Chapter 108

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Translator: penny

Chapter: 108

Chapter Title: Black Anchor Trading Company

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Creak.

The moment we stepped into the rundown building, the first thing that hit us was the acrid stench of cigarette smoke. It was mixed with faint whiffs of booze and a musty moldy smell, but nothing could compare to the harsh bite of that tobacco.

I lifted my head and scanned the scene through the thick haze.

'It really reminds me of a sleazy staffing agency.'

Shabby and crude.

Everything—the furniture, the knickknacks, the window frames—was caked in dust. And yet, certain spots were spotless, without a speck of grime.

Not the kind of clean you get from scrubbing, but the worn-smooth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cleanliness of frequent use.

"Hard to breathe in here."

"The owner must be a heavy smoker."

"Feels like we're in a fog."

The women pinched their noses and frowned, muttering soft complaints as the cigarette stench got to them.

"Tch, whoever it is, they must be a real chain-smoker."

Only Shin Seo-yeon said it with a hint of regret.

The Crimson Flame Witch had quit smoking after I'd pinned her down and made her squeal one too many times.

She still fidgeted with her fingers out of habit now and then, but since that day, I'd never once caught a whiff of tobacco on her. Looked like she was faithfully keeping her promise to me.

"You must be the new outlanders I've heard about."

As we chattered amid the tobacco fog, a voice called out from deeper inside the smoke.

"Pleased to meet you."

We made our way there slowly. Two burly men stood guard like bodyguards, and beyond them loomed a large desk lit by a yellow lantern.

On the desk lay a few papers, a dagger, a pistol, a compass, a map, and the like.

And the owner of that voice sat behind it.

A cantankerous-looking old man with a leather eyepatch over one eye greeted us.

One of the three who'd guided us here stepped forward.

"Nice to meet you. I'm—"

"No need for introductions. I don't care what your names are."

"......"

"And chain-smoker? Cheeky brat. No matter how high or low your status, anyone who comes here to see me has to choke down my smoke first. Know what that means?"

He swept back his shock of white hair with a beefy arm and blew out a harsh puff from his mouth.

"It means if you wanna survive in here, you watch my mood first."

"Who are you?"

"Barkus Crow. Owner of this sorry excuse for a trading company. And the only man in this city who can protect you."

We exchanged glances before approaching the elderly sailor named Barkus.

"Is that true?"

The old man eyed us up and down like he was appraising livestock and nodded.

"Aye. But there are conditions. A proposal that won't be bad for you, either."

Here it comes, finally.

Handle this negotiation right, and things'll go smoother from here on out.

We focused on the old man.

"Hold on—mind if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I talk to him first?"

Someone slipped in between us right then.

Barkus, interrupted, raised one bushy eyebrow and glanced right. There stood the woman who'd led us here, leaning against the wall and staring him down.

"I brought the people like you asked. So how about confirming my pay for today?"

"Ah, right. Good work, Miss Maeve. Don't worry about you and your crew's pay for today."

"Thanks."

"But you didn't spill anything unnecessary, did you?"

"...Of course not."

Barkus stared hard at her as she turned and headed to the back of the building, then tossed out a casual remark.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around till the end? If no one takes the deal, you'll have to go fill the quota yourself. Don't count on hitting the sack early."

"......"

Maeve paused, glared at Barkus for a moment, then spun on her heel, her red ponytail whipping behind her as she vanished.

"Alright, let's pick up where we left off. Where was I?"

"You were talking about your proposal."

The eyepatched old man nodded as if he'd just remembered.

"Ah, right, the proposal. I've got one for you lot. Word is, your kind are damn good thieves."

"What did you say?"

Everyone bristled at once. Fair enough—who'd be happy getting called thieves out of the blue?

"Am I wrong?"

"Who the hell told you that crap?!"

"Did that woman earlier say it? That Koreans are good at stealing?!"

No way. Calling us an "ethnicity" made it sound like a targeted slur against our country, but it wasn't.

To them, all Earthlings looked like one big ethnic group—just a blanket term.

'Sounds insulting, but really, it's them treating us equally.'

At least they weren't calling us beasts or making racial distinctions. Lumping us as an "ethnicity" meant they saw us as human, more or less.

Not that they seemed capable of that much thought.

'And man, hearing fluent Korean from otherworlders never stops feeling weird, even after ten years.'

Probably the opposite for them.

Anyway, that one offhand remark from him had everyone riled up, on the verge of exploding.

Maybe after surviving deadly environments and battling monsters, this human-looking old codger seemed like easy pickings.

'Or maybe they're assuming since he's negotiating like a civilized human, he won't resort to violence.'

My group managed to stay quiet despite their gripes, but the three guides were losing it.

Let this go on, and we'd cross a point of no return. I stepped forward. One of the bodyguards moved up too, but I ignored him and spoke.

"You see right through us. We'll do your thieving job."

"What?"

"What the hell are you saying?!"

"Have you got no pride?"

They reacted from behind like I'd lost my mind. I answered flatly.

"Wanderers with nowhere to go. Living day to day like a candle in the wind—pride's the last thing we need right now. If there's a way to survive, we bend over backwards for it."

"Ugh."

"Th-that's..."

They shut up quick, out of retorts. Barkus watched with interest. I met his eye again.

"So what's the proposal?"

"I'll provide lodging and food for you homeless lot. In return, you work for me."

"You mentioned thieving, so you want us to fetch stolen goods."

"Quick on the uptake—I like that."

Just as I'd heard beforehand.

