Emerging from the VIP entrance, the chairman tossed his cloak back to the bartender and left without a word.
He hadn't received any assurances from the cloaked man.
The chairman was irritated.
Just days ago, the cloaked man had said something similar, and at that time, he felt such rules were excellent, providing customers with a sense of security. He couldn't
believe that in just a few days, his perception of the organization had changed so drastically.
"Eugene!"
All his negative emotions were ultimately directed at this man.
The chairman stormed towards the door, ordering Kirk and the others who had approached him, "You guys stay here and keep an eye on the guys coming out of the VIP entrance."
"Especially watch out for those who look like they're here for the first time."
"If there's a suspicious target, take action."
Kirk desperately needed a mission to change his boss's impression of him, so he immediately patted his chest, "I guarantee I'll complete the mission."
It was six o'clock in the evening, the closing time at the Xilun Textile Factory.
After saying goodbye to his colleagues, Varina finally regained his freedom of movement.
As usual, he first went to a nearby café for a meal; unlike usual, this time he ordered an extra bowl of oyster soup as a start to a better meal.
After the meal, Varina walked to Green Road—a plan he had made the night before.
About an hour later, he arrived at Green Road and saw the sign for the Boiling Blood Bar.
After entering, Varina took a moment to observe the layout of the bar, noticing the chip exchange counter near the casino entrance through the gaps in the crowd.
Compared to the quiet afternoon, the bar was clearly at its busiest time of day, and Varina struggled to squeeze to the counter.
After the two people in front of him finished their transaction and left, he stepped forward and showed the waiter the heading of the assassination contract—mainly the insignia of the "Party B."
The waiter glanced at them and then looked away, showing neither surprise nor doubt.
He simply instructed, "Please wait a moment." Then, raising his voice, he looked at the people behind him: "Next."
Although Varina was forced to move aside, he was in a good mood because the waiter's reaction meant he hadn't come to the wrong place.
Soon, the customers exchanging chips were temporarily cleared out, and the waiter looked at Varina again, asking, "Password?"
Varina had already considered this possibility and devised a solution.
He frowned, and even his suppressed voice grew louder:
"A password?"
"The boss didn't tell me any password."
"No, I have to go in. The boss's business can't be delayed."
The waiter was stunned.
Since he took on this job, this was the first time he had encountered a "distinguished guest" like Varina who didn't know the password.
It was currently the busiest time, and someone could come at any moment, leaving the waiter very little time to think.
Therefore, when Varina showed a slightly firm stance, the waiter, thinking it best to avoid trouble, chose to compromise.
"Alright, go in."
The waiter stepped aside, handing over the cloak and explaining the code rules: "The code is the price and number of drinks on the special offer sign on the bar counter. Don't forget next time."
The waiter breathed a sigh of relief as he escorted Varina through the passage—he had solved the problem.
He was only responsible for filtering out those who weren't "VIPs," and the badge on the document he presented was enough to prove he was a "VIP."
As long as he was, there was no problem.
From his observation, the people in that upstairs "circle" were quite diverse, and newcomers didn't require much screening.
On the other side of the door, Varina was also a little bewildered.
He was already in?
He had considered using his performance to get away with it, but he was more inclined to extract some information before making further plans.
But since he was already in, he might as well go in and see what was going on.
With that thought, Varina put on the cloak and stepped onto the completely unknown path ahead.
Soon, he emerged from the passage and arrived at the giant loft above the bar, quickly surveying the interior.
"This...this looks like a flea market."
This scene was beyond Varina's expectations.
His imagined scenario was closer to the following:
a dimly lit room, the only light illuminating a small desk, a figure in black, whose features were obscured, sitting behind the desk, receiving guests like himself...
that's more in line with the assassin organization's style.
In this preconceived scenario, Varina had created the identity he'd just portrayed: the somewhat reckless gangster henchman, here to handle a contract for his boss.
However, this persona was clearly inappropriate in the current situation.
In the few steps he took into the hall, Varina, relying on his first impression, quickly established a new, simple persona for himself—a newly joined member.
He really was a newcomer; he could just play himself.
With curiosity, Varina wandered among the cloaked figures' stalls as if he were truly browsing a flea market, quickly confirming that this really was a flea market.
He roughly estimated there were thirty or forty stalls.
Each stall was different; some displayed bottles and jars, others flowers and plants, and still others rune carvings and similar items.
Quite a few people moved among the stalls, preventing him from becoming the center of attention.
Varina guessed that this place was likely a market for extraordinary materials, similar to the Dragon Tavern Old Neil took Klein to in the original story. Unfortunately, he didn't recognize any extraordinary materials and couldn't be entirely certain.
After walking for a while, Varina suddenly realized:
"Since I've been able to get in, there must be a stall here belonging to 'Party B,' it might even be a permanent stall."
So he quickened his pace, focusing on finding "Party B."
After passing most of the stalls in the hall, Varina stopped in front of a cloaked figure.
This cloaked figure wasn't selling anything, but had placed a chair beside him with a stack of papers on it—a blank template contract.
Varina was almost certain this was the "contractor" he was looking for, but he decided to start by testing the waters:
"Do you only sell template contracts?"
The cloaked figure opposite him scoffed and replied, "If you don't understand, don't ask questions. Get lost!"
Hearing this, Varina, hidden beneath the cloak, smirked. "Found you!"
Without further hesitation, he pulled the stolen contract from his pocket, unfolded it in front of the cloaked figure, and said,
"Is this how you treat your clients?"
"To be honest, I'm very dissatisfied."The cloaked man opposite him slightly raised his eyelids and glanced at the contract Varina presented.
He quickly looked away, speaking nonchalantly,
"Employer? You certainly know how to elevate yourself."
