Gotta Make That Money (8)
"Heh heh heh... First time seeing Cassandra talk... Looks real good...."
"Ha! That voice is straight out of some old witch!"
"Watch your tongue, Sigurd. The young lady's just nursing a minor wound from last night's fatigue. Don't you dare make irreverent quips about her moans."
I tuned out their chatter and stared blankly at Cassandra. That completely opaque veil, impossible to read her through. From glaring right through my left arm's bandages moments ago to swooping in with a party invite out of nowhere. Too perfectly timed for coincidence.
"Mind if I ask why the sudden party proposal? Isn't the labyrinth rearrangement still a ways off?"
I directed the question at Cassandra. Heinrich answered for her.
"True, there's time left, but adventurers usually snag skilled partners quick at this stage and lock in their parties early."
Heinrich pressed a hand to his chest and continued.
"The young lady's taken a keen interest in Miss Iris and Miss Evel's Heart Images, as relayed by the guild master. She wants to party up this time and witness that talent firsthand in the labyrinth."
A slick, rehearsed justification, no fat on it.
Cassandra, silent till then, gave a quiet nod of affirmation.
"Plus, safely guiding promising young lambs like them away from the perils of the labyrinth is the duty of any senior adventurer, wouldn't you say?"
Is that the real reason? Or just smoke?
Well, could be legit.
The Heart Image the guild master knows of mine is Zepeto's barrier and Purification formula combined. Evel's is pure and pristine, like ice. Not weird if Cassandra's curious.
Even by the guild's usual standards, it felt natural enough.
But somehow...
My gut said otherwise.
That woman's onto me. Not dead certain, but she's definitely picking up something off me.
So I beat around the bush, feigning reluctance.
"But last time, you mentioned low-rank party members complicate request acceptance? Appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't want to be a burden."
"No worries there. Post-rearrangement labyrinths prioritize scouting the revamped layout and updating maps over specific commissions."
Heinrich smiled warmly, batting away my excuse.
In essence: fresh labyrinths are crawling with easy loot everywhere—no need tying up on petty gigs.
Hmm...
What to do. Digging in my heels might just stoke more suspicion.
I mulled it over quick, running the odds.
Eh... right hand's formula's got my back.
Zepeto's parting gift, etched into my right hand. Perfect chance to wash away any doubts aimed my way.
If they're suspicious, I'll just flaunt a spotless, harmless Heart Image the whole run through the labyrinth. Make 'em look foolish.
High stakes, decent bet.
Decision made, I nodded.
"Got it. Sounds reassuring. Looking forward to it."
Heinrich's face lit with a satisfied, gentle smile.
"Wise choice. The young lady will be thrilled. Then, morning of the rearrangement's end, guild lobby here. We'll prep all basic expedition gear."
"Sure."
Cassandra stayed mum, but I caught the slight dip of her head behind the veil.
They'll handle prep? Score for us.
"We'll head out then. Evel, let's go."
"Yeah. Cake time."
Left a sour aftertaste, but meals and costs covered.
I took Evel's hand and exited the guild.
Sigurd's griping and Doal's laughter faded behind us.
Found a decent dessert spot, split sweets with Evel. Top-shelf stuff: two silvers. Handed emptied out completely.
Strolled the city edges to map it out, then back to the inn.
Up in the room, dug the Minotaur magic stone from my pack's depths and pondered.
Sell it, cash crisis over. But long-term?
Wooong—
Left arm quivered. Dusty's hunger ping. After last night's harsh scolding, probably legit.
Hmm...
Chin-stroking, lost in thought.
Dusty'll keep hounding for stones like this. City's pickings slim, so I'll have to feed it labyrinth hauls one by one.
Purse tightens, night jobs inevitable.
But nights ain't a cakewalk. Cassandra's crew could pop up anytime. After that ruckus, they might scour alleys tonight already.
Vicious loop.
Setup felt all wrong.
One run-in sparked suspicion. Twice? Who knows.
I eyed the stone and arm, then tsked sharp.
Screw it.
"Fine, chow down. Might as well go all-in—eat up and bulk properly."
Dice rolled already. Just power-level enough to weather whatever.
