Chapter 7

Luke whirled around and came face to face with a group of five thugs wearing loose, frayed clothes and brandishing iron rods with sharpened edges. The one who'd spoken had an eyepatch and a scar on his chin that almost split it in half.

They headed straight for him, as if fully expecting no resistance whatsoever after their declaration. Luke had a different idea, though.

'Debt? Motherfucker, debt collectors are after me?! Is this karma for all those times I broke bones to collect debts? Still, there's no way I'm letting my blood get drained for a debt I don't even know about!'

He raised his hand as they came closer, putting on the most non-confrontational face he could muster. "Wait a minute, folks!" he said with a casual tone. "Can we talk about this?"

They didn't even pause. The five looked like they were used to pleas like this. Luke cursed inwardly as he definitely didn't want to get into a fight. It wasn't that he couldn't take them on; using Dain, he was confident that he might take them down, but the problem was that he knew what might happen next.

'Soldiers are valued here, so I don't think they are running a scam. That means the previous owner of this body really does need to pay up, so beating these guys up will involve the authorities.'

That couldn't happen, so Luke thought quickly. He'd been on the thugs' side of this confrontation so many times that he knew exactly what they must be thinking, so the beginnings of a plan came to him in a flash.

"Look, you just need blood, right? How much? I was injured in battle, you know, and Lord Whitmore visited me personally."

He had spun his words carefully so that no lie would be found even if what he was saying was repeated. The lord had visited him, after all, even though he hadn't been awarded anything monetary.

By now, the minutiae of the economy were becoming clearer in his head. If blood was the main currency, then one could pay with their body. With blood, one could buy food, yet food was also needed for someone to stay healthy and remain in a state to give away blood. So was there some sort of a balance in the exchange rate which prevented someone from just living life by using their blood to eat? Or was that also a viable way of life, here?

"Oh? We didn't hear about that. According to the terms of your agreement, you were supposed to pay four bloodseeds a week ago, so we're here to collect enough to fill these, " the scarred thug replied, finally coming to a halt right in front of Luke. Putting a hand in his pocket, he took out four of those inky balls and shoved them in front of Luke's face.

'Four bloodseeds. Each one holds five measures of fifty milliliters, so they were going to draw a liter of blood from me! That's a lot!'

Calculating in his head, Luke sucked in a breath. He'd learned torture from a master, and the man had told him exactly how much blood someone could lose before it became life-threatening. Losing a liter wouldn't really kill him, but it would put him in a weakened state for weeks. Besides, he would have to go back into the army in a week where he might have to face off against more of those damn roaches, so giving in here and letting them take the blood was practically the same as signing his own death warrant.

'No way. Looks like it's time to take a risk.'

Pointing to the biggest thug whose potbelly was straining on the buttons of his red shirt, he put on an apologetic expression.

"Can he come inside and help? I hid the bloodseeds, and I need his help to move aside some stuff to get to it."

The scarred thug's brows drew down. "Really? Then why don't we all come in and help?" he asked, clearly suspecting something.

Luke had been expecting a question like that, so he was prepared. "There's not enough space. And you know I'm an honorable soldier who's just fallen into hard times. Why are you being so suspicious?" he demanded, folding his hands and curling his lips into a scowl.

The thug's face blanched, as if he was remembering something that he would rather keep stuffed away. "Sorry, it's my job to suspect everyone. Jonas, go with him," he said, and Luke inwardly sighed with relief.

'Lucky guess. Soldiers typically don't hesitate to take on debts to drink or fuck, and it looks like this guy was too hard on one of them and got his nose bloodied as a result.'

Jonas the big red thug followed Luke as he walked to the doorstep and paused. It would look suspicious if he tried to open the door and it turned out to be locked, but he didn't know what else he could do.

"There's a key under the floorboard to your left, sir," chirped Dain, and Luke swore to thank the boisterous guy as soon as he was done with these debt collectors.

Bending, he extracted the key which hadn't been hidden perfectly. All the houses in this row had small porches whose railings creaked in the forlorn mid-day breeze. If he'd gotten down on his knees and searched with his face to the floor, he might have spotted it, but of course, then he would have risked being reported as a burglar.

The key was so simple that he was confident he could have picked the lock in barely a minute if required. As the door creaked open, a musty smell wafted out, making both him and the thug cover their noses.

