"Hmph!"
The leader of the trio—a scarred man with eyes like chips of black ice—didn’t imdiately respond. He walked slowly through the shop, examining the rchandise with apparent casualness that fooled no one.
His companions flanked the entrance, their positioning clearly designed to prevent escape or outside interference.
Rey watched them with outward calm, but internally, satisfaction blood.
’Finally...’ he thought, keeping his expression neutral.
’... You’ve co!’
One month of careful preparation.
One month of building reputation and attracting the right kind of attention.
One month of playing the role of a struggling but quality rchant who might be desperate enough, ambitious enough, or connected enough to be useful to the underworld.
And now the gatekeepers had arrived to determine if Modred Helt was worth bringing into the fold.
’I’m sure other businesses must be suffering slightly due to my unconventional trading thods. They’re here to either have join their side or take off the board entirely.’
Rey was fully aware of how these sorts of people thought.
Perhaps that was why he wasn’t worried.
In fact, he was excited!
The scarred leader completed his circuit of the shop, his gaze finally settling on Rey with uncomfortable intensity.
"You’re Helt," he stated rather than asked. "The new scroll rchant everyone’s talking about."
"I am," Rey confird, maintaining his elderly rchant persona. "And you are?"
The man smiled, and it was not a pleasant expression.
"Soone interested in discussing business opportunities," he said. "The kind that might not be appropriate for your... current establishnt."
There it was.
The offer, coded but clear to anyone familiar with how these things worked.
Rey allowed himself a small, knowing smile—the expression of a rchant who’d been waiting for exactly this conversation.
"I see," he said carefully. "And what makes you think I’d be interested in such opportunities?"
"Your prices," the scarred man replied bluntly. "You’re barely breaking even, maybe operating at a loss. Either you’re terrible at business, or you’re using this shop as sothing other than your primary inco source."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping.
"So which is it, Helt? Are you incompetent? Or are you fishing for better custors?"
Rey t his gaze steadily, letting a hint of his true nature—the cold calculation beneath the elderly rchant facade—show through.
"Perhaps," he said quietly, "I simply recognize that the most profitable opportunities rarely present themselves in legitimate markets."
The scarred man’s smile widened.
"Good answer."
He gestured to his companions, who relaxed their aggressive postures slightly.
"My employer would like to et you. Discuss whether your skills and resources might be valuable in ventures that require... discretion."
"Your employer," Rey echoed neutrally.
"Soone with connections to markets you’ve been trying very hard to attract attention from." The man’s tone made it clear he understood exactly what Rey had been doing.
"Soone who can provide access to custors with significantly deeper pockets than the rchants who currently shop here."
He pulled out a small card—black, inscribed with symbols that Rey recognized as mystical authentication marks.
"Midnight. Three days from now. Bring this card to the Red Lantern tavern in the western district. Present it to the proprietor. You’ll be escorted from there."
Rey took the card, examining it with apparent curiosity while his enhanced perception analyzed the mystical signatures woven into its construction.
It was genuine.
Not a trap, but a legitimate invitation.
’If they planned to trap , now wouldn’t be the ti. I’m guessing they’ll try to ensnare with so other thod that will guarantee my cooperation.’
Rey smiled.
These people were not clean.
There was no way they would present him an opportunity that did not primarily benefit them.
’Money laundering... legitimate fronts for illegal activities... trafficking... and all kinds of things. They plan to use my place of business and my legitimate identity for one or all of these things.’
But what would be in it for him?
That was what Rey was yet to find out.
"And if I decline?" he asked, testing.
"Then you continue running your little shop at a loss until you run out of money or patience. Perhaps... sothing terrible could also happen one of these days. At that point, you might wish you took this offer." The scarred man shrugged, threats underlaid in his cadual tone.
"...."
After pausing intentionally, ensuring Rey got the ssage, he continued.
"But sothing tells you didn’t co to Elkrim to play at being a struggling rchant forever."
He turned to leave, his companions falling into step beside him.
At the door, he paused and looked back.
"Fair warning, Helt. The people you’re about to et don’t tolerate deception or betrayal. If you waste our ti or if you’re law, if you’re anything other than what you claim to be..."
He drew a finger across his throat in an unmistakable gesture.
"Understood," Rey said calmly. "I appreciate the clarity."
These kinds of people had to watch out for law enforcent officers, spies from competing businesses, or third parties with their own interests who would be trying to infiltrate their own businesses.
As such, they also had to be clear that Rey’s background was clean.
’I’ve taken special care in that departnt. I am also sure they’ve done their preliminary investigation before approaching .’
Unfortunately for Rey, regardless of preparations, there would always be holes and unexpected situations.
He couldn’t prevent that, no matter how hard he tried.
’But... for sothing like this, it shouldn’t be too difficult to gain their trust.’
The three n left, and the shop’s atmosphere imdiately lightened. Normal custors began trickling back in, though they gave Rey nervous glances, clearly having noticed his dangerous visitors.
Rey looked down at the black card in his hand, a genuine smile crossing his aged features.
’Finally,’ he thought again. ’The first step into the Dark Comrce District.’
Everything had gone exactly according to plan.
The bait had been set, the fish had bitten, and now he just needed to reel them in carefully.
Three days.
In three days, Modred Helt—and by extension, Rey—would step into the criminal underworld that he’d been preparing for since his escape.
And once inside, the real work could begin.
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