Episode 332 – Tossing the Bait (2)
A sensuous figure lazily moved beneath long, flowing black hair.
“Haa~ahm.”
Perhaps because of her pure white skin, the black rings on her ten fingers stood out starkly.
Stretching on the bed, she loosened her body, then summoned soone.
A masked man, a subordinate of Azonne, entered the room and handed her a book.
The Dark Sales catalog.
“What are you trembling for?”
“...N-No, it's nothing.”
When the woman smiled gently and asked, the man's voice trembled faintly.
His eyes, visible between the gaps of the mask, shifted to the ceiling.
Up above, pure white cocoons clung densely to the ceiling.
He knew well who was inside those human-sized cocoons.
Gulp—
He swallowed dryly. But when he looked back at the woman, her expression had gone completely stiff.
The languid look from a mont ago, the hint of a smile—gone without a trace.
“Shit.”
She swore, stretching out her palm toward the man.
He instantly sensed death.
No—he had expected to die the mont he stepped into the room.
He already knew the contents of the catalog update that had arrived today.
If she read it, she would surely ask the sa question as yesterday.
“Alright, I’ll ask just once. Who is this bastard?”
“I-I don’t know! I an, no one could possibly know—!”
“Shut up.”
Ssssss—
The black rings shimred with light, and pure white threads filled the space.
The man’s eyes widened between the mask’s slits.
The fully unfurled web of threads completely engulfed him.
As he was consud, he desperately called her na.
“L-Lady Azolett...”
The cocoon twitched pitifully, as if begging for rcy. But only briefly—once the movents faded, she flicked her hand. At her gesture, the cocoon floated back up to hang from the ceiling.
“One, two, three... Hm, already five.”
Counting the cocoons, she clicked her tongue and retrieved the threads from the rings. Then she violently flung the book aside.
As it fell open, one item stood out on the page.
[Mana-Flare Spider, Cricket] – Highest Negotiation Price: 9.213.111G
“What kind of bastard is this?”
Azolett, the Spider Queen.
Running her fingers irritably through her hair, she sat on the sofa and rested her chin on her hand.
The bidding price for ‘Cricket’ had gone up again.
She’d thought the last bid was the final one—but that had been a mistake.
She had tried to seal the deal by increasing the bid by a clean 1 million gold, yet her opponent had raised it again, using another deliberately ssy figure—as if to mock her.
‘Could this really be the final bid?’
And if not?
Then how far would this bastard push the price?
Even so, she couldn’t just quit bidding. Because there was still a chance this bid was truly the final one.
No matter how much she thought, there was no answer.
The reason was obvious.
She didn’t know who her opponent was.
For days now, the sa unanswered question had circled her mind, driving her up the wall.
“Damn it! Who the hell are you?! What kind of son of a bitch?!”
If she just knew his identity, she’d kill him right now—but she couldn’t.
After shouting like mad, she jumped to her feet, then scrunched her face and sat back down.
Yesterday, she had even gone to Azonne, demanding to know who the rival was, but he just cited the ‘rules’ of Dark Sales and refused to say anything.
“Tch! As if he doesn’t know! Hiding behind your precious rules, huh? What a sneaky bastard.”
Out of spite, she had turned Azonne’s subordinates into cocoons every ti the price went up.
A kind of intimidation tactic. If it didn’t work, she’d just toss the cocoons to her children for food.
After that short burst of rage, Azolett recalled her remaining funds.
‘Not enough.’
At this rate, even if she won the negotiation rights, she wouldn’t be able to pay for Cricket.
‘If only the owner weren’t Richard... I wouldn’t be going through this bullshit.’
In Pri Root, negotiations rarely happened. Most transactions involved coercion or outright theft.
But this ti, she was out of luck.
Special Investigator Richard.
Leader of the Cleaners.
He was far too powerful to intimidate or kill for robbery.
“How did it get this screwed up?”
Originally, she had planned to exchange ‘Cricket’ through a private deal with Richard.
It would have been an easy win—but Azonne interfered and ruined that chance.
No.
More precisely, she had lost Cricket by refusing Azonne’s offer.
“Damn it, it’s all that bastard’s fault.”
Azolett turned her irritated eyes toward a corner of the room.
There, under the window, sat a silent figure in a robe, eyes closed.
With their form concealed by a black robe, neither age nor gender was discernible—but Azolett knew exactly who the robed figure was and what kind of power they held.
‘What was Boss thinking, extending a hand to him?’
He was a recent recruit to the Black Star at the boss’s invitation.
Azolett didn’t like him.
“Stupid old man. Why’d you reject Azonne’s offer...?”
A few days ago, Azonne had asked for assistance. That old man had rejected the offer without hesitation.
Had he accepted, they would have secured Cricket.
‘Ah, co to think of it...’
She recalled another item from the catalog.
Kunta’s Soul-Binding Doll.
She rembered it because it was sothing the old man had shown interest in.
And it had been sold via instant purchase not long ago.
Staring at him for a mont, Azolett spoke.
“Hey.”
