The night air was cool as the inn settled into a peaceful hum. A few lanterns flickered in the corridors, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. Nile sat near the dining area, lost in thought, watching the dim glow of the flames dance on the ceiling. The weight of his plans pressed on him, but before he could sink too deeply into contemplation, movement at the entrance caught his eye.
Sid had returned.
This time, however, he wasn't alone. Two familiar figures trailed behind him, shifting uncomfortably as they hesitated just inside the doorway. Lars and Dain.
Nile recognized them instantly. They had once stood alongside Sid, mocking and belittling him. Now, their postures were stiff with hesitation, their expressions uncertain.
Sid cleared his throat, his voice carrying a mix of hesitation and resolve. "Nile, I brought them here. They have something to say."
Lars and Dain exchanged glances before stepping forward. Lars, the taller of the two, ran a hand through his short, messy hair before speaking.
"We… we were wrong," he admitted, his voice low but firm. "Back then, we acted like fools. We manipulated the crowd and let our own fears and insecurities turn into malice."
Dain, usually brash and arrogant, looked visibly humbled as he added, "When Sid told us what you did—arranging work for us at the inn—we couldn't believe it. After everything, you still helped us." He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath before continuing. "We don't deserve this kindness, but we are truly grateful."
Silence stretched between them for a moment. Nile studied their faces, gauging the sincerity in their words. Their regret seemed genuine.
Then, with a small smile, he said, "It's not about the past anymore. What matters is what you do moving forward."
Relief washed over their faces. The tension that had gripped them eased, and for the first time in a long while, Sid looked genuinely happy.
Jennifer leaned against the reception desk, her arms crossed as she watched the exchange with quiet amusement. She had seen all sorts of people come through this inn, and these boys, despite their rough past, still had the potential to grow.
"Alright," she said, breaking the moment. "If you're done with the heartfelt moments, let's talk business."
She gestured for the three boys to sit at the nearby table. "Here's the deal. The inn needs waiters, and I need someone reliable at the reception desk. You'll rotate shifts—two working tables while one manages the front desk. You'll swap roles twice a day so that no one gets stuck in one place."
The three nodded eagerly, their excitement barely contained.
"You'll also get a room to stay in, meals, and a salary of ten low-grade mana stones per month," she continued. "And since you're still students, we'll allow leave during school hours. Fair?"
Sid and his friends exchanged wide-eyed glances. Lars let out a low whistle. "That's… more than we expected."
Jennifer smirked. "Don't get too excited. I expect discipline, punctuality, and good work. If you slack off, you're out. Got it?"
The three straightened up. "Yes, ma'am!" they chorused, making Jennifer chuckle.
Nile watched the scene unfold, feeling a sense of satisfaction. Things were falling into place. However, there was still something pressing on his mind—something that required immediate action.
As he turned his gaze towards the staircase, he noticed a familiar presence standing near him—Uncle James. His expression was serious.
Feeling the time to visit the black market nearing, Nile motioned for Uncle James to follow him upstairs. The two ascended the wooden staircase quietly, their footsteps muffled by the creaking boards.
Once they reached Nile's room on the second floor, James shut the door behind them and crossed his arms. "Are you ready?"
Nile nodded as he walked towards his bed, taking a seat at its edge. "Yes, I am mentally ready," he affirmed. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "But can you approximate how much it will cost to buy a Level 3 slave at the black market?"
James's eyes narrowed slightly at the unexpected question, but he didn't respond immediately. Instead, he walked over to a cushioned chair near the window and sat down, rubbing his chin in thought.
After a moment, he spoke. "I don't know exact figures, but based on my knowledge, Level 1 cultivators range from 10 to 100 mana stones, depending on their skills. Level 2 could be anywhere from 100 to 1,000 mana stones. As for Level 3, the price might start at 1,000 and go up to 10,000 mana stones."
Nile absorbed this information carefully, his mind already calculating the costs. His funds were limited, and if he wanted to secure enough fighters to patrol and protect the inn, he needed more resources.
After a brief silence, he made his decision. "Then I'll sell the remaining three high-grade Level 1 Body Stimulus Pastes in the black market," he stated firmly.
James raised an eyebrow, clearly weighing the risks. "A risky move," he admitted, "but necessary if you're short on funds." He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have a plan for how to get out of the inn without being seen by the spies of the three gangs watching this place?"
Nile nodded. "Yes. I need you to stealthily procure two robes that cover us from head to toe. Before we make a move, I want you to show them to Mama. She should make sure the goons we're releasing tomorrow remember these robes on the two guardians of the Obsidian Pact."
James's expression sharpened. "You want the robes to become associated with the Obsidian Pact?"
"Exactly," Nile confirmed. "So buy the robes in bulk. Moving forward, these robes will be the standard uniform of our organization. If we establish this early, it will be harder for outsiders to trace individual identities."
James leaned back, considering Nile's words. "That's a wise precaution," he admitted. "There might still be eyes watching this inn, so keeping our real identities hidden is important."
Nile met his uncle's gaze, determination clear in his expression. "I'd rather be careful than regret later."
A smirk played at the corner of James's lips before he let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. "You're growing sharper by the day, kid."