How Long Are You Going to Listen to This?
Having dumped the job on Lyman, Leon made a swift exit from the casino.
He'll handle it fine on his own. Do I really need to stick around?
And with that, he resumed his tour of the capital.
A man ought to rest when it's time to rest.
First, he headed to the market to quiet his rumbling stomach, snatching up street food and snacks as he went. Whenever a curious shop caught his eye, he ducked inside to browse, and if something struck his fancy, he bought it. Clothes and shoes piled up by the armful. At a potion shop, he swept the shelves clean.
Money overflowed in his pockets, so there was nothing to hesitate over. Leon had always been the type who liked money without ever being stingy with it. You saved it so you could spend it.
Street performances—shell games, magic tricks—popped up here and there. Of course, to Leon's eyes the tricks were so transparent they held no amusement, so he didn't bother watching.
Busking of the musical variety, though—that he stopped for. After nothing but the subdued classical strains that drifted through the inner districts, hearing something with real energy felt like his ears were finally opening up.
He wandered into a sprawling arena and watched the matches.
The most memorable bout was one orc against thirty goblins. Surprisingly, the goblins won. Leon figured the organizers had rigged it. It absolutely had nothing to do with the fact that he'd bet on the orc.
When he stepped out of the arena, a rough-looking pack surrounded him. Friends of the pickpocket duo he'd already dealt with at the entrance to the Sixth District.
Leon shattered both legs of every last one of them and walked away. It took less than thirty seconds.
Next came the beast-racing grounds—something like a racetrack, except instead of horses, all manner of exotic monsters thundered around the course. The arena was where they tore each other apart; here, they simply raced.
Number Four suddenly pulls a last-second sprint? Organizers rigged it again.
Leon thought as much after losing yet more money.
From the racetrack he moved on to the circus, where he watched performances by every kind of bizarre creature, freak, mage, and spirit-caller imaginable.
Spending time like that, evening arrived before he knew it. Leon made his way to a restaurant along the banks of the Rumel Canal.
The high-end establishment in the Fifth District was packed with couples and families. Leon claimed a seat on the terrace overlooking the canal.
It was a cool summer night with a clear moon rising. A damp breeze drifted in off the water and brushed his face.
Crimson lanterns bobbed gently on the calm current. Elegant little boats carrying lovers glided between them.
Citizens' laughter and chatter formed a comfortable murmur, and a lively tune spilled from a street ensemble nearby.
From the table laden with delicacies rose a fragrance that set the mouth watering on its own.
Everything was perfect.
"…If only this bitch weren't here."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"…"
Leon glared at the uninvited guest sitting across from him—Gwiho.
Mask off, dressed in a white cheongsam-style dress, she had somehow already settled into the seat opposite his.
Countless eyes around them locked onto her.
Naturally. The citizens had no idea she was one of Sahyang's Seven Seats. They were simply ogling her looks.
"Hmm~."
An arrogant little smile curved Gwiho's lips. She was clearly savoring the attention pouring her way.
Leon set down his silver needle, spooned up some soup, and clicked his tongue.
"Enjoying yourself, you old hag?"
"My. What a way to speak to a lady."
"Ugh, seriously, you're killing my appetite…"
Gwiho just smiled brightly, unbothered, and picked up her own spoon. She'd clearly steeled herself before coming. She wasn't going to rattle easily.
"…"
Leon briefly considered flipping the table, then decided to eat first. You needed a full stomach before you could do anything properly. Having to stick a silver needle into every single bite was a hassle, though.
Spreading butter on a well-toasted piece of bread, he spoke.
"So what's this about? Looking for a fight?"
"Where does that confidence come from? Young master, you're still out of your depth with me."
Leon narrowed his eyes mid-chew.
"Tsk… Yeah, not happening right now."
"Right?"
Gwiho's eyes curved in a wicked little arc.
"I just came to talk for a bit today. No poison, so you can put the needle away."
Leon answered with a snort—and made a show of jabbing his silver needle into the chicken, over and over.
Gwiho went on.
"Young master. How long do you think the Empire has left?"
"Long enough to outlast you, at least until you croak of old age."
"Everything comes to an end. The Empire is no exception."
"And what am I supposed to do with that? You're telling the son of an Imperial duke that the Empire's about to fall?"
