Chapter 27: Franco
Albert Street, North Borough.
Time: Around 9 A.M.
A young boy with messy blonde hair and deep blue eyes stopped before a tall, three-storied building called the Red Apple Inn. He pushed open the wooden door and stepped inside. His worn-out white shirt, black pants, and old white overcoat made him look like any other poor street kid. A monocle rested on his left eye, and a faded top hat sat crooked on his head.
'Why is everyone staring at me like that?' Raven wondered, feeling uneasy.
His appearance was the reason. Last night, when he sneaked into the North Borough, he had used Face Mimic, a bloodline spell, on a beggar sleeping by the roadside. The spell reshaped his facial muscles, changing his features completely.
[That's because you look like a beggar now. Though… it's not a bad disguise.]
Inside, the main hall buzzed with noise. Around twenty people sat at wooden tables, eating or chatting. The warm smell of bread and ale filled the air.
Before Raven could take another step, a young waiter blocked his path.
"What are you doing here, brat? This isn't a place for sewer rats."
The man was around twenty, tall and broad-shouldered, with short blond hair and sharp brown eyes. His harsh tone drew the attention of the other waiters.
"Hey, Palmer! Maybe he's a customer," one of them called.
Palmer sneered. "Customer? Look at his shoes! He can't afford a crust of bread, let alone a room."
"I'm here to stay for two days," Raven said calmly, pulling a silver coin from his pocket.
Palmer's eyes flashed. He grabbed Raven's wrist and snatched the coin. "Where'd you steal this from, huh?" He shoved Raven hard toward the door. "Get out before I throw you out."
"You can try," Raven muttered, clenching his fist.
Palmer's face twisted in anger. He swung a punch—fast and heavy.
To Raven, the attack looked almost slow. He raised his palm, blocked the strike, and stepped forward, landing a light punch to Palmer's stomach.
Thud!
Palmer staggered backward several steps, his eyes wide with shock. A moment later, his face turned pale. He clutched his stomach and vomited—not just his breakfast, but blood. The entire hall went silent.
"Y-You little—" Palmer started, but a strong hand gripped his shoulder from behind.
"Enough," a calm, heavy voice said.
Palmer froze. He turned and saw the Inn's owner.
"U-Uncle Franco! That brat—he attacked me—"
"Quiet, Palmer," Franco said coldly.
Raven's eyes narrowed. Franco?
He studied the man carefully. Franco was a tall, middle-aged man with olive skin, blue eyes, and a sharp mustache. His burgundy waistcoat and neat white shirt gave him an air of quiet authority. A felt hat shaded his gaze from the morning sun.
"You're not an ordinary street rat," Franco said. "Why cause trouble in my inn?"
"Ask him who started it," Raven replied, pointing at Palmer. "Anyway, I need a room for two days. Got any vacant ones?"
Franco held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. He walked to the counter and opened the ledger.
"Name?"
"Thomas."
Raven placed another silver coin on the counter.
"Payment's already covered," Franco said, pointing at the pale, panting Palmer.
A faint smile tugged at Raven's lips. "That was an advance payment—for information."
Franco paused mid-writing. "Oh? Who told you I deal in information?"
Raven leaned forward and whispered a single phrase. "Velvet Eclipse."
The calm in Franco's expression vanished. In an instant, a heavy pressure filled the air, pinning Raven in place.
If I say one wrong word, he'll kill me on the spot.
A blue screen flickered before Raven's eye.
…
[Status Information]
Name: Franco
Age: 68
Nationality: Zenith Empire (Arcane Mist Empire)
Affiliation: Red Apple Inn (Elite Member of Velvet Eclipse)
Title: Bloody Fist
Class: Radiant Knight (8th Circle)
Health: Normal
Attributes:
Strength – 74.5
Agility – 73.0
Vitality – 76.5
Luck – 10.0
Spirit – 189
Class Skills:
Titan's Grip, Lightning Strike, Swift Stride, Guardian's Defense, Aura of Fortitude
Additional Skills:
Intermediate Archery
Elemental Affinities:
Light – High
Lightning – Intermediate
…
He's stronger than Athena! Raven thought, his heartbeat quickening.
