Demonic Trade

"Mister Brut. I am not joking when I say that I can offer you a product beyond your wildest dreams. You don't want to turn me down."

"Hm? A scam? How many times do you think I've heard that line before over the course of my life?"

"Your own grandson introduced me. Doesn't that contain at least some sort of merit in your eyes?"

"Hmph." Scoffing, John shook his head. "Maybe if he had really shaped up I would have given you a chance, but as he is now I can't say I'm the slightest bit interested."

While John said that though, Randolph knew he was lying. Despite how nonchalant he was acting, he at least held the slightest bit of caution towards the young man. Otherwise, he simply wouldn't have responded the moment he picked his tablet back up.

"Don't you want to gain at least a little more for your children or grandchildren before you pass? It's not to mention that I can essentially guarantee both the value and demand for my product."

Walking to the window, Randolph pulled out a chair before plopping down heavily on it. His attitude showed that he had no intention of giving up any time soon.

"And who exactly is going to do this guaranteeing?" Seeing this, John only gave him a dismissive glance. "I've done more than my fair share for those little wallops. It's my time to rest, I've done enough."

Nodding internally, Randolph found his words reasonable. He held a sound argument, but Randolph knew his weakness as an old worker under him.

"What about Trevor? Maybe you've done enough, but isn't this his chance to succeed? We both know he doesn't have the financial power to rise up, if you were to invest in me, it would be under his merit too."

John continued typing away at his tablet as he listened, but his fingers slowed down and began tapping absentmindedly. It was clear to Randolph that he had caught on.

"Connections are also an integral part of power, even if you're his relative. He'll have a slice of the pie. Who knows, maybe this can be the start he needs for his career."

The young man knew very well that, while he didn't fully display it, John cared greatly for his descendants. But he was an upstanding man, different from his son and grandson.

He knew of Trevor's greed and narrow-minded personality, it was why he had decided to set him to work under Randolph, hoping that the young man's hard-working personality and the harsh working conditions would change him.

It was a similar test that he had put his son through, or so Randolph had heard from Ryan. The only difference was that Trevor had never caught on.

If he had shown even the slightest hint of potential or change then he wouldn't have been stuck in such a state as the son of a factory owner.

While it wasn't a large factory, it still ran enough operations and dealings for it to be called a small company.

"Hm… You mentioned that this product of yours was guaranteed for success. Tell me, is there any trustworthy name for you to bank this on?" Taking off his glasses again, John placed the tablet to the side.

"You'll understand once you know what it is."

"Go on, impress me."

"What I want to sell you is simply put, lifespan." Leaning forward in his seat, Randolph put his fingers together as he carefully observed the old man's reaction.

"…What?" As expected, it was one of incredulity.

"It's exactly as it sounds. You will pay me a lump sum of money, and in return I will allow you to live past a death of old age."

"What do you mean to say? Some new sort of drug perhaps? Or do you get some twisted pleasure out of poking fun at a man on his deathbed?"

"You don't have to overthink it, I mean exactly what it sounds like. This lifespan comes with no strings attached. If nothing goes awry, you'll live to see even Trevor's children. Even his grandchildren."

"You make it sound nice, but I don't believe your nonsense. Though, I also don't believe that you've come all the way here just to enrage me. Tell me, and don't beat around the bush, what do you really want?"

Hearing John bring up these questions, Randolph nodded internally. Seeing as to how the man was still listening to him, without having lost his patience, he realized that he had made the correct choice in coming to him.

"…" Rubbing his forehead, Randolph let out a sigh.

Reaching up to his face, he grabbed onto the mask and pried it off gently. As he did so, his solid features were revealed to the old man before him.

"…Randolph?"

 "You asked me who would guarantee the product, John. Do you believe me when I say it's real?"

"…" Stumped, John scratched his head in surprise.

The last time he had seen the young man was several months ago when he had fully retired from his overseer position.

"I've worked with you for… what was it, five or six years? I'll stake all of those words on this, John. Do you believe I would come here to scam you or lie to you?"

"…"

Indeed, he was quite familiar with the young man. He was familiar with both his past and his personality, as a man who had been working under John for several long years. He was a hard-worker and highly competent, a man who had caught even that stubborn Wilks' eye. He was the last person John had expected to see under the mask.

"With all of our relations over the past few years… I can choose to at least hear you out."

"Great." Nodding his head, Randolph's expression relaxed slightly. "Don't ask how the process will happen, you'll know when we begin."

"Just because I'm listening to you does not mean I'm a pushover, Randolph."

"Of course, but the process isn't what's important right now anyway. Come on now, John. I know you're acting strong, but you don't have the luxury to just shrug off my offer like that."

"…"

"You can pretend all you like, but even you should know better than I where you are on your rope."

"Hmph." The old man harrumphed coldly, but he didn't deny the accusation.

John was unsatisfied, and it was quite obvious. While he seemed content with his situation, he was just lying in a private hospital room waiting to die. Would anyone be content with that?

In a manner of speaking – despite all his wealth, his luxury, his factory, and his happiness – he was just like Randolph. A man at the end of his rope, but he could do nothing about his own circumstances.

What else did he have left to lose? It was worth a shot if nothing else.

As such, his gaze on Randolph was a solemn on. Straightening up in his bed, he gained a certain gravitas1 – one that a man in a position of authority should have – as he turned towards the young man.

In the hospital room, near the dead of night, the two desperate men began bargaining for their lives.