Chapter 26: The Peacock’s Night Gathering
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 26: The Peacock’s Night Gathering
The Peacock’s Night Gathering, a tavern in the city of Noctar.
Its exterior was a far cry from the common taverns one might see anywhere else. It was styled like a sophisticated bar, a place where only nobles or wealthy merchants were permitted entry.
It was a space for the haves to socialize, and a place to exchange information that didn't circulate outside.
Just like now.
Men adorned in expensive clothes and lavish accessories sat at the bar, tipping their glasses and chatting.
“Have you heard the rumor?”
“What rumor?”
“The one about the Reaper! They say a Reaper appeared in Fracture and Agartha, killing people and taking their souls!”
“Hah.”
Taking their souls.
That was on a different level from an ordinary death. It meant no chance of reincarnation; they could be screaming in agony somewhere even now.
“But what’s even more chilling is that every single one of the dead was deeply involved in the witch hunts.”
“Are you saying it was the work of a witch?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? They messed with a witch and got cursed.”
“They just stirred up a hornet’s nest. Besides, I hear there aren’t many witches left these days anyway. Why bother them? As long as they’re not causing any harm, we should just let them be. If anything, it’s those mages who are more of a problem nowadays.”
The man nodded in agreement.
While it was true that witches had once rampaged across the continent, slaughtering the innocent, that was in the distant past—a time when only witches could wield magic.
Now, hundreds of years later, the miracle of magic had been demoted to a slightly unusual talent. Distinguishing between mages and witches was, in itself, a foolish endeavor.
“Besides, aren’t all witches supposed to be beautiful?”
“What are you talking about? From what I’ve heard, they’re all wrinkly old hags.”
“Fucking cute, though.”
An unfamiliar voice abruptly cut into their conversation. The men turned their heads toward the sound.
It was a handsome, black-haired man sitting two seats down from them.
He was lounging at a slight angle, savoring a glass of pale, ivory-colored wine.
“What did you just say?”
“Just talking to myself. This glass is quite cute.”
“It’s just an ordinary glass.”
“My, you can’t see the difference. It’s a shame I can’t share my appreciation with you.”
The man let out a hollow laugh.
The two men exchanged glances and gestured. Shrugging as if to say, what a weirdo, they lost interest.
“Where were we?”
“I don’t know. That guy made me forget. Oh, more importantly, did you hear? The Desert Rose Merchant Group succeeded in their elf hunt!”
“What? Is that true? That Roperman fellow, he finally pulled it off.”
Roperman, the leader of the Desert Rose Merchant Group, was a famous collector with a fanatical obsession for acquiring rare items.
That included elves.
The beauty of elves was said to be unapproachably divine, but they were nearly impossible to even encounter, as they lived hidden behind a barrier in the Great Forest.
Even if one was lucky enough to meet one, their exceptional martial prowess made capturing them as difficult as plucking a star from the sky. This made elves incredibly rare. On the rare occasion one appeared on the market, nobles would flock to bid, and the starting price was no less than the cost of a castle.
And he had succeeded in hunting one.
It was the jackpot of all jackpots.
“I’m so jealous.”
“I hear they’re transporting it now. We should at least go take a look when it arrives.”
“I can’t wait, I’m so excited.”
That was yet another voice.
The man’s head snapped around.
“Are you eavesdropping on our conversation?”
“Pardon?”
“Just like before, you’re chiming in again!”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Unable to tolerate the man’s feigned ignorance, the patron shot to his feet.
Information, depending on the circumstances, was something money couldn't always buy, and this man was getting it for free. Of course, he expected some of it to be overheard in a public place, but for someone to be so blatant about it was truly unpleasant.
“You’re going to play dumb? Then what did you mean by ‘excited’ just now? Don’t you dare try to deny you said it!”
“I meant I’m excited for the bubbles to rise. This one is carbonated, so it makes more than usual. Look.”
The man put his mouth to his wine and blew. The liquid fizzed and bubbled. Then, looking at the men, he said:
“Ta-da.”
He spread his hands to either side, striking a pose as if he had just performed a grand magic trick.
A disbelieving laugh escaped the patron’s lips at his sheer audacity.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Pfft, khh-huff.”
“Wh-why are you suddenly laughing!”
“I have a condition where I laugh whenever I see bubbles. My apologies… khh-huff.”
Bubble, bubble.
Khh-huff.
The man repeated the sequence, laughing all by himself.
“Hey, let’s just go. He seems a few screws loose. Nothing good can come from getting involved with someone like that.”
Though he didn't like it, his companion was absolutely right.
