Player 0.4 [You have died.] [Reset in progress.]

[ Level 1 Random Character Check in progress for Harley Whitmore ]

My eyes fell on the familiar blue screen, and my mind sprinted into the broken memories of my original life.

It was year 782 of the Adovorian calendar, and just two days after I received news of Jarvis' death. The evening was a blur, with most of the memories too horrible to be remembered.

I remember stumbling through the large hallway, my mind a mess, unable to sleep. Dust flew up with my haphazard steps and glittered beneath the full moon. It was late in the evening, and apart from a few light stones, the moon was the only light source flowing through the dark manor. It was a beautiful sight and one I happened to remember.

The last two years leading up to that evening had been a series of misfortune events, with everyone I cared about perishing inexplicably one by one. And the Frey Manor was a meager form of its previous grand self.

I had driven the Frey Merchant Guild into the ground and could afford to keep only so many servants and guards. So most rooms were locked up, and dust and cobwebs were a common sight.

Then, just as peaceful as the melancholy night began, screams sounded, and a bright light of yellow and red filled the area. And smoke. There was so much ghastly smoke. If the fire didn't kill you, the smoke would.

I remembered running and choking on the black smoke. And how my fingers fumbled with the burning-hot locks of a hidden door leading into one of the escape tunnels. The lock was scorching hot, but I managed to click it open, albeit searing my fingers and palms.

Through the secret escape tunnel, I managed to get away from the Frey Manor without burning to a crisp. I was the only one, though. Everyone else perished in that fire.

I dared not leave my underground bunker, waiting for the noise above to end. But, despite how afraid I was, I somehow fell asleep there. When I awoke and finally gained the courage to creep up and peek out at the remains of my home, the morning light shone beautifully on the dark rubble that was all that remained. Black soot drifted in the air when the breeze picked up.

It was an oddly serene sight.

My family was dead. My remaining friends and servants had all perished. And the Frey Manor was no more.

And the one I had to thank for this fiery attack was a woman with a bob-haircut of platinum white hair. She stood some distance from where I was peeking from and looked displeased, with her arms crossed over her body. Her eyes were like Kleave's; they were prominent, hooded, and looked uninterested in the sights before them.

"Harley, we've searched all over. There were twelve bodies found. They're all charred beyond recognition, but Luca Frey must be one of them." One of her underlings addressed a row of what must have been my servants and guards.

Even if I tried now, I couldn't remember what their corpses looked like then. My mind had blocked it all out. Fiona was one of them; I knew that but could not recall the image of her body. Not that I wished to remember it.

"There should be thirteen bodies." Harley's voice came out low. "Apart from our mole, there should be one more body."

"It must be one of the other servants or guards out," another underling suggested. "Luca Frey was confirmed to be in the manor during the fire."

Harley snapped her black-gloved hand, and a fireball appeared in her palm. She gazed into the flame.

"Perhaps… I should burn this area once more, for good measure," she whispered, but it was loud enough for me to hear.

I remembered how my teeth chattered at her words, afraid of what another blaze would do.

But then, I saw an elderly man lean towards Harley and whisper something.

"Perhaps you are right," Harley replied. "Perhaps he is dead. Or he's as good as dead."

She turned on her heel and walked away, her underlings running after her.

CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.

Her footsteps sounded heavier than I'd have expected.

The Order nor any other royal police arrived on the site to investigate until much later. It was apparent they didn't give a single crap about what happened to the Freys.

And by then, I had escaped from my bunker and into the slums of East Genise.

I watched the Random Character blue screen above Harley Whitmore in the present time roll through like a slot machine, deciding what characteristic to show me.

However, her name alone was enough to make my hands pull into my sleeves, quickly deciding which of my needles to toss at her. 'Harley' was not so unusual a name. Still, there was only one 'Harley Whitmore,' and she was responsible for the fire in my original life.

I glanced at what little of her figure could be made out through the hood. The yellow-vested young man escorted her toward the back.

CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.

Her footsteps were the same. They had that same heavy sound.

How did I not notice the first time I saw her here in the previous round?

My fingers inched towards the most lethal of my needles.

Perhaps the purple needle would be most efficient.

The blue screen rolled to a stop.

[ Perception: 33 ]

[ Harley Whitmore is, incredibly, not as perceptive as you. Congratulations! You are superior to her in this stat. ]

Huh. I suppose that's somewhat good to know. At least it's not as useless as knowing her age.

I held a needle in my fingers, ready to toss it at her back when a thick and raspy voice sounded behind me.

"Aren't you an eager one?"

I turned and gazed down at a familiar face with faded pink hair. Kleave stood a good foot shorter than me and had a chocolate-covered pastry in hand that he was chewing on.

