Now…Now, I know you all might be wondering what the fuck just happened here?
Here's the story: Albert had two storage facilities supposedly for storing stones. However, those storage units weren't just storing stones.
They were illegal fronts for slave trading.
Slave trading had long been banned in the Arcadia Empire, but underground slave trading occurred quite often. Once reported, though, you would be finished.
As for Albert, he wasn't part of a big organization or had powerful backing; his group was small and consisted of just a few weaklings who kidnapped newborns from orphanages and sold them to desperate families who didn't have children.
The location where they kept the children and erased their memories before selling them were these very secret warehouses.
GULP!
Albert swallowed hard as he stared at a frightening face that though smiling, emitted a dangerous vibe.
"Who are you? And what do you want?"
"Albert… We are all intelligent people, aren't we?" I patted him and smiled again.
Albert first shook his head in fear, then nodded.
"I want to enter storage and pick out some stones. As for payment.."
"What money? Everything is free? You can take whatever you want!" Albert blurted, maintaining a weary smile.
"Good, then lead the way."
With that, Albert led the way to the storage area.
As I stepped into the storage, the dim light flickered overhead, casting eerie shadows on the dusty walls.
The air was thick with dust, and the musty smell of old stone filled the space. Rows of large crates lined the walls, each marked with faded numbers. Smaller stones littered the floor, creating an uneven path, making it feel as if he was stepping into a forgotten vault, a place where secrets lay buried beneath layers of neglect.
Albert shuffled nervously behind me, his eyes darting from the towering stacks of stones to the shadowy corners of the room. "This is where we keep the goods," he muttered, trying to sound confident but failing miserably. "Most of the valuable stones are in the back."
As we ventured deeper, I could feel the atmosphere shift. The sound of hushed voices and clinking coins echoed from a corner, drawing my attention.
Turning to a corner, I saw a group of men huddled around a makeshift gambling table and a well-worn cloth spread over crates to form their betting ground.
At the center, a man held a stone high above his head
"Listen up, everyone!" he called out, excitement lacing his voice. "I'm betting this stone is worth something! Who's in?"
Murmurs rippled through the onlookers, some nodding enthusiastically while others frowned in skepticism.
The rules were simple: each person placed their bet on the stone, hoping it would yield something valuable—a precious gem, a fossil, or another hidden treasure. The person who guessed correctly or had the highest estimate would win the entire pool of bets.
A burly man stepped forward, tossing a handful of coins onto the table. "I'll give twenty for that stone!" he declared, his voice booming through the cramped space.
Another gambler quickly countered, "Twenty-five!"
The tension thickened as they haggled, the stakes rising higher with each bid. Albert watched nervously, clearly uncomfortable with the atmosphere being watched by me.
This was the previous group. People come here in batches and spend a fortune. I took part in these mini-games in Bloodborne sadly and kept on losing until I finally won and began the side mission which led to a major mission eventually.
I ignored the commotion and focused my attention back on my objective.
I scanned the rows of boxes, searching for a specific batch number that was etched in my memory.
It was part of the game, an obscure detail that had become crucial to my mission and as I walked, I recalled all the scenes that took place in here when I played the game.
"Albert, where are the boxes for Batch 42?" I asked sharply, cutting through the noise.
He blinked, taken aback by the urgency in my voice. "Uh, over there," he stammered, pointing toward the back of the room, where shadows loomed like specters.
I approached the designated area, the gambling table fading from view, replaced by stacks of crates marked with numbers that felt like a countdown, each one bringing me closer to what I sought. My mind raced as I started rummaging through the boxes like a horse, recalling every detail of the game I had played countless times before.
Finally, I picked out a few I remembered. While I didn't have a photographic memory, I knew the box number—and the valuable things inside it during the game.
I pulled open the first box, the creak of the wood sounding like a warning. Inside, a pile of ordinary stones, dull and lifeless. My eyes darted quickly, scanning for the familiar number. Shifting two large stones over the top, my fingers brushed against a big, rounded egg-shaped stone.
"Got it!"
