Chapter Thirty: First Encounter

"So, you really did go ahead and make those scout bees again, just as she requested?"

As dusk fell, Huey and Hodin were strolling along Manchester Avenue in the city of Royo. Hodin asked the question with genuine curiosity.

After wrapping up the day’s arrangements, the two had decided to wander around the outskirts of Royo. It served a dual purpose: observing the surrounding environment to familiarize themselves with the local streets, and relaxing a bit while discussing their next steps.

Hearing Hodin's question, Huey shrugged helplessly. "To be honest, my second attempt was an absolute embarrassment. While I was making the scout bees, I accidentally spilled the softening agent on the table, tangled the metal wires around my own hands, and even dropped the crystal ball, which ended up landing right on my foot."

"That sounds incredibly awkward."

"Yes, it was. I turned myself into a total clown, and our beautiful Lady Christine couldn't stop laughing. She kept laughing all the way to the Dodge Trading House at noon, and even while we were discussing matters with the Vice Chairman, she was still chuckling."

Hodin shook his head in admiration. "I must say, that was a remarkably courageous choice. I suspect everyone who saw that scene would be amazed at the method you used to keep the lady so entertained."

"Actually, I didn't do it intentionally at first," Huey explained. "When alchemy becomes a performance, I find I cannot focus on the work. My own demand for efficiency prevents me from being distracted, so at the start, I really did make those mistakes by accident. But when I saw Christine laughing non-stop, I suddenly realized it was an opportunity to close the distance between us."

"That’s true. In Lady Christine’s mind, your image as a demon is hard to shift. While you can provide her with excitement and thrills, watching a tiger in a cage and sleeping next to one are two completely different concepts."

"Exactly. The past impression cannot be erased, so we can only add a new layer to it. I realized that Christine has dealt with many people—charming young nobles, refined middle-aged gentlemen—she has seen far too many, even murderous demons. But she had likely never seen what a clown looks like. Especially when a former 'demon' performs with such clumsiness, nervousness, and agitation, it greatly dilutes the fixed, terrifying memories she holds of me."

"Absolutely correct. You can give a woman excitement, but you must never make her feel afraid. What you did was show her that beyond being a terrifying and serious man, you also possess a sense of humor. You made her realize that no matter how fierce you are, you are still just a nervous boy in front of a beautiful woman."

"Precisely. And when she thinks she can change and control me, she will feel a great sense of satisfaction."

"And then... the heart of this woman will be easily captured by you."

Huey smiled. "It's always a pleasure chatting with you."

After a moment of thought, he added, "Regardless, I’ve had a successful start with Christine. I’ve discovered that occasionally playing the clown really does help ease the atmosphere, dissolve tension, and bring people closer."

"Just don't overdo it. That would make her look down on you."

"Finding the right balance is always a science."

"Clarity of mind is your greatest asset."

The two men exchanged smiles.

Hodin asked, "By the way, how is the situation at the Dodge Trading House?"

"We haven't touched on the topic of installment payments yet. However, I have already hinted to the firm and the family representatives that the sixty-percent material acquisition cost is an enormous sum, and that the Dardanelles are reconsidering the necessity of assuming such a risk, urging them to consider payment alternatives. Since the Dardanelles have yet to establish any credit, they are bound to be hesitant. I think that’s fine; let them place all their worries on the issue of credit."

"Why?" Hodin asked, as Huey had modified his previous plan, leaving some aspects unclear to him.

Huey gave a mysterious smile. "Hodin, if I challenged you to a duel, what would you think?"

"I would refuse."

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't possibly be your match."

"Then, what if you could beat me? I mean, what if the person standing in front of you were just an ordinary boy with no magic or martial arts skills? Would you still refuse?"

Hodin thought for a moment and shook his head. "Of course not."

"And what if, during the duel, you suddenly discovered that this boy was actually Huey Glaire, and that he was no soft target?"

"Then I’d be dead."

"Exactly, that’s the point." Huey laughed wickedly. "The reason I want those merchants to worry about our credit is to plant a psychological suggestion in their minds. I want them to focus their attention on the reliability of the transaction, rather than on whether or not they should accept this payment method."

"Oh, I see," Hodin realized immediately. "When all the merchants focus their attention on the reliability of the deal, they will challenge you with all sorts of difficulties. They will assume you aren't qualified to complete such a transaction. But by doing that, they effectively abandon the possibility of refusing this payment method. In other words, by the time they realize you *are* qualified to conduct such a business, they no longer have the option to refuse... My God, Huey, you are absolutely diabolical!"