His large blue eyes moved toward my right hand.

"I heard Kathy gave you those just this morning, and you're already itching to toss them around?"

He bit into his pastry and met my eyes.

"Luca Frey… Kathy made you out to be some sort of hidden genius just because you placed your bet on me in the fight against The Ogre, but you seem to lack common sense."

He nodded his head back to his left and right.

"We're in a public space. Do you see those two goons behind me? They came with that woman. You try any trouble, and they would have taken care of you in a snap. Or see that table there? Those are guards serving in The Order. They're on break, but if trouble starts up in broad daylight underneath their nose, what do you suppose they'll do?"

I didn't reply and gazed over Kleave's head and took in the Ashford Bakery. Aside from the two groups that Kleave had pointed out, a few other troublesome characters were dining in the space.

Damn it. I had lost my cool when I saw Harley Whitmore.

I turned towards the hallway, but the yellow-vested man had escorted her out back already.

I could go back and take care of her there, but her two goons will see me. And it's not even guaranteed I'd be able to take her on; she could bring me to an early death herself. And then, even if I managed to kill her, I'd be found out instantaneously. How would I get out of that situation?

"Young master Luca?" Blake entered the bakery. "I was waiting for you outside, but you took a while."

I only had Blake on my side here, and even then, I lacked any proper excuse for why I'd go killing off some woman I didn't technically know in broad daylight.

"Peep?"

Are we going home?

Leona stirred from her slumber atop my head.

"We are going home," I said.

Everything else aside, getting into a fight while Leona was with me seemed unwise.

"Peep!"

Good. I want to rest on something more comfortable than your head.

"Thanks," I nodded toward Kleave.

The pink-haired punk shrugged and walked away with his pastry.

"Ah, Luca Frey!" A bright voice called out when I stepped outside.

I immediately recognized the man sitting at one of the outside tables. It was the same one that had brought me my winnings from the Gilded Siren. He was dressed in a well-tailored light blue suit with golden detailing. He smiled brightly at me.

Beside him sat a very nervous-looking Lord Blanche.

I suppose my telling Natalia Ashford about Lord Blanche's indiscretions hasn't led to his imprisonment yet; then again she could have sold that gossip off to someone other than those that would bring him to justice.

"I was just talking about you to my friend here," the man from the Gilded Siren said. "Your incredible win a few days ago has made its rounds around the capital. It has made quite a few people more enthusiastic about testing their luck at gambling as well."

Lord Blanche took out a handkerchief and wiped his sweating face.

Did this moron dig himself into an even more enormous debt to the Gilded Siren? Did my telling about him to Natalia Ashford really have no impact?

"I'm glad business is prosperous. But, if that is all, I'll be on my way," I replied.

I saw no point in getting involved with either of them.

"Ah, hold on." The man waved his hand over to someone. "Lad! Bring that thing here."

The young mage I saw last time with this man staggered towards him with a golden envelope in hand. It might have been my imagination, but the young boy looked in somewhat better health than when I saw him a few days back.

He must be relieved to not be tormented by The Spiders any longer.

The man snatched the golden letter from the boy and handed it to me.

"What is this?" I took the envelope and pried it open.

"An invitation," the man replied with a wide smile. "I recalled your interest in potentially purchasing a mage, and I know you are good for funds, so I had one extended to you."

I pulled out the invitation and felt my mouth go dry.

"An auction hosted by The Spiders?" I said.

"Of course!" The man smiled. "Who else would have a sufficient supply of young mages. And I hear some good talent is on the market this year."

I considered chucking the envelope in his face but decided that would serve me no use. Like with Harley Whitmore, getting emotional over this would only bring disaster.

"Thank you," I replied instead.

"Let's go home," I told Blake and entered the carriage, held open by him.

"Very well, young master." Blake nodded and closed the door after me. The carriage took off, with Blake sitting outside with the driver.

I rested my body against the door and gazed towards the young mage besides the man from the Gilded Siren.

It was a reminder to me to keep Denise safe. If she died, her younger brother Fin would fall into the clutches of The Spiders and be experimented on until all his hair went white. Fin became an incredibly powerful mage because of it and was thus an enormous help in the fight against the Kobar Empire. Still, the horrid treatment that my friend experienced wasn't worth the price.

If I could do one thing for him in this lifetime, it would be to allow him a happier childhood than what he went through in my original life.

"Peep!"

Are you going to buy a mage?

Leona fluttered down into my lap and poked at the golden envelope.

"No, I won't be attending this." I put the envelope into my breast pocket.

But perhaps I could crash it.

 

AlekAundra

You can crash weddings, parties... why not an underground black market auction hosted by the most dangerous of syndicates?
（￣へ￣）