Episode 268
As soon as Ian and Berrick stepped into the alley, Ian immediately felt a twinge of regret. Berrick was humming a tune, striding ahead without a care.
Maybe I should’ve brought Xiaoshi along instead. Berrick’s eyes darted around with keen interest, and he gratefully accepted some dried leaves handed to him.
“Ian, this stuff will knock you out. Heh heh.”
“Berrick, throw that away.”
“Huh? It’s free, though.”
“Before you get hooked on it too.”
Muttering as he pulled the hood of his robe over his head, Ian watched as Berrick snapped his fingers and flicked the leaves aside without hesitation. Immediately, some onlookers nearby snatched up the discarded leaves and shoved them up their nostrils.
They were inhaling the drug deeply. It was a cheap trick—handing out free samples to get people addicted, trapping them in dependency.
Ian clicked his tongue and scanned the surroundings.
‘This place is bigger than I thought.’
He’d assumed a private gambling den meant just one room, but this alley was a complete mess, like an entire slum.
When no games were running, it was abandoned, but on nights like this, signs popped up everywhere. Unlike normal shops, only flags with symbols were hung outside.
‘Still, each place is small. There must be a central gambling hall and some power backing this street.’
Just as the tavern owner had said, this place was like a festival. Drunk and drugged people sprawled everywhere, shouting loudly, the floor sticky with spilled liquor. Like kids splashing in puddles, the crazed rolled around and laughed on the grimy ground.
‘I realized at the same time as Jin that this is Timothy. He even naturalized as a Bariel citizen. No matter the reason, that’s hard to do without a positive reputation there. He might have been coming and going in Bariel. But why here, of all places?’
Ian covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve as he wandered through the street. Timothy was huge and had a striking presence. Just brushing past him again would be enough to recognize him instantly.
“Excuse me!”
“Ugh…”
Swish!
Berrick brushed away newspapers covering the faces of sleeping people, drawing even more attention.
Ian grabbed Berrick by the collar and pulled him deeper into the alley. The atmosphere changed—more crowded, but calmer. They weren’t walking so much as being pushed along by the crowd.
Keeping some distance between them, Ian spotted a head poking out from the throng.
‘That’s Timothy.’
It really was. Chewing on a cigarette, he kept glancing around nervously. He looked just like the portraits of Naum and Romandro—only more intimidating in person.
As Ian searched for him, Timothy seemed to be looking for someone too. Ian signaled Berrick.
“Berrick, follow him.”
“Move aside! One wrong move and I’ll kill you!”
“What’s with the rush?”
“Heh heh. How about a card game with us instead?”
“Get out of the way, you punks!”
Berrick weaved through the crowd like swimming, heading toward Timothy. Ian saw him open a green door and slip into the basement.
“Berrick, that way!”
“Got it, moving now.”
“Don’t get too close. Just watch.”
Berrick took the lead, and Ian followed. Before descending the stairs, Ian asked a man sitting on a chair by the building, chewing on jerky.
“Hey, is there another entrance to this building?”
“Why? Planning to run?”
“You’d do well to just answer.”
“…Only one. The back door’s blocked by crates.”
Tap tap tap!
Hearing that, Ian headed down. A single dim, flickering light barely lit the corridor. The musty smell hit him first, then a sharp, metallic stench. It was deeply unpleasant.
‘Ah.’
The source of the foulness wasn’t far. As soon as Ian reached the hallway, he bit his lip.
The arena was packed with people absorbed in card games, and iron cages hung from the ceiling. Some prisoners dangled their feet through the bars; others lay listless.
‘Illegal slave trade.’
In Bariel, slave markets were strictly regulated by the government—only allowed during certain periods and in designated areas. But the taxes on sales were so high that both buyers and sellers avoided them.
Still, allowing permanent markets was impossible, as it would only worsen rampant human trafficking and illegal enslavement.
There were many issues to consider alongside the unstable security. This was one of the problems Ian acknowledged in Bariel.
