Unexpected Things Always Come Suddenly

"Yala! Black Pine Wine! Another, another dozen!"

In the noisy, dimly lit Sunset Tavern, Quade lay panting over the bar, pouring drink into his mouth one cup after another.

"Hey, big guy, no tip means no Black Pine Wine!"

Yala, behind the bar, brought over two huge mugs of Black Pine Wine with an unhappy look and slammed them down without ceremony.

"For your father's sake, these are the last two! You have thirty seconds to finish them, then get the hell out! Every extra hour you sit here, the profits of our tavern—no, the entire Underground Street—drop by ten percent!"

Quade was already somewhat drunk, but even amid the uproar of the packed tavern, Yala's fiery voice carried far.

Feeling the surrounding drinkers' stares and imagining their mockery, a vicious fire rose in Quade's heart.

Back then, he had been Quade Luoda, "Bloodaxe," the terror of the entire Lower City District!

If not for, if not for that incident... how could things have come to this? How could even some chick tending a bar dare to bully him?

Even Baldy Spin, who had entered the trade two years after him, dared to laugh at him in front of the Beggar Children...

Damn it!

"You little blind bitch!"

The more Quade thought about it, the angrier he became. Gritting his teeth, he swayed to his feet with his heavy head spinning.

Reaching across the bar, he seized Yala's hand and dragged her before him, roaring viciously:

"I said it! A dozen Black Pine Wine!"

The entire tavern fell silent.

The Lower City District was Everstar City's most chaotic area, and Underground Street was the most chaotic place in the Lower City District—especially after the Black Street Brotherhood took it over ten years ago.

Sunset Tavern stood prominently in the heart of that disorder. Those who came here either belonged to the Black Street Brotherhood or had business with the Brotherhood.

Thus, when Quade grabbed Yala's hand and roared, every customer in the tavern watched with the expression of people enjoying a show. No one spoke, and no one stopped him.

Quade's head grew even heavier.

Yet he could still feel the wrist in his grasp.

Under the dim yellow light of the tavern's candleholders, at such close range, Yala's smooth face and exquisite features appeared clearer than usual. Her short gray hair was neat and crisp, and Quade could even faintly smell the subtle fragrance on her.

His thoughts stirred, and for a moment, all kinds of wild fantasies flooded his mind.

Yala seemed to have been frightened by him as well.

The girl stared in surprise at this former top enforcer, now a down-and-out drunk.

As the clamor of the drinkers around him faded from his ears, the dizzy Quade felt vaguely pleased. This silence proved that his actions had received the attention they deserved.

And respect.

But soon, when he shifted his gaze to Yala, Quade slowly began to sober up.

His expression changed.

The reckless delight and arrogance from moments ago gradually gave way to fear and panic.

Yala Saredon.

Quade was one of the few people who knew her full name.

That beautiful woman—Quade suddenly recalled his father telling him to stay away from her.

As well as all the things he had seen and heard at Sunset Tavern several times before.

And this fiery, seductive "bar girl" was now looking at him with an amused gaze, allowing him to hold her hand.

Quade's jaw began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Yala, um, I didn't..."

But before Quade could react—

"Tap!"

The hand gripping Yala's was caught in a reverse lock by her!

And that was not all. His middle and index fingers were bent backward!

A piercing agony shot through him.

"Aaargh!"

Quade cried out in pain, his face twisting out of shape.

But that was merely the appetizer. With a vicious look, Yala locked his arm and wrenched it hard in the opposite direction of his elbow joint!

"Crack!"

The crisp sound of tendons and bones dislocating came at the same time as Quade's scream.

"Aaaaargh!"

"No, no, no! Yala! Big Sis Yala! Aaah, I—I was wrong—I shouldn't have—"

Yet before Quade could finish begging, the nimble girl borrowed his momentum and flipped. Her long left leg, clad in tiny leather shorts, swung onto the bar and came crashing straight down onto Quade's neck!

"Thud!"

With a muffled impact, Quade's shriek was cut off at once!

The scene went quiet for a moment.

The next second, countless cheers erupted throughout the tavern:

"Nice one, Little Yala! You didn't disgrace the boss!"

"Haha, with moves like that, she could beat the shit out of even a Terminus Swordsman!"

"I swear I saw it! I'll bet ten coppers!"

"No, damn it! She was wearing safety shorts!"

The drinkers around them returned to their boisterous revelry and madness, waving their arms, howling wildly, and cheering Yala on one after another.

"Listen up!"

Yala glared fiercely at Quade, who had been pinned down so hard he could barely breathe.

