Chapter Fifteen: A Deal Delivered to the Door

The Dice House…

Amy narrowed his eyes slightly, carefully studying the uninvited guest before him—a boy a few years younger than himself. From the youthful look lingering between his brows, he seemed only twelve or thirteen, not yet grown into his features. He wore an ordinary little felt cap to press down his tousled, pale-gold hair, and beneath the fringe, his eyes were a vivid emerald green, bright and spirited—a strikingly handsome youth.

If he had passed him on the street at any other time, Amy might have marveled at him, but now, as a young Glorifier, he had little mind for such things. Instead, he regarded the self-proclaimed emissary from the Dice House with dark, scrutinizing eyes, silent, silent—until after a long pause, his lips finally moved. “What do you want with me? Forgive my bluntness, but the Dice House does not have a good reputation. If you have no pressing business, I must ask you to leave.”

“Lord Ulysses,” the uninvited guest from the Dice House seemed unperturbed by Amy’s coldness and distance, his polite smile unwavering, his bow immaculate and precise. “It’s merely a courtesy call, nothing more than a routine visit to our clients.”

Client… So they’ve noticed something after all?

Amy’s brows knit slightly, but he refused to give anything away. “Sorry, I am not one of your clients.”

“I see.” The golden-haired, green-eyed youth nodded with a maturity beyond his years. “It seems there’s been an error on our side. I was looking for the gentleman in the trench coat and mask, to offer him a little assistance in dealing with the Dark Guild… But it seems fate will not have it. What a pity…”

—The Dark Guild.

Realizing his identity was already exposed, Amy abandoned his former stance, dropping all pretense and unnecessary caution. “Wait! If it’s the man in the trench coat and mask you’re looking for, perhaps I can help. Please, come in.”

“Much obliged,” the beautiful youth replied with a light laugh. “Lord Ulysses.”

“Just call me Amy.” Amy closed the door, bolted it, and turned back to look at the boy, who was even younger than himself. His wariness only grew. “How did you—you, or rather the Dice House—discover me?”

“That’s a trade secret,” the Dice House envoy said playfully, pressing a finger to his lips. “Brother Amy.”

“Don’t call me brother. I have no younger siblings.” The young Glorifier’s face was impassive. He did not press for an answer to the previous, unanswerable question, but cut straight to the point. “Let’s dispense with the pleasantries. What do you want from me?”

“Just the regular client follow-up,” the handsome boy replied in a lilting voice, as if reciting a melody. “Of course, even I don’t believe such nonsense—”

He pulled a face, then reined in his playful expression and spoke seriously. “Actually, I lied at first.”

“Oh.” Amy’s tone was flat, betraying no emotion.

“You’re quite unflappable,” the Dice House youth clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. “Well, I’m not here to play with you today—let me introduce myself. My name is Dick, one of the seven Apostles of the Dice House. But at this moment, I stand before you as Dick, not Apostle Dick.”

What an arrogant little brat…

Amy thought, but he didn’t let his prejudice show. He asked naturally, “Forgive me, I know little of the Dice House. Is there a difference between Dick and Apostle Dick?”

“There’s a difference in position,” Dick replied. “As Apostle Dick, I’m a firm believer in fair transactions—no free after-sales service.”

“I see, it’s a matter of identity.” Ignoring the irritating parts of Dick’s speech, Amy summarized simply, “So you’re here in a personal capacity, to offer me assistance—”

After a brief pause, he looked into the boy’s emerald eyes. “So, do you have a personal grudge against the Dark Guild?”

“To be precise, my grudge is with the Fog-Night Killer.” Dick made no effort to conceal his motives. “I’m an orphan—not born one, but made one. When I was eight, my parents were killed by the Fog-Night Killer. The one who murdered them was Fog-Night himself.”

“A vendetta for your parents…” Amy stroked his chin, but rejected the explanation. “Forgive me, but that’s not a very convincing reason.”

“If I wanted a pretext to approach you, wouldn’t it be easier to claim the Dice House itself is targeting the Dark Guild?” Dick showed little surprise at Amy’s answer. “If I told you it was the Dice House that wanted to move against the Dark Guild, wouldn’t you trust me more?”

