"Pathetic" Varn could only grumble as he watched the boy in the pit below fall for who knows how many times. The boy could no longer stand. He had already lost for the third time, and Varn himself had lost his money for the third time today.
The man beside Varn—an old man with a bulging belly, a bald head, and a neatly combed mustache—clapped him on the shoulder with an annoyingly familiar tone.
"I told you, young man, that boy's not worth betting on."
Varn shook his head. "I suppose luck just isn't on my side today." He dusted off his clothes from the dirt floating around in this filthy place. His clothes looked too expensive for this place—he wore a white shirt as the first layer, a black vest that showed his figure more clearly, and a long black coat. There weren't many accessories on him, but with just one look, people could tell he was a wealthy man.
Varn stood from his seat, adjusted his coat, and picked up the cane leaning against the side of the chair he had been sitting on.
"Where are you going?" the fat man asked, blinking in surprise. "There's still more fights coming up! Surely you won't miss the good ones?"
"A shame to leave, truly mate. But I believe it's time I claimed my money back."
"You're not going to beat up that boy just to get your money back, are you? That poor boy wouldn't even be able to pay you back, you know." The fat man looked at Varn warily. He had already sensed that the man sitting next to him was a little strange, but he hadn't expected him to be crazy enough to do something that cruel. Isn't he from a wealthy family? A little bit of money thrown into the pit shouldn't even make a strach in his wallet—or so he thought. Even though he enjoyed the matches and the gambling here, he still had a shred of morality.
"Maybe just a little," Varn gave a thin smile before turning around.
That poor, fat old man couldn't help but shiver after seeing that smile.
Oh, he really is mad.
***
In a dark hallway, Rennar cursed under his breath as a mouse sniffed at his feet.
"Dammit, I'm such a mess." He kicked the rodent as it tried to crawl in his worn-out boots. His entire appearance was terrible-his face was so bruised it was almost unrecognizable. He could taste the odor of blood in his mouth, and he was pretty sure his ribs were broken. Worst of all, he didn't get much money tonight either.
" Three times in a row, aye?" A voice echoed from within the shadows. A man leaned casually on a cane. Rennar couldn't see his face clearly, but the clothes he was dressed in were clearly the usual attire of the nobles.
"Do you have business with me, sir?"
Rennar steadied himself despite the pain in his body. He couldn't afford to be rude to a nobleman.
"Business? Yes. We've done business already, haven't we? Though I must say... it was a loss for me." The man's voice was deep and smooth, calm—almost like music to the ears.
Rennar grumbled. Ah, he must be one of the people who made a bet on me, he thought. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss, sir. I'm not in the best of condition tonight."
The man let out a quiet sneer. "An excuse won't change anything. A loss is a loss."
Rennar's patience began to crack. His eyes flickered with anger, though he managed to swallow it back. "Listen, sir. I understand that you're angry because you lost money to me. But it was a gamble — you can't blame me for that. And I don't have the money to pay you back."
"I'm not angry for the money I lost"
The man's tone remained calm as he stepped forward, finally emerging from the shadows. A handsome man, his face oozes noble grace yet he has a cold, smug, powerful look in his eyes. You can see there are a few scars on his face if you look at his face long enough, not severe scars, the most notable one is the scar that goes from the corner of his eye to his temple, whoever made that scar must have been aiming for his eye but he managed to avoid it. there is also a scar on his jaw, barely visible because he has shoulder length hair. If Rennar needed to guess his age it was probably around 35 years old or maybe younger, old enough to be his father, although Rennar had never actually seen his father in his entire life.
"I'm mad at you, you pathetic" The man snorted with scorn.
"Pardon?" Rennar took offense at his words, what did this man have that he dared to insult him. Of course from the looks of it he clearly had everything, but he clearly had no right to insult him.
"I told you, you're pathetic, weak, miserable" The man continued to speak, even adding other slurs that managed to cause Rennar to lose his temper.
"You have no right to say that about me! What do you know about me?!" Rennar grabbed the collar of the man who was a head taller than him, anger exploding inside him, his head was boiling which made his face which was already quite ugly due to being beaten even more disfigured. The man didn't budge, his gaze still condescending to Rennar, he looked at him like he was looking at a minor disturbance that wasn't enough to move him to action.
"All I know about you is how pathetic you are" He still continued his insults, unfazed by the anger of the young boy who was now glaring at him with hatred.
"You son of a bitch!" Rennar clenched his fists, he no longer cared, whether the man in front of him was a noble or just an ordinary rich man, this man deserved to be taught a lesson. Rennar raised his fist, he strode backwards preparing to throw his best shot.
He threw his punch.
But his fist hit nothing but air, Rennar stumbled forward. The man had disappeared in front of his eyes.
"what-?" Rennar panted, where is he? And before he could think further, there's a sudden weight behind him, a presence. Rennar didn't even have time to turn his head when he felt a sharp blow hit the back of his neck. His vision faded, his legs gave out, and Rennar fell to his knees. He desperately tried to refocus his eyes but it was no use, in the next second darkness engulfed his vision.