She stood on one foot behind the bar, her left leg pressing down across it while her right hand held Quade's outstretched arm in a reverse lock, fully displaying her graceful, long-limbed figure.

"You disgusting gorilla wrapped in human skin!"

Calm and composed, the girl slowly drew a strangely shaped knife from the leather sheath on her left boot—the blade and handle were not aligned, making it look like a wolf's leg from afar.

The strange knife dropped and stabbed straight through Quade's palm.

"Thud!"

The tip even nailed itself into the bar!

"Mmph!"

The pain squeezed tears from Quade's eyes, but with his neck pinned down, he could only let out ugly shrieks like a pig being slaughtered.

The drinkers grew even more excited, and their cheers became louder.

Yala slowly lowered her upper body, displaying her perfect flexibility as she drew close to Quade's tear- and snot-streaked face. She gave a disdainful whistle and revealed a dangerous smile.

Her face was fierce and savage, yet her voice was rhythmic and alluring as she spoke words that chilled the heart.

"Quade Luoda..."

"I don't care whose son you are, or whether you're some Beggar Children boss, or some thug who collects dirty debts..."

"But listen the fuck up..."

Yala slowly twisted the knife handle.

Pain wracked Quade from his fingers to his palm. He rammed his knees into the bar with muffled cries, but it did no good.

"From this moment until the end of the world..."

"If you dare show your face in Old Lady's tavern again..."

The cold-faced girl forced the words through clenched teeth.

"I'll take that thing between your legs..."

"Slice by slice..."

"Chop it into minced meat..."

"Mix it into the liquor..."

"And mouthful by mouthful..."

"Force it down your throat!"

"Understand, you piece of trash?"

Several minutes later, Quade fled Sunset Tavern crying and screaming, clutching his pierced right palm under the drinkers' roaring laughter and Yala's disdainful gaze. Only then did Yala clap her hands and wipe the blood from the Wolf Leg Knife with a disgusted expression.

As though what stained it was not blood, but demon slime.

The drinkers were still shouting excitedly, recounting what had just happened. Quite a few continued staring at the Barmaid behind the counter, some with ulterior motives and lust-filled eyes.

Yala turned back in annoyance and chopped her knife into the bar!

"What are you looking at?!"

"Anyone who keeps looking pays double for their drinks!"

Thus, peace returned to Sunset Tavern once more.

After tossing out a few sharp remarks and redirecting the drinkers' attention from herself back to their alcohol, Yala finally threw down her rag viciously and walked into the back kitchen.

There, a young man in a top hat watched her with a smile, lightly clapping his wrists together.

Yala gave a disdainful snort.

"Is this enough?"

"Just like you said, I made a point of mentioning that thing beneath him."

Yala grabbed a bottle of white wine. A multi-purpose knife suddenly appeared in her left hand, and she deftly pried out the cork.

"Of course, of course, Miss Yala."

In the back kitchen, Nal Rick, Quade's deputy and the actual manager of the Beggar Children business, gently lifted his black top hat and nodded with a smile.

"I hope he will restrain himself from now on—from his uncontrolled drinking to his bottomless abuse of the Beggar Children, the Brotherhood cannot keep cleaning up after him forever."

"What you mean is that you can't keep cleaning up after him forever, right?" Yala tipped her head back and took a carefree swig.

Rick suddenly felt that this crude gesture looked perfectly fitting on Yala, fresh and alluring.

It made him swallow unconsciously.

What a shame...

"That would not be wrong either. After all, the Brotherhood is My Home, and the Brotherhood's interests are my interests." Rick smiled and unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Are you sure this will really work?"

Yala frowned and slammed down the bottle.

"Why do I feel like someone like him will go back and cause even bigger trouble? Like taking it out on your Beggar Children?"

You really do know him, Rick thought.

"To be honest, I don't know whether it will work either, because I don't understand him that well." Rick shook his head helplessly—his signature gesture whenever he wanted to appear innocent and loyal—and said, "But he has been getting worse lately. Three days ago, just over a few copper, he nearly ruined one of the promising children I had my eye on... If that child had not been fairly clever, there would have been one more future of the Brotherhood destroyed by Quade."

Is that so.

Yala rolled her eyes inwardly.

Fake-account accountant, I never knew you were so generous and righteous.

"So I decided that this cannot continue. He must be warned." At this point, Rick lowered the hand rubbing the back of his neck, and his gaze suddenly became firm.

"Otherwise, sooner or later, he will ruin the business I have worked so hard to build."

