After washing up, Sol and Anby officially got out of bed and left the room.

By then, Chekkat had already prepared breakfast. He was all smiles, chatting pleasantly with Jane Doe as they waited for Sol and Anby to join them.

"Mr. Pantalone, did you sleep well last night?" Chekkat greeted them with an easy grin, noticeably more relaxed than yesterday.

Last night, he'd made what he thought was a clever move—sending his trusted lieutenant, Jane, to infiltrate Sol and Anby's inner circle.

He had expected some tension or friction to arise between them. What he hadn't expected was that this Pantalone was such a player—he'd managed to keep both women perfectly under control.

Still, the plan wasn't a total failure. Jane had successfully gotten close to them, and that meant progress on the intelligence front.

Hook literature really does work, he thought smugly. That's how I started out in the first place.

"Mm. I slept just fine," Sol replied coolly with a nod.

Chekkat wasn't offended. If anything, it reassured him—powerful men didn't get swayed by a single woman.

He gestured for them to sit and eat, waving for Jane to attend to them from the side.

"Chekkat, have you contacted any buyers yet?"

Sol spoke casually as he ate, showing no hint of restraint as if this were his own house.

"That will take some time," Chekkat said with a hint of embarrassment. "You know how this business works, my lord. Everyone's cautious. Your weapons are genuine, of course—but arms dealers like us have to think about our own safety!"

"Heh. I don't care what your excuses are. I just want to see the buyers—and get those damned Dennies."

Sol set down his utensils and gave Chekkat a cold, penetrating look. "To be honest, I don't trust you. Rats like you, crawling through the sewers, always have some little scheme running in the background."

Chekkat's heart skipped a beat—because it was true.

Weapons this powerful… the fewer people who had them, the better. He had one now. That was enough. His friends didn't need any.

He immediately stood beside Sol and bent over with a bitter smile. "Mr. Pantalone, you must be joking! With the power behind you capable of producing weapons like these, how could we possibly dare to play tricks?"

Sol patted Chekkat's shoulder with his right hand, and with his left, he drew Jane closer into his arm. "It better be that way. Your officers are competent—I'd hate to terminate our partnership."

Jane didn't resist the gesture. Instead, she leaned into it and started massaging Sol's shoulder. "Don't be angry, Mr. Pantalone. Our boss truly means well."

Inside, though, she muttered, What a shameless man. Lost a little ground this morning, and now he's already taking it back.

Anby silently watched the two of them, her fingers tightening around her knife and fork. In her mind, she repeated, This is for the mission. Just for the mission.

"Yes, yes, our Black Panther Organization is absolutely sincere," Chekkat said quickly, nodding over and over. In fact, he now felt certain—sending Jane last night had been the right move.

Sol gave a small approving nod and continued, "Whatever your difficulties, fix them fast. Otherwise, I can't guarantee who these superweapons will be sold to—or what that buyer's connection to you might be."

"Please rest assured, Mr. Pantalone, I won't disappoint you!" Chekkat slapped his chest in assurance, already having made up his mind.

The meaning behind Sol's words was clear—buyers weren't the problem. This was his opportunity. Sol was letting him find buyers so that he could know exactly where these weapons ended up.

If Sol sold them directly, they could scatter across the underworld, creating chaos. And if one of Chekkat's rivals bought more than he did… that would be unbearable.

So, no matter what, he had to secure those buyers himself. That way, he could at least keep the situation under control.

Still, one question lingered in his mind—why was this man in such a hurry to sell?

"Mr. Pantalone, forgive my curiosity, but… why sell these superweapons so urgently? If you took your time, the profit would be far greater."

Chekkat asked carefully.

"That's not really something you need to know," Sol replied with a faint smile. "But since you've been rather… cooperative, I can tell you a little."

"I'm all ears," Chekkat said obediently.

Sol studied him with a faint, knowing smirk. "You should already know our first-layer identity."

Chekkat gave an awkward laugh. "Yes. Jane told me—you're employees of Vision Corporation. When Vision got investigated, you escaped with some of their experimental results."

"Vision couldn't possibly develop something like this," Sol said with a shake of his head. "There's someone behind us. Vision was just a cash cow supported by the organization. Now that it's fallen, the organization's funds are tight. Selling these little toys is just our way of refilling the coffers."

Chekkat froze, his expression stiff—but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Vision couldn't have made such weapons. And the company's black-ops division had indeed been unusually secretive lately—it was something whispered across the entire underworld.

It also explained Vision's obsession with joining the TOPS Alliance. Everyone had found that strange.

After all, the members of TOPS were New Eridu's biggest corporate oligarchs—joining their ranks was nearly impossible.

But now it all fit. Vision had backing. Backing so powerful it could push a second-rate company into TOPS—and produce handheld weapons of apocalyptic power.

The kind of force that could only belong to one of New Eridu's hidden superpowers.

At that realization, Chekkat's body trembled. He understood that he had stumbled into a storm far beyond his imagination.

A risk beyond measure—but also an opportunity of the same scale.

"I understand now," Chekkat said, voice shaking. "Within three days, I'll exhaust every contact I have to arrange a meeting with the buyers!"

"Good. I knew someone as perceptive as you would make the right choice."

Sol patted his shoulder meaningfully.

"Tss!"

Chekkat shuddered again.

If I'd chosen wrong… if Jane hadn't sweetened him up… I'd probably be dead right now.

Thankfully, it wasn't too late. Everything was still salvageable.

His enthusiasm renewed, Chekkat grew even more attentive, personally accompanying Sol and Anby through breakfast before immediately diving into his buyer network.

Jane, however, was left behind to "soothe" Sol's mood.

Once she was sure there were no listening devices, she gave Sol an incredulous look. "You were amazing back there. He believed you so fast."

"Nine parts lie, one part truth—no god could tell the difference."

Sol smiled mysteriously.

Vision's hidden backers were indeed vast—powerful, but unseen.

Every organization left traces eventually, and the smart ones had already noticed their existence.

Half-truths built on real shadows—perfect for shifting blame.

"Wait—what?"

Jane blinked in surprise. She had assumed it was all fabricated.

But one-tenth of it was true? That one-tenth was enough to make the rest feel real.

Which meant… Vision really did have high-level experts involved.

Her gaze toward Sol grew heavier. He was no longer just suspicious—he was enigmatic.

"Can you tell me more?" she whispered cautiously.

"No," Sol said lightly, tilting her chin up with a teasing smirk. "Secrets make a man more attractive."

"Heh."

Jane fell silent, lips twitching.

Still holding a grudge, huh? Just because I got the upper hand this morning—you're really going to keep that score forever, aren't you?