What Patrick had ordered Chandler to do was find a way to get in touch with a capable information network.
In his past life, the reason the Nine Great Sects and the Five Great Families were able to dominate the Martial World was that the Beggars' Sect collected all sorts of information from across the land for them.
That really was convenient. Just go to the Beggars' Sect, tell them what you want to know or who you're looking for, and they'd do it all for you. I was so envious.
The Twin Dragon Sect had also been part of the Orthodox Faction, but the Beggars' Sect hadn't been particularly cooperative with them.
While they followed the orders of the Nine Great Sects or the Five Great Families as if they were divine law, they would take the Twin Dragon Sect's money for an information request and then push it to the bottom of the priority list. Sometimes, they even had the gall to say…
[Ah, that? We're still looking into it. Just wait a bit longer, would you?]
Naturally, the Radiant Dragon Hero, Jincheon, couldn't just sit back and watch that happen. He had personally gone and grabbed the Beggars' Sect Leader by the collar, shaking him down until he beat some cooperation into them.
Anyway, I need information.
The Schneider fief was located on the outskirts, no different from an isolated backwater. It would be troublesome if there wasn't someone to deliver proper information.
That was why Patrick intended to use this trip to the big city to establish a connection with an information group.
"The Thieves' Guild, huh? Are they useful?"
"Yes. They are quite capable when it comes to handling information."
"Thieves?"
"They're called the Thieves' Guild, but in reality, they manage not just thieves, but also laborers from the lower rungs of society and bar hostesses."
"So, they're the Underworld Sect."
"Pardon?"
"There's something like that. Anyway, you're saying their information-gathering skills are reliable?"
"Yes, that is correct."
"Well, fine. I'll know for sure once I meet them myself."
"Shall we go right now?"
"There's no reason to hesitate."
*
Late at night.
Accompanied only by Chandler, Patrick left the inn.
The place they arrived at was a shabby pub tucked away in a dark back alley.
"Is this it?"
"Yes. It looks suspicious, but this is the place."
"No, it's not suspicious. Usually, these kinds of guys are always in places like this."
"..."
"Now, we go inside, use a set password to order some weird menu item, and then they'll realize we're clients and respond accordingly. Is that how it goes?"
"How did you know?"
As Chandler asked back in surprise, Patrick let out a sigh.
"No matter where people live, it really is all the same."
"Pardon?"
"Never mind. Let's go in."
Patrick opened the door and stepped into the pub first.
Inside, men with fierce expressions sat at worn-out tables, drinking. Women who appeared to be waitresses were serving them, and a man who looked like the master of the bar was wiping glasses with a stoic face.
Oh, the atmosphere is quite convincing. If we're following the clichés, this is where some muscular bald guy picks a fight, asking what a kid is doing in a bar, right?
"What the? Who brought a brat into a bar?"
A muscular bald man scowled at Patrick and spoke. Patrick let out another sigh.
"It's too cliché."
"Huh?"
Ignoring the bewildered bald man, Patrick sighed again.
"Forget it. Chandler."
"Yes? Ah, yes, Young Master."
"Order first."
"Yes, I understand."
Unlike Patrick, who was bored by the common tropes, Chandler seemed a bit intimidated, but he still tried to place the order as Patrick had instructed. However, before he could…
"What? Are you ignoring me right now?"
The muscular bald man blocked Patrick and Chandler's path again.
Patrick stared blankly at the man and spoke.
"Hey, Baldy."
"This brat…"
"You've been beaten up a lot like this, haven't you?"
The bald man flinched for a moment.
Patrick gave him a look that said, I knew it, and continued.
"I bet your role is to pick a fight whenever a stranger shows up. You're the yardstick used to gauge the opponent's skill and personality, aren't you?"
"Wha… what are you…"
"And then, if you're unlucky enough to run into a master, your role is to get sent flying with one hit and shrivel up in a corner. That's happened a lot, hasn't it? Right?"
"..."
For a moment, a look of unutterable sorrow flickered in the bald man's eyes.
Patrick spoke to him as if he understood perfectly.
"Yeah. It's not like you do this because you want to. You just do it because you're told to."
"Urgh…"
"It's dirty and pathetic, but what can you do? Making a living is just that hard."
"Sniff, Young Master…"
"Still, keep your chin up. Better days will come. Don't cry."
"Yes. Thank you, Young Master."
"Right. Off you go. Good work."
"Yes."
Having comforted the muscular bald man, who was weary of his role as a small fry and feeling the regrets of life, Patrick sat down in front of the bar master.
He gave Chandler a look, and Chandler cleared his throat before speaking.
"Uh… give me a drink that suits a black rose."
"..."
The master said nothing.
Usually, this phrase should have elicited a specific response, but he was currently just staring at Chandler and Patrick with an absurd expression.
Actually, to be precise, he was staring at Patrick.
"What? No reaction? Is the password wrong?"
"No. I was told for certain that this was it. I even double-checked."
"Then why is he like this?"
"I'm not sure either…"
Just then, the master spoke.
"Just what kind of brat are you?"
"Me? I'm a human who came to the Thieves' Guild on business. This is the Thieves' Guild, isn't it?"
"Do you think anyone would admit this is the Thieves' Guild if you ask so bluntly?"
"Yeah. I think they would."
"..."
"Am I wrong?"
"Fine. You're right."
In truth, it wasn't something that needed to be hidden so desperately.
Almost everyone who was a local in Parmas knew that this pub was one of the contact points for the Thieves' Guild.
It's basically common knowledge, which is why Chandler was able to find out in just a few days.
