Chapter 290
Chapter 290
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 290
>Chapter Title: Deal (1)
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Muhammad Majid, who had bellowed at the Samarkand residents, turned to look at me.
"That attack on you was nothing more than a reckless decision by House Raman alone. House Majid would much rather talk things out than cross blades with you."
"As long as House Majid doesn't come charging in like House Raman did, I see no reason to refuse."
I gladly accepted Muhammad Majid's request.
"This isn't the best place for a proper conversation, so allow me to invite you to our estate in House Majid."
With that, Muhammad ordered his soldiers to clear a path, and we followed behind him.
The soldiers eyed us warily but didn't dare make a move, thanks to Muhammad's command.
We strolled through the darkened streets of Samarkand for a short while.
Before long, we arrived at a grand estate—somewhat smaller than House Raman's mansion but impressive in its own right.
It was House Majid's residence, located almost directly opposite House Raman's.
Under Muhammad Majid's guidance, we headed to House Majid's banquet hall, where they served us food, just as House Raman had.
But the Black Tiger Squad members, having nearly been poisoned once before, hesitated to touch it.
As if understanding our reluctance, Muhammad spoke up.
"Let me apologize once more for House Raman's rudeness."
"It's a relief that you recognize your mistake. With that settled, I hope our discussion from here on proves more constructive."
Despite my somewhat aggressive tone, Muhammad wore a sly, seasoned smile.
"Ho ho ho. I can only hope our talk leads somewhere mutually beneficial."
"The feeling is mutual."
We exchanged glances for a moment. Then Muhammad smiled and spoke.
"Ho ho ho. How long do you plan to stay here?"
"We'll head west as soon as dawn breaks tomorrow."
"To sell your goods, I presume."
"Exactly."
At my matter-of-fact reply, Muhammad took the initiative.
"It must be tough handling that alone. And you don't even know where the big markets are that could buy those goods, do you?"
"House Majid seems to know of a city with a major market."
"Ho ho ho. Do you think House Majid, which has thrived in this once-prosperous Samarkand for centuries, wouldn't have that kind of information?"
"How about this? We'll pay you for a map to that market, along with lodging and meals."
I probed casually, but Muhammad deftly sidestepped with his cunning laugh.
"Ho ho ho. You're aiming for quite the ambitious expedition. We may have sided with you here, but on the road to that place, you might run into more like House Raman."
"Hmm. So how do we avoid scum like House Raman?"
"Ho ho ho. Simple enough. House Majid boasts a long-standing tradition, so if you're with us, they won't attack so easily."
As expected, that thought crossed my mind at Muhammad's words.
That must have been why he'd held back the soldiers.
As Samarkand's second-in-command, he wasn't content with merely toppling the top dog—he wanted to partner with us who'd crossed the Silk Road.
Pretending ignorance and hiding my own thoughts, I asked,
"Oh? That's a fine idea. So House Majid would protect us all the way to that market?"
"Given your group's strength, it's less 'protection' and more 'guarantee' of safe passage."
"Hahaha. To offer such goodwill for free—House Majid's generosity knows no bounds."
I subtly tried to snag it for nothing, but Muhammad didn't bat an eye as he shook his head.
"Ho ho ho. Even for House Majid, escorting you there and back isn't a walk in the park. A token of sincerity wouldn't be too much to ask."
"A token of sincerity... How much are you thinking?"
"Three out of ten should suffice."
I let out a faint smile.
'I figured as much, but you're playing hardball?'
Half the sales proceeds—pure highway robbery.
Sensing the ill omen in my smile, Muhammad added with his hearty chuckle,
"Think rationally, not emotionally. As I said, with us, you'll reach the market and return safely to sell your goods. Your skills are impressive, but this isn't a friendly land for clueless foreigners wandering without a guide."
Without their protection, it'd be hard to find lodging, food, or even water anywhere—and reaching the city would be a nightmare.
"Plus, once you cross west from Samarkand, the nomads' tongue won't serve you anymore. Whose mouth do you plan to borrow for your trades?"
Ollak flinched at Muhammad Majid's addition and glanced at me while translating.
'Come to think of it, Ollak couldn't even translate Bazaar Raman's words.'
I'd overlooked that myself for a moment.
Meanwhile, Muhammad landed his final blow.
"So why not join us? You've come this far through hardship—wouldn't it be a shame to just sightsee Samarkand and leave empty-handed? Or sell your goods to us? We'll pay what we can."
He was saying we'd suffered all this way just to turn tail over a profit split?
'He reminds me of some gangster entertainment exec bullying an idol trainee.'
Shaking off the silly thought, I smiled faintly and spoke.
My defenses had taken enough hits—it was time to counterattack.
