Paying the Fine - 2: Histania's Eldest Son

Malik Histania, the eldest son of the Histania family, was a perfectionist. He was the child who most resembled his father, the one who bore the weight of all his father's expectations. And he himself wanted nothing more than to become just like his father.

Malik had never relinquished his top spot at the Imperial Academy, and after graduation, he'd followed in his father's footsteps, joining the Imperial Knights. Everyone acknowledged his talent, and he was content with the life he'd built. But now, right on the cusp of awakening his aura, everything had ground to a halt.

This was the most critical moment in Malik's life. He had to master aura before he lost his edge.

Aura at 27? The empire's youngest aura user had been 25, so it wasn't late by any means. In fact, it was remarkably early. The average age for aura users across the empire was the early thirties. He'd thought he'd entered the realm of the elites, but now none of that mattered.

Because the Histania family's youngest aura user had just been born.

His little sibling—the one he'd always dismissed—had exploded onto the scene like a supernova, hitting Malik like a thunderbolt. And to make matters worse, the escort operation for the adventurer hunter Pascal, which he'd personally staked his reputation on, had failed catastrophically. All the achievements he'd piled up over the years were now teetering on the brink.

"Damn. Damn... Damn...!"

"Sponsor. Why are you so angry? Shall I give your shoulders a rub?"

"...Shut up."

Malik looked up. A red-haired man was grinning brightly at him. This guy, gazing at him with a reverence like he'd just beheld a god, was the mercenary he'd been forced to hire to clean up this mess. Malik had been tempted by the man's solid track record and promise of anonymity, but seeing that face again soured his mood considerably.

"If it's the sponsor's command, I'd even play dead."

Malik clamped his lips shut at Ricardo's words.

The carriage interior was dead silent. This wasn't some ride you'd just shrug off at 500,000 gold. The seats were plush beyond belief—worlds apart from those one-shilling death traps that threatened a slipped disc after an hour.

I was here for one reason only: to meet the client.

I climbed into the carriage, and there sat Malik, his hair the exact same brown as Hanna's. Legs crossed, he didn't even pretend to look my way. I bowed my head sharply at the sight of him.

"Hello, sir!"

Malik furrowed his brow. His expression was grim. He was the one who'd embarrassed himself in front of his father, the very guy who'd made him flush red with anger during their fight. Having to request help from someone like that clearly didn't sit well; his face was a storm of complicated emotions.

"Allow me to introduce myself properly."

I pulled a crisp business card from my breast pocket.

The card featured neat lettering and that bizarre tagline. I'd given chocolates to the young lady to coax her into letting me have it custom-made. It was a handmade card, born from persuading a screaming miss who hated writing such text. It embodied her artistic insistence on "the world's most beautiful."

Malik scanned me with displeased eyes after taking the card. Probably jealous of the tagline: butler of the world's most beautiful villainess. I got it. She might be a bit prickly, ignore everyone, and act like a lone wolf, but her beauty could make even the heroine take a step back.

"A commoner?"

But Malik didn't seem mad about that part.

"A commoner with no surname... Desmont Olivia?"

"Yes, that's right. I am Ricardo, the personal butler to Lady Desmont Olivia."

I offered a cautious handshake, but he didn't take it. Awkwardly, I scratched the back of my head with my free hand.

"Ahaha..."

Awkward...

"Now I get why you didn't reveal your affiliation to my father."

"It's such a proud name, I was hesitant to introduce it."

"No. It's because your family's ruined, right?"

Why did guys like Ruin and Malik think our family was done for? We were still going strong.

"We're not ruined. To be precise, it was Lady Olivia who fell from grace. The Desmont family remains as robust as the Mage Tower."

"Splitting hairs, but you're still ruined, aren't you?"

"If you say so."

I wanted to argue, but I lacked the guts to sass the sponsor who'd saved us from the streets. Who could stand up to someone handing out 700 million gold like pocket change? Hell, he deserved foot-kissing for not demanding that. Rich bastards were brothers and sisters in this world.

"Needed quick cash?"

Malik sneered at me.

"Needed money, huh."

"Yes, a little."

"Hm..."

Malik stroked his chin. Sharp jawline under the black uniform. Just as described in the novel, he was handsome. And just as described, his temper was foul.

He asked again.

"It's the fine, right?"

"...Pardon?"

