Cisco’s heart skipped a beat.
That kind of item wasn’t sothing ordinary hunters could afford. No, only the sons of guild masters, the pampered heirs of the great corporations who bent knee to guilds, or the spoiled brats of the truly powerful ever wore such treasures. Which could only an one thing this so-called lunatic in front of him was a walking treasure chest disguised as a man.
"To think the heavens would toss a gift like this... right after I got fired," Cisco sighed inwardly, his smile never faltering.
The mory still stung. He had been too greedy. Far, far too greedy.
Earlier that very morning, Cisco had nearly pulled off the con of the year. He had convinced one of those corporate young masters that an old, battered E-grade sword was a rare relic worth a billion credits. He spun his words like golden threads, painting the weapon as if it had once been wielded by a legendary hunter whose na was "conveniently lost to history." The rich fool swallowed every word, his eyes sparkling with imagined glory.
It had been perfect. Too perfect.
Until another hunter, sharper-eyed and sharper-tongued, stepped in. He exposed the blade for what it really was: junk. Rusted steel worth less than a al at a noodle stand.
The young master’s smile curdled into rage. Cisco was branded a fraud, dragged out, and sacked from his position as an "official appraiser" under one of the smaller guild-backed shops. The sha burned more than the lost deal.
"Wrong timing. That’s all it was," Cisco muttered to himself. "If that busybody hunter hadn’t shown up, I’d be rich by now."
But Cisco was not the kind of man to crumble under failure. He was a cockroach in human skin, scuttling through cracks, surviving no matter how many tis the boot ca down. His philosophy was simple: opportunities never die, they simply move.
And now, staring at Baelgor with that absurdly valuable ring glinting on his finger, Cisco felt the sting of his earlier failure lt away.
This wasn’t just opportunity.
This was divine compensation.
A golden fish had flopped right into his net, inside this crowded little restaurant.
Or so Cisco liked to think.
Baelgor’s crimson eyes narrowed as he studied Cisco. For the first ti since he had entered the restaurant, the so-called dungeon lord paused to reconsider his actions. The crushing aura he had been about to unleash flickered, then retracted like a tide pulling back.
"Hmm... this human is wise. With discerning eyes, no less. To think he foresaw the action I was about to take and moved to prevent from staining this place with blood... interesting."
Baelgor tilted his head, his gaze shifting to Cisco with sothing he had not shown a single human since leaving his dungeon acknowledgnt.
Unbeknownst to him, however, the "wise human" was far from altruistic. Cisco’s lips curled into his ever-gentle smile, but behind his calm eyes, wheels were spinning at frightening speed. Already he was dissecting Baelgor’s mannerisms, his strange arrogance, and most importantly, the priceless spatial ring on his finger. He was weaving sches, calculating angles, picturing just how much fortune he could siphon from this... eccentric noble fool.
But Baelgor was a creature that had never known deception, never lived in a world where lies could slither sharper than blades. To him, Cisco was exactly what he appeared to be a calm and elegant gentleman with insight beyond the ordinary rabble.
"Count yourself lucky, puny human," Baelgor finally declared, his deep voice resonating across the hushed restaurant. "I have considered the actions of your fellow mate and will let this matter slide. But hear well, such insolence shall not repeat itself."
The declaration was heavy, delivered as though he were a sovereign king granting rcy to trembling subjects.
The entire room froze, not daring to breathe. So custors shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between Cisco and Baelgor, wondering how long until blood splattered the walls.
Even Cisco himself blinked in astonishnt. "...Hah? This guy. Is he serious?"
Inwardly, he was fuming.
"You’ve got to be kidding . You eat forty bowls of noodles, refuse to pay, and then talk like the restaurant owner should be bowing in gratitude? Shaless! Absolutely shaless! That’s my problem with these types; the pampered sons of rich guild families. They strut around, thinking the world is theirs just because their fathers command hunters. Not an ounce of responsibility in their bones."
He pressed down his irritation, keeping his polished smile fixed in place. If Baelgor truly was one of those guild heirs, then offending him directly would be suicide. But oh, how Cisco’s blood boiled at the gall of this man.
The restaurant was dead silent, waiting for the next word.
The restaurant had been holding its breath, but the fragile silence finally shattered.
The owner slamd his hand on the counter, veins bulging on his neck. His voice cracked like thunder as he roared,
"You....! You’re crazy! Absolutely shaless and crazy!"
"My lord, I only wished to save the foolish owner, who could not recognize your presence. I pray you are not offended."
Baelgor’s expression softened into satisfaction, his crimson eyes gleaming. He let out a booming laugh, his voice echoing like rolling thunder.
"Good! Very good! You alone have wisdom and discerning eyes among these mortals. You alone see as I truly am. I shall bless you with my favor!"
The custors whispered nervously, exchanging confused glances. To them, Baelgor sounded utterly mad, yet the aura he radiated made it impossible to dismiss him as a re lunatic.
Cisco bowed again, but inwardly his lip curled. "Bless , he says. Why does he talk like he just finished reading Shakespeare in the dungeon? I’ll never understand these rich types and their ridiculous airs."
But Baelgor was already nodding proudly, thoughts turning elsewhere.
"This one... yes. This boy is blessed with discerning eyes and a silver tongue. Not bad at all. I shall make him my envoy in this new world."
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