CHAPTER 37: DON’T BUY THIS CHAPTER YET!

"Why are you kneeling? Get up and tell me where your boss is." I demanded coldly, wearing my scariest expression. Now that Peter clearly feared me, I figured it was better to keep up the cold act rather than slip back into my usual self.

When he didn’t budge, my eyebrows knitted together in irritation.

"Are you trying to annoy me?" I said grimly.

Peter flinched like a whipped dog. Slowly, he lifted his head, speaking through clenched teeth, "I-I just need to tell you where my boss is... right?"

I stared at him for a second, then let out a chuckle.

"I changed my mind. Get up. You’re taking me to him now. And don’t even try thinking about doing anything stupid. One lie, one trick, and you’ll end up like your men inside. Or worse."

"Y-you killed my men?" Peter was in shock. In his mind, he began counting time. How long was he even in the house? Ten seconds? Twenty? And all of my men... wiped out? How the hell is he this strong? Does coming back from the dead usually give you such overwhelming power like that? What the hell is even he, right now? An undead? Or a human?

So many questions bombarded his mind that he felt his head might explode.

"Guess," I shrugged.

That alone was enough to get Peter racing back to his feet. He shot up from the ground, wiping sweat from his brow and no longer daring to drag things out.

"If I take you to my boss... you’ll spare me, right?" he asked carefully.

"Yes,"

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for a decade. "This way," he said, gesturing hurriedly.

I was about to follow when a thought made me pause.

"Wait a minute,"

"Y-yes?" Peter turned stiffly, looking like a frightened lamb about to be slaughtered.

"First, tell me where he’s staying."

He nodded quickly. "He usually stays at the Carnivore Bar on Mowa Street. I was supposed to report back there after retrieving the map from your place."

"A map?" I repeated, puzzledly.

Peter nodded again, his tone noticeably more respectful now. "Yes, a map. That’s why my lord, uh, Alduin Sadis, targeted you. He believes you stole something important from him."

I didn’t comment on the sudden shift in his attitude. Instead, I focused on what he’d just said.

’A map? I don’t remember anything in the original Aiden’s memories about taking a map...’ I tried to jog my memories for a hint, but quickly abandoned the idea after realizing it might take too long.

’Forget it. I’ll just ask Alduin directly when I meet him.’

’I didn’t expect he’d choose the same place his gang uses to accept requests from outsiders. Bold move. Is he that confident the place won’t get raided by the Knights or the Church? He must be backed by a secret supporter or have an insider on the inside, that’s the only way he’d be this confident. Well, whatever the reason, it works out for me. The bar’s not far from my current position, and with my present agility, hopping across rooftops like a cat wouldn’t be a problem. I could probably get there in a few minutes.’

"Let’s go,"

Before Peter could even react, I grabbed him by the collar and carried him up. With my current strength, his weight felt like nothing more than a feather.

"W-Wait! What are you—"

I slammed my feet into the ground, bending my knees to exert force, and launched us into the sky like a rocket.

"AAAHHHHHHH—!"

Peter was screaming like his life was on the line, and honestly, I couldn’t blame him. If our roles were reversed, I’d probably be howling just as loud.

His scream trailed behind us as we soared into the sky.

I landed perfectly on a rooftop. I pressed my hoodie lower to prevent it from being blown away by the wind.

Creak!

"AAAHHHHHHH—!" Peter let out another scream as his broken right hand landed first on the ground.

Without bothering to stop to check on him, I started pulling him roughly like a sack of potatoes, dragging him across the rooftops toward Mowa Street.

...

Less than five minutes later, I found myself crouched atop a rooftop, looking down at the chaotic scene unfolding below.

My head throbbed, and I couldn’t help but curse inwardly. ’Damn it, is he secretly a banshee?’

I instantly regretted my stupid decision to startle him.

Suppressing the throbbing in my skull, I shot him a furious glare, then clamped my fingers over his mouth, effectively cutting off any further sound.

If Peter let out one more noise like that, I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t knock him unconscious just for the sake of peace and quiet.