"Your job. Is it because of the fine?"

I didn't answer. I didn't want to get swept up in his provocations.

In the novel, Malik appears as a supporting male lead who crushes on Yuria. Caught between Mikhail ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠stealing his father's attention and his own fading glory, he falls for Yuria's comforting presence. It was a love ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠triangle. Their catfights over her were pretty entertaining.

Malik was a fairly substantial side character. As a proper sub-male lead, he had some decency. Arrogant and prideful, sure, but he looked after his own to the end. A total asshole personality-wise, but he gave his best for those he cared about.

Right now, he was pissed at me, but if I'd been one of his people, the treatment might've been different. One thing was clear: he knew how to take care of his own. That's why he'd hired me.

The request was probably capturing Pascal alive. Nothing else made sense for something he'd ask me to do. Pascal was the escape artist extraordinaire in the novel—caught one moment, breaking out with a dramatic "ta-da!" in front of the protagonist the next.

I'd noticed the scars on the knights guarding the carriage door. Friction during the escort, no doubt. Normally, he'd fire the knights and pin the blame, but hiring me meant he wanted this handled quietly. The guy overflowed with loyalty in these moments. Too bad his mouth was such a liability.

I held back the bait and suggested we get to business, to wrap this up fast.

"It's a sensitive question, haha. How about we talk about the request instead?"

"Got some pride, at least."

"Haha... I have my dignity to protect, so forgive my rudeness."

"Hmph."

Malik pondered deeply. Was he deeming me trustworthy since I wasn't biting, or just offended? He snapped his fingers, mulling it over.

"How much?"

"Pardon?"

"The fine. How much? Black magic use gets harsh punishment in the empire, so I can guess it's more than you can handle."

Why ask if he wasn't paying it himself? But ignoring him might spark rage, so I answered.

"1 million gold."

"1 million gold..."

Malik mulled it over. I wished he'd share his thoughts. Keeping it to himself felt unfair. Was he gonna ghost me? Cancel the deal? But no—I wasn't the underdog here. Only I could dismantle black magic. Only I could snag Pascal quietly. Asking other aura users would tarnish Histania's rep; guild info brokers would cost more and leak details. Even at a premium, hiring me was Malik's best play.

"One week."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what request this is. Pascal. Can you catch him in a week?"

"The mantis? No, the adventurer hunter?"

Malik nodded. I couldn't give a firm yes. Catching him was easy; finding him wasn't.

"I'll do my best, but his location isn't clear, so..."

"What if you knew exactly where?"

"Under 30 minutes."

After a brief pause, Malik spoke.

"Thing is, I still don't know your true skill level. I doubt you could take Pascal."

Fair point. Everything was wrapped up by the time he arrived.

"But I can't move myself either. I could probably catch him, but..."

"No. If you go, young master, he's 100% killing you."

Malik glared. Annoyed at my dismissal, but facts were facts. An aura-less Malik versus Pascal? He'd get performance-arted into oblivion, body not even recoverable.

"Don't overstep."

"Then go alone. I'll bow out."

"Got another gig like this?"

"If you fail, I'll grab him then. Bounty's decent."

"So it was you."

Malik relented.

"Fine, I admit it. I couldn't do it right now."

He had an eye for talent. Imperial Knights veteran, sword prodigy. Level 50-ish, maybe. His swordsmanship outshone even Hanna's. Just no aura yet. Elite of elites—he knew his limits.

"Three knights took critical wounds escorting Pascal, two severe. All top-tier."

Malik stared straight at me.

"Their failure means I couldn't either. Hanna? Impossible. So you alone subdued him there."

"Yes. I did it."

I laid it bare. Feigning humility now would backfire. Perfect time to flex ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my arsenal.

Malik, as if he'd been waiting, said:

"Instead of just the request, one condition."

"Condition?"

"Yeah. When you go for Pascal... take me with you."

"Declined."

"I'll pay the exact 1 million gold."

He gripped his sword hilt tight.

"A master's gotta avenge his hound, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right?"

Seeing his confident grin, I knew instinctively:

He's gonna get brutally wrecked by Pascal.

But crushing the sandbag's courage to buy life lessons with cash felt wrong. He'd earned some payback for his rudeness.

"Fine. But you keep everything about me secret too."

"Deal."

We drew up a simple contract, then headed to an abandoned church on the village outskirts.