Clearing the Loan Shark Debts
The streets lined with loan shark offices didn't look all that different from any other no matter how many times I scanned them. No rough-looking thugs with swords at their hips, no desperate debtors begging for just a little more time. Just ordinary office signs and people shuffling by with stacks of paperwork.
But I knew better. There were probably hidden back rooms in those offices—places for the thugs who squeezed debtors and private holding cells.
I scanned the signs and spotted a few companies that matched the ones Ammugar's firm owed money to. I started with the closest one.
The loan office was bright and fresh—nothing like the dark, smoke-filled dives you might imagine. If it looked like that from the start, who'd borrow money there?
"Welcome!"
A receptionist as pretty as Della greeted me with a beaming smile.
"Here for a consultation? Do you have an appointment?"
"Nah. I'm the guy who took over the debt here. Just checking in on that."
"Ah, so you've inherited the debt."
Her expression turned icy in an instant.
"This way."
She tossed the words curtly and headed inside. I could see a brightly decorated consultation room with plants and framed pictures, but she led me deeper. Obviously, they saw me as a fish already hooked.
Sure enough, the inner room was dim and dingy. Bare walls, no wallpaper or paint—just a lone desk. A cheap candle flickered on it, casting a gloomy pall.
"Wait here."
She said that and left. I sat in the chair, glanced around, and waited.
Soon, someone entered.
"You're the one who took over the debt?"
He was a gaunt man, scrawny but with sharp, piercing eyes that screamed experience. The kind of gaze you need in this racket, or the debtors would eat you alive.
I finished sizing him up.
I nodded at the loan document copy on the desk. He pulled it toward himself.
"Hmm. A loan under Mr. Ammugar's company name. And you're the new representative?"
"Yeah. So I want to reset the debt terms. Gotta make sure the old boss didn't plan to screw me and bolt."
"Wise move. Let's verify the original contract and draw up a new one."
He stepped out and returned with a few sheets of paper.
"Original contract. Check the amount first."
I barely glanced at it before tossing it back on the desk.
"What the hell's with this interest rate?"
"First time with private loans?"
"Yeah."
"That's how it works. We help folks banks turn down when they're desperate, so the rates are higher."
"Isn't there a legal rate? Anything over that's illegal, right?"
"You really are a newbie."
He leaned back with a smirk, eyeing me like a wolf spotting fresh meat.
"It's a bit outside the law, sure—but for people desperate enough to take that risk."
"Got it. So what happens if you don't pay? You report to the guards?"
A chill crossed his face at my words.
"Don't pay, huh?"
"Yeah. Sometimes you just can't swing it."
"You're already thinking of stiffing us right after taking it over?"
"Not saying I won't—just curious. Court then?"
"Hmmm... I see."
He gave me a serpentine look, then yelled outside. Footsteps approached, and several men entered, surrounding us. Big guys who looked like they could handle themselves, short swords at their belts. The boss drew a sharp dagger and spun it between his fingers, staring me down.
"What's this? Trying to scare me?"
"You wanted to know what happens if you don't pay. Thought I'd show you."
"So no legal punishment—just you goons beating the shit out of people?"
"That's the game. If you wanted the law's protection, you shouldn't have stepped in. Right?"
He grinned murderously, like he'd gut me right there. I grinned back and picked up the original contract.
"True. No room for the law from the jump."
"Dumb enough to only figure that out now, so you end up buying a debt-ridden business. Weak brain, tough body."
"Spot on. But what can you do."
I ripped the original contract to shreds right in front of him.
"Sometimes a strong body's enough to spare the brain."
"What the fuck?!"
As he lunged, I flung the paper scraps in his face. He swatted them away, and one of the goons clamped a hand on my shoulder.
"Hey now."
I grabbed his hand, twisted, and he screamed, dropping to his knees.
"Gaaah! It hurts...!"
"You bastard!"
The boss gripped his dagger and vaulted the desk. I kicked it over on him.
"Kill that fucker! No—beat him half to death!"
Pinned under the desk, he bellowed. The goons drew blades and charged.
I leaned back on the chair, tilted it, spun. Kicked the knee of the guy behind me—crack.
"Aaaargh!!"
I fell backward onto the floor, rolled as swords stabbed where I'd been. I stopped rolling right by the boss, grabbed an upside-down desk leg, and hurled it at the guys turning toward me. It smashed into them, splintering with sickening crunches. The ones hit dead-on crumpled without a sound.
"Urk!"
The desk lifted off him. He howled and stabbed wildly. I pinched the blade between thumb and forefinger, twisted—snap.
"Wha...?"
He stared blankly at the broken blade. I grabbed his jaw, yanked his face to mine.
"Listen up, asshole."
"You... what the hell are you...?"
"I'm not paying. Spread the word."
"Fuck... who the hell are you...!"
"Ha, punk."
I pressed harder on his cheeks. Yellow teeth popped out like a carp's.