Everyone who could enter The Peacock’s Night Gathering was influential. He could recognize most of them on sight, but this man was a new face.
Starting something without knowing who you were dealing with could lead to irreversible consequences.
Besides, even now, the man was caressing the rim of his glass with his fingertips, his eyes filled with a loving gaze, as if exploring a lover’s skin.
That type was especially dangerous.
“Tsk.”
The man clicked his tongue loudly, making sure it was heard, and left his seat.
Even after the men had gone, the black-haired man continued to stroke his glass, a greasy smile never leaving his lips.
“Free intel, what a score.”
Karami took a satisfied sip. The elderly bartender, who had been wiping the counter, looked down at him with a pathetic expression.
“You have plenty of money. Why do you keep eavesdropping on other people’s conversations and getting yourself yelled at?”
“Why would I spend money when priceless information just pours out if I sit here? Every little bit counts.”
“Then why do it in my shop?”
“Master, don’t be so cheap. I saved your granddaughter, didn’t I?”
“That’s why I can’t kick you out.”
Karami might spend his days lounging at the bar like an idler, but his appearance and his true nature were worlds apart.
It was also the reason a mere slave trader, neither a noble nor a merchant group leader, could be in a place like this.
Victor, the master of The Peacock’s Night Gathering, recalled his first meeting with Karami.
*
It was a rainy night.
The damp buildings faintly reflected the moonlight as Victor, following his usual routine, was closing up shop.
Splash.
The sound of a footstep pressing down on the film of water covering the ground.
Without even looking, Victor knew it was a man. The footsteps stopped beside the shop.
“We’re closed for the night.”
“Is that so? A shame. I heard the drinks here are to die for.”
A lighthearted voice.
He’d never heard it before.
“Sorry, but we’re selective about our clientele. Even if you come back tomorrow, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to get in.”
“Wow, that trick works everywhere, doesn’t it? Emphasize how exclusive you are, and the rich come flocking to throw their money at you. All for a petty sense of superiority.”
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to come. There are other taverns besides this one.”
He often dealt with people trying to pick a fight, so it was nothing to get worked up about. Victor silently closed the wooden door. Each time the iron chain in his hand brushed against his fingertips, a faint, metallic sound mixed with the patter of rain.
Splash.
Seeing that Victor was ignoring him, the man seemed to lose interest as well. With his hands clasped behind his back, he began to walk away.
Just as he was passing by Victor’s side, he spoke.
“Twilight fades, and the peacock ceases its dance.”
WHOOSH!
Victor’s form shot through the rain. He grabbed the man and slammed him against the wall. Pinning him by the neck with his arm, he produced a dagger that seemed to appear with the speed of a flash of light and aimed it at the man.
“Who the hell are you? How do you know that phrase?”
Only then did Victor see the man’s face for the first time.
Black hair, black eyes—unusual features, and quite handsome. Though he was being choked, which should have been painful, he looked down at Victor with an amused expression.
“Hmm, that’s strange. That’s not the code phrase I know. I think you have the wrong person.”
“No, I’m sure I’m the person you’re thinking of. Stop changing the subject and answer my question.”
“Even if you say that, I can’t be sure unless I get confirmation…”
“…”
Victor paused for a moment.
“…but the shadows keep dancing.”
“On a rainy night, where does the peacock go~?”
“To where darkness lies, a place the moonlight cannot reach.”
The corners of the man’s eyes curved into a sly grin.
He laughed as if delighted.
“Well, what do you know, it really is you. I wanted to hear it in your own voice, so thanks for making my wish come true.”
“Then answer me properly. Who are you? And how do you know this?”
Because this code was one used by the Assassin’s Guild.
Victor had been its guildmaster.
But on the day his comrades were wiped out by a deception, the guild was disbanded, and Victor had been running this tavern in Noctar ever since.
No one left in the world knew of his existence. The same went for the code phrases. They should have been buried in the depths of memory along with his departed comrades.
Yet this man he’d never met had just recited one.
“I’m the slave trader, Karami. Some people call me the Slave Reaper. As for how I know who you are… it’s because I’m your biggest fan, Victor.”
“A fan? You expect me to believe that?”
“Haha, I’m serious. But it’s not like I can show you what’s in my heart.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll find out if you’re being sincere or not once I open you up.”
Victor’s hand moved.
Prick.
The dagger pierced Karami’s neck. A single drop of blood trickled down the blade.
“Hmm, if you kill me, you’ll be the one in trouble, Victor.”
“Is that so? I’d think having someone who knows my identity alive would be more troublesome.”
At that, Karami grinned.
He added one more thing.
“If I die, there will be no one left to cure your granddaughter’s illness. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”