'They don't trust me.'
A sense of caution rose in Robert Lane's mind.
The Treasure Hoarder boss had been surprisingly easygoing, combined with the cold flash he'd seen in Scar's eyes, making it clear to Robert that his apparent safety was an illusion.
Thinking this, he flexed his wrists and ankles, then quietly sat back down where he was.
He didn't know what the Treasure Hoarders were planning.
But the number one rule of workplace safety was: the less you say, the fewer mistakes you make; the less you do, the fewer errors you commit.
When you're unsure of success, the best course of action is to do nothing and let others take the initiative.
Applied here, since he didn't know what the Treasure Hoarders wanted, Robert would do nothing. He would simply wait.
---
Outside the stone room,
The Treasure Hoarder boss spoke to Scar. "The kid's soft, no signs of martial training, no Vision. He's probably not a threat. Keep an eye on him for a while, see how he acts."
Scar grinned. "Boss, are we really letting him join?"
The boss shot him a look. "You think our Blackwing Troupe is that easy to join? We're just observing for now. We've got that ruin to excavate soon. We can use him as muscle. If he performs well, maybe we'll let him stay."
The Treasure Hoarders were, after all, a gathering of society's dregs. If Robert was obedient and useful, there was no reason not to keep him.
"Alright, Boss, you're the boss," Scar nodded.
The boss continued, "Get him some food, then take him around. Remember, keep a close watch on him. Don't take him anywhere he shouldn't go."
Scar chuckled. "Haha, Boss, you know me. You can count on me."
"Right. I've got other things to handle. You watch him." With that, the boss turned and left.
Watching the boss leave, Scar spat quietly. "Jackass. If I couldn't take you in a fight, I'd be the first to turn on you."
He smirked, then headed in another direction, towards the kitchen.
The Blackwing Troupe was a medium-sized group with nearly fifty members. Even their temporary camp was sizable, with a dedicated kitchen. Scar grabbed a few boiled potatoes from the kitchen, joked around with a couple of other Treasure Hoarders he passed, and then returned to the cell.
Standing at the entrance, he glanced inside.
'This kid's got some nerve, sitting still and not wandering off.'
Scar wore a cold smile. If Robert had been unable to resist wandering, his unfamiliar face would have been immediately marked as an escapee or an intruder by the alert guards, and the outcome would have been predictable.
Striding into the room, Scar had already switched to a friendly demeanor. "Haha! Here, brother, eat up."
He shoved a few boiled potatoes into Robert's hands. "The troupe's out in the wild, so we don't have anything fancy. This'll fill your belly for now."
The potatoes were cold, but Robert didn't show any disdain. He took them and began stuffing them into his mouth. "Thank you, big brother. Thank you."
His voice was distorted by the food in his mouth.
Scar didn't seem to mind. Watching Robert wolf them down, he gave a slight nod. He'd even dropped the potatoes on the ground on the way over, coating them in grit. The fact that the kid could still eat them like this fit the profile of a penniless orphan.
"Haha, no need to thank me. It's all the boss's doing," Scar said with a laugh.
Robert had already swallowed the first potato. He looked at Scar with gratitude. "I still have to thank you, big brother. My name is Robert Lane. What should I call you, big brother?"
Scar replied, "Out here, we don't use real names. If you respect me, call me Scar. If you don't, just call me 'that scarred guy'."
Robert put on a flattering expression. "Scar, you clearly know your way around. I hope you'll look out for me in the future."
In his past life, he'd spent three months buttering up a low-level manager from a client company just to secure a deal. A few words of flattery for Scar were nothing.
You don't hit a smiling face.
Praise was always better than curses.
Feeling Robert's flattery, Scar felt quite pleased. "Sure, sure, no problem."
After a pause, he continued, "Eat up. When you're done, I'll show you around the troupe. Wouldn't want any misunderstandings later because you're too unfamiliar with the place."
"Right away," Robert nodded with a simple, honest expression, continuing to chew vigorously on the slightly gritty potatoes.
'I've eaten sketchy group-buy meals. You think I'm scared of your all-natural, organic potatoes? Give me a break.'
Soon, the few potatoes were gone.
Scar nodded with satisfaction. "Follow me."
He turned and walked out, with Robert quickly following.
Once outside the stone room, Robert realized just how big this place was.
The room he'd been held in was just a small cave, one of over a dozen similar cavities surrounding a massive central cavern.
At the far end of the cavern was a curved entrance, seemingly the way in.
In the center of the cavern, a bonfire burned, with torches stuck in the ground around it providing light.
In visible areas, there were scaffolding and watchtowers where men with crossbows stood guard.
Elsewhere, groups of three to five unarmed Treasure Hoarders were gathered together, seemingly engaged in some kind of gambling game.
Scar's fingers seemed to itch at the sight. He led Robert over to the group.
Robert finally saw what they were playing.
It was a simple game: guessing whether the Mora would land on heads or tails.
The Mora coin featured a Celtic triquetra on one side and an inverted triangle on the other, which also looked a bit like a three-leaf clover.
Originally, there was no clear 'heads' or 'tails,' but the Treasure Hoarders had polished one side smooth to create a distinct 'tails.'
A pile of Mora was heaped in the center of the group.
"Place your bets!" a burly man shouted, eyeing the pile of coins with delight. He tossed the designated gambling Mora into the air, caught it, and slapped it onto the back of his hand.
The surrounding Treasure Hoarders began yelling.
"Heads!Heads! Heads!"
"Tails!Tails! Tails!"
Robert watched with interest, craning his neck.
The burly man slowly lifted his hand, revealing the triquetra pattern.
"Hahaha! It's heads! I win!" someone laughed, scooping up coins.
"Dammit!Heads again!" another man lamented, watching his money get taken.
Robert shook his head slightly. A bunch of gambling addicts. They'll come to no good.
Scar, watching from the side, noticed Robert's slight head shake, and his eyes turned cold.
Doesn't like gambling? That's not good.
What were the Treasure Hoarders but a bunch of ruffians? Recruiting someone without a weakness would be hard to control.
An idea sparked. Scar reached into his clothes, pulled out four or five Mora, and shoved them into Robert's hand. "Here. Since you're joining up, you need to fit in. Go on, play a round."
The moment the Mora touched his palm,
Robert's vision blurred. A strange, virtual panel popped into view.
---
Name: Robert Lane
Race:Human
Life Energy Level:1 (You are a pure ordinary person who couldn't even defeat a Slime.) (Current stage: 100 Mora required per level-up)
Skills:None.
Wealth:5 Mora
---
'A... a Golden Finger?'