Excellent Means of Negotiation (3)
"Why the hell did you lie?"
I had mixed a lie into my search for the Romantic Sword Tangbun's whereabouts—something about his reverse scale, his little sister. An old Eastern man resembling Sion walking with a girl like her, a vicious bait exploiting his desperation. As expected of the Information Guild's heir, he'd probably mobilized their intel network like crazy to uncover the truth. No wonder his eyes were flipping out over my fake info. I'd deceived him about his missing blood relative.
But to make excuses, I was in a hurry too. If I didn't snag that dopamine addict old man first, it was obvious the male leads would all turn into total headcases any day now.
Of course, I had zero intention of spilling this whole sob story out loud. I planned to just spit out the location of his real little sister and call it a clean apology.
Clunk.
Clunk...
The noisy rattle of the doorknob stopped like a lie.
Cold silence.
I gripped my revolver tighter and held my breath.
And then.
Bang!
Bang!
A brutal thud slammed into my eardrums, like the dormitory room door was about to rip clean off its hinges.
Thud! As the shattered door skidded across the floor, Sion's figure slowly emerged through the thick dust.
"See? He's in here."
Even with my revolver aimed dead at him, Sion's face showed not a flicker of unease as he stepped over the wreckage.
"Done with the musclehead cosplay?"
"..."
A suffocating silence hung in the air.
Sion's usual smug leisure was gone. Only pure killing intent crept in, intent on snapping my neck.
All my nerves on edge from the cold metal in my hand, I dry-swallowed hard.
"I tracked down that old man from the East you mentioned. But no one saw him with any girl."
Figured as much.
"What the hell are you?"
As the dust cleared, his eyes—always curved in friendly amusement—narrowed coldly. His pupils, dark as night, came into sharp focus. The true face of the Information Guild heir, hidden behind that perpetual grin.
"How do you even know I'm looking for my sister?"
A low growl rumbled from him, and a dagger glinted at his fingertips.
The instant he tensed to strike with murderous force—
I pulled the trigger without hesitation instead of answering.
Bang—!
The gunshot echoed through the cramped room in a flash.
The revolver bullet hurtled toward his upper body.
But nothing was there.
Whoosh!
Sion's body, where the bullet passed, warped like a mirage for a split second and vanished into thin air.
No incantation for teleportation magic. No pulse of divine power. Just a pure leap.
The superpower of a mutant, one of the rare few in this godforsaken world—an esper.
And that absurd rarity was standing right in front of me: Sion.
Bang—!
Whoosh—!
Pop!
As space tore with each shift, his afterimages began filling the room chaotically.
But my eyes never missed those bizarre trajectories.
Ting—.
That eerie sensation from clashing with Lucius. The world's frames splintered to extremes, time stretching like taffy.
Once could be coincidence, twice delusion—but the third time? No denying it.
Fine, I'd admit it clean. Like Sion, I had some weird ability unrelated to mana.
This insane hypersense that broke every motion in my sight down to the second.
Gotta name it to my tastes. From now on, this sense was Bullet Time.
The instant the air warped and his new silhouette began forming—
My hand had already swung the barrel toward my line of sight and squeezed the trigger.
Bang—!
A merciless bullet rushed the silhouette before it could fully take shape.
"...Kuh!"
Bullet Time pierced the exact trajectory.
The lead ball, slicing through crimson flame, struck his left arm dead-on.
His eyes—always lazily curved—widened in shock.
Clutching the wounded arm, he glared at me in disbelief.
"Ha. Would you look at that? You're an esper too?"
Sniped right in the gap of his spatial jump, he let out an incredulous chuckle.
"Who knows?"
Three rounds left in the cylinder. Never planned to turn him into ground meat anyway, so no special high-impact ammo. Regular bullets should neutralize him just fine—for both our sakes.
"I've got plenty more to show, so how about we talk?"
He smirked back.
"Talk? Sounds good."
The killing intent flashing in his eyes grew thicker, colder.
"But that can wait till I've half-killed you and dragged you to the basement. Friend."
That instant.
The air near his left shoulder warped grotesquely.
A gleaming red potion vial emerged from the spatial rift, and—clang!
Sion smashed it unhesitatingly over his shoulder.
The red liquid, spilling with glass shards, began healing the bullet-gouged muscle in his left arm at terrifying speed.
An esper power that let him leap not just his body, but objects through space.
This bastard's cheating.
An ability pushed to the height of bullshit. Was this what it took to be a romance-fantasy male lead?
Then, the glass shards scattering on the floor vanished into thin air all at once.
"...?!"
Whoosh!
The space above my head twisted, and the vanished shards rained down like a storm.
I jerked my face away on reflex, but one sharp piece sliced my cheek.
Drip. Blood pattered down.
No time to mind the pain.
His figure vanished again.
Where?
Wall behind me. No blades from there.
Front, or the sides.
I glared at the empty air with cold eyes, finger tightening on the trigger.
Where you coming from?
Flash—!
Three afterimages bloomed in an instant.
Left, right, center.
Three daggers aimed straight for my gut.
Block my stomach and go full defense?
Or trust one-in-three odds and blast one at random?
The brief dilemma crumbled before the overwhelming data from Bullet Time.
In the endlessly slowed world, my gaze dropped not to the dagger tips radiating murder, but to their feet.
"Hey, Sion."
Ignoring the three blades hurtling at me like they were ghosts, I raised my right arm and pointed the revolver straight up over my head.
No glance for aiming.
Bang—!
The gunshot rocked the room.
Through the acrid smoke from the barrel, I crooked my lips.
"Shouldn't you hide your shadow?"
Not a single shadow on the floor.
Meant all three in front of me were fakes.
Especially since, the moment his afterimages appeared, a thick shadow had loomed right over my head.
Pop!
The split second before the bullet hit, his body warped and leaped elsewhere.
The innocent ceiling shattered, dust raining down.
"Whoa whoa, you reacted to that? No conscience at all?"
I barked a disbelieving laugh, grumbling.
It was my ace counter, and he dodged on pure instinct.
Did the male leads in this world just lack any sense of fair play?
"...Flint."
From the dark corner of the room, his voice emerged as space tore again—no trace of amusement left.
"I seriously underestimated you."
Chilling murder stabbed my nape.
The eyes of a true predator, playfulness utterly gone.
Sion started walking toward me, no teleport—just steady steps.
Bang—!
A shot at his chest. He micro-jumped space in a flash to dodge, then resumed plodding forward.
Bang!
Missed again.
The distance closed, like he'd been toying until now.
With the final gunshot whizzing past, the revolver was empty.
I tossed the useless thing aside without regret and yanked the shotgun from my belt.
BOOM—!
A destructive roar unlike the revolver's erupted.
A pinpoint bullet could slip through spatial twists, but apparently not a room-wide storm of buckshot.
Sion's body, striding leisurely, buckled hard under the impact.
"...Kuh!"
His right arm hung in tatters, gushing blood.
He barely stayed upright, forcing a hollow laugh.
Just as I thought I'd landed a solid hit—
"So this is the shotgun. Impressive."
Boom—!
His figure exploded from the floor-cracking launch, hurtling at me like a bullet.
Not teleport—pure physical leap.
Even Bullet Time's hypersense couldn't make my normal muscles react to that insane speed.
"Guhk...!"
No chance to defend—Sion's left hand clamped my throat in a vise grip.
As my airway crushed shut, he whispered in a serpentine chill.
"That was pretty fun. Now, shall we talk?"
Sion still hadn't noticed the shotgun's second barrel aimed right at him.