"Geez, are gang leaders in this era all this cowardly and delicate? That scream of yours sounded like an old hag getting stabbed; it nearly ruptured my eardrums." I hissed, rubbing my temple.

Peter blinked his eyes at me.

"What? Aren’t you going to say anything? Did I break your larynx?"

He blinked again, this time faster, a high-frequency flutter that seemed to be trying to send a message.

"Cut the crap and start speaking. What’s the use of blinking at me like that? Are you imagining yourself a cute, little girl begging her brother for candy with cutesy eyes? You’re not! Your blinking just makes me nauseous, understand? So drop the act immediately!"

"Mmmph! Mmmhhhh!" Peter protested, the sound muffled by my hand.

"Ah..." I was momentarily stunned, mainly because the very obvious fact of my hand still clamping his mouth had completely slipped my mind.

Naturally, my legendary thick skin deployed instantly. I drew myself up and stated, with impeccable logic: "You know, if you’d just told me you couldn’t speak because my hand was over your face, this whole thing could have been avoided!"

I declared righteously, refusing to take any blame.

Peter’s eyes flashed with indignation, the look clearly saying: ’What a shameless bastard!’

But just as quickly, the brief surge of defiance vanished. His gaze dropped, and the familiar fear settled over his face once more.

I quickly unclamped his mouth and, without hesitation, pulled him toward the edge of the roof, giving him a clear view of the establishment below.

"Good. Now listen carefully. See that?"

Peter first wore a confused look, but then something seemed to click. His eyes became elated as though he had just seen a ray of hope, a change I didn’t miss.

"That’s the bar where Alduin’s staying, right?" I asked.

I saw Peter nod his head instantly.

"I don’t want to cause a scene. I believe you can take me inside quietly, right?"

"Yes," Peter replied without the slightest hesitation.

"Don’t even think about trying to alert the guards unless you want to end up the same as your pet," I didn’t forget to add, watching his face instantly drain of all color, turning from joyful to frightened.

"Let’s go." I patted his shoulder, then started dragging him down the side of the building into one of the quieter alleys.

Peter let out another frightened yelp during the descent, but thanks to the noisy streets below, his sound went completely ignored.

The moment we hit the ground, I didn’t waste time. "Move."

Peter still looked traumatized, but under my urging, he didn’t dare slack off. He moved quickly, leading the way.

We stepped out of the alley and headed straight toward the bar.

As we approached the entrance, one of the four Radhanian bouncers stationed outside spotted us. His gaze swept over us, then paused on Peter’s distinctive hunched posture and face. Recognition flashed across his eyes, and he quickly straightened up.

"Mister Peter!"

Peter gave a small nod in acknowledgment.

"This guy’s with me," he managed after a moment of hesitation, pointing a trembling hand at me.

The bouncer didn’t press for details or show any suspicion; he just offered a wide, professional smile. "Yes, sir. You may enter."

I followed close behind Peter, the smirk hidden beneath my hood, as we entered the bar smoothly and unchecked.

Once inside, my eyes instinctively swept the entire interior, performing a rapid threat assessment under the guise of casual observation.

The inside was just like any bar out there. The only difference was probably the women here were dressed more laciviously and openly.

I couldn’t help but clicked my tongue at the sight of them.

I couldn’t help but click my tongue internally at the scene. ’Tsk, as expected of a bar that also offers prostitution services. Even the waiter is dressed in barely anything. And over on that table, there’s white powder scattered... is that a drug?’

I felt like a curious child seeing a carnival for the first time, intently absorbing every scene presented to me.

I noticed that every person who passed Peter, from the patrons to the staff, greeted him respectfully. Not a single one dared to cast a look of ridicule, despite his abnormal physique. ’Fear is a great equalizer, it seems,’ I mused, keeping my eyes fixed forward.

After what felt like a brief tour through the underbelly of the establishment, Peter finally stopped his hurried stride in front of a heavy wooden door. It had a crudely painted green skull plastered on its center.

Thud!