What kind of grand secret could it be if an outsider could discover it in a matter of days?
The existence and location of this contact point was what people called an open secret—something everyone who needed to know already knew.
Patrick knew this, which was why he was acting so boldly.
"I have some work to commission, so I need to meet your boss."
At Patrick's words, the master frowned.
"How arrogant."
"Haaaa…"
"The Guild Master isn't someone brats like you can meet just because you want to."
"Sigh…"
"It seems you're just kids who don't know how the world works…"
Snap!
When the master snapped his fingers, the fierce-looking men who had seemed like customers stood up, exuding a subtle intimidation.
The master spoke again.
"In here…"
"Nobles and such don't matter. Our rules are what's important. Is that what you were going to say?"
"…Uh… Ahem, if you just quietly…"
"If you leave quietly, I'll at least spare your lives. Consider yourselves lucky, brats. Is that what you were going to say?"
"..."
Seeing the master at a loss for words, Patrick cracked his neck from side to side.
"Seriously, the way you guys act is the same no matter where I go."
In a way, it was almost nostalgic, reminding him of home.
However, that didn't change what Patrick had to do now.
"Well, it's fine. I understand your situation. If a young kid suddenly shows up and asks for an interview with your boss, the normal response would be 'No.' Yeah, no matter how I think about it, that's the normal and common-sense thing to do. Isn't it?"
For a moment, everyone in the pub unconsciously nodded their heads.
Patrick gave them a bright smile.
"As I said, I understand your situation. But you see, I have my own position to consider as well."
Seeing Patrick warming up by rotating his shoulders and twisting his waist, Chandler quietly slipped away to the side.
By now, after observing Patrick for a while, Chandler had realized something. He knew exactly what that smile and those actions meant.
"I hope you all understand as well. There is absolutely no ill will behind the violence I am about to inflict upon you."
At that, the bar master shouted loudly.
"You crazy bastard! Boys, teach this brat a—Gack!"
Before the master could finish, his head was slammed into the bar counter.
Patrick spoke through gritted teeth.
"Crazy bastard? Craaaazy baaaaastard!"
He grabbed the master by the hair, lifted him up, and said, "You son of a bitch. The eighteenth thing I hate most in this world is someone calling me a crazy bastard to my face!"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The master's head was slammed onto the table repeatedly.
As his consciousness grew hazy from the repeated impacts, he thought to himself:
He hates way too many things.
Patrick tossed the unconscious master aside, hopped onto the bar counter, and stood up with a liquor bottle in each hand.
He looked at the hesitating thugs and said with a predatory smirk, "Right. I guess we have to have a little scuffle after all, don't we?"
Patrick beckoned with his hand.
"Come at me, you bastards."
"Ugh… Uaaaaah!"
"Get him!"
A short while later.
The hulks who had lunged at Patrick were all collapsed on the floor, twitching.
Standing alone among the fallen thugs, Patrick spoke with a refreshed expression.
"Phew. This is it. This is the stuff. I've been mostly dealing with monsters lately, so I was starting to lose my touch for beating up people."
Demon.
He's a demon.
It probably wasn't a coincidence that everyone on the floor was thinking the same thing.
"There's definitely a different flavor to smashing a bottle over a human's head compared to slashing a monster with a sword."
"Young Master. Is it over now?"
Chandler, who had been skillfully staying out of the way, cautiously approached.
Patrick, who was basking in the afterglow of the violence, shrugged at Chandler's words.
"Yeah, I guess so."
"As expected, you are amazing. To take down the Thieves' Guild all by yourself."
Chandler spoke with genuine admiration.
In truth, he hadn't even considered the possibility of Patrick losing. He had seen him crush a giant troll and dozens of goblins without a single hair being out of place, so why would he worry?
What was surprising, however, was how familiar Patrick looked while wrecking people in a bar.
It was as if he had done this many times before.
It must be my imagination. The Young Master is only ten years old; when would he have ever done something like this?
Chandler cleared his throat and spoke.
"Ahem, but Young Master. Now that you've smashed everything, how are you going to make a request to the Thieves' Guild?"
"Ah, don't worry about that. First…"
Patrick looked at the waitresses huddled in a corner, trembling, and gave them a grin.
"Shall we have a sincere conversation?"
"Pardon?"
"You wait here."
Leaving the bewildered Chandler behind, Patrick walked over to the waitresses and grabbed one by the wrist.
"Kyaaa!"
The red-haired waitress with a slightly slender build was noticeably more beautiful than the others around her.
Patrick grabbed her wrist and pulled her along.
"Ex… excuse me?"
"Let's talk for a moment."
"Pl… please don't do this."
"There are rooms on the second floor, right? Let's go there."
"Sob… please…"
The woman sobbed as she was dragged along by Patrick.
Chandler was utterly flabbergasted by the sight.
Wasn't this the quintessential scene of a profligate young master and the poor lady he had captured?
"Young Master? What are you planning to do?"
"Just wait."
Ignoring the panicked Chandler, Patrick took the red-haired waitress up to a room on the second floor.
Now, who was the real villain here?
"Kyaaaak!"
Patrick threw the waitress onto the bed, and she collapsed onto the mattress.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling, and said, "Pl… please don't do this. I'm still young."
"I'm even younger."
"…Ah…"
For a moment, a look of Well, that's true crossed the waitress's face.
Patrick let out a smirk.
"More importantly, I don't have a taste for pederasty."
"..."
The moment she heard those words, the waitress's expression froze.
The fear and shame that had colored her face vanished, replaced by a chilling coldness.
---
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