Hate me, Miss Witch!

Viscount Lori sat upright on the top floor of the entire extravagant edifice.

On ordinary days, what he enjoyed most was standing before these huge floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking everything that happened in the world below, a world intoxicated with gold and splendor.

This was his sinful castle, built with painstaking effort over decades, using wealth and connections, and it belonged only to him.

It was also by relying on this famous den of iniquity in the Empire Capital that he, then a destitute noble, had managed to attach himself to the formidable Borgia family.

Even if he was merely their vassal, it still enabled him to reach the 4-Ring and become a true Great Beastmaster. This was remarkable, as at his age, he should have been considered old and decayed for a Beastmaster.

Therefore—

Viscount Lori would never allow anyone to destroy his castle.

Just like this uninvited guest who had come for a visit.

...

Viscount Lori, through his slack eyelids, looked towards the black-haired young man wearing a half-white mask, a fierce light flashing through his aged pupils.

Among the gamblers who came here, those who wore masks to conceal their identities were not few in number.

However, to Viscount Lori, they were merely sheep of varying sizes, but none had ever caused him such trepidation.

WHOOSH—

A faint glimmer of Magic Power flickered.

Bright beams of Magic Power radiated from the Image Capture Crystal on the table, projecting rows of text, accompanied by images and recorded footage, onto the wall.

Viscount Lori narrowed his eyes, watching the images on that wall.

The more he watched, the more alarmed he became.

All of it was evidence of the crimes committed by this City of Eternal Night.

Illegal imprisonment, organ trading, slave trafficking...

Although most were only circumstantial evidence, the sheer number was frightening.

If made public, it would undoubtedly cause a huge uproar throughout the entire Empire Capital.

"What do you want?" he asked, looking at the masked youth in front of him, his voice still calm.

"Not much," Shiayar replied. "Just thinking—if all this information were exposed in the newspapers, you wouldn't fare too well either, would you?"

"These are just groundless rumors," Viscount Lori said, narrowing his eyes and staring at the jet-black eyes beneath the other's white mask, but he found he still could discern nothing.

Those jet-black eyes were like a silent, deep pool, swallowing all light, making it hard to read what was on the other person's mind.

"I admit, they would indeed have some impact on me. But if you think you can threaten me with just this, you're delusional."

"Of course," Shiayar said, taking a sip of his tea. "Otherwise, these materials would have been sent to the tribunal, and I wouldn't be here."

"With these materials, even if a storm of public opinion is stirred up in the Empire Capital, forcing Parliament to issue a search warrant, by the time the warrant is approved, nothing would be found here."

"However..." Shiayar's words paused slightly. "If it really came to that, do you think the family behind you would conclude that you, their front man, haven't performed adequately and consider replacing you?"

Viscount Lori nodded. "You are very clever, and you understand how certain things work very well." His previously somber tone became somewhat friendlier. "I admit, you have the qualifications to sit at the negotiating table with me."

"So, what do you want?"

"Money? Women? Or even the status of an ennobled lord..."

Viscount Lori laughed, a deep and inscrutable laugh.

"I am a businessman; I value making money amicably."

"Since you chose to come here instead of directly submitting those items to the Jurisdiction Bureau, it signifies you've come for a similar reason."

"For instance—" A smile he considered relatively gentle spread across his aged face. "How about this: fifty thousand Rhine gold coins in exchange for your Image Capture Crystal and the destruction of all archived copies?"

Despite his words, Viscount Lori's gaze lingered on Shiayar throughout the conversation.

He had already decided that once his guest accepted the money, he would dispatch men to follow him, uncover his background, and then act when the opportunity arose.

After all, only God knew how many times these recording copies had been backed up.

And a verbal promise of secrecy? How could that ever be as reliable as a dead man's silence?

Viscount Lori had to admit that Shiayar's recent words had indeed unsettled him.

The Borgia family could indeed protect him. They could handle more than just the indirect evidence his visitor presented; even if direct, incontrovertible evidence were submitted to the tribunal, the Borgia family's power could certainly quell all incidents.

However, settling matters was one thing, and resolving them was another. If such a scandal broke out and required behind-the-scenes intervention, it would also mean that he, as their front man, had not done his job well.

If the Borgia family lost patience with him over this and chose to entrust the Thorns of Sin to someone else, it would be an unmitigated disaster for him.

...

Fifty thousand Rhine gold coins... Is that all he's willing to offer?

Shiayar couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

He had imagined that Viscount Lori, as the master of this so-called City of Eternal Night—a veritable den of opulence—would at least be wealthy enough to offer him a significant sum of Gold Coins to line his pockets.

But on second thought, Viscount Lori was just a front man after all.

The bulk of the profits generated in the City of Eternal Night were regularly funneled to his backers; Lori likely didn't keep much for himself.

Offering fifty thousand Rhine gold coins was already a sweet lure dangled by Viscount Lori for the sake of pretense; he'd likely struggle to actually produce even thirty thousand Rhine gold coins.

Thinking this, Shiayar also gave up on haggling further.

Compared to that ambitious Norton from Echo of History, who aspired to the titles "God's Left Hand" and "Deputy Lord of the Heavenly Kingdom," this old geezer Lori was stingy even when drawing a pie in the sky.

There wasn't much to squeeze out of him; no wonder he was merely a viscount.

"No, forget the Gold Coins," Shiayar said.

"Since you run a gambling house, let's do this the gambler's way."

He turned off the Image Capture Crystal and toyed with it in his hands.

"Let's make a bet."

"Once the wager is concluded, regardless of the outcome, I will destroy this Image Capture Crystal and all its backups."

"HAHA, interesting," Viscount Lori chuckled.

"Very interesting indeed."

Viscount Lori's face suddenly flushed with color as he sized up Shiayar.

"The highest tables at the Thorns of Sin are indeed open to outsiders, but only guests of the most distinguished status are qualified to play against me."

"This place has hosted dukes from kingdoms, leaders of merchant consortiums, high-ranking evil followers, and even Apostates wanted by the theocratic kingdom."

Viscount Lori stepped closer to the table, locking eyes with Shiayar across from him. His presence grew immensely imposing, and his aged eyes revealed the cunning of an old fox.

This was the one thing in his life of which he could be truly proud.

It was precisely through his gambling skills, which had attained Superb Achievement, that the Lori of old, once a destitute noble scion, had climbed to his current status.

If he could continue to amass wealth in the City of Eternal Night, coupled with the Borgia family's continued favor, he might soon advance to the 5-Ring.

He would become a figure of renown throughout the entire Western Continent.

"What do you want to bet on?" Lori asked.

"And what stakes can you possibly offer against me?"

But then, Viscount Lori saw—

Shiayar, sitting calmly across from him, took out a metallic object and placed it on the table.

"'Don't worry,' Shiayar said. 'The stake I propose is something everyone possesses, and only one of. It's quite fair.'"

It was a silver revolver, and a box of amber-colored bullets.

Shiayar's voice echoed throughout the room.

"You're the manager of a gambling house, after all—"

"Then, surely you must have heard of..."

"Russian roulette?"