What Patrick had ordered Chandler to do was to find a way to make contact with a competent information organization.
In his past life, the reason the brats from the Nine Great Sects and the Five Great Families were able to dominate the martial world was because the Beggars' Sect collected all sorts of information from under the heavens for them.
'That really was convenient. Just go to the Beggars' Sect kids and ask them to find something out, or find someone.
They'd do it all for you. How I envied them.' Although the Twin Dragon Sect was also part of the righteous path, the Beggars' Sect did not actively cooperate with them.
While they listened to every word from the Nine Great Sects or the Five Great Families, any request for information made in the name of the Twin Dragon Sect was accepted with payment, then pushed to the very bottom of the priority list. Sometimes, they would even say...
[Ah, that matter? We are still investigating. Please wait a bit longer.]
They would spout such nonsense. Of course, unable to stand by and watch such a spectacle, the Radiant Dragon Grandmaster, Jin Cheon, personally went and grabbed the Beggars' Sect leader by the collar, shaking him down and giving him a piece of his mind. As a result, he did manage to secure their cooperation.
‘In any case, I need information.’
The Schneider Fief was already a territory located in a remote region, practically an isolated backwater. It would be troublesome without someone to deliver proper information. That was why Patrick intended to make contact with an information organization and establish a connection now that he was in a large city.
“A thieves' guild. Are they any good?”
“Yes. They are very competent when it comes to handling information.”
“Thieves?”
“They are called the thieves' guild, but in truth, they also manage laborers who work in the lower rungs of society and tavern hostesses, not just thieves.”
“So it's a Underground Information Guild.”
"Pardon?"
“It’s a thing. Anyway, you’re saying their information network is trustworthy?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Well, fine. I’ll find out the details when I meet them in person.”
“Shall we go right now?”
“There’s no reason to hesitate.”
Late at night. Patrick left the inn, accompanied only by Chandler. The place the two of them arrived at was a shabby tavern in a dark back alley.
“This is it?”
“Yes. It may seem suspicious, but this is the right place.”
“No, it’s not suspicious. These kinds of people are always in places like this.”
“…”
“Now we go inside, order some strange item from the menu using a set password, and they'll recognize us as customers and respond accordingly. Is that how it goes?”
“How did you know?”
To the startled Chandler who asked back, Patrick sighed and said.
“No matter where people live, it’s all the same.”
“Pardon?”
"Never mind, let's go in.” Patrick opened the door himself and entered the tavern. Inside, men with grim faces sat at worn-out tables, drinking.
Young women who looked like inn maids were serving them drinks, and a man who appeared to be the bar master was wiping a glass with a calm expression.
‘Oh, the atmosphere is pretty convincing. By the book, a muscular bald guy should now start a fight with me, asking what a kid is doing in a tavern, right?’
“What’s this? Who brought a kid into a tavern?”
A muscular bald man scowled at Patrick and spoke. At that, Patrick sighed and said.
“Too by the book, isn't it?”
"Huh?"
Walking past the bewildered bald man, Patrick sighed and said.
“Whatever. Chandler.”
“Yes? Yes, young master.”
“Go ahead and order.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Unlike Patrick, who was bored by the overly common trope, Chandler seemed a bit scared, but he still tried to order as Patrick had told him. But before that…
“What? Are you ignoring me now?”
The muscular bald man once again blocked Patrick and Chandler’s path. Patrick stared intently at the bald man and said.
“Hey. Baldy.”
“…”
“This little brat…”
“You’ve been beaten up a lot for doing this, haven't you?”
For a moment, the bald man flinched. Then, with a look that said, ‘I knew it,’ Patrick spoke to the bald man.
"It’s obvious.
Your role is to be the one to pick a fight when a stranger comes in. That way, you serve as a benchmark to gauge the other party's skill and personality, right? Am I wrong?”
“Wha... what...”
“And if you’re unlucky and run into a master, your job is to get smacked in one hit, fly off, and crumple in a corner. That’s happened a lot, right? Right?”
“…”
In that moment, an indescribable pathos flowed from the bald man’s eyes. Patrick spoke to him with a look of understanding.
“Yeah. You think you’re doing this because you want to? You’re just doing it because you’re told.”
“Keuk…”
“It’s dirty and cheap, but what can you do? That’s how hard it is to make a living.”
"Sob, young master…”
“Still, if you live on, a good day will come, so cheer up. Don’t cry.”
“Yes. Thank you, young master.”
“Right, on your way. Keep up the good work.”
“Yes.”
After comforting one muscular bald man who was growing weary of his role as a small fry and feeling regretful about his life, Patrick sat down in front of the tavern’s master. He gave Chandler a look, and Chandler cleared his throat and said.
“Uh… that is, give me a drink that suits a black rose.”
“…”
The master said nothing. Normally, saying this should elicit a corresponding response, but right now, he was just looking at Chandler and Patrick with a dumbfounded expression. No, to be precise, he was looking at Patrick.
"What? No reaction?
Is the password wrong?”
“No, sir. I was told this was definitely correct. I even confirmed it.”
"Then why is this happening?” "I'm not sure myself…” Just then, the master spoke.
“Just what kind of brat are you?”
“Me? I’m someone who’s come to do business with the thieves' guild. Isn’t this the thieves' guild?”
“If you ask so openly, do you think anyone will say this is the thieves' guild?”
“…”
“Yeah. I think they will.”
“…”
"Am I wrong?"
“Fine, you’re right.”
In truth, it wasn't something to be hidden so extremely. The fact that this tavern was one of the contact points for the thieves' guild was something almost all the locals of Parmas knew.
‘Since it’s a widely known fact, Chandler must have been able to find it out in just a few days.’