Leon sliced a clean piece of thigh meat and popped it into his mouth.
"Oh, this is good."
Gwiho kept right on with what she wanted to say.
"There's a vast current in this world that you can neither defy nor stand against. If you want a long life, you have to know how to ride that current."
"You sound like some world-weary old geezer."
"Let me give you an example. Until twenty years ago, Sahyang still operated under a Twelve Seats system, not Seven. It was a chaotic time. That's also when I felt that 'current' in my bones."
"A current, huh…"
Leon muttered a reply—then his face twisted into a sudden scowl.
"Just say what you came to say. Stop dragging out this retarded preamble. I sit down for a meal and you show up spouting this endless garbage… Is it because you're old? Trying to show off how ancient you are? I was going to ease up on the age jokes, but you keep forcing them out of me. Pathetic bitch."
"…"
The emotional whiplash was genuinely abrupt. Gwiho's eyes went round and her mouth clamped shut.
"Conversation, my ass. What conversation are you and I even supposed to be having? My sword is this close to leaving its sheath. Spit out your business already. Right now you're actively destroying my private rest, my peaceful evening, and my delicious meal in real time."
"Okay, okay. Enough. My ears are going to start bleeding."
Gwiho looked thoroughly fed up.
She took a sip of water and spoke quickly.
"That gift I sent you… I watched you fight those assassins. It was fascinating, as expected. Where did you learn shadow arts? They just melt into your movements like they're second nature. Doesn't seem like you studied them formally—more like you picked up a few related techniques and absorbed them on your own. If I'm right, that's a truly remarkable talent."
"…"
"Mm. A rare talent. Too good to kill. The kind that makes you greedy. We talked about it a lot among ourselves—what to do with you, young master. And we reached a conclusion."
"This is getting seriously unpleasant."
"Just bear with me a little longer and hear me out. Young master. Why don't you come over to our side? And I don't simply mean Sahyang."
Gwiho gave a light wave of both hands.
"I told you just now, didn't I? The Empire's days are numbered. Crazy talk? Do you really think I'd spout something like that with nothing to back it up?"
"Oh, for crying out loud…"
To anyone else, her words would have sounded like pure fantasy.
So Sahyang really has thrown in with the Demon Realm. That much is certain.
Leon knew more than most people, so he couldn't dismiss it as complete nonsense—her arrogant confidence aside.
Has she been brainwashed?
What exactly had they shown her to make her so ironclad in her belief that the Empire was doomed? It was almost laughable. Then again, it could just be a bluff.
Still… they're trying to recruit me?
An attempt at recruitment here was unexpected. After falling out of favor with Cryptos and Valcansus, he'd assumed it would be pure hostility and nothing else.
But setting personal feelings aside—status, reputation, martial prowess, position, ability—Leon's defection would be a considerable boon for the Demon Realm's side.
And the newly revealed assassin's talent had likely been the decisive trigger that got Sahyang moving.
Was I really that talented? Was I destined to be an assassin or something?
While his mind raced, Leon kept eating as if nothing were wrong and spoke aloud. He figured he might as well dig for more information first.
"For one thing, your claims are way too vague and over-the-top. And if you're going to recruit someone, you need to put some actual benefits on the table."
"It's hopping from a sinking ship onto a new one. The Empire fades from the continent, and you become a leading figure of the new age. Once that happens—money, power, strength, women… you can have whatever you want. Or how about me? I'd be fine with you, young master."
"There's some unnecessary junk stuck on the end there."
This was going nowhere. She was deliberately holding back the real details. Leon ate his meal with complete indifference.
Gwiho leaned in close across the table.
"Young master. You're not interested at all right now, are you? Not even a little?"
"Nope."
"I get it. My words sound ridiculous, and the offer feels like trash not even worth considering. But that's only because it hasn't hit you yet. Once the collapse truly begins, my words will come back to you on their own."
"Already jumping to threats?"
"This barely counts. I only came today to let you know the option exists. And there will come a time when that option starts to look appealing."
Her lips parted, about to continue—
"Hmph~."
—Shhk!
Gwiho's head went sailing into the air.
"Little brother. Just how long were you planning to sit there listening to this bullshit?"