"You sure eat well," Mark said, his cold eyes watching.
They were sitting inside a quiet diner, Mark couldn't take his gaze off Isaac. The boy was devouring slices of cake like he hadn't eaten in years. Fork scraping, plate emptying fast.
"You'd do the same if you had tasted the hospital food," Isaac replied without even lifting his head, still chewing, still reaching for another bite.
Mark scratched his jaw, unimpressed. His tone turned sharp, stripped of warmth.
"That may be true. But you do realize—I'm not here for a social visit."
Isaac finally pushed the empty plate aside and leaned back in his seat. His gaze lifted, calm but sharp.
"Yeah, I know. So you can start asking."
Mark didn't hesitate. "I don't have that many questions. What I have is a proposition."
A bundle of papers appeared in his hand with a faint glow, then he slid them across the table toward Isaac.
Isaac raised an eyebrow as he picked them up. His eyes scanned the pages quickly, and a crooked smirk tugged at his lips.
"Hm… so you were investigating me."
The documents were filled with details—about him, about Maya, even about Uncle Jake.
"Well, this is impressive," Isaac said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "But correct me if I'm wrong—this doesn't sound like a proposition. It sounds a lot like stalking."
Mark narrowed his eyes. "Kid, you remind me of some annoying guy I know."
Isaac tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening.
"I'll take that as a compliment. So… what's the proposition?"
Mark sighed, pulling a business card from his pocket and sliding it toward him.
"I'm here to recruit you, kid."
Isaac stared at the card for a second, then suddenly reached into his pocket and tossed a handful of other business cards onto the table. They scattered across the surface.
"Funny. Those people are trying too."
His voice had a mocking edge. "So tell me, what makes you think I'd accept your offer over theirs?"
Mark's eyes flicked to the pile of cards. "When did they approach you?"
"Today. They were waiting outside my house," Isaac replied.
Mark's expression darkened. His lips moved as he muttered curses under his breath—something about "that bastard" and "killing him."
Isaac didn't need to ask who he meant. He knew it was one of the trader's tricks. Maverick must have leaked his information—forcing multiple guilds to compete, making Isaac's value skyrocket. If not for that, Mark probably would've offered him the bare minimum.
"Tch. Asshole," Mark spat.
But deep down, he knew Maverick never acted without reason. If the trader was willing to meddle this much, then Isaac was worth more than he had first thought.
His eyes lingered on the boy across from him. If that guy is willing to go this far, then this kid must be special… I have to recruit him.
Mark pulled out a napkin, scribbled a number, and slid it across the table.
Isaac glanced at it briefly, then shook his head and stood up.
"Thanks for the cake, but I'm not interested in joining a guild."
Mark rose quickly, following him.
"Can I at least know the reason?"
Isaac stopped at the diner door. His voice was calm, but firm.
"I have a family to take care of."
Mark's eyes softened for a second, then hardened again.
"Then how about this—our Glory Guild will take care of your family."
Isaac froze. Slowly, he turned back toward him, glare sharp as a blade.
"We don't need your charity." His voice carried anger this time, low and cutting.
Mark almost smiled. This kid had nerves of steel. Most people would have fallen at his feet already.
"It won't be charity. What I'm offering isn't a recruitment contract. It's a sponsorship."
Isaac stood silent, staring. Then, finally, he turned to face him fully again.
"…I'm listening."
His tone was cold, but inside, Isaac was laughing. This was exactly what he wanted. Mark, however, had no idea.
---
Later that evening, Mark's car rolled to a stop in front of Isaac's apartment. Isaac got out without a word, disappearing inside.
Mark remained in the driver's seat, exhaling slowly. They had come to an agreement—but something about it unsettled him.
He drove off, heading toward a rundown building. With a cake box in hand, he stepped out, pulled a piece of enchanted paper from his pocket, and ripped it in half. Purple smoke surged up, swallowing him whole.
When the smoke cleared, he was inside Maverick's office.
As always, the trader was lounging in his chair, reading a book. In the corner, Trish sat with a crow perched on her arm. She sniffed the air, then lunged toward Mark with a grin.
He patted her head and handed her the cake box.
"Ehhh? Nothing for me?" Maverick's tone was playful, almost childish.
Mark's expression soured. "Why did you do it?"
Maverick tilted his head innocently. "Do what?"
"You know damn well what I mean. Why did you leak his information? You made recruiting him harder." Mark's voice was sharp, his patience thin.
Maverick leaned back in his chair, spinning slowly. "Because it was worth it. If I didn't do that, he would've played you like a toy. That kid's sneaky—like a fox."
Mark's jaw tightened. The remark stung, but he held his tongue.
"I couldn't recruit him," he admitted. "I had to settle for a sponsorship."
The trader stopped spinning. He stood, walked over, and placed a hand on Mark's shoulder. The purple smoke that usually cloaked his face slipped back into his earrings, revealing his sharp grin.
Mark frowned. "…What is it?"
Maverick's hand squeezed his shoulder, his gaze suddenly serious.
"Oh, Silver Beauty… you've been played."
Then he burst into laughter.
Mark's fingers twitched toward the dagger at his waist. He was seriously considering stabbing his so-called friend.
Maverick strolled back to his desk, pulling open a drawer. He took out a glass bottle and two cups, pouring drinks as if nothing had happened.
Watching Mark's sour expression, Maverick smirked to himself. Being played by Isaac was one thing. But watching someone else suffer under that cunning brat's schemes? That was pure entertainment.
Mark, meanwhile, was already wondering where he'd bury Maverick's body.