Yala snorted and shook her head.

"Fine, fine. You don't need to explain all that 'I had no choice but to get rid of my superior' nonsense to me."

"I never said I wanted to get rid of him..."

"Enough, enough. Pay the agreed reward already. I only take cash." Yala impatiently interrupted Rick's innocent defense.

Yala lazily finished the white wine, then stuck out her tongue with lingering enjoyment and licked the last drop from the bottle's mouth into her mouth.

The action stirred something in Rick's heart.

She yawned and waved Rick away.

"And you still have to pay for the Black Pine Wine he ran up today."

"Including those 'private goods' you brought."

Yala narrowed her eyes slightly and watched Rick leave after tipping his hat in salute.

Others might not recognize it, but I, Yala of Sunset Tavern, knew perfectly well...

That so-called "Black Pine Wine" you brought today to "treat" Quade was actually all smuggled Chaka Liquor.

On the Western Front, on the battlefield against the Orcs, it was used to drug condemned prisoners in shackles before they were sent on suicidal charges. Its liquor taste was mild, but it was highly hallucinogenic.

So, Nal Rick.

Yala frowned at his retreating back.

Were you sure you just had too much money to spend, rather than genuinely wanting to get rid of him?

But...

Whatever.

Yala turned back indifferently.

Just infighting among scum.

When Quade returned, full of humiliation, pain, and alcohol, to the great stone gate before the Ruined House—he did not live at Black Street Headquarters, because he felt that anyone there who knew the truth looked at him as though they were staring right through him—two hurried enforcers happened to pass behind the wall.

"Did you hear? The Beggar Children are spreading a rumor..."

Their casual conversation drifted over from afar.

"They say, they say Boss Quade isn't a man anymore..."

Quade's muddled mind instantly cleared.

"What does that mean? Did he turn into a woman or something?"

"Idiot, it means Quade was castrated! They say it happened years ago while he was collecting debts on Kalima Street, in a haunted house—the one left behind after Earl of Norfolk and his family were hanged—where he encountered something very strange..."

"Everyone says a female ghost in red castrated him."

"A red-clad ghost? Hahaha!"

For one instant, Quade felt all the blood in his body rush to his head.

The next moment, in a Loss of Control, he roared and lunged out from behind the wall!

"Who! Who said that! Which bastard!"

Quade viciously seized one of the thugs by the throat!

"Which bastard!"

"I'm going to kill him!"

The other thug stumbled back several steps in panic.

With his eyes practically splitting open, Quade slammed the man to the ground, his hand tightening ever further around the other's neck.

For some reason, in that instant, the pierced palm of his hand no longer sent pain through him, but a faint numbness and stimulation.

That left Quade with enough spare thought to consider other things.

Back then...

He had, after all, been a renowned thug leader in the Brotherhood, one of the finest fighters even among the Mortal Tier.

Everywhere he went in the Lower City District, people flocked around him.

Edelionsa, the Taren Brothers, Layok—those famous Brotherhood enforcers had been no more than his juniors back then.

Even giants like Morris and Lancer had treated him pleasantly, chatting and laughing with him.

Who would have dared mock him then?

Back then, he had believed that one day, he would take over his father's business and climb to a higher position in the Brotherhood...

Perhaps even... approach that man... the one even his father feared deeply.

But now...

Now...

Quade stared at the terrified thug beneath him as the man's earlier words echoed relentlessly through his mind.

Holding back the tears in his eyes, Quade let out a beast-like howl from his throat—his father had taught him with a whip that if he could not bear sorrow and pain, he should turn them into anger and hatred instead.

Sure enough, his father had been right.

At that moment, the alcohol rushed to his head, yet Quade felt incomparably clear-headed.

It was as though all the hatred and fury in his body had turned into inexhaustible strength.

"Boss Quade, those were just rumors. None of us believed them... Aah!"

Like a beast, Quade suddenly threw up his head!

The other thug, who had been trembling as he tried to explain himself, was frightened back a step.

But he immediately saw that his companion had gone pale, breathing more out than in.

Facing Quade's murderous glare as he kept retreating, the thug's face was filled with terror.

"Ah, y-yes, it was all rumors spread by those Beggar Children, Boss! It really wasn't our fault! You—you can ask those Beggar Children and you'll know!"

Crack! It was the sound of a neck bone breaking.

The thug Quade had been choking was already dead.

The remaining thug trembled all over.

Quade slowly rose from the ground, his eyes full of savage, man-eating ferocity.

Realizing things had gone wrong, the thug howled and scrambled away on all fours.

