I Became a Dark Fantasy Villain For a moment, Sanford froze, holding his breath. "Ah, haha." Sanford’s lips, visible through his shaggy beard, curled up awkwardly. "I think there might be some misunderstanding. How about we try to resolve this with a conversation?" Ian could even see beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead. The fact that he remained frozen in his awkward posture suggested he’d realized the coin Ian had just thrown hadn't missed. Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to test his luck again. "That, I am curious about." Ian’s crooked smile widened as he flicked his wrist, tossing the coins and catching them again. "I wonder just how you plan to clear up this misunderstanding. You’d have to convince not only me, but everyone here." "Everyone… you say?" Sanford blinked and muttered a beat later. Ian shot back immediately. "This whole situation happened because of you, Sanford Plum. All because you didn’t want to repay your debt to His Excellency." "T-That’s absurd! As I said, this was only—" "Well, we’ll know for sure once the executive you made a deal with wakes up," said Ian. Sanford, who had been rambling with excuses, faltered. Watching his brow slowly furrow, Ian shrugged. "Most of the ones behind me are only unconscious." Of course, they’d be in a state where they couldn't even eat porridge for a while, let alone speak. However, that wasn't something Sanford could verify right away. Not that he would need to. "It was because of that bastard!" The heads of a few men groaning on the floor were already turning toward Sanford. Sanford’s face grew paler, likely because he felt the grudge and fury in their eyes. The only thing stopping them from grabbing him by the throat was the fear that Ian’s coins would bury themselves in their skulls. But Ian hadn’t spoken up merely to redirect the crowd’s anger. "I-I just asked him to buy me some time! I didn’t mean for him to subdue you by force. That was just something they did on their own," said Sanford. "So, you admit you started it." At the low voice that spread from the stairs, Sanford’s breath hitched once more. He then turned his head, his brow furrowed. "I was just saying that it’s a misunderstanding, boss!" Listening to Sanford’s desperate voice, Ian cast a leisurely glance to the side. A middle-aged man was descending the stairs—someone who, to Ian’s modern eyes, resembled a Middle Eastern native, though in this world he was called a Kurdian. "You’ve caused an accident you can’t handle, Sanford," said the man as the thugs standing against the staircase wall were pushed down as if by an invisible force. He slowly stroked his long, flowing beard with his hand. Hit by the murderous glare, Sanford’s one eye wavered, lost. "Pl-Please, calm down first and listen to my story, won’t you?" "You will keep your mouth shut. Or I’ll cut that tongue out first." As the boss stepped off the stairs, Sanford squeezed his eyes shut. A single tear-like bead of sweat trickled down from under the eyepatch covering his right eye. Meanwhile, the boss stopped at the edge of the fallen men and bent his knee respectfully in the Imperial fashion. "My name is Rahman, and I manage this establishment. As a follower of the Radiant Goddess, I sincerely apologize to the Apostle for this grave discourtesy." His tone was nothing like the way he’d spoken to Sanford. That was exactly why Ian had pushed Sanford into talking—he’d sensed someone was waiting for the right moment to step in. Showing up only after the dust had settled was the oldest trick in the underworld. Ian had simply handed him the cue to wrap things up neatly. "If a price must be paid, I will offer my own neck. So please, could you not show mercy to my subordinates and my guests?" The boss, Rahman, who had been speaking with his head bowed, raised his head slightly. As expected of a casino boss. One corner of Ian’s mouth curled up slightly. Rahman wasn’t just settling the situation; he was trying to turn a crisis into an opportunity. If Ian accepted the offer, Rahman would not only protect the establishment’s credibility but also improve his reputation among the guests. The same would apply to his subordinates. And of course, Rahman’s calculation relied on one certainty: Ian would not actually take his head. After all, Ian had already spared the thugs, and Rahman had revealed himself as a devotee of Lu Solar. —An excellent attitude. Now, let’s show them a clear example of what happens when they mess with you, my friend. Scoffing at the whisper that tickled his mind, Ian said, "If you can resolve this situation without any further trouble, I will consider that neck received." Escalating the situation further would only lead to meaningless bloodshed. It was obvious he wouldn’t gain a single point