They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World Chapter 122: Deal

I left Agnes in the guest room, watching the door close between us with a soft click.

She’d needed a mont, space to compose herself, to wipe away the tears. To straighten her uniform before anyone else saw her in that state.

The hallway to Duke Glimor’s study stretched before , and despite having walked it just this morning, it felt longer now.

I reached the heavy oak door and paused, just for a breath. Then I knocked, three sharp raps.

"Enter."

The word was clipped, efficient. I pushed open the door and stepped into Duke Glimor’s inner sanctum.

The study was exactly what I’d expected from a man like Cyrus, yet sohow it still managed to impress.

Walls lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves, leather-bound volus organized.

A massive desk dominated the center of the room, its surface covered in docunts and ledgers, each stack arranged with deliberate care.

Even the air slled different here. Ink and old paper, the faint trace of tobacco.

Cyrus sat behind his desk, quill in hand. The late afternoon sun slanted through the window behind him, casting his face in partial shadow.

He didn’t look up imdiately, letting stand there for three heartbeats.

Then his eyes lifted to et mine.

"So." He set down the quill with careful precision. "You talked?"

I t his gaze steadily. "Yes, my lord."

Cyrus studied for another mont, then pushed the docunts aside with one smooth motion, giving his full attention. He gestured to the chair across from him.

"Sit. Let’s discuss our deal."

I sat, keeping my posture composed. My hands wanted to fidget, to drum against the armrest, to do anything to bleed off the nervous energy. I kept them still through sheer force of will.

Cyrus leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

"I purchased Agnes Marlowe’s contract from a minor rchant family who’d fallen on hard tis," he began, his tone matter-of-fact, as though we were discussing the weather. "Cost a Gold."

He paused, watching my reaction.

"Since then," he continued, "she’s proven to be a competent worker. Well-trained, efficient, no disciplinary issues." He smiled slightly. "In short, exactly the sort of servant worth keeping."

The implication hung in the air between us.

"However." His tone shifted. "There are additional costs to consider. Shortly after she began working here. Agnes ca to , quite distraught, talked about her mother. And I advanced her the funds for treatnt. Three Gold, thirty silver."

Four gold, thirty silver total.

I had five gold and maybe sixty silver.

And that is assuming he’d be willing to sell at cost, which... I glanced at his face, at the slight upturn of his mouth that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Of course," Cyrus said, "I can’t simply transfer her contract at cost. You understand. There’s the matter of training investnt. That has value. Then there’s the inconvenience of replacing a proven worker in a market where good help is increasingly difficult to find. Administrative fees for the contract transfer..." He waved his hand vaguely.

"Standard business considerations. I’m sure you know."

He let that sink in for a mont, let do the math in my head.

Then he nad his figure.

"Seven Gold, twenty silver."

I blinked, my careful composure cracking for just an instant. My hands clenched into fists against the armrests before I could stop them.

I didn’t have that much.

Cyrus watched carefully, his eyes never leaving my face.

Then he smiled. Not cruel, exactly. Just... knowing.

"Oh, you don’t have that much, do you?" It wasn’t really a question.

I forced my hands to unclench. "The amount is... more than I anticipated, my lord."

A masterpiece of understatent, and we both knew it.

"Mm." He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the desk, and his voice dropped to sothing more confidential.

"Well, we’re family, aren’t we? Or will be soon enough."

"So let propose a slightly different arrangent," he continued. "Sothing more... manageable for a young man of limited ans."

"I’ll reduce the amount significantly. Five Gold. No additional fees. A clean transaction between family." His smile widened fractionally. "Generous, I think you’ll agree."

Five gold. I could manage that. I have this much from what I got from Professor Aldwin.

"However." And there it was. "There’s a small favor I’d like in return. Consider it a gesture of goodwill between our families. A way to build trust, you might say."

My eyes narrowed slightly. "What kind of favor, my lord?"

Cyrus stood in one fluid motion, moving to an ornate cabinet against the far wall.

He opened it with a small brass key from his pocket and pulled out a docunt.

He laid it on the desk in front of with deliberate care.

"I’m looking for soone," he said quietly.

"A girl with red hair and green eyes. A foxkin, to be precise."

My blood went cold.

I looked down at the poster. The sketch was crude but effective, a young woman with distinctive fox ears, sharp features, defiant eyes.

"She went missing several months ago," Cyrus continued. "Last sighted in this region."

Is this her?

My mind raced, connecting pieces I hadn’t even known were part of the sa puzzle.

"She’s important to ," Cyrus said.

"I’ve had people searching, hired trackers, offered rewards. But..." He shook his head.

"If you could help locate her, I’d be willing to reduce the price for Agnes’s contract considerably."

"Her na is Scarlet," he added, his finger tapping the poster once. "Scarlet Fang. If you happen to encounter her during your ti here in Greyford, I’d appreciate any information you could provide. Where she’s staying, who she’s with, what na she might be using now."

The realization crashed over like a wave of ice water.

Duke Cyrus Glimor is her forr master...

Is he the reason she was so terrified yesterday?

My mind raced through possibilities, implications, potential consequences.

"May I ask," I said carefully, keeping my voice level, "Why you’re searching for her? Is she dangerous? A criminal of so kind?"

Cyrus’s expression didn’t change. "She’s property that was stolen from ," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

"A valuable asset that I’d like returned. Nothing more complicated than that."

Property.

The word settled in my chest like a stone.

I kept my face carefully neutral, but sothing cold and heavy was building behind my ribs. Anger, maybe. Or disgust. Or just the sick realization of exactly what kind of man he is beneath the cultured exterior.

"And if I find her?" I asked, proud of how steady my voice remained. "What would you want to do?"

"Bring her to ." He said it simply, casually. Then added, as if it were an afterthought, "Unhard, preferably. She’s more valuable intact." His smile was slight. "Do that, and Agnes’s contract is yours for five gold crowns. A generous discount, I think you’ll agree. More than fair for such a small service."

He extended his hand across the desk, palm up.

"Do we have an agreent, Jin Raith?"

I stared at his hand, my mind spinning through possibilities like cards shuffling in a deck.

If I refused, Agnes stays here. Continues working off a debt she’ll never escape.

If I agreed, I’d be condemning soone else. Soone who’d been desperate enough to run.

Cyrus waited patiently, his hand still extended, his expression unreadable.

"Well?" he prompted, and there was the faintest edge to his voice now. Not quite impatience, but sothing close. "Do we have an accord, Jin Raith?"