Aivor's arrival came as a pleasant surprise to Arthur.
Unlike Acker, who had bound himself in self-imposed restraints.
Aivor lived quite happily.
Not only did he have a son and a daughter and a kind wife, but he was also quite wealthy, owning two detached houses on Dale Lane. His family of four lived in one, while the other had been converted into an inn.
The inn's revenue alone was enough to cover the family's expenses.
Aside from his inexplicable confidence in his cooking, Aivor had everything he could ask for.
Arthur had once suspected that Aivor's life was simply too comfortable and too perfect, which was why he could turn perfectly good ingredients into food that was so hard to swallow.
But for that very reason, Arthur had never considered recruiting Aivor.
It absolutely wasn't because Aivor's food tasted terrible.
Rather, Arthur had no way to make Aivor willingly work for him.
Alke had weaknesses that made him easy to manipulate.
Aivor had none.
As for kidnapping his wife and children to force him to work?
Arthur didn't consider himself some archvillain. He couldn't bring himself to do something like that.
Of course, more importantly, forcing an assassin to work for him wouldn't end well.
And what if something happened to the man's wife and children?
That would be even worse. It would create an assassin with no real weaknesses.
Who knew what he might do?
Arthur had no desire to see the power he had painstakingly built destroyed by the man.
But,
if he came knocking of his own accord...
Arthur wouldn't turn him away, either.
"Father!"
Alma greeted him and took the paper bag from Acker's hand.
It was a sturdy, well-made bag, unlike the hemp-paper bags used in the Old District that tore at the slightest