Bartwin himself greeted him when he opened his eyes while the operators kept moving to remove the patches of connected wires from his exposed chest. One of Bartwin's cataracted eyes looked at Ian sharply, distracting Ian's focus. The mobster's mouth smiled kindly at him, but his eyes said otherwise. Bartwin's short body only reached Ian's shoulders, but his dominant aura could not be defeated.
If you passed him on the street and accidentally nudged him, then you would lose your wrist on the spot. Ian, whose day job was a pickpocket, could more or less recognize a person's character. And a person like Bartwin was not his target, EVER. Ian could calculate 10 steps ahead when dealing with the Apex in the game earlier, but facing Bartwin seemed to be the only dead end he encountered.
Bartwin's men handed Ian's clothes. He put them on while observing the surroundings with his corner eye. This room was empty, the other players who had been with him in this room were gone, leaving only him.
"What? Looking for someone? Oh, you must be looking for Ted. Well, do you have a sentimental relationship with him? Because if you don't, the incinerator is waiting for him. You know, to be burned with the others for the sake of austerity."
"Mm... No. But I wonder if the accepted consequences are true, that death in the game is fatal."
"Oh, I can see you still want to play. By the way, congratulations! That was an 'enjoyable' game! Aren't you considering a career change? Surely earning a living as a petty pickpocket isn't your forever career choice, right? And that sewer is not your dream home?"
A grin played on Ian's lips. 'This Hyena has been after us from the start. Damn! Of course, he needed a free player, and I was the one who fell into the trap. But since when did he spread the bait? Does Roe know about this? And Josh?' Ian analyzed.
"You haven't answered my question, Mr. Bartwin."
"Ha! Do you really want to see it? Well, well, you're really interesting. Connor! Get our winner to make up his mind!"
The man with the fierce look, long red mustache, sideburns, big body, and silently stuck close to Bartwin wherever Bartwin was approached, dragging Ian's arm with an upset expression. Maybe he didn't like being apart from Bartwin? That Connor was dragging him by the collar like a teacher dragging a troubled teenager.
Connor led him through the hallways with bright lighting, noisy machinery, and the smell of chemicals filling the air. 'It seems we were taken to a factory in the countryside last night. But what kind of factory? And they have an incinerator? Ah, but considering Bartwin's dirty business, then of course he needs that... Apparently, he brought the people he had problems with here.' Ian thought.
His question was answered when they arrived at the very back part of the factory, a large square room, at the end of which were the incinerator and shredder. Three of Bartwin's men were at work, tossing a body into the shredding machine, their activity stopping when they saw Connor coming. There, Ian saw lifeless bodies on beds with faces that Ian remembered having met earlier before the game.
Ian stood up straight, broke away from Connor, tidied up his appearance, and looked around for Ted's corpse. No, he was not in the mood to say goodbye, but this was to assure him that this game was not a set-up, because Ted was the only one he knew.
Ian found Ted's corpse, which was deliberately placed separately from the other beds. There was no feeling in his heart when he looked at the old man's lifeless body. He tugged slightly on the hem of Ted's pants, glancing at the incompletely healed wound there. 'Okay, this is indeed the old fart.'
"Okay, done. Where are we going after this?" Ian smiled cheerfully at Connor, who scowled at Ian's reaction.
Connor almost pulled back his collar, but Ian dodged. "Hey, not again... Are we going back to that operation room again? Then I can walk on my own." Whistling, Ian preceded Connor's steps back towards Bartwin.
From the happy look on Bartwin's face, Ian could conclude that his game last night was not just "enjoyable." Otherwise, he had become an important asset for Bartwin in making profits. Seeing the rewards, Ian was also tempted and began to calculate carefully. Cooperation with Bartwin would be to his advantage to raise his standard of living. This was the only way. The golden opportunity came just when he faced his bad luck last night. What a funny fate.
Those machines... He would find out where to get them. He knew that if he still played under Bartwin, then he would never be free, and he did not like being ordered around. From his observations on the way to and from the game room, he could deduce that this place was Bartwin's legal business. He encountered some people in formal work clothes with the same depressed look on their faces, watching the computer screen.
'Day is factory, night is a gambling place. Hmm... Get the best of both worlds.' Ian concluded. His steps stopped in front of the game room, not forgetting to tidy up his clothes once again, as well as his hair, before entering to face Bartwin again.
"How is it? Do you now believe that this game is real?" Mr. Bartwin immediately opened his voice when he saw Ian come in.
"Of course, Mr. Bartwin, I don't doubt you. I'm only doubting my judgment, you know, due to the high adrenaline rush earlier blurring the line between real and virtual."
"Cut the non-sense, the rewards you get go straight into my bank account. If you still want to play, then we're talking about business."
'Greedy ass! Even if the money he lost was only £15,000 and he took it right back, my precious rewards...' If this is how the story goes, then this loan shark is not looking for players but slaves.
"I would like 85:15."
"What? I was about to offer 90:10."
"Who's 90%?"
"Of course, it's me, you idiot. Do you think running this business is easy?"
"Then never mind, Mr. Bartwin, it's a pleasure doing business with you."
Ian spun around, but Bartwin's men immediately blocked him.
"No one leaves a business conversation with me until I leave first."
"Well, you go first, please, Mr. Bartwin..." Ian bowed as if to make way for Bartwin to walk past.
The henchman punched Ian's unprepared stomach, causing him to cough while clutching his sore internal organs.
"90:10 or you vanish from the face of this earth."
"Hahaha," Ian laughed, the reaction causing a frown to form on Bartwin's forehead.
"I know very well, Mr. Bartwin, that I am your most valuable asset right now. I might not be the only one to survive the game, but is there any other player who can entertain your audience as well as me? I'm not just a player, I'm an entertainer! So, be a little kind to this precious asset of yours... You'd be glad if my brain could function perfectly, wouldn't you?"
"So, what is your most reasonable offer?" Bartwin inquired.
'You greedy bastard, you're the one who's not being reasonable!' Ian thought to himself.
"70:30," said Ian, putting forward his proposal.
"85:15," countered Bartwin.
"72:28," Ian quickly responded.
"80:20, and that's my limit. You won't get any more deals than this with me," Bartwin firmly stated.
"THAT... AND you can give me one of the rooms in your flat. Then it's a deal," Ian concluded with a sly grin.
"Tsk! All right," Bartwin reluctantly agreed.
Ian smirked happily, 'Let me play for him for now. The income from here is still better than a year of my pickpocketing income. At least I can still bring Roe and Josh along. Roe won't blame me for taking the money away, right?'
"Can I go home now, Mr. Bartwin? Howdy... I'm really drowsy and hungry..."
"Don't overstep your bounds. Connor! Take care of this boy!" Bartwin commanded.
Again, Connor dragged his collar towards the parking garage. Ian took the opportunity to sleep; he was not lying when he said that he felt extremely tired and hungry.