Kyle and Julius exchanged a glance in the dimly lit tavern, as if silently reaching an unspoken agreement—tonight was the night to act.
The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and a faint, pungent herbal aroma, while their gazes were sharp as blades, locked firmly onto the door.
Kyle leaned close to Allen, his voice barely above a whisper:
“You go out first. Meet Selena outside and let her protect you.”
“Remember, don’t make a sound. Any noise could blow our cover.”
Allen clenched the coarse cloth in his hand, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes, but he nodded nonetheless.
He stood up, his steps unsteady, and slowly walked out of the tavern’s main door.
Carefully, he moved along the corner of the wall. The night wrapped around him like a heavy curtain, completely engulfing him.
Inside, the owner was busy tidying up bottles, completely off guard.
Taking advantage of the moment the owner turned to go back into the inner room, Kyle stood up quietly and approached the bartender, speaking in a casual tone:
“Business is pretty lively tonight. Is it usually this busy here?”
The bartender was momentarily taken aback but answered along the topic:
“Uh… I guess so. Sometimes a few regulars drop by.”
Kyle continued chatting, deliberately bringing up trivial matters:
“The tavern next door had some trouble recently, did you hear about it?”
“What? What happened over there?”
“Seems like someone got drunk and started a fight? The guards even had to get involved?”
“When did that happen?”
“Just a few days ago. You really haven’t heard? Let me tell you all about it…”
The bartender’s attention was fully captured by Kyle’s story, his brow furrowing slightly, completely unaware that Julius had silently slipped toward the owner’s room.
Julius took the chance to creep toward the owner’s room; the door was half ajar, and he pushed it open with barely a sound.
Inside, the lighting was dim, and a strange scent lingered in the air, causing involuntary holding of breath.
The owner raised his eyes upon seeing Julius, frowning with irritation:
“Hm? Kid, what are you doing here?”
“Eh? Isn’t this the restroom?”
Julius feigned confusion and made up an excuse on the spot: “I’m kind of in a hurry…”
“If you’re in a hurry, go outside to relieve yourself!”
***
The owner snorted at the excuse, clearly dismissing him.
He stepped closer to Julius, about to wave him out.
But in the next instant, Julius’s dagger flashed from his waist like a shadow, a cold gleam streaking toward the owner’s throat.
The metallic sheen of the blade reflected in the owner’s pupils, revealing a fleeting terror and confusion.
His pupils constricted sharply; his arm froze mid-air. A faint choking sound came from his throat, but no words escaped.
Time seemed to freeze at that moment, and every subtle breath in the room became unnervingly clear.
Julius’s gaze was cold and steady, his breathing calm: “You better not make a sound. If you do, I’ll end your life before you can utter a single noise.”
His voice was soft, but it cut through the silence like a razor.
The dagger’s tip pressed firmly against the owner’s throat, emitting a chilling glow.
The owner’s Adam’s apple rolled violently; cold sweat slid down his fat cheeks, pooling at his chin before dropping onto the greasy table.
Julius’s eyes were like sharp ice picks, pinning him to the spot.
The boyish softness that usually lingered in his black eyes was now replaced with a terrifying sharpness.
“You… what exactly do you want?”
The owner’s voice trembled, his stubby fingers twitching uncontrollably.
Julius said nothing, leaning forward slightly, the invisible pressure suffocating the owner.
At that moment, the owner clearly understood that his life and death were entirely at the mercy of this seemingly young boy.
“Call the bartender in.”
Julius’s voice was calm but unwavering, each word like an icy nail hammered deep into the owner’s heart. “Hurry.”
Before his words fully faded, the dagger pressed harder.
The owner gasped as if struck by lightning, shouting hoarsely toward the front hall:
“Hank! Hank! Get over here!”
From the front hall came a muttered grunt of impatience, accompanied by heavy footsteps drawing near.
The door curtain was suddenly pulled aside, and the bartender, wearing a dirty apron, peeked in, his face marked with clear displeasure: “What’s up, boss? It’s busy outside right now—”
His words cut off abruptly.
When his eyes passed over the owner and landed on Julius, standing in the shadows with a dagger at the owner’s throat, the rugged man’s face instantly drained of color.
As Hank stood frozen, Kyle slipped out like a ghost from behind him.
He scanned the empty hallway to ensure no other patrons noticed, then casually slung an arm over the stiff bartender’s shoulder, pulling him in close.
His other hand rested on the doorframe, blocking any escape.
“Yo, brother,”
Kyle smiled innocently, but his tone carried a hint of teasing. “The boss is calling you. Come on in and have a little chat.”
He half-pushed, half-led the rigid Hank into the room, then skillfully kicked the door shut behind them with a soft click.
The narrow room suddenly felt crowded, the air seeming to thicken.
The flickering light cast shifting shadows across the four faces, each bearing a different expression.
***
Hank’s heavy breathing echoed sharply in the silence; his wide eyes were fixed on the cold gleam of the dagger in Julius’s hand. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down uncontrollably.
“Uh… Sirs, we can talk this out.”
The owner swallowed hard with difficulty, his voice trembling, tears threatening to break through as his pleading eyes darted between Kyle and Julius.
Julius’s gaze coldly swept over the bottle of glowing Green Potion on the table, and his voice dropped:
“That black-robed man who just slipped away—who was he?”
“I-I don’t know—”
The owner instinctively wanted to deny, but an icy sting suddenly shot through his throat, terrifying him into submission.
“Wait! I’ll tell you! He’s a drug dealer! Supplying ingredients for those… those ‘special concoctions’! I really don’t know anything else!”
His voice was filled with panic, his plump cheeks trembling uncontrollably, cold sweat soaking his collar.
He pointed a trembling finger at the ominously glowing potions on the table:
“T-Those are the ingredients they provide! I really don’t know anything else! I’m just an honest tavern owner!”
“You? Honest?”
Kyle let out a cold snort from his nose, as if hearing the most ridiculous joke.
He paced forward slowly, shadows swallowing the owner’s pale face.
“Just based on these poisons on your table,”
His voice suddenly dropped, each word icy sharp, “I could sentence you to death right here and now.”
“But don’t worry, you’re not dying today.”
“However, if you don’t plan on cooperating with us, well… things might not end so nicely.”
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