The Most Arbitrary Wizard

There was no response from inside the room.

Sean didn’t let that stop him.

He hadn’t knocked to ask for Pulente’s permission to enter. It was a notice: permission or not, he was coming in.

It didn’t matter if the Governor lacked any sense of hospitality; Sean was more than happy to turn the tables on his host.

A faint glow of Magic Power emanated from Sean’s right hand as he grabbed the doorknob and gave it a light twist.

"CLICK."

The door swung open.

One had to admit, Pulente certainly knew how to live in style.

The hospital room was spacious and luxurious. You couldn’t even see the bed upon walking in; there was a foyer with a display of fresh flowers. The decor was nothing like a typical hospital room’s. The base color wasn’t the standard white, but a rich, noble amber, like a fine Champagne from Gorfeili Castle. It was utterly elegant. An uninformed visitor might have thought they’d entered the VIP suite of a high-end hotel.

’So ostentatious, even for a hospital stay...’

’Fucking capitalism,’

Sean lamented internally as he walked farther in and said, "Mr. Pulente, how about a chat?"

Still, no one responded.

The suite had its own living room, but it was empty. To the side, a bedroom door was ajar.

That must be the actual "patient’s room."

After Sean called out for Pulente twice with no reply, Elise grew impatient. "Governor," she said, "my Master is speaking to you! Come out on your own. Don’t make us come in there and drag you out."

"..."

Still no response.

Elise snapped, "Hey!"

’We call you Governor and you think you’re all that, is that it?’

She was about to lash out, but Sean stopped her with a smile. "It’s fine. Perhaps the Governor is injured and can’t easily get out of bed. We’ll just take a few more steps and chat with him in the bedroom. Same difference."

With that, he walked over and pushed the bedroom door open.

But in the next second.

The smile on Sean’s face froze.

There lay Pulente—the man who had just been on television, face glowing with health, passionately vowing to make Siracle State and its people great again. Now, he was lying motionless on the bed, eyes vacant and lifeless.

Fluid was still dripping from the IV bag, the line connected to a needle in Pulente’s hand.

A shocking patch of red stained his chest, soaking through his blue hospital gown. Blood had trickled from the corner of his mouth, down his chin, and onto the pillow, staining the white fabric crimson.

Everyone was stunned. "??!"

’What’s going on?’

’An assassin?!’

Sean rushed to the bedside. "Mr. Pulente?!"

"Are you all right?"

He was answered with silence.

Sean placed a hand under Pulente’s nose to check for breath, his expression stiffening.

"Master... is he dead?" Elise asked tentatively.

"Yes..." Sean sighed softly. "We’re too late."

Elvire noticed a detail by the bed.

"Look at the wall."

On the wall beside the nightstand, there was a symbol drawn in blood.

Or rather, a "crest."

It was a wolf with its mouth open, baring its fangs.

Sean frowned. "What is this...?"

"The family crest of the Wolf Family," Elvire said.

"The Wolf Family?"

"Witch Hunters from Krim State."

"...I see."

It clicked for Sean instantly.

With the Florist Family gone, Siracle State had become "unclaimed territory," and someone wanted a piece of the action.

"They’ve certainly got a long reach," Sean sneered. He glanced at Pulente’s body and continued, "He’s still warm, so he just died. The killer can’t have gotten far. We didn’t see anyone suspicious on our way in, so they’re likely still hiding in the hospital... Let’s go. We’ll find them. I’m going to make this guy understand that the great people of Siracle State can’t be killed by just anyone who feels like it!"

With a fierce look in his eyes, Sean led the three women out of the room.

Their footsteps faded into the distance.

Until they disappeared completely...

The "dead" man on the bed, Pulente, suddenly moved.

His eyes darted around. He lifted his head slightly to peek toward the door. After confirming that Sean and the others had left, he finally let out a sigh of relief, followed by a contemptuous smirk.

"With skills like that, you want to ’chat’ with me?"

"Go back to your day job."

Pulente didn’t like talking to unintelligent people.

Those fools should have used their heads. He was the Governor, surrounded by protection. A bomb and a sniper rifle had failed to kill him; how could an assassin so easily sneak into a hospital to finish the job?

The blood was fake.

It was red wine.

He had simply used his Magic Power to erase the scent of alcohol and add the stench of blood.

He had also drawn the wolf head on the wall himself.

There were two groups of assassins that afternoon.

Professionally speaking, an assassination has two key requirements: surprise the target, and ensure enough killing power for a one-hit kill. A sniper rifle undoubtedly fits both criteria perfectly. But no professional would toss a bomb before taking the shot. Wouldn’t that just alert him that assassins were present?

Therefore, Pulente concluded that the people who threw the bomb and the person who fired the shot were not from the same group.

He wasn’t sure of their identities, but one thing was certain: more than just one or two major families were coveting Siracle State, and the Wolf Family from Krim State was undoubtedly among them.

Pulente had dealt with their kind many times. He was well aware of the greed and ambition of these major families.

So, he had drawn the wolf crest on the wall to make it seem as if the Wolf Family had killed him, thus sowing suspicion among the various groups.

It was safe to say, everything was going according to his plan.

A failed assassination attempt would inevitably be followed by another. This was especially true now. After his press interview, real-time online polls showed him with an overwhelming lead against his rivals. In fact, his approval rating was higher than the next three competitors combined. If he were in their shoes, he’d be getting desperate too.

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