Huey chuckled. "Exactly. You see, when it comes to installment payments, I don't want to give them too many choices. According to human psychology, the wider the range of options people have regarding a deal, the lower the probability of closing it. So, let’s just not give them the chance to choose."

"Yes, you're absolutely right. But as far as I know, the issues involved in installment payments aren't just about credit."

"You're right. In a sense, installment payments are essentially a process where the seller lends to the buyer, or a form of venture capital for a specific industry. Generally, a complete, large-scale venture investment requires extensive research, including market analysis, cash flow, credit ratings, and so on. Whether it's a loan or venture capital, the seller is the party bearing the risk. And as the risk-bearer, such cautious investigation is indeed necessary. As a fake Dardanelles family, we actually lack the preparation for that. I mean, we can't withstand that level of scrutiny."

"Yes."

"So, we need to divert their attention. Just as we can't give them a choice on whether to accept installment payments, we can't let them focus their energy on other areas either. We must make them focus entirely on the issue of credit."

"Then how do we do that?"

"It's simple. We need an opponent. We need an adversary who bears us ill will. Someone who will try every means to attack us, accuse us, and point out that we are untrustworthy. This person should ideally be a veteran of bureaucratic struggles. Such a veteran knows very well that if you want to strike at an opponent, you shouldn't strike at every aspect, as that would likely disperse your energy. If you're going to strike, you must hit the opponent's soft underbelly. So, for the Dardanelles family, what is our soft underbelly?" Huey countered, and without waiting for an answer, he laughed. "Not our past, but our present—that is to say, the issue of credit."

Hodin had an epiphany. "Right. Whether or not the Dardanelles are truly a family that salvages shipwrecks at sea is something no one in Royo knows. Putting great effort into verifying it might even yield a result favorable to the opponent. Therefore, a smart opponent would never do that. They wouldn't be interested in digging into your past because, right here in Royo, there is a ready-made point of attack: we have no reputation here, and no credit to speak of. So, we need an opponent to concentrate all their efforts on attacking the Dardanelles' credit in Royo, which would focus everyone's attention solely on that."

"Precisely. All we need is an opponent."

"And where do we find one?"

"Do we need to look? Don't forget our intervention in the material market—whose interests does it affect the most?"

Hodin immediately thought of one person: Count Lux.

He laughed. "Huey Glaire, you are truly a genius at crime. It’s a pity you aren’t a full-time con artist. Do you know? You could have easily walked away with millions in alchemical materials."

Huey shrugged. "If that were the case, Christine would be in trouble. Regardless, this will be a successful start."

Hodin’s mustache twitched. "Indeed. Just think, a group of fugitives about to enter high society through the front door, while the hounds below are still desperately chasing shadows."

"Life is never short of dark humor," Huey sighed. "By the way, any news from Lasher?"

"Only that he has arrived in Royo, but where he is and what he is doing, we have no idea."

"Then we must be careful."

As they talked, they walked until they arrived before a tavern.

Huey asked Hodin, "Any interest in joining me for a drink?"

Hodin shook his head. "I’d much rather drink while resting my head on the ample bosoms of noble ladies. Taverns are mostly full of crude men; they aren't for the likes of me."

Huey shrugged. "I actually quite like that environment."

"Then go ahead," Hodin said dismissively.

Huey walked toward the tavern. Behind him, Hodin suddenly called out:

"West!"

"For a hunter who excels at disguise, walking through a jungle full of thorns, meeting a pack of ferocious wolves isn't the scariest thing. It's a cunning fox that is truly daunting," Hodin said, his words pregnant with meaning.

Huey thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I understand. Thank you for the reminder."

To Huey, a tavern had always been a good place. The people here were a motley mix; you could find anything. He liked sitting at the long bar, ordering a mug of frothy ale, sipping it slowly, watching the boisterous noise and shouting, witnessing the raw release of human nature, observing the myriad states of life, and savoring the taste of existence. He tried to find inner peace within this noisy environment.

There weren't many people in the small tavern. Huey walked up to the bartender, ordered a beer, and leaned against the counter.

A woman dressed in gaudy clothes approached Huey and ran a long fingernail across his cheek. "Need some company?"

Huey gave her a gold vit. "Don't bother me."

The woman took the money and left.

Not far from Huey sat a middle-aged man who had been drinking alone with his head down. Seeing Huey arrive, he began to observe the boy with interest.

"You shouldn't be so generous with your money," the man suddenly said.

