"Tch, what a pain."
In a certain location within the Slum District, Ajas muttered in displeasure.
At his words, his two companions—Lebejev and Haston—nodded in silence.
All three of them were already equipped and ready to leave Gilm at a moment's notice.
The only difference was that Haston was lugging a large leather rucksack on his back.
It was heavy enough that he would have loved nothing more than to set it on the ground.
Inside, however, was several days' worth of food for dozens of people.
The contents had been packed with every possible ounce of waste trimmed away, and if he set it down, the smell wafting from it would inevitably attract rats and insects.
Moreover, it was summer.
That meant the night air was thick with flying insects, many of them carnivorous.
To those insects and animals—and above all, to the residents of the Slum District, many of whom lived in constant hunger—a rucksack stuffed with food would be an irresistible prize.
Even if most of its contents were things like dried meat and hardened bread, chosen purely for preservation and portability.
Originally, they should have been able to secure a decent amount of provisions at the diner where they had been staying.
But they had only managed half of that, and the bulk of their food had ended up being dried meat and hardened bread.
Granted, when it came to transporting food, that was not entirely a loss.
Haston adjusted the rucksack on his back and turned his gaze toward the surrounding darkness.
With only moonlight and starlight to see by, it was impossible to fully survey the area.
Of course, Ajas and the others all had shady pasts and had often operated at night before, so they possessed night vision that allowed them to see through the dark to some extent.
But even that was not enough to pierce all darkness—it was merely somewhat better than what an ordinary person could manage.
Ajas and his group knew that many figures were lurking in the darkness around them. They knew, but because those figures were so well concealed, they could not tell what kind of people they were.
"Calm down, Ajas. They're probably Jestal's men," Lebejev said, addressing Jestal by name without any honorifics.
If the man had been right in front of him, he would have used polite language to avoid giving offense.
But since he was not, there was no need to treat Jestal courteously in this situation.
"I hope that's all it is," Haston muttered.
"More importantly, they are actually coming, right? Carrying this thing around indefinitely is pretty rough, you know?" he added, voicing his dissatisfaction.
"I mean, it's true. Lebejev is the point of contact for advancing the trade with them, so it's not like I could carry it instead, right?" Lebejev countered.
"Yeah, I guess," Haston conceded.
Lebejev being the one in direct contact with them, carrying the food would have been tantamount to handing Jestal an opening to exploit during their conversations.
And Ajas, while regarded as the leader of the three, was above all the most skilled fighter among them.
Of course, he was not skilled enough to take on High-Rank Adventurers or Alias Holders, but he could deal with Jestal's underlings with ease.
Given those circumstances, it was ultimately decided that Haston would carry the food.
"At least we don't have to carry water. That makes it easier, right?"
"...Obviously. If we had to transport water too, that would be no joke."
Haston replied to Lebejev, who had cut into the conversation. He sounded displeased, but he agreed nonetheless.
As he said, the situation was already difficult enough with just the food. If they had been forced to carry water for dozens of people as well, they would have been completely immobilized.
"If anything, we should've demanded food from them too, not just water."
"If we did that, we already owe them a debt, and it would only make it even bigger. Then they'd squeeze even more money out of us."
"...Tch, what an irritating bastard. Wouldn't it have been better to trade with someone else?" Haston sighed and said to Ajas.
But Ajas shook his head.
"Probably not. In the first place, Jestal's organization was the one among Gilm's underworld groups that got along best with us. Any other group, and there's a chance things would have been even more of a headache."
"That's..." Haston started to say something, but he left it at that.
In truth, the trade with Jestal's organization had been going smoothly until this latest incident. That much was certain.
Knowing that they were the ones who had rushed the other party, Haston had no choice but to hold his tongue.
"They're here," Lebejev announced.
Straining his ears, the sound of approaching carriages could be heard.
Not just one—several.
(Well, they're stuffing dozens of women into them, so it makes sense there'd be that many carriages.)
Ajas turned his gaze toward the darkness the sound was coming from, and before long, carriages emerged as if parting the blackness itself.
The horses pulling them were far from impressive.
Considering the amount of money they had paid Jestal's organization, Ajas's honest opinion was that he would have appreciated better horses.
(Then again, we were the ones who asked them to have everything ready tonight. Can't really complain.)
While he was thinking that over, the carriages came to a halt.
Jestal himself was seated on the driver's bench of the lead carriage.
Normally, the head of an organization would not show up in person for a transaction like this. But this trade involved an enormous amount of money and effort.
Furthermore, what originally required more time had its deadline suddenly moved up, and then moved up again to tonight.
A deal of this scale, compounded by multiple hiccups along the way—it was only natural for Jestal, as the person in charge, to show up in case something went wrong.
"Yo, sorry to keep you waiting."
"Not at all. Though it seems you were a bit later than scheduled...what happened? With the collars on, I wouldn't have thought it'd take that long to get the women out of their cells."