Barkus Crow.

An important figure on the [Island of Sacrifices] that any player who successfully escapes captivity is bound to meet.

He always makes this thieving proposal at first meeting.

"How much do we need to bring?"

He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaled deeply, and grinned.

"2,000 gold."

We all looked at each other.

"How much is 2,000 gold?"

"No idea."

The old man watched us for a bit, then flashed a sly smile and continued.

"In your currency, it's about 2,000 points, they say."

"Hah?"

"W-wait a sec! That's...!"

To folks who'd barely scraped 300 points from the hell of the second Trial, 2,000 was absurd.

But it was too early to be shocked.

"Per person."

"!!"

"Every day. If you wanna stay safe here."

Eyes widened to saucers.

2,000 points every day?

"What kind of bullshit is that...!"

"He's screwing us over! You take us for suckers?!"

The room filled with furious shouts. They saw it as unfair treatment, sure. Sadly, this was humanity's default in the Selection Process.

"Hmph, you don't know the value of my protection, do you, Barkus Crow."

"Protection? Don't make me laugh! You think you're the king around here?"

"Like some king would hole up in this shithole!"

King...

They saw him as just a decrepit old sailor bluffing, but he really was a king.

The big boss ruling this area.

A power player in Haran's underworld. Get on his good side, and we'd score all sorts of info and perks we wouldn't know about otherwise.

'Piss him off, and one day we might get knifed in some alley or ratted out to the guards.'

This wasn't just about getting a hideout.

It was like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠getting a license to operate in Haran—wander the streets, do business—though the renewal cycle was brutally short.

'Some tried blackmailing him for bigger gains.'

But that never ended well.

"This pisses me off!"

The three couldn't see what I saw and figured the old guy parked in this dingy office was all talk.

"Coming at us with that crap as a 'proposal'! Hah!"

"We're out."

"Let's go. If we get tangled with this place, we'll end up slaving away like that woman earlier, stuck here for 20 days straight!"

They turned to leave.

Thankfully, my group caught my eye, clamped their mouths shut despite the grumbling, and stayed put.

"That your decision? Better think it over. I don't make offers twice."

"Whatever. One-eyed geezer."

"Hey, make way!"

The four burly guards at the door looked to the old man, who nodded. They reached out to the departing players.

"Hand over the robes."

"What?"

"Give back the robes, and we'll let you through."

The three players turned to Barkus. The one-eyed old man smiled.

"We're not a charity. If you've grown fond of them in our short time together, no choice—pull out something worthwhile. I'll buy 'em off you. Better not think you can just walk off with them."

Shing. The guards blocking the entrance drew their swords. Unarmed players faced a lousy matchup.

In the end, they stripped off their outer coats and gloves as payment for the robes and left.

Those ratty robes you could buy for 1 point at a shop, and he pocketed over 10 points' worth...

True to his rep, a greedy bastard with a sharp head for business.

"Barkus, huh? Watch your back. Humanity will make you pay for this."

"Wonder how long you can lord it from that chair."

With curses, the three vanished into the dark night streets.

'2,000 points is a big ask.'

To them, it probably sounded like handing over a yearly salary every day. Or worse—an outrageous injustice.

But we had to adapt. No coddling in the Trials. If needed, swallow your pride and bow.

"Tch tch, idiots. How long do they think they'll last here without me? Fish food at best, the morons."

'...Probably fish food sooner than that.'

People kick away chances when something shinier catches their eye.

Remembering the greed in their eyes back in the [Ancient Sewers], I shook my head and faced the old man again.

"So why're you lot still hanging around? Get outta here."

The irritated old man got a bright smile from me in return.

"'Cause we're natural-born thieves."

"What?"

"Give us the job. You won't be disappointed. Better than any outlander you've seen."

"......"

He stared at me a moment, then snorted a laugh.

"...Big mouth on ya. But I like the guts, kid."

"Good head on your shoulders, sharp eyes too. Deal's on. Like I said, pay's 2,000 gold a head—10,000 total for you five. Today's on the house."

"Thank you."

"But starting tomorrow, you'll be hustling."

Already planning on it. That's why we came to this Trial zone in the first place.

"Off with you. Wait—no, gotta show you the lodgings first."

Barkus stood, beckoning us to follow. Behind the office was a door leading to a long corridor.

A dank, gloomy passage thick with moisture. No lights, so we carried lanterns as we went, the wooden floorboards creaking like a grim soundtrack.

Scattered doors began appearing.

"This one's yours."

Barkus stopped at one, knocking on it twice and declaring it our quarters. The door was so rickety and worn, no need to peek inside to know.

The old man lifted his droopy eyelid in warning.

"Deadline's every dawn. Before the iron grates blocking the sea lanes fully open. Don't forget—10,000 gold starting tomorrow."

Nod.

"If you can't swing it, drag some kin here to vouch for you. I'll waive that day."

That explained why Maeve had risked coming after us despite the guards chasing her. She'd fallen short on her daily quota.

In this Trial zone, no free favors. That's why the Saintess shone so brightly.

"And if you scrape together 100,000 gold worth, I'll even get you on a ship. To wherever you want."

"Quest?"

The ding rang as Barkus Crow vanished and the quest appeared.

"You lot got yours too?"

"Yeah!"

"Me too!"

The long-dormant Trial completion condition had triggered.

Normally, it pops up after dropping into the labyrinth, but going through Barkus Crow of the [Black Anchor Trading Company] opens this alternate route.

In short: steal well enough, and you can move to the next zone.