The tavern itself was well-kept.
The tables were spotless, the floors showed no sign of spilled alcohol or vomit, and the soft glow of candlelight gave the space a warm, almost inviting ambiance. If not for the boarded-up windows and the less-than-friendly patrons, this could have passed for a respectable establishment.
Right now, though, it was nothing more than a den of thieves.
"Hmm..."
Several large, tattooed men eyed me from their seats, their expressions ranging from disinterest to open hostility. One of them was even twirling a knife on the tips of his fingers.
I forced myself to smile outwardly. Inwardly, I was already regretting this errand.
Pushing forward, I approached the bar, where a man dressed as a bartender was methodically wiping down a glass. Even as I stepped up to the counter, he remained fixated on his task, carefully inspecting the glass for imperfections before finally placing it on a shelf with similarly spotless cups.
Only then did he acknowledge me.
"What can I get you, sir?"
He rested his hands on the counter and gazed down at me with a calm, unreadable expression.
"I'm here to deliver a letter."
"A letter? From where?" the bartender asked, already extending his palm.
I carefully pulled the letter from my pocket and handed it over.
"The Midnight Inn."
The bartender's movement froze. The atmosphere shifted, a subtle tension building in the air.
Did I already fuck up?
I tried to ignore the weight of the thugs' gazes burrowing into my back as I kept my focus on the bartender.
"...Is that so?"
Taking the letter from my hand, he turned it over, inspecting the seal.
I had noticed it earlier—the unique crescent moon emblem pressed into the wax.
It must have held some significance to the Black Rose Guild because, after a brief inspection, the bartender gave a small nod.
"Wait here."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared through the back door.
Great...
Feeling out of place in the tense atmosphere, I carefully took a seat at the bar, making sure to avoid eye contact with the other patrons.
Fortunately, the bartender returned before long, saving me from the dreadful atmosphere.
"Come with me."
He flipped open a trapdoor and gestured for me to step behind the counter. Following his lead, I trailed after him through the back door.
On the other side, unsurprisingly, were more thugs—lounging about yet still maintaining a watchful presence.
Is that a sword on his waist?
Noticing the sharp blade hanging on the side of a random thugs waist, I kept repeatedly mentally cursing David's name for sending me here.
Suppressing the twitch in my eye, I forced my expression to remain neutral as I followed the bartender upstairs.
"Please wait in here."
He led me into a simple room—a pair of couches facing each other with a coffee table in the middle. It looked eerily similar to the meeting rooms seen in old-time mafia films.
Ignoring the gut wrenching nervousness I was feeling, I made my way over to the sofas and took a seat on the one facing the door.
After a few minutes, the door finally opened, and a sleek-looking businessman entered the room.
He wore a suit, his jacket casually draped over his shoulder.
With slow, measured steps, he approached, his footsteps echoing through the room before he took a seat on the sofa opposite me.
"Hmm."
He didn't speak right away. Instead, he took his time observing me, his steel-blue eyes scanning me from head to toe. A small smirk played at the corner of his lips—just beside a faint scar near the upper edge.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he said, "I didn't expect David to start sending kids to deliver his messages now."
Neither did I.
He continued, "Relax. I only called you here to talk."
As he spoke, he tossed the envelope onto the coffee table and leaned back into the sofa, casually crossing one leg over the other.
I glanced at the envelope—its broken seal indicating that it had already been read.
"What's your name, kid?"
"...Kayle."
"Kay-lee? Huh. Interesting name." The businessman tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening. "What's your relation to David?"
"I work as a servant boy at his inn."
"Oh? Then you must know what's been going on there lately. How's business?"
"Same as usual. People come and go."
"And I suppose David remains the same—stuck-up, greedy bastard?"
"..."
I didn't respond, a small bead of sweat slid down my forehead.
While I would love to agree with him, I wasn't so foolish as to openly berate my boss.
He chuckled at my silence. "I told you, you can relax here. Don't be afraid to say what's on your mind."
Leaning forward slightly, he continued, "Let's keep talking. How does David treat you and the other employees? I heard he pays you in meals?"
I sighed, "Meals and shelter, to be precise. The benefits aren't great, but at least we don't have to worry about safety while we work at the inn."
