Season 3 chapter 63
The Uncle's Identity
Kniya completely ignored Mantouse's aggressive performance, raising his voice to cut straight through the lingering echoes in the subterranean room.
"Listen to me, you singing idiot," Kniya lectured loudly, leaning forward on the sofa. "Clist Vinton is literally the brother of Filoska's biological dad. So in direct relation, he is an uncle to Filoska. You know about Filoska. Have you ever heard of her?"
Mantouse Adeius stopped tapping his boots mid-dance, panting slightly as he dropped his arms. He looked back at Kniya with a highly vulgar, completely unfiltered smirk.
"I absolutely don't know about Filoska," Mantouse shrugged lazily. "I don't know her at all. But if you let me spend one night with her, you know. Yeah, and why you guys think that you know I don't know anything about royal family you know I was the one told you about the portion and everything else so how do you expect me to not know anything about Royal family, what the fuck are you really explaining me.. I was the one who told you.."
Kniya didn't even blink, his immature baseline shrugging off the comment entirely.
"I could allow you, know, there is absolutely no problem with that for me, and yeah I got this thing now! Yeah you are right, yeah I just totally forgot that you know you some classified secrets about royal family related to the bottle of that fucking portion, but I thought you know you might not know about Clist or the thing like that you know their structure, So I just told you about that!," Kniya agreed nonchalantly. "But I don't think you have any protection with you right now. Plus, she isn't really well at the moment. Taking a bullet makes people highly irritable."
Before Mantouse could even reply to the unhinged authorization, Malesh smoothly wound up his arm and delivered a heavy, uncompromising punch straight to the side of Kniya's face.
THWACK.
The sheer kinetic force knocked Kniya completely off the leather cushions. He sprawled hard onto the safehouse floorboards, his bespoke tailored coat gathering dust as he clutched his jaw in whiny, dramatic outrage.
"Ow! Why, Malesh, why did you do that?!" Kniya squawked from the ground, glaring up at his best friend. "You are literally the biggest playboy in the capital, and I know perfectly well that you have some kind of crush on Filoska! Well, actually, it is not just Filoska, it is on literally every girl!"
Malesh's exhausted deadpan mask briefly cracked into pure, genuine exasperation. He leaned over the armrest, glaring down at Kniya.
"You fucking idiot," Malesh snapped sharply. "Just have some basic common sense about what you are speaking. Don't let every fucking thing come out of your mouth, you idiot. Have some sense."
Mantouse leaned against the mahogany table, thoroughly enjoying the internal chaos.
"Yeah, Kniya, it is definitively true," Mantouse trolled smoothly, pointing an accusing finger at the sofa. "Malesh, you absolutely should not have bad eyes on your friend's circle. You need to be really, really good. You should not leave bad impressions on your friends like a creeping street vendor."
Malesh slowly sat back against the leather sofa, aggressively rubbing his face with both hands in profound, soul-deep exhaustion.
"You two are literally like one single shared brain cell," Malesh groaned flatly. "What the fuck can I even say to you fucking idiots? Mantouse is the guy who explicitly states if you let him spend one night with her, and Kniya is the guy directly saying, 'I could allow, use protection.' What the absolute fuck? And now the two of you are sitting there lecturing me about having bad eyes on girls?"
The Island Rumors
Kniya scrambled back onto the sofa, aggressively brushing the dirt off his lapels to restore his CEO authority.
"Whatever!" Kniya dismissed loudly. "Look, Mantouse, I want to tell you the actual value and strength of the eight great families."
Mantouse rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with uncompromising defiance. "Well, I actually don't care. I don't give a shit about the fucking eight great families or your fucking shiny ass."
"Hey, you fucking idiot, I never talked about my fucking shiny ass!" Kniya shouted back, thoroughly offended. "You are so confident, Mantouse, but you simply don't know the strength of the eight great families."
"Well, Kniya, I think you don't know the strength of mine, actually," Mantouse boasted coldly, his eyes narrowing. "They are nothing to me at all. The entire Royal Family is nothing to me at all."
Mantouse leaned forward, dropping his voice into a serious register.
"And there is one more thing that I want to tell you right now," Mantouse revealed. "One of the primary DI military bases just got attacked by some terrorist organization, or whatever it is, and it got totally obliterated."
Malesh instantly shifted back into his uncompromising deadpan baseline, locking his dark eyes onto the shadow commander.
"Can you please actually tell us the exact name of the island, what specific event happened at that place, and exactly why you know about these things?" Malesh interrogated flatly.
