Late at night, Friday.
Black Market.
The place that came closest to the demon world itself, embedded within the human domain. A world where laws and morality lost all meaning, and where villains and heroes could stand side by side, as long as the price was right.
That was where I was now.
I took the aerial train to the outer edge of Ashton City, getting off at the second-to-last station. The cold dawn wind greeted me with a heavy, oppressive silence.Using the Future Diary, I followed Ren's movements, making sure I would arrive before him. At the moment, he was probably still at Lock, getting ready to come here.
Come to think of it… if Kevin uses the diary too, he will know where I am, right?Ah, whatever. It is not uncommon for Lock freshmen to sneak into the black market.At worst, he will just feel uncomfortable, like watching a kid wander into a red-light district. Tough luck.
I tightened the mask against my face, making sure it was secure. My entire body was covered. A dark blue haori with cloud-shaped patterns hid the sheath of the katana at my waist.
On my face, a white fox mask with green details, similar to the ones Urokodaki made for his disciples. My black hair, tied in a high knot, let a few green strands fall down my back.
Ahead of me, a massive double metal door rose like the entrance to a profane temple.
In the black market, wearing a mask was mandatory. Identities were disposable here, anonymity was a form of survival. Even if a government agent managed to infiltrate the place, tracking anyone would be nearly impossible.
– Bam!
– Bam!
– Bam!
I knocked three times and waited.
– Klang!
Moments later, two burly men wearing elegant suits appeared on the other side. Their eyes scanned me from head to toe. Strong. Definitely rank C or higher.
The one on the right gave a slight nod and asked in a deep voice:
— Why are you here?
— A little bird told me you were looking for volunteers.
— Is that so? We are indeed looking for a volunteer. What kind of job are you applying for?
— I heard you needed someone to paint the walls.
The man on the left crossed his arms.
— We only have four colors: blue, black, pink, and white. Which one do you think fits best?
— Even though I have not seen what needs to be painted, I replied calmly, — I believe blue goes well with anything.
The two exchanged a silent glance and nodded, opening the door with a gesture. I was led through a narrow, dark corridor, lit only by flickering yellow lamps.
There were two ways to enter the black market: with a letter of recommendation from a veteran member, or by knowing the secret code.
The code was divided into three segments, questions and answers that fit together like a living password.
The first segment was always the same. "Why are you here?" Answering "volunteer" opened the path to the next step, and so on, until the guest was fully verified.
This reduced the chances of undercover inspectors to a minimum. Though, to be honest, the government did not seem particularly concerned with the black market's existence.
Like everything in this world, the underworld had its advantages. Vital information flowed freely here between heroes and criminals, and many government agents relied on these networks to track greater threats.
Information brokers lived off this. They sold secrets and bought silence. The more valuable the information, the higher the price.
Still… I had to admit it. This whole experience was already wearing me down.
If this were not the only way to gain access to dungeons, I would never have come here.
And in truth, finding a dungeon was not my only reason for visiting.
I needed a broker.
Trading CB and WV stocks without cover would be suicide. When Thobias dies a month from now, any idiot who bet on CB's fall while betting on WV's rise would instantly become suspicious.
Investing recklessly was the same as digging your own grave.
A broker, on the other hand, was an anonymous intermediary. Someone who moved money without asking questions and without leaving traces. In a place where heroes and villains walked side by side, no one found such requests strange.
And I already knew exactly who to look for.
One of my favorite characters from The Author's POV.The man who made me cry like a child when he died: Smallsnake.
Obviously, I could not interfere with his future partnership with Ren. But for now, he was still working as a broker for the Lost Reapers.So requesting his services would not be a problem.
Klang!
The heavy metal door opened with a muffled creak. The two guards stepped aside, and at last I could see what lay beyond.
How should I even describe it?
It was… completely different from what anyone would imagine upon hearing the term "black market."
When people think of one, words like filthy, dark, dangerous, or corrupt come to mind. Yet between expectation and reality, there is always a gap, and this place was living proof of that.
The black market before me looked more like a night market from some distant festival.
Stalls were arranged in neat rows, each illuminated by warm lamps and magical lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. Vendors negotiated calmly, displaying goods that ranged from rare ingredients to forbidden artifacts.
If not for the masks covering every buyer's face, one could easily mistake it for a normal market under the moonlight.
Speaking of which, a massive opening in the ceiling allowed moonlight to spill down, bathing the entire place in a silvery glow. Without a doubt, it was the most beautiful black market ever created.
I walked between the stalls, briefly glancing at unnaturally colored potions, crystal fragments, and caged creatures that looked as if they were made of smoke. I could come back later to buy something useful. For now, I had a goal.
I followed a narrow alley to a simple wooden bench, almost invisible amid the flashy scenery. I sat down.
Lowered my head. And waited. One minute. Two. Five.
At exactly the fifth minute, a hooded figure approached and sat beside me.
— How can we, the Lost Reapers, be of service to you?
— I need a broker.
— What kind?
— Codename SmallSnake.
A brief silence followed. Even without seeing his face beneath the hood, I could sense his brows furrow. It was not a name one heard often.
Among the many agents working for the Lost Reapers, SmallSnake was almost completely forgotten.
In the original novel, he only became relevant in the second half of the story, when he became Kevin's ally. A brilliant, discreet, and well-connected broker, capable of obtaining even Luxotin, a rare flower that bloomed only in elven forests and was worth more than gold in the arcane ingredient market.
— Are you certain about your request? the hooded man asked.
— Yes.
He let out a soft sigh and stood up.
— Codename SmallSnake will arrive shortly. We hope our services meet your expectations.
I nodded in silence. The figure vanished as quickly as he had appeared.
Twenty minutes later, light footsteps echoed across the stone floor. A slender young man wearing a simple white mask sat beside me, just like the previous one.
— Codename SmallSnake, at your service. How may I assist you?
His voice was surprisingly deep, clashing with his frail appearance. He was only slightly taller than me, which, considering my height, made him quite short.
Even so, there was a strange weight to his presence. I will admit, it felt surreal to see in front of me a character who once existed only on the pages of a book. But this was
not the time for admiration.
He, on the other hand, seemed intrigued by my small stature. He was probably wondering whether I was a child… or a woman.
— I want you to be my broker.
— My commission is five percent of the profits and ten percent of the initial investment — he replied without hesitation. — Depending on the amount, the terms may change.
— Fine.
I extended my hand.
He pulled back slightly, surprised by my readiness. Most clients complained, negotiated, or backed out. I simply agreed. That was all.
SmallSnake was a genius, and I knew it. The problem was that no one else did.
Since joining the Lost Reapers, he had never secured a single client. His absurd rates drove everyone away, and his talent remained buried. Until now.
In front of me, SmallSnake hesitated for a brief moment. Then, with an almost imperceptible sigh, he extended his hand and shook mine.
Feeling the small hand that sealed the first deal he had ever accepted, Smallsnake decided, right then and there, that he would do everything in his power to fulfill his first client's request.