The cunning NPC and the return of the gang leader (part 2)

The room itself was decorated rather lavishly with tapestries and paintings all over the walls, even though most of the windows were boarded up.

In the very middle of the room, there was a long table made out of expensive wood with matching chairs on both sides.

At the very end of that table sat a rather annoyed-looking dark-blond-haired skinny man in elegant clothes that looked expensive and were put on slovenly. His ears were pierced in many spots by thin gold rings that must have weighed a lot when put together.

Medea entered the room, and the door was immediately closed by the pair of thuggish guards.

"Long time no see, mister Oliver."

"..."

The hooded boy nodded at the dark-blond-haired man, but that seemed to only piss him off a lot more.

"Take that shit off."

The dark-blond-haired man grimaced and spat through his teeth, making one of the thugs approach Medea from behind and pull down his hood, revealing the dark-blond wig on a serious-faced boy's head.

"I've heard rumors that you were impersonating me, brat, but to come back and see it with my own two eyes... Fucking unbelievable."

Oliver scoffed furiously, glaring hatefully at Medea's wig.

"Mister, there has been a misunderstanding."

"Hoo? How so?"

The boy in the dark-blond wig and the dark-blond-haired man looked at each – the boy was calm and serious while the man was seething with anger as if he waited for a reason to tear him limb from limb.

"I merely wanted to hide my original black hair without making any changes to my everyday appearance that would make it suspicious to the people I meet regularly, and this wig was already in my possession - you know that I am frugal with money, so I haven't bought another one or spent money on dyeing it."

Medea took off the wig and smacked it a few times as if wanting to dust it off, using the opportunity to look away from the bright-red-faced Oliver.

"I never used your name when interacting with people either. If someone did mistake me for you... well, that's clearly on their lack of perception... or they could just ask to clear things out."

The boy added and... put the wig back on despite it clearly irking off the dark-blond-haired man.

"Tsk. So you say, but you clearly made yourself at home in my territory."

Oliver clicked his tongue, and the hateful look in his eyes only grew in intensity.

"Mister, you made the correct choice and fled the town after that carpenter got cold feet and tried to back off from the deal. Our men were scared and ready to follow after you instead of holding the fort. Someone had to do something so you could have a place to return to like you currently did."

"That bastard Gregory just wanted a bigger cut! I-I was summoned by one of the big bosses from the capital! It had nothing to do with me being scared!"

Medea explained with a straight face, not showing either contempt or boot-licking – which, funnily enough, made Oliver flinch and back off defensively.

"And speaking off! Do you have any idea how many people got pissed off when the shady merchant disappeared?! What's worse, his royal trading permit was returned to the fucking guards!"

Not wanting to address his fault for the situation Medea brought up, Oliver shifted the topic to another event that happened during his supposed business trip to see one of the big fishes of the criminal world.

"..."

"What? Cat got your tongue?! Everyone knows that he disappeared in this shithole town!"

The serious-faced boy stayed silent, looking straight at the suddenly triumphant man that sounded nauseatingly proud of himself for making a good point.

"I wasn't saying anything because the motives behind returning the royal trading permit are obvious. And those same reasons are also why all those people that claim to be angry didn't do a thing to punish our little group for dealing with the idiot who couldn't be even a decent decoy anymore."

Medea closed his eyes for a moment as if he was thinking – or rolling his eyes conspiciously – and declared without a change in his voice or expression.

"...huh...?"

"..."

Oliver was clearly taken aback by such a response, but Medea didn't clarify things any further, looking the gang leader in the face.

"You fucking brat...!"

As it became clear that the boy with the dark-blond wig would not explain himself, the dark-blond-haired man clenched his fists and returned to being angry.

"You were lucky I got you in on that potion maker's recommendation! You were a fucking errand boy, and that's what you will be now that I'm back!"

Oliver roared, standing up and trying to glare down at Medea, but it was a hard task to do when the difference in height was only two inches in his favor.

"I understand. As an errand boy, I would like to report that young Miss Ava requested our group's cooperation."

"What the...?! That little bitch from the mansion...?! Since when is she dealing with us?!"

Medea didn't show any negative emotion and instead nodded his head in acceptance and reported, causing Oliver to almost choke on his own spit as the request was conveyed to him.

"After you... urgently responded to the summons of the big boss from the capital... and we secured the carpenter so he would not blab out everything... young Miss Ava was the first person that decided to pay for protection and has been continuing doing so ever since."

Medea answered, hesitating for a moment as he tried not to use words like flee or escape.

"Ha...! Ahaha! So, in the end, it's all because of my original plan to scare those idiots into paying for protection! How much are we charging them? Small gold coin? Big gold coin?!"

Oliver's face twitched, and he leaned back before bursting out into a peal of laughter before smacking his knee and asking with a greedy expression plastered all over his face.

"One big silver a month."

"You fucking idiot!"

The boy answered, and the man shouted furiously while reaching to the side as if searching for an object he could throw at him.