“Crazy bastard! Watch where you’re going!”
“Hey, I said sorry, damn it.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it! You just ruined the card game!”
“Who are you? I’ve never seen you before.”
“Does it matter? You stink.”
Smack!
By the time Ian turned toward Berrick’s voice, it was too late. A man was swinging a fist at Berrick, who only stepped back to dodge.
Smack! Bang! Crash!
“Whoa, sorry, sorry!”
“What the hell? Take it outside! We’re in the middle of a game!”
“Is there no staff here? Someone get a worker!”
“This place is a damn mess!”
“Hey, redhead! Come help us flip these tables!”
“Are you kidding? I’m winning, what nonsense!”
Boom! Thud!
Berrick didn’t throw a single punch—just dodged—but tables all around were overturned. The chaos spiraled out of control, and Ian rubbed his forehead. Stupid Berrick, backing up like that just makes you bump into more people.
‘Where’s Timothy?’
Ian left Berrick and quickly scanned the arena. Timothy glanced at the commotion briefly but seemed uninterested, staring up at the ceiling.
He was definitely looking for someone.
‘But slaves?’
Why would Timothy be searching for slaves in a foreign land? He whispered to a staff member, covering his mouth, then pulled a chair over and lit a fresh cigarette. By then, he seemed to have noticed the ruckus caused by Berrick.
Their eyes suddenly met. For the first time, Ian truly felt the weight of standing in the same place and time as Naum’s ancestor.
‘Ah.’
He hadn’t realized before, but Timothy’s nose and mouth were an exact match.
When Ian didn’t look away, Timothy raised his thick eyebrows, as if to ask what he was staring at. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and scratched his cropped ear.
‘Does he know me? He doesn’t seem like someone who’d be here. Probably not a foreign noble either…’
Timothy knew the new Bariel Minister of Magic was young, blonde, and green-eyed, but hadn’t connected the dots. The situation and place were so strange, and he’d never seen a portrait.
In truth, Ian had only recently taken office, and soon after, a civil war erupted, shaking the palace to its core. Even his own people barely recognized him, let alone foreign news.
Clang! Clang!
Ian turned his head at the sound of metal bars scraping. Staff surrounded Berrick, wielding skewers stained with dried blood, cornering him.
“Over there! That way!”
“Damn, these guys aren’t even a fist’s length apart.”
“That bastard just dodges, never fights back. Go ahead, stab him! He’s probably high on something and causing trouble!”
“This is driving me crazy!”
Berrick signaled Ian for help. Should I just kill them all? No witnesses left, no problem, right?
But Ian shook his head firmly. Besides the staff, there were at least a hundred onlookers. Killing them all was impossible.
Berrick was pushed into an empty corner. When his back hit the wall, someone shouted:
“Enough! Put him down!”
Screech! Bang!
Chains wrapped around Berrick’s ankle like a noose, yanking him up to the ceiling. Like hunting a wild animal, they expertly prodded him with sticks and shoved him into a cage. Only his black sword was left lying on the floor. They’d done this many times before.
“Hey! What the hell? Let me down! Untie me, you bastards!”
“Shut up. Today’s the last day you live as a free man. If you took drugs, you should be sleeping peacefully.”
“Still got some fight left in you, huh?”
“Exactly. You’ll need it if you want to survive.”
“Alright, now that’s settled, everyone get back to your games. Don’t mind this, okay? Let’s make the most of life.”
“Clean this up. I’m stepping out for a smoke.”
…Should I pretend I don’t see this? Ian folded his arms, deep in thought. Berrick wasn’t the type to die just because he was caught. He’d probably find his way home somehow.
Noticing Ian’s hesitation, Berrick suddenly shook the cage and shouted:
“Iaaaan!!”
“Damn.”
“I was going to ignore you! Hey! Ow!”
The staff clearing the tables all turned their gaze to Ian, as if surprised to find he wasn’t alone. They gave him rough, scrutinizing looks from head to toe, their expressions darkening.