Huey turned to look at the man. He had a pair of thin mustaches, deep-set eye sockets, a slightly hooked nose, and a confident, gloomy smile that told Huey he was a sharp and capable individual.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Money is like foul-smelling excrement; it always attracts countless flies. You are too generous, and here, there is never a shortage of people willing to kill and dump bodies for a gold vit or two," the man laughed. "Young man, you are asking for trouble."

Huey nodded. "Yes, I understand. Thank you very much for the reminder. However, I don't think it will be a major problem. I can give them all my money and just close my eyes. I mean, when faced with danger, I can adopt a cooperative attitude rather than a confrontational one."

"Well said. It seems you have a wealth of experience in surviving dangerous situations."

This remark felt a bit grating to Huey. He shook his head. "No, it’s just the teachings of my family. My family taught me that life is more meaningful than money, and one should not try to throw away their life for a pittance."

The man chuckled. "I see. But young people with such upbringing usually don't come to such chaotic places. High-ranking nobles never lack entertainment. Why come to a place like this to loiter?"

"I just wanted to see the real world. You know, high-society circles are always full of hypocrisy; everyone wears a mask when speaking to others. I’ve had that experience, and although I consider myself a master of lies, if I could, I would rather sit here and watch people loudly vent their dissatisfaction and boast of their arrogance. At least those are genuine displays of emotion."

"I see..." the man muttered. "I rarely hear a noble youth say such things and be willing to come to a place like this just to listen to people's drunken ramblings. Very interesting. You remind me of an old friend."

The man left his seat and pulled his chair closer to Huey. He seemed to have taken an interest in the conversation. Sitting next to Huey, he asked, "Could you buy me a drink? I mean, your generosity is currently bringing you trouble, and I can ensure you leave this place without any problems. I assume you don't want to be stripped clean before you walk out."

The man's tone sounded like that of a common thug, using his silver tongue to secure a benefit for himself.

Huey’s brow furrowed slightly. He wanted to say he didn't care, but for some reason, a sense of alarm rose within him. He felt there was some hidden meaning in the man's words, and if he didn't handle it carefully, he might face dire consequences.

This vigilance wasn't innate; it had been cultivated through countless dangerous, backstabbing adventures. It could sometimes sense a lurking crisis even before the master did.

Huey didn't know what was wrong, but he still faintly sensed that this middle-aged man was strange.

He seemed overly interested in him, a bit too enthusiastic, and his words carried a bizarre undertone.

So, frowning, Huey said, "This is truly annoying. I think I’d better leave early."

He decided to leave the tavern immediately.

"Hey, don't go." The man grabbed Huey's shoulder.

His hand was steady and powerful, and there was even a faint trace of battle energy.

Purely out of self-preservation, the battle energy in Huey's body surged instinctively, repelling the man's hand from his arm.

A flash of surprise crossed the man's eyes, and he quickly withdrew his hand.

"I apologize," he said with a smile. "I didn't realize you were a warrior. It seems you don't need to worry too much about the thugs here."

Huey’s expression remained calm.

The battle energy the man had used when touching him was applied with great subtlety—just enough to trigger a reflexive reaction without causing any harm.

Was this a coincidence? Or an intentional probe?

Huey couldn't be sure.

"I have indeed practiced some warrior's battle energy," Huey said slowly, "but that doesn't mean I have the courage to fight desperate criminals to the death. In fact, my ability is quite low, and my teacher once told me that in the face of a true life-or-death test, courage is the best guarantee for unleashing one's potential. Someone lacking courage, even with great power, cannot defeat a desperate criminal."

He then sat back down and said to the man, "However, perhaps I should take your advice, buy you a drink, and accept your protection. That way, I can have a pleasant evening."

With that, without waiting for a reply, Huey told the bartender, "A mug of ale, make it a large one."

The ale arrived quickly.

Huey handed it to the man. "I hope you like it."

Just as he was handing over the drink, for some reason, Huey’s foot slipped, and he lost his balance, falling toward the middle-aged man.

A large mug of ale spilled all over him.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" Huey exclaimed.

Soaked in ale, the man looked annoyed. "Damn it!"

Huey scrambled to help him wipe his clothes. "Goodness, look, your coat is soaked through. Take it off quickly, or you'll catch a cold." Without waiting for a response, Huey pulled the man's coat off.

In the process of pulling it off, Huey, perhaps out of excessive agitation and unease, turned the coat inside out. In the commotion, a booklet fell out of the man’s pocket. Huey quickly picked it up, glancing at it briefly. It read: *Imperial Legal Department, Chief Inspector of Justice, Jason Lasher, Commander of Operation Rat Hunt.*