Chapter 264
Chapter 264
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 264
Chapter Title: Party's End (3)
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"I'm the victim."
Ewan Bremner declared solemnly.
"Definitely. The game I sat down for was rigged, no doubt about it! Otherwise, there's no way I could've lost like that! Call those guys back! I need to check if they're cheats or not myself!"
Joseph and Forrest stood there with their arms crossed, watching silently, while Oliver blurted out a question.
"Isn't using fake money at the gambling table a problem?"
"Are you insane? Of course not. Gambling's illegal to begin with. Scamming bad guys is righteous fraud—hell, you should be praised for it! Don't you know that?"
His brazen confidence left Oliver at a loss for words.
Forrest was equally dumbfounded.
He turned to Joseph standing beside him.
"Did he hit his head while we were gone or something?"
"I wanted to, but I held back. He was so noisy, I spiked his drink with sleeping pills. That might be the issue now."
Oliver and Ewan glanced at the empty bottles scattered on the floor.
"Damn it... No wonder they so kindly popped all the caps for me. I'm disappointed. I trusted you."
"When have you ever even seen me to trust? What the hell is wrong with this guy?"
Joseph shot Forrest a look of utter disbelief.
Forrest felt the same. Rubbing his temples against a budding headache, he pulled out his checkbook.
"Sigh... Things are messy, so let's sort them one by one. How much did this guy cost us?"
"Forget it. Call it a favor."
Joseph glanced at Oliver, trying to decline, but Forrest wouldn't hear it.
"No need for favors. You and I are a broker and a fixer. A bit unusual ones, sure, but still. Money matters have to be clean. If you really want to do me a solid, just tell me the amount."
With Forrest pressing like that, Joseph finally relented.
"52,103,900."
Forrest wrote the figure in his elegant script on the checkbook.
He tore it out and handed it to Joseph, who checked the amount before tucking it away.
"Thanks for the help... If it's not too much trouble, could you step out for a bit? It's personal."
Joseph looked a touch reluctant at Forrest's request but nodded obediently.
"Sure. I'll wait outside."
As Joseph led the others out, Oliver spoke to Forrest.
"I'll pay back that 52,103,900 later."
"No need. Ewan here's my responsibility anyway. Consider it covered."
Ewan cut in at Forrest's words.
"Hmm? Hold on... Last time we met, you called me 'Sir Ewan' all polite-like. What demoted me to plain 'Mr. Ewan'?"
"Back then, I needed your help and was in a weak spot. Not anymore."
"Shameless...! But logical enough I can't argue. You're a real piece of work."
"I agree. You said if I wanted to have fun, just let you know. So why pull this?"
"Because it's no fun that way! You wouldn't get it, but entertainment's best with fake money! Sounds crazy, but it's true. Yup! Hell yeah!!"
Forrest shut his mouth at the utterly unhinged response, beyond common sense.
It even crossed his mind that the drugs might not have fully worn off.
At least Ewan wasn't the only one defying norms.
"Um, can I ask a question?"
Oliver raised his hand cautiously.
"Make it quick... Hangover's killing my head."
"What's the deal with that fake money? You mentioned something about turning into leaves."
"Leaves? ...Ah! Good question. It's this."
Ewan's hangover seemed to vanish as he rummaged in his cloak and pulled out a handbag-sized pouch.
How he'd fit that in there was a mystery. Was the cloak a black magic item?
"Take a look!"
Ewan beamed proudly, shoving the handbag in front of Oliver and Forrest.
It was a patchwork of assorted human skins, studded with eyeballs everywhere, its opening lined with gums and teeth.
"My masterpiece: a family of counterfeiters stitched into one. Stuff leaves in, let it sit a month, and they turn to cash. Downside is they revert after a day, and there's a limit to how much you can process, but still—an amazing piece."
"Wow, impressive. How'd you make it?"
"No clue. I failed dozens of times before accidentally nailing it, so my personal take is—"
Slap!
Forrest clapped his hands, cutting off the black mages' chat. He knew it'd derail into tangents otherwise.
Oliver snapped back to reality.
"Sorry."
"That's why I tagged along—good call... Mr. Ewan. Did Joseph tell you anything?"
Ewan, slouched from his hangover, scowled.
"Tell me something? Oh... Yeah. I remember. He said you had questions for me. Even arrogantly claimed it'd pique my interest."
Ewan spoke without a shred of pretense.
"The nerve—me, the greatest black magic craftsman, getting interested? I wanted to spit in his face for the bullshit, but his fists looked tough, so I held back. Can I spit on you instead, Mr. Forrest?"
"Joseph's still outside."
"Damn...! Guess not!! But if it doesn't hook me like you claim, I won't say a word. Booze still has me bold."
Forrest closed his eyes with a serene smile, as if enlightened.
He looked utterly exhausted.
"They say exhaustion brings good moods—guess it's true... Dave. Pull that out, will you?"
Oliver nodded and first retrieved Bigmouth.
"Ho, Smith's work alright... But it's acting weird. No rebellion?"
"Nope. It's been helpful, actually."
"That's odd. Bigmouths are—"
"—Can we handle the important stuff first?"
Forrest leaned back in his chair, addressing Ewan and Oliver.
Wise move. Left alone, they'd chatter about Bigmouth for hours.
"Sorry, Sir Forrest... Bigmouth. Could you get that out?"
At Oliver's request, Bigmouth nodded and worked its top mouth, spitting out 'that'.
"Guhhh!!"