Mantouse waved his hand dismissively, entirely evading the core logistics. "I don't know about the fucking islands as much. And listen to me, my name is not Mantouse Detective, it is Adeius. So yeah, I don't know anything else."
Kniya let out a loud, highly obnoxious scoff.
"Why the hell are you talking like that if you don't know anything?" Kniya mocked ruthlessly. "You are acting exactly like those cheap gossip rumors that don't know the actual details, and you are just telling outside, vague information to us. It has absolutely zero value. You are telling me some kind of base got destroyed. What the fuck do we have to do with that? I don't give a fuck if the fucking base got destroyed, I really don't give a fuck."
The Literary Critique
Kniya suddenly paused, a malicious, highly immature spark lighting up in his eyes as he pivoted the conversation entirely.
"Well, Mantouse, I do need to tell you one thing," Kniya remarked smoothly. "In one of the fantasy novels which I was reading recently, there was a specific detective guy who was named exactly like you."
Mantouse's hardened syndicate exterior instantly melted. Highly flattered, he puffed out his chest and looked away, whispering softly to himself with absolute quiet pride: "Hah. I was the author of that novel."
"But you know actually what happened after that?" Kniya grinned evilly. "The demon lord fucked him. Badly. It was a horrific ending."
Mantouse's head snapped back around, pure horror crossing his face. "Kniya, you fucking idiot, what are you actually reading?! Gay novels?!"
"It is absolutely not a gay novel!" Kniya defended loudly. "The demon lord was female."
Mantouse stared at him, utterly bewildered. "Then what the fuck happened?! Pegging?!"
"Yeah, I think pegging would have happened," Kniya nodded sagely. "It was highly descriptive."
Sitting right beside him, Malesh simply stared blankly at the opposite wall, thoroughly questioning every single life decision that had led him to sharing a room with these two.
"Well, yeah, so whatever has happened," Mantouse spat, his face flushing red with absolute disgust. "You guys, do not talk to me about your fucking degenerate novels, Kniya."
The Multi-Trillion Credit Demand
Thoroughly humiliated by the literary detour, Mantouse Adeius's eyes turned lethal. He stepped point-blank up to the sofa, pointing an uncompromising finger straight at Kniya's chest to deliver an absolute, nuclear historical roast.
"Listen to me," Mantouse growled ruthlessly. "When you guys were in your starting phase, I was the absolute one who provided you with your very first monetary assets and those two fucking island deeds to help you off to start your business! I also provided you the exact coordinates to kill those fucking terrorists off so that you could take the credit of saving the daughter of your college dean, you fucking idiots! And now you are regarding me like I'm a piece of shit, you idiots. You are nothing to me, you idiots!"
Kniya leaned back, throwing his hands up in sheer, theatrical mockery. "Oh, wow, I am so scared! I don't give a fuck, you idiot!"
Instantly, the room devolved into absolute verbal warfare.
"I will literally shove those early investment deeds straight down your throat until you choke on the dry ink, you ungrateful little loudmouth!" Mantouse shrieked, slamming his fist on the table.
"Try it, you tattered street vendor!" Kniya fired back obnoxiously, jumping up from the cushions. "You'd probably start hyperventilating and sweating through your tattered overcoat before you even clear the desk!"
"You absolute degenerate! Keep reading your weird pegging literature while I manage the actual geopolitical fallout across the continent!"
"Keep hiding behind hospital pillars from entry-level compounders, you absolute coward!"
Before Mantouse could unholster a sidearm to settle the argument physically, Malesh smoothly stood up and intervened directly between them. His dark eyes were calm, his delivery an unyielding, deadpan anchor.
"Well, Mantouse," Malesh stated flatly, entirely ignoring the shouting. "We want a loan of one hundred trillion credits."
Kniya instantly whipped around, cutting his best friend off mid-breath with sheer CEO outrage.
"What the fuck, Malesh?!" Kniya yelled loudly. "You barely have a single 100-credit note sitting in your pocket right now, and you are literally sitting here asking for a hundred trillion credits?! No, no, Mantouse, ignore him. We only need a loan of thirty trillion credits. That is more than enough. He's just an absolute idiot."
Malesh casually adjusted his bespoke cuffs, entirely unbothered by the public correction. "Yeah, yeah, it was thirty trillion. I just forgot the exact baseline numbers."
Kniya narrowed his eyes, glaring point-blank at his business partner with uncompromising aristocratic judgment.
"Don't forget your actual standing, Malesh," Kniya reprimanded coldly.