Then, he forced a steady tone. "I'm also a member of Velvet Eclipse."
He took a small badge from his inventory—a silver token shaped like a cockscomb flower—and placed it on the counter.
Franco eyed it. "So they're giving apprentices new badges now. Interesting." His pressure faded, and his voice softened. "Who told you about me? Your sponsor?"
"I can't say," Raven replied calmly.
Franco studied him for a moment, then nodded. "As long as you don't bring me trouble, we're fine. What information do you need? Be warned—confidential knowledge costs extra."
"I need everything you have on the Gold Thieves—their members, hideouts, and one man named Aron. His home address, too, if possible."
Franco blinked, surprised. "You've got guts, lad. Those people aren't mere thieves. They deal in kidnapping and trafficking."
Raven stayed silent.
Franco sighed. "How much can you pay?"
"Ten silver coins. That's all I have."
Franco snapped his fingers. "Magnus! Check him."
The slim waiter rushed over, searching Raven's pockets. He found ten silver coins in the left pocket and placed them on the counter.
"So, you weren't lying," Franco said, satisfied. "For that much, I can give you basic info."
He leaned back in his chair and began to speak.
"Three years ago, Aron was part of another gang—The Greedy Chargers. They controlled several streets through protection money. Then came the Gold Thieves. Unlike the Chargers, they acted like loan sharks. They lent large sums to desperate shopkeepers, ruined their businesses, and took over their shops through legal tricks. Within six months, they ruled half the district.
Aron betrayed his old gang and joined them. The Gold Thieves grew fast—extortion, kidnapping, blackmail, even contract killings. They're dangerous people, boy."
Franco leaned back, exhaling deeply. "That's all I can tell you for that price."
Raven nodded slowly. His eyes turned cold.
"Hmm… useful, but not enough."
He leaned forward, thinking deeply before asking,
"Can you tell me which streets Aron managed? And his house address, if possible?"
A sly grin appeared on Franco's face.
"I already gave you more than enough for ten silvers, lad. His address will cost ten times higher."
Raven frowned. "One gold coin? That's robbery."
Franco's grin widened. "That's how we live in the shadows. You could walk around asking strangers, but you'd only expose yourself to the Gold Thieves. Most people here don't even know who runs the streets. These gangs hide behind false names and quiet faces."
"Haa, what a crafty old man," Raven muttered under his breath.
He removed his hat, slipped his hand under it, and subtly drew out a gold coin from his inventory. To any onlooker, it looked like he had hidden it there all along.
Franco's eyes widened. "Well, now that's surprising."
He gestured to the slim waiter nearby. "Magnus, search him again."
Raven's gaze turned cold. "I suggest you stop playing games, Mr. Franco. I'm not in the mood."
Franco chuckled dryly, raising both hands. "All right, all right." He waved the waiter back and leaned closer. "12E Foundry Lane — that's Aron's home. He used to control Foundry Lane, Steel Mill Road, and Forge Avenue. Satisfied?"
"Not quite," Raven said flatly. "You haven't told me their base."
Before Franco could speak, Raven flicked another coin from his hand. It spun in the air before landing neatly in Franco's palm.
"Their hideout's an abandoned cotton mill," Franco said, pocketing the coin. "11A Steel Mill Road. Isolated area — no one goes there anymore."
Raven nodded slightly. "And the Greedy Chargers' leader?"
"Most call him Boston," Franco replied, pausing. "But his real name is Richard Greyhound. Only a handful know that. I'm one of them."
His expression hardened. "If you're planning to go after him, don't. Even if you offer me ten gold coins, I won't betray that man. He's a benefactor."
Raven waved a hand lazily. "Just curiosity."