"As House Majid's lord says, leaving empty-handed would be a shame. But if we did turn back, wouldn't it be just as regrettable for you?"
"Ho ho ho. What would we have to regret?"
"Who knows? It might not sit well with the promises you made to Samarkand's people."
At my question, a crack flashed across Muhammad Majid's sly smile.
I'd never fully trusted Muhammad Majid from the start.
Especially after the words he'd used to sway the Samarkand crowds—they'd revealed his intentions completely.
'He gives off the same vibe as those self-righteous orthodox sect bastards in so many ways.'
His condemnation of House Raman was likely for appearances' sake.
After all, the second house had profited as the fisherman while the first fell.
Sure, he could've stayed silent, let the soldiers clash with us attackers, or hidden and claimed the seat later.
'But the first risks dragging House Majid down too, and the second invites the residents' scorn for hiding.'
So he'd rolled the dice.
And the biggest reason he could gamble was our cargo.
Unlike House Raman, who'd only fattened their own bellies, House Majid aimed to trade with Central Plains merchants and paint themselves as the 'capable, benevolent' leaders reviving Samarkand's wealth.
In other words, if we left without dealing, they'd be branded as backstabbing betrayers who'd merely knifed House Raman in the back.
Muhammad Majid's awkward expression lasted only a moment after I'd prodded his hidden weakness.
"Ho ho ho."
"Hahaha."
Muhammad Majid and I locked eyes and burst into laughter simultaneously.
He cut his laugh short first and said,
"How about six to four?"
"Cover all our expenses until we trade at the market and return, and it's seven-three. Or eight-two. That's quite the concession from us."
Muhammad Majid pondered briefly, then nodded.
"Fine. Seven-three it is, then."
I nodded readily at his answer.
"A fine deal."
Guiding us, guaranteeing our status, providing interpreters and covering expenses in exchange for thirty percent—it didn't feel like a bad trade.
We needed to sell the goods either way.
"Oh dear. The food must be getting cold. Eat up."
Only then did Muhammad Majid urge us again, and I gladly took a bite.
"Young Master?"
Jin Ha-yeon and Jeong-hyeon looked shocked, while the Black Tiger Squad members reacted with alarm.
"No worries. You all heard the talk—they want to deal with us, so they're unlikely to pull any House Raman tricks."
At my words, the group hesitantly began eating one by one.
The mood was wary at first, but with no issues, they soon dug in faster.
Having rushed into battle before properly enjoying House Raman's feast, everyone was starving.
As if the hesitation had never happened, the Black Tiger Squad devoured the food in a flash.
"Ho ho ho. Watching you enjoy it so much puts me in high spirits."
Muhammad Majid smiled contentedly and clapped. The banquet hall doors opened, and veiled women entered carrying teacups and boiling water.
Remembering the House Raman incident, the Black Tiger Squad eyed them suspiciously.
"Since you've enjoyed the meal, I've prepared some tea that's all the rage among our Huihui cult followers lately—for rinsing your mouths."
Understanding their wariness, Muhammad smiled warmly and offered the tea. The women began pouring for each of us.
Naturally, they served me, the representative, first.
Sensing the familiar aroma from the cup, I calmly addressed the group.
"Don't drink the tea. It's Black Bean Demon Tea."
It was coffee.
The very coffee once used to drive my third senior brother into demonic deviation, disguising an assassination plot against me as his doing.
After that day, coffee became known in the cult as Black Bean Demon Tea—a forbidden brew within the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
No sooner had I spoken than Dokgo-paek and several Black Tiger Squad members twitched as if about to convulse, so I hurriedly added,
"Don't overreact! They couldn't possibly know about our side effects!"
They'd mistaken it for another demonic deviation trap like at House Raman's.
Once I'd calmed the group, I cupped my hands in a fist salute to Muhammad and bowed my head.
"Forgive the alarm. We have bad memories tied to this tea, so everyone startled—please understand."
Muhammad tilted his head at my explanation but soon nodded as if comprehending.
"Some unpleasantness with coffee... Odd, but I won't pry. And don't worry. Coffee's rare even for us, so we prepared it only for you, the leader. We'll swap yours for something else."
Muhammad gave further instructions to the women who'd brought it, and soon my Black Bean tea was replaced.
'Hmm. Shame.'
The rich aroma stirred nostalgia for the coffee I'd often had in my overworked modern life.
I'd mostly overcome the side effects anyway, so drinking it wouldn't plunge me into demonic deviation.
'After trading in a bigger city, sneaking some for myself wouldn't be bad.'
That thought led to another question.
"Coffee's really that popular among Huihui cult followers lately?"
Coffee, used in the cult's schemes, shouldn't have spread to the East much by this era.
Maybe this expedition would uncover how it ended up in the cult.