Quade wanted to chase him, but after rounding a corner, he discovered that the man had vanished.

Damn it.

He took two harsh breaths, turned back to look at the corpse in the alley, then kicked it several more times to vent his frustration. Only then did he shake his head and head toward the cluster of more than twenty Ruined Houses.

Quade did not stop to wonder why none of the patrolling thugs had appeared tonight—keeping watch over the Beggar Children was extremely necessary.

There was only one driving force in his mind.

He only wanted to find the people who had mocked him.

Then...

One by one...

Torture them to death.

Having just killed someone, Quade felt as though a long-forgotten shackle had been unlocked in his mind.

It was as if he had returned to those old days when he had lived by the blade.

Those damned little thieves, he thought viciously. Since they dared spread rumors...

They would have to pay the price.

Damned little thieves.

Panting, he felt that his strength and will had not been this powerful in a very long time.

The escaped thug trembled as he crawled out through the massive stone gate of the Ruined House and ran into Rick beneath a tree outside.

"Mr. Rick!"

Seeing Rick, the thug seemed to see a savior.

"Boss Quade—Quade has gone mad! Didn't you say, didn't you say we only had to expose his disgrace and threaten him to let off some steam... But before we could even finish speaking, Quade... Pearson, he..."

The thug was so terrified that he could barely catch his breath, let alone speak clearly.

"You mean Pearson? He... he was killed by Quade..." Rick looked startled.

After the thug tearfully confirmed it, Rick shook his head sadly.

"It was my fault."

"I thought Quade would... There's no helping it. Go shut the stone gate, lock Quade inside the Ruined House for now, then prepare the carriage. We leave immediately."

"Yes, Mr. Rick. Where are we going?"

"To headquarters. We'll find Boss Morris."

Still shaken, the thug nodded repeatedly upon hearing that they were leaving.

He did not even think about what would happen to the Beggar Children still inside the Ruined House.

Watching the thug rush to the stone gate, struggle to close the double iron doors, and fasten the stone lock, Rick's expression suddenly turned grave.

Now Quade would go after the Beggar Children. There were only a few dozen of them... and one of them was definitely the one the "Ghost" wanted.

He had moved today's schedule ahead, and it was not very late yet.

Quade had most of the night to deal with those Beggar Children.

As for how he wanted to work over those punching bags, that was something the Ghost—that damned stalker—needed to worry about.

Since he was interested in the Beggar Children, he would not simply stand by.

Rick stared at the gate of the Ruined House as he thought this.

He would no longer have time to come looking for Rick.

If he had come for a certain Beggar Child, Quade would be killed by him.

Then the Black Street Brotherhood would take over this place tomorrow—Luoda, Morris, perhaps even someone as important as Black Sword would deal with him, and Rick would be free of trouble.

If he had come to kill a certain Beggar Child, he might watch Quade continue killing the Beggar Children—this was quite possible. Ever since his father had been imprisoned after his scandal, Rick had often warned himself never to underestimate the filthiness of noble families.

Then that Ghost would achieve his goal, and Rick's trouble would naturally be resolved too—the Brotherhood would find only the mad Boss Quade, the burdened deputy Rick, the miserable Beggar Children, and, of course, the satisfied Ghost and the powerful figures behind him the next morning...

Rick thought with satisfaction.

In short, that trouble, that problem from some powerful family, and the chill at the back of his neck would all be resolved tonight.

Without leaving the slightest future danger.

Otherwise, one day, that Ghost who could not find his target would come straight for him.

Rick did not believe the lapdogs of great houses had good tempers, nor did he think that after meeting one face-to-face, he would still live to see the next day's sun intact.

Therefore, he needed another safe, unsuspected scapegoat to expose that Ghost's intentions and bring this wretched misfortune to an end.

Boss Quade, I'll have to trouble you again this time!

Rick thought calmly.

Of course, it would be the last time.

Hm, right. Perhaps afterward he would be punished for poor supervision, but compared to his own life and future...

Rick sighed, a few traces of pity and regret passing through his heart.

What a shame about these Beggar Children—Tales, and Karak too.

I'll pray for you.

I'll also pay for the victims' burials and funeral arrangements.

That moved Rick quite deeply.

Even in darkness, at least he still had a bottom line.

At least Nal Rick had not lost his humanity.

Had he?

At that moment, the thug who had survived by chance drove the carriage over from afar.

"Don't be nervous. It's all right now."

Rick walked over to the carriage, nodded at him, and offered an encouraging, comforting smile.

