Betrayal's Venom
Fifteen minutes had passed since the bank raid.
In the underground parking lot of a building in eastern Kikiwai, two men were holding a meeting.
One was the orc assassin Yohane, who had fired the anti-tank rocket at the bank. The other was Gagamel, a merman black market arms dealer who'd been selling him weapons for years.
"Wow, impressive. How'd you manage to snag such a perfect fake?"
"Can't just spill trade secrets that easily."
Contrary to the facts, Yohane believed the non-exploding rocket was a dud and expressed his satisfaction. His commission had been to scare Adijen and Minoli into divorcing. The client had strictly emphasized no killing.
Thus, Yohane had only intended to give them a good fright. Without the pressure of a mandatory kill, he still had to evade the police pursuit, making it a higher-difficulty job than usual. For someone who thrived on this kind of thrill, it was decent entertainment.
However, Gagamel's expression, as he listened to Yohane's story, was a bit different from his usual demeanor.
What the hell happened? Those two bastards were supposed to blow up with the bank.
Just as Yohane had coincidentally received commissions from the Vainaus and Leoniab families to split up the two lovers, Gagamel had also been approached by someone else.
Remember this. Those two die by their family's hand. Killed by an assassin hired by their own blood—now that's tragedy.
The man who'd heard about Yohane's new gig from Gagamel had made an outrageous demand. He instructed the arms dealer to supply Yohane with lethal weapons during their deal.
"……."
Gagamel couldn't refuse. He owed the man an enormous debt. Temptation in the form of debt forgiveness was hard to resist. But he knew exactly what kind of person his loan shark was.
Letting someone who rejects the offer spread the word would be riskier than just recovering the loaned funds immediately, right?
A client who rejected the debt-forgiveness offer in exchange for freeze-drying into dust.
After witnessing the nonchalant murder of a borrower, fear had taken over.
You'll help, right?
Gagamel, tasked with providing a "real" lethal weapon to Yohane—who'd only been ordered to scare the targets—had no choice but to obey the loan shark. Even if it meant betraying Yohane, his longtime partner; he couldn't stake his own life on it.
"So, what's next? As long as they don't die or get hurt bad, we can mess with 'em however, right?"
Gagamel masked his conflicted feelings while watching Yohane grin innocently, oblivious to it all.
Sorry, Yohane, but no choice.
"How about this?"
Gagamel opened the metal suitcase he'd brought, retrieving a vial secured inside.
"Causes hives, rashes, that kinda thing."
"Mild poison, huh?"
"Yeah. Small oral dose won't kill."
Of course, it was a lie. The colorless, odorless liquid in the vial was a deadly toxin. Trusting Gagamel completely, Yohane would mix it into the targets' drinks or food—and the high-potency poison would send both straight to the grave.
If Yohane asked what went wrong, he could blame overdosing or the targets' constitutions.
Yohane had two clients for this job. Their demand was to scare the pair into divorce—not kill them. Yohane was a big-name assassin in the underworld, commanding top dollar. Entrusting him with the job implied clients of significant status and wealth.
A commission to scare without killing demanded finesse and meticulous planning. Far trickier for an assassin than outright murder. It made sense they'd pick a pro like Yohane.
But what if Yohane failed? Not just failing to split them, but actually killing them?
His reputation would tank, and the clients would hold him accountable. They might even hire another assassin to hunt him down—to cut loose ends or avenge a no-kill target.
In that chaos, Yohane wouldn't have time to come after Gagamel.
"Don't go too hard. They said it'd be trouble if anyone dies."
"I'll manage. Fun gigs like this don't come around often."
Oblivious, Yohane would end up pursued by his clients. Unfortunate, but unavoidable. Even if he resented Gagamel, there were no alternatives.
"Hit me up if you need anything else."
Yohane gave a curt farewell and climbed into his car. Gagamel watched the sedan spew exhaust and vanish, his face twisting.
The end had come for his long-standing relationship with a loyal customer.
"Gotta book a ticket first."
He hoped Yohane wouldn't die from this job. Hoped the cornered man wouldn't come hunting him. That was all Gagamel could wish for.
