"Beat him to death!"
"Break his legs!"
"Hit him!"
"Filthy thief!"
The East District of Backlund was always surrounded by an unsettling atmosphere. Fights, robberies, and even murders in the street were never all that fresh.
Snow was dressed in jeans and a checkered shirt,attire that should have been very ordinary for the working class. Yet, complemented by his handsome face, it made him as conspicuous as a male model stepping off the cover of a fashion magazine.
Someone like this appearing in the East District would usually disappear within half an hour. Perhaps a month or two later, one might find him in the basement of some high noble or a special room in the old pleasure district.
At this moment, however, not a single one of those desperate souls,who would have sold their own mothers for a bit of coin,even entertained the thought of making a move. This wasn't because the peaked cap on his head concealed his features, nor because the East District gangs had all gone bankrupt. It was because they simply didn't perceive anything unusual about Snow.
Although he didn't yet know the true name of the 'transparency that everyone thinks they can see through' ability, it possessed an effect similar to psychological invisibility. While it couldn't completely erase his presence, it could implant the thought of "this is just a passerby" into the mind of anyone who saw him.
Thus, never mind having a handsome face; even if he were dressed like a colorful comic book character, no one would think it the least bit strange.
He moved through the streets of Backlund's East District like a ghost, searching for a suitable target.
Soon, he saw a youth,a youth like a stray dog. His right hand hung limply, and judging by his swollen forearm, it had been injured for some time. He had a large build and traces of muscle lines on his body, but his skin lacked luster and his cheeks were somewhat gaunt. He didn't seem to be the type who had been unable to afford food since childhood, but rather someone who had recently begun to starve. He had several obvious scars on his body, but they appeared old and weren't caused at the same time as his arm injury.
'He's the one.' Snow took several steps forward. Only when he had closed the distance to about five meters did he suddenly speak: "Are you very hungry?"
The youth didn't acknowledge him. He angrily kicked a pile of trash and continued toward the next alley entrance. Clearly, he hadn't found anything to eat.
This was normal, however. This was the East District, after all. Any edible scraps, even from families wealthy enough to throw them away, would have been long since snatched up by experienced hands. Someone new like him probably didn't even know where such "wealthy households" were, so how could he possibly find food?
"What if I said I'm willing to treat you to a meal until you're full?"
Snow didn't close the distance further, but spoke in a very casual tone. The man turned his head, looking at Snow with the wary eyes of a stray dog. He frowned and asked, "What do you want?"
"I'm just curious about your background." Snow spread his hands and pointed toward an ordinary-looking cafe at the corner.
Although it was called a cafe, few who entered went there for coffee. Why not call it a restaurant?
Perhaps it was the last bit of reserve the Loen people possessed.
Gulp... The youth looked at the cafe and understood Snow's meaning. Though he was very suspicious of the man's purpose, considering he hadn't eaten for three days, he ultimately could only compromise with his own weakened body.
He swallowed hard, made an expression that suggested he had given in, and obediently followed behind Snow into the cafe.
Snow ordered a large portion of the local specialty,stewed lamb with tender peas,along with two loaves of bread and some seasonal vegetables. The entire table was filled, yet it cost only one sol.
This made Snow feel a trace of guilt regarding his own daily food budget of three pounds.
Looking at the food on the table, the man's gaze became somewhat vacant. In the past, he certainly wouldn't have appeared so pathetic, but now...
His remaining rationality made him pull his gaze away and refocus on Snow. He then asked, "What exactly do you want to do?"
"What if I said I could let you eat your fill every day? Would you mind praying to an existence outside of the seven orthodox gods?"
Snow's voice contained a trace of supernatural power, originating from the 'Listener's' Whisper ability. This skill was somewhat like the 'Spectator' pathway's hypnosis, but with less force and more subtlety. In the early stages, it only made the target more receptive to your words. However, if used on a target for a long period, one could implant their own way of thinking into the other's spirit. Even a 'Psychiatrist' from the 'Spectator' pathway would need a significant amount of time to completely uproot it.
Language itself carried pollution; this was the 'Hanged Man' pathway, which governed depravity.
'An evil god...' The thought occurred to the youth, but he wisely didn't voice it. The East District of Backlund had always been a disaster area for the proselytizing of various evil gods, because these people at the bottom cared more about where their next meal was coming from than about sliding into the abyss.
In the past, the youth had always looked down on those fools who believed in evil gods for a few bites of food, as he knew a bit about Beyonders. But now, having tasted the flavor of hunger, he finally understood a little of what those people were thinking.
In reality, for someone who had always been able to eat their fill, suddenly starving for a few days was much harder to endure than for someone who perpetually lived from one meal to the next.
He glanced at the food on the table, then at the man before him. Finally, he picked up a loaf of bread. But just as he was about to shove it into his mouth, Snow spoke again, "Eat slowly. I don't want to see you choke yourself to death here."
The youth's movement stopped abruptly, then he began again. His left hand moved back and forth, somewhat clumsily taking helpings of various dishes. However, as Snow's warning from earlier had seemingly taken effect, his eating speed wasn't fast. It wasn't until half an hour later that the food on the table completely vanished. He leaned against the somewhat hard back of his chair, gently stroking his slightly bulging abdomen, and said, "How should I pray?"
"No rush. I want to hear your story first. Mmm, you don't look like you come from a humble background, do you?" Snow pointed to the youth's fractured right hand. The youth nodded, several traces of obvious resentment appearing between his brows.
"My father was Pengeri Manswell. You might have heard the name... Alright, it seems you haven't." Seeing Snow's expression, the youth shook his head self-mockingly and continued, "In short, we were a mid-sized gang. We controlled some thieves and beggars and had even recruited two Beyonders... the kind of guys who could really fight. But just last month, those two guys suddenly disappeared. As you know, in our line of work, we have plenty of enemies. Though my father tried his best to cover it up and tried to recruit another couple of Beyonders for support, the news leaked. Just three days ago, the Zmanger Gang killed my father and seized our territory. You can probably guess the rest."
"I knew you were a perfect fit for this specialty!" Snow's face broke into an arrogant smile. He narrowed his eyes and said, "Then, are you interested in becoming a Beyonder?"
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika Kagura]
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A/N: Zmanger Gang (兹曼格党) - One of the major gangs in the East District of Backlund.
T/N: "Specialty" (专业对口) - Snow's internal comment on the youth's background in crime making him a good candidate for the Aurora Order.