The inside of the house was just as derelict as the outside. There was just a single room, with a bed folded to the wall on one side and a makeshift kitchen to his right with a coal stove and a cupboard that held battered utensils. Light fell through the only window above the bed, which meant that the rest of the house was quite dim. The only other furnishings inside were a single chair with one arm and a closet with one door hanging on its hinges.

'Fuck. How destitute am I?'

While the thug looked around with probably the same question on his mind, Luke walked to the closet and opened the door, taking in the meager belongings stored inside. He'd been wondering whether there was even a chance that the real Lucander had put away bloodseeds to pay these guys, but what he found inside clarified this doubt.

"Moneylender's Guild- Four bloodseeds due. I have 0. Will need to escape their notice until I can find a way to earn them," said a note nailed to the inner wall of a large, open shelf.

"What do I need to move?" The big guy asked with a surprisingly high-pitched voice. Shaking his head, Luke turned around as he now knew that he had no other choice. Without replying, he walked to the kitchen and made sure that there was no way the thugs inside could look at him. He waved over the thug while eyeing the heavy, archaic iron stove as he was considering moving it, and the moment the guy walked closer, he turned around in a flash.

The big guy was squinting due to the low light inside. He didn't hear Luke's whisper which asked Dain to aid his punch and he didn't see the fist flying at his chin until it was too late. His face filled with shock, then went slack as he collapsed to the floor, and Luke caught the metal rod before it fell to the ground and gave away what had just happened.

'One strike knockout! World Champion Luke does it again!'

Chuckling to himself, he rummaged in the cupboard and found a knife fashioned out of a black shard of metal. Standing over the thug, he hesitated, then decided to take Dain's help.

"I need to find a place where I can cut him and collect blood, but he shouldn't be able to touch it no matter how much he bends," he muttered while searching for a bowl big enough to hold a liter of liquid.

"Wow! Genius, sir! I must say, I feel privileged to be your D.A.I.N! You're going to give them his blood and say it's yours! Because of his size, he won't even suspect a thing!"

"Bingo," Luke nodded, the corner of his mouth hooking up.

"I can guess you asked hoping that the answer is a vein on the back which he won't be able to reach, sir, but in fact, the best option is the normal spot where blood is collected on Earth. The wound closes up in barely a few minutes and is almost undetectable afterward. Using one of the nails in the cupboard, I can control your hand and use the exact force necessary to create just the right puncture," Dain said, his voice still tinged with awe.

"Do it."

…

Thirty minutes later, Luke walked out of the house along with Jason, patting the big thug's hand with a commiserating look on his face.

He'd delayed the rest by making loud sounds inside and occasionally coming out to give updates. Fifteen minutes ago, he'd announced that he was a bloodseed short, so he would collect that blood and hand over everything at once.

Hefting the bowl filled to the brim with sloshing red liquid carefully, the scarred thug eyed Jason suspiciously.

"What happened to him?" he asked, and Luke answered before the question was fully even out of his mouth.

"He slipped and hit his head on the stove. Poor guy."

Jason was still dazed from being pushed into the land of dreams so unceremoniously. It'd been easy to convince him of what had happened as Luke had been fast enough not to let the big guy get a clear glimpse of his fist.

Jason rubbed at his right wrist, and Luke had to swallow down a curse. He tensed, worrying that all his precautions would be for naught, but thankfully, the big guy just shrugged and started massaging his thigh.

"He hit the floor pretty hard," Luke sighed, and the scarred thug finally nodded.

'Haha! So kicking him with all my might was both cathartic and useful.'

"We will be back next month. Keep the payment ready," said the scarred thug gruffly while fishing out the bloodseeds from his pockets.

He threw them in the bowl and Luke watched on, fascinated, while the four little balls drank in the blood like ravenous black holes. Barely a drop was left in just a few seconds, and with a grunt, the guy picked them up and thrust the bowl into Luke's waiting hands.

They left without another word, and Luke waved cheerfully. The moment they disappeared down an alleyway nearby, his shoulders slumped. He'd had enough of the rollercoaster of tension and mystery he'd been tied on to, and all he wanted to do was take down that bed inside and take a nice nap.

As he turned around and started to walk to the house to do just that, a voice reached his ears.

"You settled their debt. What about mine?"

He turned to his left, ready to use his fists as he was just about done playing safe, but he froze when he came face-to-face with the young, blonde soldier who'd saved his life on that battlefield.

'Fuck fuck fuck fuck. I would rather deal with those thugs again than have to talk to this guy. How do I stop him from becoming convinced that I've lost my mind? I'm in a pickle, now!'