"I'm here."

The next moment, he drew that miniature collapsible crossbow from his clothes and accurately shot a bolt soaked in the deadly poison of Manblue Grass into the man's mouth, which had fallen open in shock.

When Rick made that decision—which would never become known to the world, yet would still profoundly affect the fate of the kingdom—the Beggar Children of Sixth House, having rested early, were gathered under Tales's lead around the fire they had struggled to light, counting today's earnings.

"The Woman in Black gave us eight copper. I heard her youngest son died of scarlet fever not long ago. No wonder she was so generous."

"Droopy-eared Mirala gave us all the copper she had left from buying groceries... Oh, only two."

Smiling, Synti counted out the copper one by one and piled them to his left.

Tales nodded and used a sharp stone shard to draw two tally marks on the ground.

"The skinny man in highland boots refused to give us money, so Lane and I taught him a little lesson."

Kellit pulled out a card, frowning at the words on it.

"But this was all he had on him. I don't know what it's for."

"It's an entry pass for the National Research Association's Glitterstar Grand Library. That's in the Upper District, five blocks away from us," Tales said after examining the card.

"That skinny man must be a scholar from an academy. I don't know whether he's an academic or a church cleric, but judging by how poor and bedraggled he looked, maybe he's a writer."

"Wow! Tales, you actually recognize the words on it!" Colia and Nide looked at Tales with faces full of admiration.

"How could I?"

Tales shrugged, vaguely understanding the hope and longing in the two children's eyes.

"No one taught us how to read, write, or count... I only knew because of the book emblem on the back of the card."

Still, Tales thought, that was right. He was already trying hard to teach himself how to read.

For example, the words on signs like "Sunset Tavern," "Grove Apothecary," and "National Research Association." His hazy memories also gave him an inexplicable respect and reverence for knowledge, making him unwilling to miss any opportunity to learn and accumulate it.

Those who had never experienced it would probably find it hard to understand... being able to sit freely at a desk and absorb the wisdom of those who came before—Tales raised his dust-covered hands, looked at the calluses prematurely worn into them by endless labor, then touched his still-empty stomach and sighed—was truly a kind of happiness.

Tales no longer remembered how he had crossed over into this world.

More precisely, his memories from before crossing over had only emerged bit by bit as the infant Tales gradually grew, his brain and mind slowly taking shape.

His memories from the ages of two to three were fragmented and sparse, just like those of a real two-year-old. He only remembered a sticky—he did not know why the color in his memories could be described as "sticky"—blood-red hue, a Blackstone room filled with the cries of infants, and an emaciated woman.

Only later did he learn that she had been Beth, the Blackheart Widow, a female leader responsible for raising newly arrived infants in the Brotherhood.

Tales had been sent to the Ruined House at the age of three. From then on, memories of his previous life gradually became clearer. The scenes that flashed back most often were of him sitting at a desk, his gaze moving between books and a screen, or sitting in a classroom discussing something with more than a dozen differently dressed young people, sometimes joined by a middle-aged or elderly professor.

But all of that had become unreal.

Over four years, amid the beatings, bullying, darkness, crime, and death that filled the lives of Beggar Children in the Lower City District, Tales had struggled to keep the Beggar Children of Sixth House alive.

Compared to the graduate student of his previous life, whose brain had been more developed than his body, four years as a Beggar Child had given Tales many new skills.

The acting needed to win sympathy, pickpocketing without anyone noticing, clever and unobtrusive observation and intelligence gathering, and so on.

During that time, Tales had also made many preparations beyond what an ordinary Beggar Child would do, such as building good relationships with people from different social classes—in the Lower City District, "different social classes" probably only meant "different classes of lowborn people."

For instance, secretly gathering information about Brotherhood secrets, arranging several hidden locations, and concealing some supplies from his superiors—on this point, Quade had not been wrong at all.

That was right. Tales did not intend to meekly accept the fate this world had assigned him.

He would not be a well-behaved Beggar Child, nor would he become a Brotherhood thug or thief. He had even less interest in staging some kind of "gangland drama" in Everstar City.

He was going to escape.

Then he would live his own life and become a...

Free person.

At least freer than he was now.

As long as he proceeded step by step according to the plan he had made... Tales looked toward the corner of the room, where an inconspicuous stone slab lay.

Then I'll be able to...

I'll be able to...

Just then.

From Seventeenth House next door came a sudden cry mixed with terror and panic. "No! Carla!"

Very soon, Tales would learn the most important lesson of his life after crossing over.

Accidents always arrived without warning.