My eyes lit up with excitement as I carefully pulled the egg-shaped stone. It felt cold against my skin, but I knew this was the one.
"Albert come here," I murmured.
Like a slave, Albert snuck closer.
"Pack this and all that—carefully. I will be taking it," I ordered.
_____
"Come again later!" Albert called as I walked away, waving his hand cheerfully, but his face screamed, 'Please don't come back ever.'
"Don't worry, I am not reporting you!"I assured him though he didn't believed me.
However, I am telling truth.There was no need to waste my time over petty things.Moreover, they mostly steal from orphanage and churches then sold to adopt.
I used a rag to tie up the things over my shoulder and headed toward the bar.
"Hmm, here it is!"
The heavy wooden door of the bar groaned as I pushed it open. Soft red light spilled out like an inviting hand, drawing me in.
Inside, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of smoke and the scent of cheap spirits, illuminated by the flickering glow of neon signs. Tables were scattered throughout, most occupied by shadowy figures engaged in hushed conversation, their faces obscured by a haze of smoke.
"Welcome! What'll it be?" the bartender asked, his cheerful tone contrasting sharply with the grim surroundings.
I leaned against the counter, glancing around before replying. "I'm not here to drink. I am here for the dealer."
His cheerful expression dimmed and his eyes narrowed slightly. After assessing me for a moment, he nodded and rang a small bell.
"You are number six. Please head upstairs and wait in line." He said and slid a small metal plate across the bar.
I picked it up, the cool metal feeling oddly reassuring in my hand, and made my way to the upper floor.
The second floor was quieter, the buzz of conversation from the floor below was replaced by the muffled sounds of distant laughter and clinking glassware. The walls were adorned with faded posters, remnants of a more glamorous past. Plush benches lined the room, giving an almost surreal sense of elegance.
I found my spot on a side bench and settled before taking in my surroundings. A few servants flitted about, offering drinks to patrons. One approached me, a tray laden with vibrant cocktails and highballs. "Can I get you something?" she asked, her smile friendly but rehearsed.
"Just a Coke, please," I replied. Surprise flicked across her face before she nodded and hurried off, returning moments later with a chilled glass.
I savored the refreshing sweetness as I took a sip, the dizziness cutting through my nerves.
"Thank God, at least this world has coke," I muttered under my breath.
The past three days had been a whirlwind except for training and observation of the society. He knew of all the upper things in the game but lacked the incoherent knowledge of culture and other things about history.
The society here was strange; the technology resembled modern Earth, a bit advanced due to magic filling out the part where science fell short. Overall it was a fascinating but dangerous world.
At the very least, you won't find Gen Z barking and cursing each other's parents and ancestral generations over social media for petty matters.
I waited patiently, my heart ticking in time with each minute that passed. Finally after what felt like an eternity—thirty minutes, to be exact—the bell chimed again, signaling that my number had been called.
"Sir, you are next."
"Umm!" I stood up and made my way toward the dealer.
The room fell quiet as I approached, the whispers dying down as curious eyes followed my every move.
The dealer sat behind a small table, his sharp suit immaculate, complete with a tilted hat that cast a playful shadow over his eyes. A mischievous smile danced on his lips, giving him a look that was equally charming and unsettling.
"Ah, number six! Right on time," he said, his voice smooth like silk. "What brings you to my humble domain?"
I placed the egg-shaped stone on the table, its cold surface stark against the worn wood. "I want to sell this—and everything else I have," I replied, gesturing to the bag still slung over my shoulder.
His smile widened, a spark of interest sparking in his eyes. "Selling? Well, let's see what treasures you've got in that bag of yours." His playful demeanor transformed into focused curiosity as he leaned forward.
I unwrapped the rag, revealing the collection of stones.
"Huh! Variety of stones? Are all these treasures?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I don't know," I replied, meeting his gaze. "But I know you can tell."
His smile disappeared for a moment upon hearing this, but returned, this time sharper. "What do you mean by that?"
"Use those X-ray eyes of yours," I said, my tone steady.
"…"