of experience even if he killed everyone in this place. Of course, if he kept killing, someone stronger might appear, but he had no intention of committing mass murder for experience points that would surely be less than killing a single demon. "I am grateful for your merciful decision." Rahman bowed his head politely. "If you dream of revenge, I will truly come to take that neck then," Ian added nonchalantly. "You two managed to do this to my establishment. How could I dare to dream of such a presumptuous thing?" At Ian’s blunt words, one of Rahman’s eyebrows twitched for a moment. Ian added, feigning ignorance, "I figured there might be a few swordsmen with magic tools or enchanted weapons. Or perhaps, a dark mage you know." "That’s impossible." Quickly composing his expression, Rahman bowed his head deeper. Rahman seemed to have concluded that it was just a warning, that his most secret confidence had not been exposed. However, in any case, it wasn’t an empty suspicion. It would be impossible to run a gambling house of this scale with only a sharp mind. "Though I live in the shadows, I am not a beast ignorant of gratitude. Please, do not worry." "I understand. I’ve seen too many people pull stupid stunts behind my back. Just like now." Ian twisted his waist without any warning and swung his right arm. A chilling sound of something cutting through the air slammed into the side wall. "Ugh!" Sanford’s suppressed scream followed. A gold coin ripped through Sanford's clothing and stuck fast in his forearm. His left arm, which had stealthily moved toward his coat, now hung limp. Rahman’s eyes, which had turned in surprise, narrowed. It was likely because he saw the darkish talisman fall from Sanford’s left hand and the waves of magic scattering from the ring on his middle finger. The gem set in the ring was a small magic stone. "Didn’t miss this time," said Ian, straightening his posture. He lightly tossed and caught the remaining coins in his palm once more. "Damn it!" Sanford grimaced, clutching his bleeding left arm. "I had no choice! I was a dead man anyway. I had to find a way to survive!" The man shouted and threw himself forward. It looked as if he was trying to somersault over the sprawled bodies. His plan was likely to endure the shower of coins, avoiding any fatal wounds, and leap down the stairs. However, Ian didn’t throw any coins. Instead, he tossed the handful of silver to the floor and began walking toward the stairs slowly, without a rush. Sanford, who had been springing up, suddenly froze. He, who struggled for a moment as if caught by something invisible, was soon yanked sideways and pulled toward Ian. "What the—" As Sanford uttered in confusion, Ian’s palm, shimmering with a faint light, covered Sanford’s face. With a cracking sound, Sanford’s eyes, visible between Ian’s fingers, rolled back into his head. As Ian withdrew the divinity of the ring and the Willful Grasp, the unconscious Sanford finally collapsed. A large handprint remained on his face. Blood, trickling from his broken nose and split lip, soaked his beard. "I’ll be taking him," Ian said, looking back at Rahman without even glancing at Sanford. Rahman, who had been staring in wonder at the dissipating divinity and the fallen Sanford, finally bowed his head. "If it’s not too much to ask, may I inquire as to your business with him?" "This man is indebted to His Excellency, Duke Jihandar. I am here to collect that debt on his behalf. I believe that should be enough explanation." Ian said nonchalantly. "So you are a knight of His Excellency the Duke," Rahman murmured as if he finally understood the whole story. Instead of correcting the misunderstanding, Ian just shrugged. He had no intention of lingering in the South anyway. Besides, it was unlikely the Duke would care about a mere thug running a gambling den. That was when Lucia extended her hand. In her hand was a neatly folded piece of parchment, which she must have taken out at some point. She was likely showing Rahman the wax seal bearing the Duke’s insignia. The corner of Ian’s mouth twitched slightly. It was obvious she was trying to reinforce Rahman’s misunderstanding. "I see. Very well. If you could return him to us alive, I would ask for nothing more. For we, too, have debts to settle with this man." Rahman, bowing even more respectfully, looked at the unconscious Sanford with cold eyes. "Well, I’ll try my best," Ian replied. Of course, even if he sent him back alive, there was no telling if Sanford would return to Rune Catis. However, that was a problem for them to solve. As Rahman bowed his head, Ian shrugged and added. "The bodyguard. No, the first mate, was it? Where are you?" "Ye-Yes!" Just then, a large Vantruian man shot up from the wall next to Rahman. It was a swift movement