“My funds are low. Help out with buying Cricket. You’re not getting that Kunta doll now, are you?”
When he didn’t respond, she cursed and stord over to him.
They were only working together under orders from the boss, but this old man irritated her at every turn.
With all her annoyance boiling over, she shouted sharply.
“Rengua!”
At that na, the robed man finally moved.
He pushed back his hood.
A dry-faced old man.
Opening his quiet eyes, Rengua looked up at Azolett.
“I refuse.”
“What?”
“The money. It’s precious, ant for sothing important. It’s money my lord provided. I can’t spend it carelessly.”
“Your lord again?”
Azolett scoffed.
Every ti he ntioned this so-called lord, she felt the sa thing:
Madness.
Rengua lived alone.
There was no such ‘lord’ by his side.
What he called a lord was nothing but a coffin holding a dead body.
He had lived with that coffin all his life, and still did.
“A pathetic old man obsessed with the dead…”
Still, his skills were the real deal, which was why he had earned the boss’s favor.
“Then why did you reject Lord Azonne’s offer? It wasn’t bad—actually, it was pretty damn good. The boss would be disappointed if they knew.”
Right now, Aintrier was at a crossroads.
Two envoys from Demtor were at Azonne’s castle.
They were ssengers from the two factions currently in conflict—and one of them was Special Investigator Richard.
Nicknad the Demtor Cleaner, he was more accurately a top-tier troubleshooter who had worked with Grand Duke Clarke for years.
This ti, while accepting a protection request from Azonne, he had also co as Clarke’s envoy. The offer was simple:
Choose Clarke’s side.
The sa was true for Nagrok, the Sub-Tower Master of the Ivory Tower, who wanted Aintrier to support Modin.
The negotiations between the two envoys were still ongoing, but Azonne hadn’t made a decision yet.
‘On the surface, anyway.’
Azolett already knew Azonne was leaning toward Richard.
That was why Azonne had visited them, asking them to lend power to Grand Duke Clarke’s side.
But the old man in front of her had rejected that proposal outright.
“Don’t you see how screwed we are? Think about why we ca here! We’re about to lose everything we were after!”
Rengua blinked slowly, then stood up.
He toyed with a red bead for a mont and spoke softly.
“I told you, didn’t I? I’ll never support Clarke’s faction.”
“And why not?”
“Because of Clarke’s representative.”
“His representative? Gram Seraphim?”
Gram, Lord of the Black Tower.
Currently gathering forces under Grand Duke Clarke’s na, she was attending official etings as his representative and manipulating everything to her will.
She was known as a key figure in igniting the current Demtor conflict.
“I’ll never side with Gram.”
“Is that your lord’s command too?”
When Azolett mocked him, Rengua shook his head.
“No. That’s personal.”
His eyes glead coldly for a mont.
“I can’t forgive that woman who hard my lord.”
“Wait, didn’t you just say your lord gave you money? Doesn’t that an your lord’s still alive? Or did they die already?”
“Watch your mouth, Azolett.”
Normally a calm old man, Rengua beca particularly sensitive when it ca to his so-called lord.
“Freak.”
Azolett turned away, cursing under her breath.
Rengua, a dark warlock and a master puppeteer.
He’d gone mad, obsessed with a single puppet among the many he controlled.
Knock knock knock—
Just then, soone knocked on the door.
Rengua handed Azolett a small pouch and disappeared into the shadows.
Monts later, a middle-aged man entered, nervous, and approached Azolett.
He held a bundle of docunts.
“Leave it there.”
“Uh, the paynt...?”
Azolett frowned, then tossed the pouch Rengua had given her.
After confirming the money, the man bowed.
“Then I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
He left in haste, clearly eager to get away from this place.
As he disappeared, Rengua silently reappeared before the docunts, picked them up, and began reading.
Azolett watched him with a mix of annoyance and pity.
The man was from an information guild.
A madman, yet tenaciously secretive about his identity and ticulous in gathering intel.
When asked why, he’d said it was “on the advice of my lord.”
A truly incomprehensible old man.
“Why do you keep pushing this stuff onto ?”
“If my identity is revealed here, it’d be a problem.”
“Because of the World Tree Union? Aren’t you being too paranoid?”
Rengua ignored her and focused on the latest information from Aintrier.
Then, his eyes lit up.
His gaze locked onto one na—Everfell Company.
“Azolett.”
“What now?”
“You said Azonne desperately wants the leaf, right?”
“That’s your fault! You should’ve cast the black curse properly! Because of that damn World Tree leaf, the curse got broken and now we’re screwed. I swear…”
“I’ll give you money.”
“…Huh?”
Azolett, looking annoyed on the sofa, paused and slowly stood up.
On the table was a pouch.
She opened it—inside were dazzling, multi-colored gems.
It was the 100 million gold Azonne had paid Rengua for cursing specific targets.
After checking the pouch, Azolett looked at Rengua.
He spoke.
“I have a job. Will you take it?”
“What’s the pay?”
“I already gave it to you.”
At that, Azolett smirked and grabbed the pouch.
No need to hesitate.
She nodded.
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