"Intriguing."
Haten, the loan shark who'd gotten Gagamel's call, chuckled softly as he set down the phone.
"Can't recover it that easily, as expected."
Long ago, he'd been ousted from Dis Pater Credit Vault, the predecessor to Dimensional Credit Vault, and started a new venture for survival. But life as an ex-banker turned loan shark wasn't easy.
To protect himself, Haten had contracted with a new backer.
I'll accept your power. Whatever the cost.
He'd lent money to countless people, swelling his assets through sky-high interest or collateral. But what he truly craved—beyond money—were the souls of intelligent beings granting him eternal life despite his taboos.
Moisture in the air gathered automatically, forming a small ice lump.
Inside the transparent ice shard floated the face of an elderly ancient elf. An old soul who'd died harboring intense emotions. Instead of reclaiming loaned funds from Dimension 33, Haten had harvested this soul of greater value.
Stealing the star spirit dwelling in the World Tree as originally planned had proven impossible, but opportunities would arise in time.
"Hmm."
Humming, Haten prodded the floating ice with a fingertip.
Crack.
Soul essence leaked from the fractured ice, sucked into his whiskey glass.
His Job Authority, bolstered by a pact with a god-opposing entity, was potent—but it had utterly corrupted him. He seemed utterly rational, yet his sole aim was pleasure.
"Ahh…."
Gazing ecstatically at the glass where the elf's essence melted in, Haten downed it in one gulp.
Surrounding chill vanishes!
The cold aura swirling around him vanished instantly. Warmth bloomed in his chest. Indescribable ecstasy dominated his brain.
Cursed by the ice demon, such souls lost the ability to feel normal stimuli. For one enduring centuries of boredom, devouring others' souls was his only joy.
"Bitter, spicy. Aged emotions never fail."
Like high-proof liquor burning throat and nose, the ancient elf's stolen emotions—greed, rage, despair nurtured by the World Tree bishop—swirled within him, a complex vintage vanishing into his gut with profound satisfaction.
Fleeting bliss. Yet it was the only thing making him feel truly alive.
Power to gain rapture beyond any drug or revelry, at the cost of others' lives.
Chewing on how much he resembled his ancient contractor, Haten let out a self-mocking laugh. But greater still was his anticipation for the new souls he'd soon savor.
"The taste of a soul perfectly aged for 200 years. Can't wait."
Influenced by the ingested soul, faint memories revived in Haten's mind. Tales from before Vainaus and Leoniab's founders opened their shops—back when they processed cacao beans together in a tiny stall, before their split.
Haten had wedged between them, wrecked their bond, and loaned startup funds.
Not repaying on time? Pure whim. He'd hoped the fracture would fester into generational grudges.
"Perfect choice. Picking you two."
Everything unfolded as Haten desired. Countless interventions prolonged the families' enmity for centuries, deepening the rift among descendants long after the founders' deaths.
No one remembered borrowing from a loan shark wielding demonic power. The contracts remained valid, slumbering in a magically sealed vault.
Even if the borrower died, heirs owed principal plus interest. Refusal meant soul collection without question. No way to repay 200 years of compound interest anyway.
Once this job wrapped, the sweetest brew would be ready.
Barring any mishaps.
"Not long now."
That mishap being Adijen and Minoli's marriage reconciling the ancient grudge.
"…Nah, won't happen."
Vainaus and Leoniab had hired top assassins to split their youngest without killing—just scaring. So Haten planned to intervene: not mere divorce, but death by "assassin's mistake."
Their deaths would shatter legal and face-saving bonds, unleashing dammed hatred.
That moment: Haten's long-awaited "harvest day." He'd reap the perfectly ripened souls.
He didn't know why the first attempt failed, but against Yohane, no one could protect the pair. Dimension 33's junior bankers had interfered before, but this time, victory was certain.
"One sip after 200 years of waiting…."
Gazing past the empty glass at the view outside, the ice demon quietly swallowed.
"What will it taste like?"
A sinister smile spread across his face, imagining the bliss from his soon-to-be prey.