How big of a secret could information be if an outsider could discover it in a matter of days? The existence and location of this contact point was what one would call an open secret. Knowing this, Patrick was acting this way.
“I need to entrust some work, so I need to meet your head honcho.”
At Patrick’s words, the master frowned and said.
“How arrogant.”
"Haaaah…."
“The Guild Leader is not someone brats like you can meet just because you want to.”
"Haaah…."
“It seems you kids don’t know how the world works… Snap!”
When the master snapped his fingers, the rough-looking men who appeared to be customers slowly rose, exuding an intimidating aura. Then the master spoke again.
“In this place…”
“Nobility and all that mean nothing. Our rules are what’s important. You were about to say something like that, right?”
“…Ahem, if you quietly…”
“If you leave quietly, we’ll at least spare your lives. You should count yourselves lucky, little brats. That’s what you were about to say, isn’t it?”
“…”
Looking at the speechless master, Patrick cracked his neck from side to side and said.
“Really, the things you guys do are the same everywhere I go.”
In a way, it was so familiar that he could feel a sense of nostalgia for his hometown after a long time. But that didn't change what Patrick had to do now.
“Well, it’s fine. I understand your position. If a little kid suddenly shows up and asks for a meeting with your boss, the usual answer would be ‘no.’ Hmm, no matter how I think about it, that’s normal and common sense. Isn't it?”
For a moment, everyone in the tavern unconsciously nodded. Patrick smiled brightly at them and said.
“I’ll say it again, I understand your position. But you see, I have my own position to consider.”
Seeing Patrick loosening up by rolling his shoulders and twisting his waist, Chandler stealthily backed away to the side. After observing Patrick for some time, Chandler now understood. He knew what that smile and those actions meant.
“I hope you all can understand as well. That there are no hard feelings whatsoever in the violence I am about to inflict upon you.”
At that, the tavern master shouted loudly.
“Crazy bastard! Boys, teach this kid a… Keok!”
The master, who was in the middle of speaking, had his head slammed right onto the bar table. And Patrick, gritting his teeth, said…
“Crazy bastard? Craaaazy baaastaaaard!”
Then he lifted the master’s head by his hair and said.
“You bastard. The eighteenth thing I hate most is someone calling me a crazy bastard to my face. You bastard!”
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The master’s head was relentlessly slammed against the table. As his consciousness grew hazy from the repeated impacts, he thought. 'He hates too many things.'
After tossing the unconscious master to the side, Patrick climbed onto the bar table, grabbed a bottle in each hand, and stood up. He looked at the hesitating giants and said with a sly smile.
“So, I guess we have to have a good old brawl, right?”
And Patrick beckoned with his finger and said.
“Come on, you bastards.”
“Ugh… Uwaaaaaah!”
“Get him!”
A short while later. The brutes who had rushed at Patrick were all collapsed and twitching on the floor. And Patrick stood alone amidst them with a refreshed expression and said.
“Keeeuh. This is it. I’ve mostly been fighting monsters lately, so I was starting to forget the sensation of beating up people.”
'That demon.' 'That demon.'
It was likely no coincidence that all the fallen men had the same thought. "There’s definitely a different flavor to smashing a bottle on a person's head compared to cutting down a monster with a sword.”
“Young master. Is it over now?”
Just then, Chandler, who had shrewdly kept his distance on one side, cautiously approached. Patrick, who was basking in the afterglow of violence and feeling pleased, shrugged his shoulders at Chandler’s words and said.
“Oh, yeah. I guess so.”
"As expected, you are amazing. To think you took down the entire thieves' guild by yourself.” Chandler spoke with pure admiration.
In fact, he had never thought Patrick would lose. Having seen him take down a giant Troll and dozens of goblins without a single hair out of place, what was there to worry about? The only surprising thing was how incredibly natural he looked trashing people in a tavern.
As if he had done it many times somewhere before. 'It must be my imagination. How could the young master, who is only ten, have ever done something like this?'
Chandler cleared his throat and said.
“Ahem, but young master. If you beat them all up like this, how will you make a request to the thieves' guild?”
"Ah, don't worry about that.
First…”
Patrick looked at the female waitresses trembling in a corner, and with a grin, he said. "Shall we have a sincere conversation?”
"Pardon?"
“You wait here.”
Saying so to the bewildered Chandler, Patrick went over to the female waitresses and abruptly grabbed one of them by the wrist.
“Kyaa!”
The waitress, a redhead with a slightly slender build, was a beauty who clearly stood out from the others around her. Patrick grabbed her wrist and pulled her along.
"E-Excuse me?”
“Let’s talk for a moment.”
“P-Please don’t do this.”
“There’s a room on the second floor here, right? We can go there.”
“Sob… Please…”
The woman sobbed as she was dragged away, held by Patrick's hand. Seeing this, Chandler was extremely flustered. Wasn't this the classic scene of a rogue young master and a poor maiden captured by him?
“Young master? What are you trying to do?”
“Just wait.”
Leaving the bewildered Chandler behind, Patrick took the red-haired waitress up to a room on the second floor. Now, who is the villain here?
"Kyaaaak!"
Patrick threw the waitress onto the bed, and she collapsed onto it. Then, wrapping her arms around herself, she trembled and said.
“P-Please don’t do this. I’m still young.”
“I’m younger.”
“…Ah…”
For a moment, a look that said, ‘That’s true,’ flickered across the waitress’s face. Then Patrick smirked and said.
“Besides, I have no interest in men.”
“…”
The moment she heard those words, the waitress’s expression turned icy cold. The fear and shame that had colored her expression all vanished, and in their place, a frosty chill lingered.