"Tonight was the deadline, see. I had my people do one last job. That's why we're late getting here, but compared to when we last spoke, you've got five extra."
"Hoh...that is helpful. But I can't pay more than the amount we just agreed on, you understand."
"I know. Consider it a bonus from us. You paid a fair sum, after all. Only natural we do work worthy of it."
How much of what came out of Jestal's mouth was the truth, even Lebejev could not say.
But he could hardly believe all of it. If anything, he suspected Jestal was plotting something.
After all, a proper contract had already been signed and the promised money paid. There was no need for the other party to go out of their way to do more.
Even so, all Lebejev could do was offer his gratitude.
Saying anything careless here and having the deal fall through as a result was something that had to be avoided at all costs.
"Then please proceed with the handover. And regarding our escape from Gilm as well..."
"Yeah, I know. But you'd better pay the rest of what you owe."
"Understood. The remaining payment is right here."
Lebejev held out a leather pouch taken from inside his coat.
Looking down at it from the driver's bench, Jestal glanced at one of the men standing guard.
The guard gave a small nod, approached Lebejev, and took the pouch.
Loosening the string, he confirmed that platinum coins were inside, then returned to Jestal's side.
"...I see. It's definitely the promised amount."
"Yes. We have no intention of betraying you here. And in return, you'll hold up your end of the bargain?"
"Yeah. Like I said, we managed to round up a few more right before the deadline. Slave collars are on, but they're still full of fight. That a problem?"
"Let me think. Ideally, I would have liked to keep them locked up a little longer to break their spirits...but there's no point asking for the impossible."
"Glad to hear it. Makes our hard work feel worth it. Oh, and I loaded water onto each carriage."
"Thank you."
At Jestal's unexpected words, Lebejev bowed his head without protest.
But nearby, Ajas and Haston were checking the surroundings, and while it did not show on their faces, they were both wondering why Jestal was being so generous.
If this had been an ordinary business transaction, a few extras might have been thrown in to ensure future dealings.
But Ajas and the others would likely never set foot in Gilm again once this trade was done.
There was even a chance they would end up as wanted bounty targets, and with so many formidable adventurers gathered in Gilm, they had no desire to come back of their own accord.
Despite that, Jestal was going out of his way to accommodate them. There had to be a reason.
But asking why he was being so helpful was something they hesitated to do.
If they asked, there was a good chance he would demand something in return—nothing short of shooting themselves in the foot.
Better to simply accept the gesture at face value.
(Ah, maybe he doesn't want to trade with us, but with our superiors? That would explain it.)
The thought crossed Lebejev's mind.
But naturally, he kept it to himself.
Their top priority right now was to finish the deal and get out of Gilm as fast as possible.
Confirming that Jestal and the others were climbing down from the driver's benches of all three carriages, Lebejev was about to glance toward Ajas and Haston—when he suddenly froze.
Until that moment, they had at least maintained a surface-level calm while conducting the trade with Jestal. But now Lebejev, along with Ajas and Haston, all sharpened their gazes and swept their eyes across the surroundings.
They were not the only ones. Several of the subordinates who had come along as Jestal's guards were also on high alert, their eyes cutting through the darkness.
"What is it? Something wrong?" Jestal asked the guards, tucking the pouch of platinum coins into his coat and drawing a short sword.
Jestal now held the position of organization boss, but in his youth he had been through more than his share of violent clashes.
His skills had naturally declined since those days, but he still knew he was more battle-hardened than the average adventurer.
"A sound...what sounded like a groan. Most likely from our guards posted nearby. Or there's a chance another organization has made a move on us," one of the guards, a man gripping a short sword, reported to Jestal.
"A groan? I don't think there are many fools out there who'd dare mess with us in this situation. ...Or wait, is it someone after our take? Or my life?"
"Hard to say. But either way, we need to stay alert."
"Right. Good news is, the trade's done. We'll be heading back now. That work for you?"
Even as he said it, Lebejev and the others could not bring themselves to nod.
Because they understood—at least halfway—who was attacking them.
Executing a precise assault in the pitch dark was no simple feat.
Moreover, this was not outside Gilm, where adventurers held sway, but inside the city itself—and the Slum District at that, a maze of crumbling ruins.
Operating in such a place required a caliber of skill beyond that of an ordinary adventurer.
The number of people capable of pulling that off who also bore a grudge against Lebejev and his group was small.
"Damn it, he's already here!" Ajas spat bitterly from behind Lebejev.
At Ajas's reaction, Jestal narrowed his eyes.
His behavior made it clear—he knew who the attacker was.
"Hey, what exactly—"
The moment he tried to ask, a man was suddenly hurled out of the darkness.
Jestal recognized him as one of his own subordinates, someone he had assigned to guard duty. He followed the trajectory of the flying man—and saw a figure standing there, scythe in one hand and spear in the other.
"Rei..."