"Please remember, we only have clients, not employers. After all, we're not the kind of lowly errand boys who run errands for others."
"As for attitude, ha, you paid me, and I don't get a penny. Do you expect me to lick your boots?"
After retorting Varina a few times, the cloaked man's tone softened somewhat, asking,
"So, what brings you here?"
Varina didn't particularly dislike the cloaked man's attitude; as long as it didn't interfere with his business, it was acceptable.
He concealed a hint of unease and said calmly,
"I told you, I'm very dissatisfied with you, so I'm here to cancel the commission."
The cloaked man chuckled,
"Heh, I knew it."
He gave Varina a meaningful look again. "You know, someone came to me this afternoon claiming their contract was stolen, and you came to cancel the commission tonight."
"So what does this have to do with me?"
Varina feigned ignorance, asking, "Are you trying to break the contract by bringing up all this nonsense? "
"Break the contract? Of course not!"
"We're an organization of integrity, the kind that values reputation above all else."
The cloaked man shook his head repeatedly, then continued,
"You're right, someone's contract was stolen, but that has nothing to do with you or me. I only recognize contracts, and since it's in your hands, you're our client."
He clearly acknowledged Varina's client status and then began to follow the established procedures:
"According to Article 3 of the binding clauses attached to the contract, the client has the right to cancel the engagement at any time before the contract is completed, therefore your request will be fulfilled."
He extended his right hand, gesturing for Varina to hand over the contract.
After receiving the contract, the cloaked man carefully reviewed it from beginning to end, then asked to confirm,
"The contract was signed eight days ago. Hmm, if I cancel now, according to the rules, I can only refund two-thirds of your prepayment. Is there a problem?"
"Yes!"
Varina tried to bargain, "Since it was signed eight days ago, why is the refund two days less?"
"Rules are rules."
The cloaked man stated firmly, then countered, "If we follow your logic, shouldn't we be precise down to the hour and minute?"
"Alright, I accept that."
The cloaked man nodded, staring at Varina. "One last reminder, are you sure you want to cancel the commission?"
"Before confirming, I want to ask," Varina asked again, "If I confirm, can I receive the refund immediately?"
"Of course."
"Then I confirm the cancellation."
The cloaked man nodded, took out a specially made square seal, stamped it on the contract, and then put them away separately.
Only then did he look up again and say to Varina,
"The guest prepaid 250 pounds, and two-thirds will be refunded, which is..."
"166 pounds 13 sulph 4 pence."
The cloaked man quickly gave the exact amount before Varina could even do the mental calculations.
He rummaged through his wallet a few times, took out a 150-pound bearer check, then counted out 16 pounds in cash, and asked, "Is the rest my service fee?"
"No, you're asking for too much."
Varina took out some change from his pocket, counted out 7 sulph, and handed it to the man. "Keep the change; consider it my treat for a South Wales beer."
"Miser,"
the cloaked man muttered somewhat displeasedly,
but still pulled out another pound in cash and handed it to Varina. Varina remained outwardly calm, casually accepting this greatest fortune of his life, though inwardly he was overjoyed.
"Anything else?"
The cloaked man asked casually, seeing Varina lingering after receiving the money.
"I wanted to ask, what's the name of your organization? Is this your only contact point?" Varina feigned a troubled expression. "This place is so remote; it's really not easy to get here."
"Don't ask if you don't know. I'm doing this for your own good,"
the cloaked man coldly warned, his tone sharpening. "You can leave now."
Varina, knowing when to stop, nodded and left.
Emerging from the VIP passage, Varina, reminded by a waiter, remembered to return the cloak he was wearing.
He hummed an unknown tune as he left, heading home.
Unbeknownst to Varina, the little incident that occurred while he was entering and exiting the VIP passage had been observed by someone with ulterior motives.
He became Kirk's prime suspect.
...
The dock area.
The border between the Dead Eel Gang and the Gray Rat Gang's territories.
Negotiations between the two gangs were breaking down, and a street brawl was imminent.
Madman Kent of the Dead Eel Gang, leading over a hundred men, barged into his territory looking for trouble—this was Eugene, the leader of the Gray Rat Gang's assessment of tonight's events.
Kent, the Dead Eel Gang leader, was mostly a calm and cunning man, but he occasionally had some inexplicable, crazy ideas—like this one.
Hence his nickname, "Madman Kent."
Behind Eugene stood even more brothers, but their weapons were mostly wooden oars and similar tools; a fight would have unpredictable consequences.
He tried one last negotiation:
"Kent, I'll say it again, I didn't send anyone to steal your stuff!"
"I advise you to wake up! Look carefully, this is my territory, and I have more men! Do you want to kill all my brothers?"
His brothers behind him shouted, adding to the force of Eugene's words.
On the other side, Kent's expression was contorted, his facial muscles twitching, his anger burning.
He didn't believe Eugene's lies; he only knew that if he was humiliated, he would retaliate tenfold!
Otherwise, how could he maintain his position as the leader?
He also shouted,
"Eugene, you coward who dares to do something but not admit it!"
"There's nothing to talk about, I'm taking this block! If you care about the brothers, you can take your men and retreat, I promise I won't chase you down."
The negotiations completely broke down.
Two police officers nearby, sensing the situation was turning against them, quietly slipped away.
No, in their report, it should be said that
they had done their best to mediate between the two gangs, trying to resolve their conflict, but Kent's mental breakdown ultimately caused the negotiations to fail. They had to rush back to report the situation, hoping to minimize the impact of the gang fight.
The two gangs clashed, and soon, shouts of battle filled the sky.
Nearby residents had already locked their doors and windows and stayed indoors during the standoff; while somewhat terrified, they were unlikely to suffer further harm.
After all, this wasn't the first time they'd experienced something like this.
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