that belied his size. Ian nodded and asked. "What’s your name?" "It’s Hashim, sir!" Hashim answered in a trembling voice, unable to meet Ian’s eyes. "Alright, Hashim. Come and get your captain. And bring me the talisman your captain dropped." "Yes, sir!" Hashim moved as if he’d been shot from a cannon. He trampled over the fallen men around him, seemingly without a care. As he picked up the talisman from the floor, Ian turned back to Rahman. "Tend to your wounded. Make sure none of them die." "Of course. I will see to it," Rahman answered immediately. Now that the situation was settled, he was surely hoping Ian would leave quickly. Lucia tucked the parchment back into her cloak and nodded to Ian. Hasim returned, Sanford slung over one broad shoulder, and handed something forward with both hands. His attitude was impeccably respectful, unlike when they first met. Swallowing a laugh, Ian picked up the talisman. It was a rather primitive charm made from a carved piece of dark wood. In any case, he could check its information window. A Talisman of the Gale was a relic-grade item, even though it wasn't an object that accumulated magic on its own like Miguel’s talisman. However, the reason a wry smile spread across Ian’s lips wasn’t because of its grade. A level five Whirlwind? So the bastard had planned to blow everything away in one go. Even if it was a low-tier spell, that kind of power would’ve ripped the roof clean off. Where he’d gotten such a thing, and how he’d been using it, was a question for later. "Ugh…" Hashim lifted the unconscious Sanford and slung him over one shoulder. It was no surprise that his gaze toward Sanford was not a kind one. As Lucia came to his side, Ian finally closed the information window and turned around. "Good luck with the cleanup." "Travel safely." Rahman bowed his head. The fact that he never asked for a name was likely his way of saying he didn’t want to get any more involved and that they should never meet again. While scoffing inwardly, Ian nonchalantly started walking toward the stairs. The men who had been sprawled out stirred and moved aside to clear a path. Why are they all still lying down? I already dropped all the coins. Shaking his head, he descended the stairs, slipping the talisman into his pocket dimension as he went. The once-bustling tavern was now quiet. It seemed everyone had fled after hearing the commotion upstairs. All that remained were drunkards asleep and thugs leaning against the walls. They watched Ian slowly descend the stairs with stiff faces, not even daring to breathe loudly. Among them, of course, was the large man who had been guarding the stairs earlier. As their eyes met, he slowly bowed his head. "The dagger," Ian said without stopping his descent. The large man blinked blankly. "Yes?" "The dagger I left with you. Bring it." "Ah, yes!" Startled, the man turned and began to rummage through a box next to him. In the meantime, Ian, Lucia, and Hashim, carrying Sanford on his shoulder, descended the stairs one by one. "What are you all doing? Escort the injured guests first." Just then, Rahman’s voice echoed from above. The hall stirred again as the fallen began to rise, helped along by the staff. The thugs in the tavern exchanged glances. They hesitated to move, likely because of Ian’s group standing in front of the stairs. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩•𝗳𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝕟𝕖𝕥 "Go on up," Ian said bluntly. Only then did the members swallow, look at each other, and begin to move hesitantly. As they passed the group and entered the staircase, the large man who had been searching the box turned to Ian. "Here it is, sir." He held Lucia’s dagger respectfully with both hands. Ian took the dagger and nodded, and the man bowed his head and hurried toward the stairs. "Just hold on a little longer. I will bring all the city’s healers soon, so until then—" Even at that moment, Rahman’s voice was heard amidst the murmuring chaos. Lucia’s gaze, which had been on the back of the large man ascending the stairs, finally returned to Ian. "Well, we won’t have to worry about any repercussions. They’ll be busy for a while." "Exactly." Ian nodded, handing her the dagger. Unlike them, who were leaving freely, Rahman’s troubles were just beginning. The anger resulting from it would, of course, be directed entirely at Sanford. —Shame. I was hoping for more fighting. At Yog’s subsequent whisper, Lucia let out a chuckle. "Who knows? Something might be happening with Sister right now. Took us longer than expected, after all." "That’s a good point," said Ian. Glancing at the stiffly frozen Hashim and the limp form of Sanford on his shoulder, Ian finally nodded and turned. "Let’s go back. Before that guy’s patience runs out."