"Three hundred pounds each? And three at once?! Mr. Devil's richer than I thought… Didn't he claim to be a fallen noble? Is veterinary work that lucrative? If this deal goes through, not only will I cover the potion, but I'll have 400 pounds left! That's enough to lease a house on Daffodil Street for twenty years!"
Klein's eyes gleamed like gold pounds at Mr. Devil's offer, but a concern quickly surfaced—
"Notifying 'my favored one' now is fine, but what if Mr. Devil asks me to relay messages to others later? I can't narrate as the Fool—that'd ruin my mystique. Hm… Maybe I could project the image and voice directly? Worth a try!"
With that, Klein returned to reality, mimicked praying as Mr. Devil, then re-entered the gray fog. He edited the prayer—censoring, altering the voice—ensuring his identity stayed hidden, then sent it to the crimson star representing Devil.
…
In his West Borough mansion, Snow spread yesterday's Backlund Morning Post on the table, frowning as he analyzed its contents.
As Backlund's tension eased, the paper featured an ad for Ernst Firm's goods acquisition.
Decoding the cipher and noting it carefully, Snow suddenly felt reality blur. Thick gray-white fog rose, and deep within, a high-backed chair loomed, occupied by a vague figure.
As Snow wondered if Mr. Fool, unaware of projection tech, would stoop to relaying messages, a blurry figure in a double-breasted frock coat appeared in the fog. Hands clasped to its forehead, it repeated:
"I accept this deal. As payment for Mr. Devil's diaries to Mr. Fool, one charm is free. Crafting takes one to two weeks."
"Praise Mr. Fool." Snow touched his chest, bowing to the chair in the fog's depths, then returned to his home.
Once the fog cleared, Snow exhaled, chuckling softly.
"Mr. Fool's too thin-skinned. He should've demanded an anonymous account for a deposit first!"
Shaking his head, he dined lavishly at a nearby Intis restaurant, changed in Jowood District, and reached the Brave Bar around 7 p.m.
"Didn't I tell you to steer clear of that gathering lately?"
Kaspars's face soured as Snow entered the billiard room. Snow just smirked, tossing him a coin-sized pendant.
Kaspars caught it warily. "What's this?"
"A little protective charm. Auto-triggers a barrier, blocks three revolver shots. As for demon-breaking… I doubt anyone's wasting those bullets on an old coot like you."
Snow spread his arms theatrically. Kaspars pocketed the charm, frowning.
"You're one of them now?"
"Mm." Snow nodded, saying no more.
Kaspars eyed him oddly for a moment, then nodded.
"Fine, consider this your referral fee. The gathering's in a bit. I'll make introductions."
He pulled a half-face iron mask and hooded cloak from under the billiard table for Snow, then limped out. Ten minutes later, he returned, nodded at Snow—now masked and cloaked—and led him through the kitchen's back door, down an alley, to a dark house.
"No need to tell you what to do or avoid with these folks, right?" At the door, Kaspars glanced at him. Getting a nod, he stepped forward, tapping the cipher Snow had decoded from the paper. A wooden panel slid open, revealing brown eyes.
"Bringing a newbie now? What's wrong with you?" The doorman snapped, but opened the door, glaring at Kaspars before motioning Snow inside.
Through a dim parlor, they entered a ground-floor sitting room. A single candle on the coffee table cast flickering shadows.
Seven or eight hooded, masked figures sat on sofas and chairs. An elderly man, skin weathered, occupied a single sofa, subtly commanding the room.
Silence reigned, everyone statue-still, until the old man coughed lightly five minutes later.
"Looks like this is everyone. Let's begin."
No one spoke at first. Finally, a visibly rotund figure under a hood broke the quiet.
"I need marrow crystals from a Spring of Elves. Anyone got any?"
"That fatty's in Backlund already?" Snow's brow twitched. Though no one responded, the silence was broken, and trades began.
With fewer than ten participants, offerings were slim. After two deals, Snow spoke.
"I want to buy a contract. Doesn't need strong binding, just effective for low Sequences."
No one bit. Notary was a Sequence 6 Beyonder, and even a low-Sequence contract required rare items beyond this small gathering's reach.
But Snow's target wasn't them.
After a brief pause, Eye of Wisdom, seizing a chance to flaunt his collection, looked up, his deep, wise eyes on Snow.
"What price are you willing to pay?"
"Up to 500 pounds." Snow quoted a Sequence 6 consumable's value, adding a 30% premium. Eye of Wisdom nodded slightly.
"I have a magical item that produces contract paper for agreements. Once both parties read the text and leave a spiritual mark, it activates. Breaching it causes significant harm, and the other party is instantly warned. The paper must be inscribed within three days, or it turns blank. It can't handle complex contracts. One sheet's 200 pounds. Interested?"
"Absolutely."
(End of Chapter)
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