Roland and Ensis exited the apartment building and continued down the dimly lit street. Dressed in the spare coat he had saved, Roland carried a suitcase of money in his right hand as they ventured toward the slums of Berlin.
"Why are we heading down there?" Ensis asked, curiosity evident in his tone, his small paws resting on his chin.
"I have an old friend in the area who can help me find someone," Roland replied calmly.
The slums of Berlin were no different from those of London or Paris—dirty, grimy, and filled with despair. The neglected underbelly of Germany was home to immigrants struggling to make ends meet, children begging for scraps, and an air of unrelenting dread. Roland knew this place all too well. He had been born into it. The sight stirred memories he had long tried to bury, making him tighten his grip on the suitcase handle.
"You… are you alright, Roland?" Ensis asked, his voice tinged with concern.
"Of course. This is where I grew up. But memories have a way of breaking through, no matter how strong the dam we build to hold them back," Roland replied with his usual composure.
After several minutes of walking, they arrived at a run-down brothel. Ensis recoiled in visible discomfort, quickly retreating into his wine-colored sword form. Roland, however, stepped inside without hesitation, his expression unchanging as he faced the scene before him.
Exotic dancers entertained men with shameless displays, and women served drinks while baring their bodies. It was a spectacle of decadence and despair. Even a man like Roland, who had seen the worst humanity could offer, found the sight distasteful. Society, at least in this part of Germany, seemed beyond saving.
Making his way to the bar, Roland was approached by a barmaid with rosy-brown hair and syrup-colored eyes. Her attire mirrored that of the other workers, designed to entice.
"What'll it be, hun?" she asked seductively.
"… I desire a cherry cocktail, bold and untamed, like a panther prowling in the night—if such a request can be fulfilled," Roland replied with a calm demeanor and a faint smile.
The barmaid blinked, caught off guard by his words. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.
"It'll be delivered to you soon, sir," she said before walking away.
"Thank you, Liebe," Roland replied with a courteous nod.
As Roland waited, a commotion erupted from behind him.
"Come on, you whore! I know you want it!" a slurred voice jeered.
"Sir… you haven't paid. I cannot offer my services," a young woman replied nervously, struggling to free herself from the grip of an obese man in a black suit.
Roland sighed.
{Ah, curse me…}
He stood and approached the scene, grabbing the man's arm with a grip so tight it was near breaking.
"Y-you bastard! You'll break my arm!" the man shouted in outrage.
"You should've kept your hands to yourself. There's a policy to be followed," Roland said coldly.
With that, he released the man's arm, sending him sprawling to the floor. The obese man clutched his arm, sweat dripping down his face as he glared up at Roland.
"Now, be so kind as to leave the premises," Roland ordered.
Grumbling and cursing under his breath, the man staggered out, his pride wounded. Roland turned to the young woman and patted her head gently.
"Next time, be careful who you approach," he advised softly.
"Y-yes… thank you, Herr!" she stammered, bowing deeply.
The room grew quiet, the onlookers averting their gazes. The oppressive aura Roland emitted was suffocating.
< Skill in use! >
D - Cursed Aura: The Black Knight emits an aura that causes mild discomfort and unease to those nearby. While it doesn't cause direct harm, it can wear down weaker enemies over time, reducing their focus and will to fight.
Returning to his seat, Roland waited until the barmaid reappeared, this time with a cherry cocktail in hand and a smile on her face.
"Your cocktail, sweetheart. Also…" She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for protecting the girl back there. The boss is waiting for you on the third floor."
"No problem. Thank you for your service," Roland replied, opening his suitcase and leaving a generous 500-euro tip before, downing the cocktail and making his way upstairs.
The house was filled with moans, smoke, and half-dressed women. Roland was stopped three times by women asking him to light their cigarettes, a request he obliged each time.
When he reached the third floor, he was met by two women standing guard in a corridor adorned with flowers and paintings. The atmosphere here was more refined, almost serene, compared to the chaos below.
"The panther has no claws," one of the women said serenely.
"Until the night falls," Roland replied in a singsong tone.
The women exchanged glances and nodded, allowing him to pass through a scarlet-painted door. Inside, he was greeted by a white-haired woman with crimson-red eyes. The moment she saw him, she burst into laughter.
"Hahahahahah! I don't believe it! The young brat who used to come here for work came back!" she exclaimed, her tone both cheerful and mocking.
The woman lounged on a bed in a dress so revealing it barely covered her. Roland, however, maintained his composure, meeting her gaze without faltering.
"Greetings… Maria," he said with a faint smile.
"Oh, I remember when you used to call me Miss Maria," she teased, clearly enjoying the moment.
"… Yes. You were one of the few who took me in unconditionally," Roland replied, his voice softening.
"Spare me the lovey-dovey nonsense, my dear. I'm far too old to care now," Maria said, walking up to him and placing a hand on his face. "Look at you, all grown up…"
"I understand my arrival was abrupt, but I need your help," Roland said earnestly.
"Of course, my dear," Maria said with a sly smile, crossing her arms under her chest, accentuating her figure. "Say the word, and I'll help you—for the right price. With a discount."
Maria chuckled as Roland sighed.
"Of course. You haven't changed," he said.
"Money runs the world, my boy. Only fools fail to see that."
Roland opened his suitcase, revealing 9,500 euros. Maria's eyes widened, her curiosity piqued.
"What are you looking for so desperately to offer this much cash?"
"What can you tell me about my old friend, Leo?"
"Leo? Oh, that handsome, cheery bastard!" Maria laughed, but her expression quickly turned serious. "Don't mess with him, Roland. He's become a deadly assassin since moving to Paris."
"Let me handle him. Just give me the information, and I'll disappear so as not to cause you any trouble."
"Word on the street travels fast. Nothing escapes me," Maria said, her tone heavy with concern. "You're supposed to be dead, yet here you are… My girls spotted traces of Leo in Old Spandau."
"Thank you, Miss Maria," Roland said, turning to leave.
Before he could step out, Maria tossed him a gun, which he caught effortlessly.
"I know you're all about blades, but keep this as a memory of me. And if you get into trouble, I'll cash in a few favors to save your sorry ass."
Roland holstered the pistol on his hip and gave her a small smile before leaving.
Outside, Ensis emerged from his sword form.
"Who was that woman?" he asked.
"The only woman I can ever call mother," Roland replied softly.