unknown ‘Supernatural’ powers, Goethe knew that staying here, ensuring his own safety, and not interfering with Morey would be the best help he could offer.

  Time continued to pass, and then—

  Tap, tap, tap!

  Footsteps echoed down the hallway.

  "Goethe!"

  A familiar voice rang out.

  It wasn’t Morey.

  It was Swart.

  So soon?!

  Goethe furrowed his brow.

  When Goethe opened the door, the sheriff, who had just reached the door, wore a look of someone who had narrowly escaped danger. He exclaimed loudly, "Goethe, I’m so glad to see you! You wouldn’t believe what I just went through!"

  As he spoke, he began walking toward Goethe.

  Goethe, in an instant, drew his gun.

  But the sheriff’s hand shot up with lightning speed.

  Wham!

  His fingertip struck the edge of Goethe's hand holding the gun, and the immense force sent the revolver flying. As Goethe’s other hand reached for his second revolver, preparing to draw it, the sheriff’s other hand swiftly gripped his wrist.

  Wham!

  The second revolver dropped to the floor.

  Without hesitation, the sheriff pushed both of Goethe’s hands away with force.

  Boom!

  Goethe was sent flying back into the room, crashing heavily onto the sofa. Ignoring the pain in his wrists, he rolled with the momentum, narrowly avoiding the kick that came right after.

  Creak!

  The solid wooden, velvet-covered sofa shattered under the force of the kick.

  "Next time, it will be your bones!" the sheriff snarled.

  "I’ll crush every bone in your body!" he added, a wicked smile stretching across his face.

  Then, his eyes gleamed with mocking malice.

  "But if you tell me how you knew I wasn’t Swart, I might make your death a little more merciful."

  Goethe, still feeling the pain in his wrists, stared at his assailant.

  Though his wrists weren’t broken, the effort had clearly affected them.

  The assailant’s strength was undoubtedly overpowering.

  His speed was also impressive.

  And on top of that, he had remarkable skill.

  Without a weapon, Goethe knew he stood no chance.

  "I didn’t know you weren’t Swart. I just instinctively stay alert," Goethe lied smoothly, shaking his wrists.

  The pain began to lessen, but the idea of fighting was impossible.

  "Stay alert?"

  "You think you can fool me?"

  "And I fell for it?"

  The attacker froze for a moment, then his face darkened.

  "Good!" he sneered.

  "I’ve changed my mind!"

  "I won’t let you die quickly. I’m going to crush every bone in your body and let you die in agony, screaming. That’s the only way to wipe away the humiliation you’ve caused me!"

  Having received the answer he wanted, the assailant grinned maliciously, charging straight at Goethe.

  Looking at the murderous intent in his eyes, Goethe wasted no time in making his best move:

  "[Bloody Honor] boosts [Hand-to-Hand Combat]!"