"Guh-huh-huh..."
"Illegal means I can stiff you with no comeback. Show up to collect, and you'll eat beatings forever. Got it?"
"Uh-hng... guh-huh..."
"Can't talk? Nod then, bitch."
He nodded frantically. Satisfied, I let go.
"Huuuuh..."
Drooling, he scooped up his teeth from the floor in a daze. I grabbed my papers and headed out.
In the bright front area, the pretty receptionist blocked the door, pale as a ghost, tiny dagger trembling in her hand.
I stared her down. She held my gaze, then staggered aside like she might faint.
I winked as I passed. She screamed and lunged to stab me.
That's more like it. Gotta have that spine to work a shady loan office.
I dropped my papers, grabbed her wrist and nape, hurled her sideways. The front glass shattered; she tumbled into the street, rolling amid shards, groaning but not getting up.
Onlookers froze, gathered. I scooped my papers and stepped out.
"Report the situation before mouthing off next time. Lives longer that way."
She looked up in terror. I winked again, then addressed the crowd.
"Nothing to see. Just some rival sharks ironing out differences."
They figured gang squabble and dispersed. I headed to the next office.
Back at Ammugar's office, the demons had packed and were waiting. Just a few big bags.
"You're back? What happened to you...?"
Ammugar gawked as I entered.
I wiped blood from my face with my sleeve.
"Not mine, don't worry. Debts are cleared."
"R-really? Incredible. Thank you..."
Ammugar bowed fawningly. Orkog handed me a towel politely.
I wiped my face and glanced—Pelle stood silently, watching me.
"Hero... so can we go now?"
Ammugar rubbed his hands timidly.
"Go where? Bolt to another city?"
"We haven't picked a spot... but a big city for work, maybe."
"Doing what?"
"We've dabbled in woodworking... thought we'd stick with that."
"Why not something profitable? Long-haul caravan guard? You two look tough."
Ammugar smiled awkwardly.
"We'd prefer safe work now... and Orkog's got a knack for crafts, surprisingly."
"Yeah? Show me what you made again."
Orkog fetched the Deathstalker model from the desk. I examined it closely—still blew me away with the detail. Idiots selling masterpieces as tourist trinkets...
"Can you make these life-size or scaled up? So folks can inspect monsters up close."
"How... big?"
"Human-sized or bigger."
"With time and materials..."
"Hmm... something tells me there's a use for that."
Ammugar's eyes lit up, expecting a golden idea.
"Nah, settle somewhere and let me know. I'll call if something comes up."
"Ah... yes, sir..."
He trailed off, disappointed.
"You know I can track you anywhere."
"Of course."
"What about your staff?"
"I... don't know."
"Damn it, you prick."
I started for a knuckle-rub but sighed, asked about back pay, pulled out some gold coins. Wrote a note: Company's bust. Take your back pay and go. Set it with the coins.
"They'll grab it tomorrow."
"First come might snag extras."
"Fuck! I gotta handle that too?!"
"No, sir..."
"Add it to your debt tab."
We hauled bags downstairs. Ammugar didn't look back.
Watching the sunset, I marveled how half a day wrapped it all up. Three demons sweating over something so simple? Nah—I was the only fix.
Still, pitiful demons. Even if they'd killed everything in sight recently.
"Hero... it's dinnertime. Let me treat you..."
Ammugar bowed.
"For all your help."
"Just wanna bolt quick? Loan sharks are probably gearing up to hunt you by now."
"But no contracts or docs left. Orkog'll handle it."
Orkog flexed a fist the size of a head confidently.
"Nice. Special demon watch getting assault charges and residency bans? Hilarious."
"Oops...!"
"Oops my ass. What're you gonna do with brains like that."
Ammugar smiled obsequiously, rubbing hands.
"You said you'd tip us off, so we'll wait."
"Then scram. Never trust guys promising good deals."
I flagged a passing stagecoach. Yanked Ammugar's horn as he loaded bags.
"I said it: anyone doing favors is a con."
"Got it...! Horn hurts...!"
"Big plans? Clear 'em with me first."
"Yes! Horn!"
"Hey, Orkog."
He flinched mid-lift.
"Stick to realistic carvings. No copying—practice lifelike. Learn painting too. Useful somewhere."
"Realistic... yes, sir."
I slipped Ammugar travel money. He stared blankly.
"Hero... this is..."
"Shut it. No bonding with old farts. Go."
"Y-yes... we'll contact you soon."
"Told you—no trusting anyone. Not even other demons. Got it?!"
"Yes, sir."
Ammugar turned to Pelle behind me for parting words.
"Pelle. Thanks..."
"Whatever."
"Uh... right."
Ammugar and Orkog crammed into the coach. It strained off; they waved.
"Sigh... Della too. Why so tangled in loan shit..."
I turned. Pelle stood bag-backed, staring after the coach. Stone-still till it vanished. I waited, then said,
"Let's go."
I led; she followed silently.