Time to Go Collect Our Players (4)
The bar fell silent in an instant.
In that silence, Harlion's eyes went wide, and his hand trembled so violently he nearly dropped his glass.
"A p-player? You don't mean one of those players who seduce women's hearts?"
Louis, sitting beside him, snorted and chimed in.
"Yes, that's right. Our boss sees far greater potential in that direction, you see."
"W-wait just a moment! Granted, I've been cast out of the line of succession, but I am still a nobleman by birth! Surely you'd agree that keeping the ledgers and records is the more fitting role for me? How could I possibly...!"
Harlion wore an expression of utter incredulity.
I understood where he was coming from. For someone who had once been a noble, throwing himself into a job that involved selling emotions to young ladies was hardly something he could view positively.
But that was exactly what made him perfect for it.
I calmly raised my glass and smiled.
"Being nobility is precisely the advantage. The aristocratic refinement that flows naturally from your face and every gesture—that is your most powerful weapon, Lord Harlion. The patrons of Bloom will gladly pay a steep price for a taste of that 'noble refinement.'"
Harlion stared at me as if the words had struck him dumb, then eventually clutched his forehead and muttered.
"...I'm going mad. Never in my life did I imagine I'd receive an offer like this."
Shielding his face with the hand pressed to his brow, he heaved a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of every tragedy in the world.
Then, abruptly, he lifted his head and straightened his back as if determined to preserve his dignity by force.
"Very well. On one condition, however."
"A condition?"
I set my glass down as I asked.
"Yes, a condition. I will serve as a player exactly twice—no more. After that, you will employ me not as a player, but in some other capacity. Those are my terms for taking the stage at Bloom."
"Hmm."
The counteroffer caught me off guard, and I had to think it over.
Harlion, unlike Kalian or Hermes, wasn't in it for the money. The truth was, he had no particular goal in life at the moment. No matter how hard he worked, his family's inheritance would ultimately pass to his elder brother—and that reality had hit him hard.
Which was presumably why hearing about Bloom's business had sparked his interest to a surprising degree.
And honestly, if he'd said he'd take the stage only once, I would have rejected the deal outright. But twice? That seemed like a fairly conscientious compromise. Besides, someone with hands-on experience would undoubtedly prove useful in running Bloom down the line.
"Tsk. Some people can't get on stage even when they're desperate to... I'm jealous. So jealous."
"......"
"......"
Someone's pitiful whining drifted over from beside us. Harlion and I more or less ignored it and continued our conversation.
"Very well. Two appearances is more than enough to make you one of Bloom's founding heroes. But bear this in mind: even if the stage is yours only twice, the patrons' expectations will run far higher than that."
"In plain terms, if I fail to live up to those expectations, I forfeit any future with Bloom. Is that not what you mean?"
"Heh heh. You certainly catch on quickly."
Harlion narrowed his eyes for a moment. Then, shortly after, he raised his glass with an expression that could have been resignation—or resolve.
"I will show you just how capable a player I— no, how capable a man I am. Two appearances will be more than enough."
I clinked my glass against his and smiled.
It was my way of welcoming him to Bloom.
In a corner of the port of Velos, inside a dilapidated warehouse thick with the mingled scent of oil and sea air, the boss of the mafia syndicate Vertigo sat slouched on a sofa, smoking. He exhaled a long plume of smoke before speaking.
"Fion. Word is, someone's been digging into you lately."
Several executives lingering near a table with liquor bottles in hand turned their heads, looking intrigued. At the center of the group, Fion curled the corner of his mouth into a sly grin.
"Haha, so even the Boss heard about that? News really does travel straight to my ears, I see."
Fion flicked his cigarette butt into the air with a light tap and went on.
"But honestly... isn't it kind of fun? Someone out there has the audacity to openly dig into a Vertigo executive's business."
The boss of Vertigo studied Fion's expression with a hint of unease in his eyes.
"It's precisely because you're grinning like that that it worries me. You don't even know who they are, and yet I can't shake the feeling something's about to happen."
"They've been digging into my business, so obviously something's going to happen. And if I don't know who they are, I'll just go meet them and find out. Haha, simple, no?"
Fion's tone was languid, but his eyes glinted razor-sharp. He rose from his seat, waved a lazy hand, and headed for the door.
"Don't worry so much, Boss. If they turn out to be interesting, that's a win for us. If they're boring... we just clean them up. See? Both options are pretty good ones."
The moment Fion left his sly laughter behind and pushed open the warehouse door, the rough harbor wind came rushing in.
Watching him vanish in an instant, one of the executives shook his head.
"When is that man ever going to grow out of that act? Always storming off on his own whims like this."
Another emptied his glass and remarked flatly,
"But that's Fion's charm, isn't it? Plus, he's got a sharp mind, and when it comes to the scent of money, the man's practically a demon."
"And he always keeps his word, too. Which means if he decides something's truly no fun, he really will dispose of it. Those people poking around... they'd best brace themselves."
A brief silence passed, and then the warehouse filled once more with boisterous laughter and the clinking of glasses.
But everyone knew.
If Fion had taken an interest in someone, that meeting was never going to end quietly.
Kalian's sincerity, Hermes's artistry, and now Harlion's noble standing and refinement.
Granted, Kalian—the first one I'd approached—was still on hold, but the lineup was getting quite interesting.
That said...
"Haaah... I might have had a little too much."
"Indeed, sir. You were in very high spirits."
"Well, it was a performance worth celebrating, wasn't it? In a single day, I managed to recruit not one but two players."