Shuuu—
Permission granted, black tendril snaked from the bandage gap and gulped the Minotaur stone.
Heavy pulse surged up my left arm. Dusty's aura, thicker now.
"Kuh...!"
Clutched my chest, writhing. Heart-ripping agony.
"My twenty-five golds......"
Kuhuk. Hurts. Chest aches.
Hard call or not, pain's pain.
Hard-earned blood money, poof—gone.
Swallowed tears of blood, face-planted into the pillow.
Yesterday's fatigue tugged my lids shut.
Snoozed, woke to premature sunset glow outside.
Downstairs with Evel for dinner, then room.
Diced chicken in spicy stew. Solid meal.
Evel, stuffed like a milk-bloated kitten, curled fetal on the bed and konked out.
Her carefree world sometimes sparks envy.
Tucked her blanket snug to the neck.
Snoring confirmed, I rose quietly.
East District.
Clutched crumpled request sheet, melted into the grimy night alleys.
Steps extra cautious. Head low, mask dodging moonlight glints.
No repeating last blunder—pure stealth mode.
Mark: east-side smuggling crew. Pay: five silvers.
Meager vs. last haul, but small, safe sure-things beat risky bombs.
Rundown shack entrance. Rowdy laughs leaked through door cracks.
Shuuu—
Slipped into shadows.
"Quiet. Swift."
No flashy encore—pass on round two with spooked Cassandra.
"Wh-what... u, uwaaa! What the—!"
"Gah! Aaaagh......! ......!"
Shadow seeped under the door, blacked out the room in seconds.
Red pupils bloomed atop, eyes locked on them.
Sounds echoed.
Stepped inside.
Men thrashed in chains.
"......! ...!"
"...! ......!"
Screams fizzled into ether.
Faces blued to ice; floating eyes curved pleased.
"...! ......"
Three minutes flat. Crew down, rolling.
Sunken sockets, clean empties where eyes belonged.
Request: total org wipe. Yeah, they're done.
Side loot time.
Shouldered past bodies, cracked the crude safe.
Handful of minor mana stones. Few silvers' worth?
No big leagues, but scraps beat zilch.
"Eat."
Fed the lot to Dusty.
Snagged boss's neck chain, rifled pockets for stray coppers.
Wealth builds on scraps.
Hold tight, Golden Lion Inn. Coming back loaded.
Pouch secured, ghosted the shack.
No traces, no noise—pure night melt.
After that, daily grind looped.
Days: guild odd jobs or Evel city jaunts.
Low-effort errands piled quota quick—rank up to Iron.
Nights: mask on, shadow dive.
Pay modest, extras juicy.
Stashed mana stones, pocket change. Stones to Dusty, coin to skewers or sweets shoved in Evel's mouth.
Lux life, yet two golds spare somehow.
Night game's king. Small pond, wake up stacked.
Thus, solid weeks ticked by.
"...Hm? Surroundings just—"
"What! Blind here!"
"Th-this... no friggin' way...!"
"It's that bastard! Him!"
Alleys whispered my legend.
Eye-eater, orb-hoarder, crow—trembling monikers galore per hit.
"Boss! Booooss!"
"Shit! Pitch black!"
'Crow' slaps hardest. Devours eyes, swipes shinies—poetic flair scores points.
Rest too blunt, kinda corny.
Zhururuk—!
Familiar flick, chains lashed—men bound.
Live-eye-gouges screamed soft into dark.
Ransacked full, scraped coins and stones, bailed hideout.
Luck held—no Cassandra reruns lately.
But days off: labyrinth with 'em.
Cash squared, brain shifted there.
Fresh-rearranged labyrinth.
Dusty's stone binge bulked it—win.
Issue: can't deploy it inside. Eyes wide from Cassandra, Heinrich.
...Eh, it'll sort.
Worrying changes zilch.
Nail this once, suspicions nuked.
Identity safe-ish after.
Shoved it aside. Headaches? Hard pass.
Mind veered.
Gazed dawn sky under, trailing shadow tips.
Humanoid black silhouettes, cluster.
Usual distant stare-down.
Nah.
Not distant.
Eyes narrowed, ranged it.
Crystal now.
"......... "
They'd crept closer.
My second nag lately.