Franco studied him for a second longer, then pulled out an iron key. "Here. Room upstairs."
"Keep it," Raven said, turning away. "I won't be staying."
He reached the doorway, then stopped and spoke without looking back.
"If you ever get any news about the Palace, let me know. Especially anything about the Sword Princess. I'll pay well."
Then he left the Red Apple Inn and disappeared into the morning crowd.
Franco stood still, frowning. "The Palace? From street gangs to the Royal Family… just who are you, kid?"
He glanced at the ledger.
"Thomas… I need to look into you."
"Why'd you let him go, Uncle?" Palmer asked, still clutching his stomach.
Franco glared. "Idiot. That boy's an Official Walker. If he'd hit harder, you'd be in the hospital for months."
Palmer's face went pale. Franco sighed and turned toward the kitchen. "Get back to work. Customers are waiting."
…
Meanwhile, Raven had already left Albert Street and was heading toward Foundry Lane.
The narrow road grew quieter as he walked deeper. Soon, he stopped before a single-story house at the far end — its wooden door worn with age.
"Aron's house."
He pricked his fingertip with a needle, a drop of blood welling up. Then he moved toward the door.
From inside came a muffled voice. "Damn it, those fools are making a mess again."
Raven knocked twice.
After a pause, the door creaked open. A rough-faced man in his thirties glared at him.
"What the hell do you want, beggar? I've got no money for you. Get lost before I throw you out."
Aron yawned mid-sentence, blinking sleepily. "Ugh… whatever. I'm too tired for this."
As he turned to leave, Raven's lips curled into a smirk.
"You're still working for the Greedy Chargers, aren't you? Or was that the boss's plan all along?"
Aron froze. Boss? Does he mean Richard? Did the leader send him?
Before he could react, Raven pushed past him and stepped inside.
"Hey—what the hell do you think you're doing?" Aron grabbed at him, but Raven's movement was too fast.
He's a Walker! Aron realized instantly. Must be a new recruit from the Greedy Chargers.
Closing the door, Aron watched warily as Raven sat down at the wooden table, poured himself a glass of rum, and spoke casually.
"Boss said Count Andres will move soon — maybe within a day — to rescue Thomas Holmes."
The name made Aron's eyes widen. "Wait—what? How do you know that? Didn't Inspector Bennett make a deal with Count Spade?"
He grabbed his glass and sat opposite Raven, suspicion mixed with curiosity.
"Bah, I knew that bastard inspector would pull something like this…" Aron muttered, drinking deeply. His vision blurred slightly.
Raven smiled faintly. "I'm just an informer."
Aron yawned again. "Cocky, aren't you, for a new guy? So… is it time to strike? Did Boss Boston give the order? We could wipe the Gold Thieves out completely."
He drained the rest of the rum — then froze.
"Bu–but… wha—" He coughed violently, blood spilling down his chin. His hands trembled.
"P–poison?" he tried to say, but his tongue wouldn't move properly.
Raven stood, watching calmly. "Oh? Just a single drop of my blood caused that much reaction. Not bad."
Aron fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His blood pressure plummeted; his vision spun.
"W-what… did… you…"
"Nothing much," Raven said softly. "I just need your face for a day. Rest well."
Aron's body went limp, collapsing on the floor.
Raven exhaled slowly. "Didn't think my Blood Control spell would work that well."
[That's because he hasn't awakened his spirit power yet. If you'd tried that on Franco, the result would've been very different.]
Raven nodded and knelt beside the body. He activated Face Morph, memorizing Aron's features as his own shifted and reshaped.
Within moments, Raven had become Aron.
[You're a bit taller and slimmer than him, though.]
"No one will notice unless they look too closely," Raven muttered. He changed into one of Aron's shirts, pulled on a hat, and left the house, locking it behind him.
"Will he survive?" he asked aloud.
[He's a Walker. The poison will wear off in a day or two. He'll live.]
"Good," Raven said, blending into the street crowd as he walked toward Steel Mill Road.