"See that, sir? That's the problem right there. We have no foundation of trust whatsoever."
"Ruling the world? Rare treasures? Sounds quite plausible."
Victor slowly sauntered forward two steps, stopping right in front of Valmont, so close he could almost see the cold sweat sliding down the other man's temple.
"But how do I know your 'former world ruler' who's bricked up in a wall isn't just feeding me empty promises? Anyone can talk big without putting their money where their mouth is."
Valmont's Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to stay composed:
"Holy Lord guarantees it with his dignity! His treasury truly exists!"
"Dignity?"
Victor let out a snort of laughter as if he'd heard something utterly ridiculous, looking back at Wednesday and Enid.
"A demon who needs his underlings to work to gather resurrection props, talking to me about dignity? Is his dignity sold by the pound?"
The corner of Wednesday's mouth lifted in a faint curve, while Enid couldn't help but giggle.
Valmont's face flushed and paled alternately. Afan behind him couldn't help but mutter quietly:
"Boss, what he said... kinda makes sense..."
Valmont sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. In his heart, he'd already cursed that stingy old dragon Holy Lord eight hundred times.
It seemed the cooperation was about to fail, which he had expected.
Even when dealing with him, Valmont, Holy Lord had at least dangled the tangible Golden Rooster King treasure—
That glittering gold and jewelry he had seen with his own eyes, touched with his own hands—to keep him hooked.
Although that old deadbeat had been dragging his feet on delivering it, there was at least a visible, tangible bait dangling in front of him.
But facing Victor, Holy Lord actually dared to paint an empty pie? Couldn't even spare a decent 'deposit'?
Why would anyone bite? Did he think they were crazy?
Valmont shook his head helplessly, ready to lead his battered and bruised crew back to figure out how to explain things to that hot-tempered old thing on the wall.
Just then, *slap!* A palm landed heavily on his shoulder with undeniable force, startling him.
"Well then," Victor's voice carried a light, almost casual tone, as if he'd just decided what to have for dinner, "pleasure doing business."
"Wh... what?"
Valmont spun around, his face filled with disbelief and shock, almost doubting his own hearing.
"But... why?"
He completely couldn't understand. Just moments ago, the other party had belittled his proposal as worthless and mocked it thoroughly. How could he suddenly... Victor grinned, the light dancing in his eyes pure and crazy, devoid of any logic:
"No reason. Just thought it'd be interesting."
"..."
Looking at the undisguised madness in Victor's eyes, a thought instantly flashed through Valmont's mind:
"Got it, this guy really might be a lunatic."
But the next second, immense ecstasy washed away his doubts. Lunatic or not! As long as he could get the talismans, even if Victor had escaped from Arkham, it was fine!
He immediately forced an extremely enthusiastic, even somewhat fawning smile, tightly gripping Victor's hand, which hadn't yet been withdrawn, shaking it vigorously:
"Great! Pleasure doing business! Absolute pleasure! You've made the wisest choice!"
"Victor," Enid gently tugged at Victor's sleeve, her azure eyes full of worry.
"What if they don't keep their word? That Holy Lord sounds very cunning..."
Victor turned around, gently ruffling Enid's blonde hair, his face still wearing that harmless smile. But the words he spoke instantly sent a chill down Valmont's spine:
"Don't worry, sweetie."
His voice was as soft as a whisper of sweet nothings, but the content was the complete opposite.
"Because I'm not planning to keep my promise either."
His gaze swept over Valmont's instantly frozen face. His tongue slowly licked his lips, revealing sharp canines, his eyes gleaming with greedy excitement, like a predator eyeing its prey:
"The talismans, I want. Holy Lord's treasury, I want. Even his bunch of... seemingly quite useful underlings here, I want them too."
He leaned forward slightly, giving the deathly pale Valmont a smile that could be described as 'brilliant':
"Everything, is mine."
Wednesday, standing to the side, commented expressionlessly:
"That really does fit your greedy, shameless, and utterly contract-less style."
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