'That' was a massive hammer wrapped in bandages.
Specifically, the one taken from the cannibal chef's disciple, made of flesh.
"This—"
"—is my work."
Ewan, who'd been nursing his hangover, lit up with keen interest.
Gone was the flippant madness; this was dead serious. He seemed like a different person.
"You know it?"
"It's mine."
Short and to the point.
Oliver started to explain how he'd gotten it, but Ewan beat him to it.
"I made this for the cannibal chef, right? How'd it end up here?"
"Cannibal chef?"
"Yeah, at his gambling den... Well, technically his disciple's underling's den. I got caught cheating, so I whipped it up. Not a fan of the guy, but better than losing my hands. How'd you snag it? He's greedy—never lets go of his stuff."
"Long story, but I killed his disciple and took it. From the pig-faced one."
"Ah... Makes sense; it wouldn't suit him. But for real? You killed the cannibal chef's underling?"
"Yes."
"Guess I've been too carefree. Only hearing this now. Wild, though."
"What is?"
"The cannibal chef treats his disciples and underlings like livestock—that pig-nosed bastard's spawn—but he still avenges them... So why are you still breathing?"
"Mm... I was just a hired fixer."
"Ah? Hrmm..."
Ewan tilted his head, puzzled.
Forrest quietly interjected.
"Mind if I ask something?"
"What?"
"You know the cannibal chef well?"
"Roughly what kind of scum he is. Along with Puppet, Fan, and the Pied Piper."
Forrest was stunned by Ewan's answer. Oliver too.
The four fingers of the Black Hand were shrouded in rumors, their true identities veiled.
For him to know all of them... Impressive.
"Incredible."
"Hold up... That rubs me wrong. Like I'm beneath them? Damn kids these days. Know what those guys are?"
"No."
"I do. Thugs, inferiority complexes incarnate, delusional brats, guys with grudges longer than their dicks. Me? Genius inventor, boundless creativity as an artist, great wanderer. Watch it... Don't bruise my ego."
"Sorry. I'll remember that."
"You better... On that note, what'd you do to my creation?"
Ewan unwrapped the bandages as he spoke.
As layers peeled away, the hammer—now gorged on vampire blood and transformed—revealed itself.
Bones dyed blood-red, fresh crimson flesh vibrant like newly butchered meat.
Overall, brimming with vitality, its jagged form even more vicious.
Ewan's eyes gleamed with fascination as he pressed again.
"What the hell did you do to it?"
"Can't say."
"What?"
"Circumstances prevent me from explaining that part."
Oliver repeated.
Ewan glared briefly but soon looked away.
He sniffed the hammer deeply.
"Mm... Fine, another question then?"
"If I can answer, sure."
"Did it resist when you took it?"
As Oliver went to reply, a memory flashed.
"Uh... The meat hammer?"
"Yeah."
"Some others tried touching it and got repelled."
"Normal for it. Higher quality means pickier."
Oliver nodded; no denying it matched Ewan's words. The hammer was incredible on its own—potent power, drew life force, even let you slice off flesh to eat for healing.
"And you?"
"Pardon?"
"Didn't resist you?"
"I didn't touch it."
"Not once?"
"No."
"Hmm..."
Ewan's eyes sparkled as he sank into thought.
His curiosity rivaled any mage tower wizard's.
"Is there a problem?"
"Problem? Yeah. Woke my black mage instincts... Straight up: give it back."
"Give it back?"
"Yeah. I made it. It's mine."
"That doesn't hold water."
Forrest cut in. Ewan pushed back.
"I'm here chained up from a busted scam! Don't lecture me on fairness! Are you sane?!!"
Ewan bellowed shamelessly, even rattling Forrest's composure.
Oliver calmed Forrest and spoke.
"I'd hate handing it over just like that. Mind a trade?"
"A trade? With me? Cocky bastard."
Ewan snapped, feet still shackled.
Oliver apologized.
"Sorry. Yeah, that was arrogant... Um, could I ask a favor instead? I'll give it back if you could do me a solid."
"...Shoot."
"I'll give you the meat hammer. In return, could you shave off a bit and make me two tonfas?"
"Tonfas?"
"Yes, two. Mine broke recently; need replacements."
"Word is you favor sticks? Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
"Quarterstaff. This is plenty for me... Think you could?"
Ewan stroked his chin, then nodded.
"Fine, whatever. But the rest is mine. Mine!"
"Agreed completely. It was yours originally, after all."
Oliver and Ewan struck a deal.
"Nice. Take this."
Ewan rummaged in his cloak and tossed a small, round hunk of meat.
Palm-sized, it was a dried, compressed human head like jerky.
"This is...?"
"My personal comms device. No eavesdropping risk. Let you know when it's ready."
Ewan held up its match—a woman's head, shriveled identically, eyes sewn shut with thread.
Oliver pocketed it without hesitation.
"Good. Now unlock these shackles. Gotta process it."
Forrest eyed Ewan dubiously but relented at Oliver's nod.
Click. Ewan's ankles were free.
He stretched them with a groan.
"Ah... Finally feel alive."
"How will you make the tonfas? Can you do it here?"
"Nah. Gotta leave for Z District first."
Ewan answered Forrest's question.
Forrest blinked, doubting his ears.
"Z District?"
"Yep. Only place left in this city with hellish energy for processing."
Hellish energy.
It piqued Oliver's interest.
Sensing it, Ewan grinned at him first.
"I'll explain it all later."