“I would.” After a long silence, Amy finally replied.

“Well, there you have it.” Dick shrugged, unconcerned. “It’s really quite simple. You clever types always overthink things. I hate the Killer; you’re capable of dealing with him—so I came to you. That’s all. If you insist on a deeper answer, I can only quote what our Boss Lady always says: it’s all the choice of the Gate of Destiny.”

“Boss Lady?” Amy caught the title at once.

“Our leader,” Dick said briefly, clearly not wishing to elaborate. “She’s the one who sent me to you—if there’s any scheming, it’s her, not me. I’m just the puppet on the stage; all I want is revenge.”

“I understand.” Amy nodded.

“All right, back to business.” With the ease of someone at home, Dick poured himself a glass of water. “Just tell me—what do you need? I’ll consider what help I can offer.”

Should he trust him?

Amy hesitated. The boy didn’t seem to be lying, but as he himself had said, absence of lies didn’t mean he wasn’t being used. The real threat was the Boss Lady behind the Dice House. Why had she sent someone with a grudge against the Dark Guild to him? Was it goodwill, a genuine plan to strike at the Dark Guild, or a ploy to lure him into a trap so the Dark Guild could eliminate him once and for all?

Any of these were possible.

He couldn’t tell which was closest to the truth.

Silence, and more silence, until he could remain silent no longer. At last, Amy spoke: “I need evidence—proof that the Dark Guild is conducting forbidden experiments.”

“That’s all?” Dick raised an elegant eyebrow.

“That’s all.” Amy nodded. “The more evidence you can provide, and the more detailed, the more likely the Dark Guild will be destroyed.”

“Understood.” Dick raised a finger. “Give me one day.”

“No problem, but please hurry.”

Despite agreeing to this cooperation, Amy remained deeply wary. Such windfall benefits often came with enormous risks, but under the present circumstances, it seemed impossible to find a better option in a short time. At a moment when his life hung in the balance, whether the offer before him was a sugar-coated poison or life-saving nectar, he would have to swallow it first and hope to taste victory’s sweetness… or failure’s bitterness.

“A man must never promise to hurry,” Dick teased with a laugh, then stood up. “But rest assured, I’m the most professional intelligence agent—nothing like that old-fashioned amateur who dresses like a second-rate gentleman.”

“Wait—” Hearing mention of the informant Willy, Amy called out, “What do you know about him?”

“You’re speaking to Apostle Dick now, you know.” Dick winked sweetly. “The after-sales service is over. From now on, it’s one gold Tole per question, and I can’t guarantee an answer.”

“What a swindler,” Amy couldn’t help but curse.

“Thank you for the compliment.” Dick grinned, pocketing both the coin and the praise. “As for ‘Willy the Informant’—that person doesn’t exist. Not only is there no informant named Willy, there’s no person named Willy at all.”

“As expected.” Amy was not surprised. He tossed a second coin over. “Then who was it that appeared before me?”

“A person?” Dick caught the coin and glanced at him. “What you saw was not a person.”

“What was it then?” This answer surprised him slightly. Without hesitation, Amy tossed over a third coin. “A demon? Or a half-blood with demon flesh grafted onto them?”

But Dick only shrugged, utterly unconcerned. “How could a mere intelligence agent know secrets like that?”

Cheated.

Realizing this, Amy felt no anger; instead, he tossed out another gold Tole. “One last question—what is the relationship between the Dice House and Emperor Michelangelo?”

“There is none.” Dick weighed the coin in his hand with satisfaction. “If you insist, I suppose you could say there’s a connection—before his coronation, Michelangelo was one of our VIP clients.”

“That’s all I wanted to know.” Amy showed no regret for the four coins now gone. “Goodbye—or rather, let’s never meet again.”

“Exactly.” Dick waved lightly without looking back. “Never again.”

Amy watched him go, then closed the door, bolted it, and leaned against its sturdy frame, slowly shutting his eyes—

The situation remained shrouded in darkness.

Even now, he did not know whether the Dice House was friend or foe.

How exhausting.

The scent of tobacco lingered near his nose, and suddenly he felt weary.

—Wait! The smell of tobacco?

Only then did Amy Ulysses realize what had betrayed his location.

He had miscalculated.