“Got company? Well, this guy looks alright. Must not be on anything. If you don’t want to see some ugly shit, cut ties and get lost.”
“Or maybe we should sue for damages? If you don’t have the money, you’ll end up like that. You look decent, but honestly, that might be better for us.”
Ian nodded slightly, staying silent. He could feel Timothy watching him, so it seemed best to respond just enough.
“Your friend was rude. If you want to pay, then pay up.”
“Pay? How much you got?”
“How much do you want?”
“100 gold coins.”
“Ha ha ha!”
They threw out an amount equal to ten years’ wages for a laborer—clearly no intention to negotiate.
Ian only had two gold coins and five silver on him. If he handed that over, those guys would just take the money and never back off.
“Hey, you punks! You’re all dead now. Ian’s pissed off! Do you know how scary he is? Ian, you’re gonna save me, right? Huh?”
Beric shouted loudly, but Ian just smiled quietly in response. If Timothy stayed here, he’d stay too; if Timothy left, he’d follow.
Beric slammed his head against the bars, losing it. Honestly, for someone like Ian, handling this mess should be a piece of cake.
Bang! Bang bang!
“Nooo! If you leave me here—really—hey!”
At that moment, Timothy was approached by one of the staff members—the same one who had covered his mouth earlier. Timothy frowned, pulled out a gold coin from his pocket, and handed it over, then sat back down. It didn’t look like he was planning to leave anytime soon.
“…Alright, Beric. Quiet now.”
Watching this, Ian pulled out a gold coin as well. He flicked it lightly toward the nearby staff member, giving a subtle command.
Clink!
“Oh? You got some money, huh? A gold coin right off the bat?”
“This won’t be enough! Ha ha ha!”
“…How pathetic.”
“What was that?”
“Enough chatter. Go exchange it for chips. I’ll do my best to make as many as you want.”
Ian motioned toward an empty seat at a nearby table. The people playing glanced at him briefly but said nothing. Once seated here, whether noble or vagrant, everyone was dealt cards fairly.
Ian tapped the table lightly.
“I said I’m playing now.”
He’d declared himself a ‘player’ in front of everyone, so no one could openly stop him. But the moment he stepped outside, they’d bare their fangs—now knowing he had money but no backup. There was no way they’d just let him walk away.
“Winning side’s our side! Ian’s on our team! Let’s go, everyone, bring your worst hands, and Ian, get the good ones!”
That was how Beric ended up singing while hanging from the ceiling.
The chips piled up to five times the starting amount. Ian toyed with them, glancing repeatedly toward Timothy, who sipped his drink and kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Judging by the way he kept talking to the staff and waiting, it seemed Timothy was looking for a very specific slave.
“Come on, spin it again! Let’s keep going until this guy’s energy’s drained!”
“First time playing, right? How are you this good?”
“…I’ve played before. Just never in a place like this.”
Ian muttered as he tossed a couple of chips to the dealer as a tip. How long was this going to drag on? Jinn was probably waiting at the park. Of course, if he was late, Romandro would handle it.
The staff who had locked up Beric kept shooting Ian sharp looks. Each time Ian won money, they smiled subtly, convinced that his winnings would soon be theirs.
The cards were dealt again. Just as Ian was about to lose interest and call it quits—
Slide.
Timothy sat down beside him. Despite his massive frame, he barely made a sound. Ian gave him a calm once-over. The more he looked, the more Timothy reminded him of Naum.
“You’re Ian, right?”
“That’s right.”
It was over. Ian folded his cards, signaling he was done. Fake ID or not, with Beric shouting his name at the top of his lungs, there was no hiding it. The only consolation was that Ian was a common name, and drunk, drugged people didn’t think straight.
“I’m curious if you’re the Ian I know.”
Timothy chewed on a short cigarette, half-turning his body. He was asking Ian to take off his robe and show his hair. Ian refused but smiled in understanding.
“I was wondering if you’re the Timothy I know, too. Maybe we should move somewhere else.”