"I've underestimated you, Mr. Fourstorms," Giovan said, a mess of emotions swirling in his chest. His eyebrows creased, his mouth twisting into a wary, bitter smile that looked like it had been dragged onto his face by force.
There was more than one thing Giovan didn't like about this circus.
First, he had failed to predict Asher's move. An unforgivable sin for a man who prided himself on being the kind of strategist that could outmaneuver a room full of politicians blindfolded. Getting into bed (metaphorically, thank God) with someone like Asher, even with leverage for now, was dangerous.
Second, it wasn't even about him getting the favor anymore. No, now it was all four of them getting Asher's favor. Framing it as "everyone wins" instead of "Giovan wins" was like taking the champagne out of his hand and handing him a juice box.
One elixir for the price of four. No Ang Elixir in history had ever been this valuable, and Giovan doubted any would be in the future, unless the world produced another Asher Fourstorms, in which case, heavens help them all.
Third, this meant Asher's bizarre "principle" would now bleed into the favor Giovan could ask from him. One wrong request and—boom—they're lifelong enemies. No refunds, no exchanges.
And fourth…
…Giovan hated that he actually liked this guy now.
For all his manipulative cunning, Giovan was still sharp enough to know exactly what all this implied. His right hand curled into a tight fist at his side, a small, quiet rebellion against himself.
If only the world—no, if only he—had Asher's kind of power, he wouldn't have needed to become the man he was now. In his middle-aged years, he regretted a lot of things. But not the way he became. Until today.
"I came here to offer what's mine too, Mr. Fourstorms," Giovan said bitterly. "Although you chose mine, wouldn't you need to reward me like you did them too?"
Asher turned to him, looking vaguely amused.
"Hey! You fox!" Eno exploded. "The three of us actually came for nothing now that he didn't accept ours! Yours got accepted! That's a favor, alright?!"
Then Eno whirled on Asher. "You better not give this snake another favor, you empty-brained bastard! I'll use mine for that! I don't need anything from you anyway, so exchange my favor with not giving him any extra!"
"BAHAHAHAHAH!"
Giovan burst into laughter. Sharp, sudden, and completely throwing Eno off his rant. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he said lightly. Then, turning to Asher with a smile that for once wasn't dipped in poison, "I've gotten an extra favor."
Eno's face tightened like he was preparing to bark another three paragraphs of rage, but Giovan ignored him. He handed Asher his Ang Elixir, his eyes fixed on our main guy.
"You've given me a valuable lesson today, Mr. Fourstorms. Thank you."
Asher shook his head, helpless, dealing with a particularly charming headache might be a first for him too. "I'll transfer you the money later."
"Sure."
Giovan turned and left the inn without a glance back. Man was smart enough to know the show was over.
Meanwhile, Eno scoffed, his voice dripping with that special brand of offended pride only he could pull off. "You people and your speeches… I don't need your favor. Who wants your favor anyway!? Hmph! Not me! Anyway, I've given you face, so I'll tell everyone you're difficult!"
And with that, he turned to give the floor a good kick of dust, his version of a dramatic curtain drop, before stomping out of the inn in what was, without him, a calmer and quieter state.
"Master, I pray for your good health," the Thief King said, bowing low. "I know you appreciated me coming here, but I still think I haven't paid my debt enough. I will see you whenever you need me."
The young man turned into black smoke, dissipating in the air.
When only Kim Hang was left, Asher turned toward the kitchen and yelled, "I'll be late tonight. Take care of the kitchen's closing shift and lock everything."
"Yes, Chef!" came the immediate chorus.
"Luke, cover my night shift."
"Yes, Boss."
Asher grabbed his jacket, slid the Ang Elixir into his spatial inventory with the care of a man putting away a priceless jewel, and jerked his chin at Hang. "Let's go, Eleventh."
Hang didn't say a word—no, he didn't even breathe loud ever since Asher casually announced he'd give everyone a favor just for showing up.
The man moved like he'd been unplugged from reality, trailing after Asher in a daze while his eyes drifted toward Asher's phone screen. Sure enough, our guy was already typing away to figure out if he could transfer a truckload of money to Giovan.
They walked for a bit before Asher glanced over his shoulder at Hang. "What's wrong? You can't show me the way?"
Hang flinched out of his daze and hurried ahead. "Let's go to the 88th floor first. But are you sure you don't need… equipment…?"
"No."
"Then, let's go back to my place first. I need some equipment."
"No, it's fine. I'll go alone. Just show me the way."
Hang shot him a look like Asher was in the middle of eating the power pole. But in the end, he moved along again.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Don't worry."
But it seemed that Hang was both underestimating and overestimating the request he'd made. Underestimating it because he somehow thought this would only shake the world a little. And overestimating it because Asher looked like the type who might help you just because he was bored, no payment required.
Sure, Hang had known Asher's name for a while. Everyone who mattered did. They knew he was cut from the same cloth as the current number one ranker, number two—Lim Songbai—and number three—Namgoong Yoon—except Asher had never bothered registering. Hang thought wrangling a favor from him would be difficult.
And, in a way, it was. The way Giovan left with that complicated look plastered on his face, Kim Hang knew Giovan knew exactly what he'd signed up for. No. What they were signing up for.
Asher was dangerous. And not just your average "don't poke the bear" dangerous, he was the kind of dangerous you couldn't leash, couldn't predict, and couldn't buy off.
Hang underestimated the monster he just invited back into their world.