"Safety, huh?" he leaned back, his smirk fading into a more thoughtful expression. "Does he still use Bale and Dale?"
At the mention of those two names, I felt a slight twitch in my brow, but I quickly controlled my features. "Yes... Bale and Dale are still guarding the inn."
He tapped his fingers lightly against the armrest, his gaze never leaving mine. "And how often does David leave the inn? Does he ever venture out to meet with anyone?"
Venture out? His tone was casual, but the question was pointed—like he was searching for something specific.
Is this supposed to be an interrogation?
A thoughtful expression crossed my face as I kept my voice even. "He leaves occasionally. Mostly to handle business, I assume."
"Hmm... Do you know what kind of business?"
"Nope. I'm just a servant boy, I wouldn't know all those details." I replied helplessly.
"And yet, here you are, delivering messages for him. Doesn't seem like something a mere servant boy would do, does it?"
I shrugged, keeping my expression blank. "Just a coincidence. I was supposed to clean his room this morning, but he asked me to deliver the letter instead. I didn't think much of it."
"Didn't think much of it," he echoed, his smirk returning. "You're a smart kid, aren't you?"
I didn't respond. His words felt like a trap, and I wasn't about to step into it.
The businessman leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me, Kayle. Does David ever meet with anyone unusual? Someone who doesn't quite fit in with the usual crowd at the inn?"
Unusual? My mind raced as a figure came to mind.
Still, I kept my answer vague. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure. I'm usually too busy cleaning tables and delivering meals to pay attention to that kind of thing."
He studied me for a moment, his piercing gaze searching for cracks. Then, with a slow nod, he leaned back.
"Fair enough. You're just a kid, after all. No reason to get involved in grown-up business."
He reached for the envelope on the table, flipping it over in his hands. "You know, Kayle, David's been with us for a long time. He's done a lot of good work for the Guild."
My eyes narrowed slightly at his words. So David's a member of the Black Rose Guild…
"But lately... well, let's just say there have been some concerns about his loyalty."
A chill ran down my spine, though I kept my face neutral.
His voice remained casual, but his eyes were razor-sharp. "If you happen to notice anything unusual, you'd let me know, wouldn't you? It's always good to have friends in high places."
I nodded slowly, careful not to commit too much. "Of course."
"Good." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're a smart kid, Kayle. I think you'll go far in this world. Just remember—loyalty is everything in our line of work. Betrayal… well, let's just say it doesn't end well for anyone."
He stood up, smoothing out his suit jacket. "You can go now. And don't worry—I'll make sure David knows you delivered the letter. Wouldn't want him thinking you slacked off, would we?"
I stood as well, bowing slightly. "Thank you."
"Heh." Derek chuckled at my politeness, leaning back with an amused smirk. "I gotta say, kid, the longer I look at you, the more I like what I see. You've got a sharp mind, and I respect that. If you ever get tired of working under David, I could always use an extra pair of hands around here."
"...I'll keep that in mind."
"Hehehe, that's what I like to hear." His grin widened. "And remember—if you notice anything… off about David, come straight to me. Just mention my name to the bartender downstairs, and he'll let you up." He paused for effect, letting the weight of his words settle. "The name's Derek. Don't forget it."
With that, he rose to his feet, adjusting his jacket with a casual flick of his wrist. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, his slow, confident steps echoing against the wooden floor. A small group of armed thugs trailed behind him, their presence a silent reminder of the kind of man I had just spoken to.
Outside the room, the bartender was waiting for me. "This way, sir."
He lead me back downstairs, past the thugs and back in the tavern.
Not wanting to stick around in the tense atmosphere, I quickly thanked the bartender before stepping out into the dimly lit alley.
"Haaah..."
A long sigh escaped my lips as I felt exhaustion weigh down on my shoulders.
Yet, despite the heavy mood, my mind continued to race as I process the information I had gathered.
Although little had been said outright, I actually managed to learn a lot by piecing together the scattered bits of information I had.
The senior officer, talks of betrayal, David's erratic behavior…
I didn't have the full picture yet, but I already had half of it.
Unknowingly, a small smirk had crept onto my face as I turned on my heel, beginning the journey back to the inn.
Things were about to get interesting.