Suppressing the alcohol blooming warm through my body, I was walking back to our lodgings alongside Louis.
Then the unexpected happened. For some reason, Louis—who had been walking beside me—came to an abrupt halt.
"Louis? What's wrong?"
"It appears we have a visitor, sir."
"Hmm, my guess is the only people looking for me would be Kalian or that man."
"Yes, and it seems your guess is exactly right, boss."
With those words, Louis's eyes turned endlessly sharp, and before I could ask anything more, he drew his blade from its sheath.
And then—
CLANG—!
The shrill ring of steel striking steel echoed through the narrow alley. Through the sparks flashing in the dark, a man twirling a dagger revealed himself with an easygoing smile.
"Oh?"
His expression was calm, but his eyes held mischief and wariness in equal measure.
I might just know this man's name.
"Would you happen to be Fion, executive of Vertigo?"
"Correct. Though what a combination—a knight with freakishly sharp instincts and a young nobleman with obnoxiously keen senses. Doesn't look like an ordinary pairing to anyone watching."
"Well... my perception is rather sensitive, I admit. Still, I consider myself blessed. At the very least, I don't get excited around other men."
"Hey, you're seriously cracking jokes in this situation?"
"Boss, did what I just said sound like a joke to you?"
"Uh... no, fair point. It's true that if your tolerance expanded any further than that, things would get dangerous in more ways than one."
Just as we were naturally carrying on this exchange, a loud laugh rang out from the other end of the alley.
"So these are the people digging into my business. Seems they're even crazier than I expected?"
"I don't believe that's the sort of thing one should say after launching an unprovoked ambush, sir."
"Mm~ that wasn't an attack, just a light greeting. Besides, the moment that knight next to you sensed me coming, any ambush lost its meaning anyway."
Fion spun the dagger and slipped it inside his coat.
Apparently he'd been testing Louis's skill, and had decided a civil conversation was in order—
Click.
.........
At the unfamiliar metallic sound, my gaze and Louis's snapped simultaneously to Fion's right hand.
What gleamed into view in his grip was... a long, sleek slab of silver metal.
"...A gun?"
I muttered instinctively.
The kind of thing one only ever saw in games—the finest weapon money could buy even in this world, if you had the fortune to acquire it.
As if to announce that its owner was, in fact, a genuinely ruthless mafioso.
Fion drew the pistol from within his coat, and when he racked the slide, a dry metallic clatter cut through the alley. The gleam of the metal under the moonlight was sharp enough to send a chill down my spine.
"Well then. Shall we have a real conversation?"
Fion smirked and leveled the barrel at the two of us.
To anyone watching, the message was plain: answer wrong, and he'd pull the trigger—a silent warning, and a threat.
But I wasn't particularly frightened by the situation.
For good reason: standing at my side was a knight so skilled he'd been called a rising star of his order.
With that thought, I turned toward Louis with full confidence.
And Louis was...
"What? Hurry up and raise your hands."
He'd set his sword down on the ground and, at some point, already had both hands in the air—as if to declare he had absolutely no intention of resisting.
"Um... Louis? What are you doing right now?"
"What does it look like? I'm earnestly begging for my life. I have no armor, we're in a cramped alley like this, and the man's holding a gun. How exactly am I supposed to win?"
...He had a point.
And at this late hour, with not a soul out on the streets, firing a gun in the open wouldn't carry much risk for him either.
And so, following Louis's lead, I promptly raised both hands and surrendered.
"Lord Fion!"
"Hm?"
"Ask your questions, and I shall answer them faithfully—entirely in truth, of course!"
Yes, I made sure to add the part about answering only in truth. My survival instincts were, apparently, shouting spare me at the top of their lungs.
Fortunately, our sincerity seemed to get through.
Instead of firing, Fion posed his question to me.
"Alright, let's start with question one."
Fion smirked as he plucked a cigarette from his pocket and set it between his lips. His eyes were still playful, but a tension ran down my spine—the knowledge that he could pull that trigger at any moment.
"Why were you digging into my business? Trying to cut a deal? Or just carrying some petty grudge?"
Fion's first question fell well within the range I'd predicted. No ordinary person would ever go poking around a mafia syndicate's affairs, after all.
Which is why I answered with complete honesty.
"The thing is... I'm preparing to open a business."
"A business? A businessman poking around mafia business first? Now that's a fresh angle."
I steadied my breath and continued calmly.
"So I was searching for staff to work at the establishment we'll be running. You, Lord Fion, are one of the candidates."
"Me? As staff?"
Fion's eyes flashed. He clearly couldn't make heads or tails of what I was saying. But one thing was certain: the gun aimed at me dipped slightly lower. His guard, however, was still very much alive.
"Then let me ask again. You plan to take me on as your employee, and then what? Blackmail? A bribe? Or do you want someone killed?"
I shook my head at his question and answered firmly.
"No. Quite simply, bad boys are in remarkably high demand among the ladies. When patrons have been staring at nothing but prim, proper, utterly bland men, imagine the dopamine rush they'll get from laying eyes on you."
"?"
"What I want is simple. The charm you exude, that unshakable nerve of yours that bows to no one, that sly wit of yours. I want you to use all of it to steal the hearts of the women who visit our establishment."
Fion stared blankly at me for a moment—then burst out laughing, as though he simply couldn't hold it in any longer.
And then—
"HAHAHA! You're asking a mafia man to sell smiles instead of gunfire? You really are insane!"
Behind his laughter, the gun barrel tilted, for some reason, toward the ground.
"Alright. This is getting interesting. Keep talking, young boss. Just how far does this grand scheme of yours go?"