“Unless you can give me some sort of indication beyond vague accusations to prove yourself, I will not interact with you as a customer,” Zolf said, his voice trembling slightly but regaining a sliver of composure.

Manasei noted the subtle shake in Zolf’s tone, the way his hands twitched as he spoke. Despite the veneer of confidence, the old man was still rattled.

Throughout the past year, Zolf had assumed Manasei was nothing more than what he appeared to be, a desperate street rat trying to secure a better life for the dan’yor kids in his care. Their conversations, carefully steered, had only reinforced this belief.

Zolf had waited patiently, studied the boy, and taken every precaution to ensure there was nothing more to him than a tragic tale of survival. Yet now, staring at the figure in front of him, Zolf realized he had grossly underestimated the young man’s cunning.

He’s better at this than I am… far better, Zolf thought bitterly.

This realization hardened his resolve. He could not trust Manasei, unless he managed to prove himself beyond doubt, that he was here for pure business.

Even if it cost Zolf his life, he would uncover the truth. The stakes were far greater than mere survival; if Manasei truly knew what Zolf was involved in, and if that information slipped into the wrong hands, the consequences would be catastrophic, far worse than death.

Manasei sat in silence for a moment, the tension in the air growing palpable. Then, with an almost casual demeanor, he lowered himself back into his seat.

“If this isn’t enough to convince you,” he began, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Zolf, still visibly unsettled, nodded slightly, his red eyes narrowing.

“It was your story that gave you away,” Manasei continued, his voice calm but sharp. “At first, I wasn’t entirely sure if you were a frontman, just suspicious.”

Zolf said nothing, but his stiffened posture betrayed his unease.

“I’d bet only the first part of your story was true. Up to the point where you became a slave,” Manasei said, leaning back slightly. “After that, you probably worked your way up into becoming a frontman for this island.”

Manasei’s tone grew colder, more deliberate. “Although I don’t doubt the political angle you’ve spun, it’s clearly just a façade. A convenient excuse to get your hands on those kids. Some you sell, while the others you keep as ‘posters’ to virtue-signal what a great person you are. All to lure in more prey.”

At this, Zolf’s hands balled into fists, his knuckles whitening with suppressed rage.

Manasei met his glare with an almost serene expression. “I say all of this to show you—I know your business model. I know how you operate. Which means I’ve dealt with your kind before.”

His words hung in the air like a blade, cutting through any pretense Zolf might have maintained.

Zolf sighed heavily, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He leaned back slightly, his voice carefully measured as he asked, "How much are you offering for those kids?"

Manasei met his question with a calm yet unwavering gaze. “What I want isn’t monetary gain, per se, but answers. As long as you can provide me with that, the kids are yours for the taking.”

Zolf frowned. “What do you want to know?”

Manasei’s lips curled into a faint smile, but his tone remained serious. “The question I asked you before. Why are you willing to go this far for only three dan’yor?”

Zolf raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Haven’t we already established this? I’m a frontman.”

“That’s not what I was asking,” Manasei said, his tone sharp.

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“Then what are you asking?”

Manasei’s expression darkened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “How do you determine the value of dan’yor? Because I find it… quite strange.”

Zolf’s face paled slightly. He now understood where this line of questioning was heading, and he didn’t like it one bit. This was one of the most closely guarded secrets of his trade, and he hadn’t expected Manasei to zero in on it so quickly.

Manasei, sensing the tension, pressed on with a casual air, though his eyes betrayed his cunning. “I’ve dealt with many frontmen before, you know,” he said smoothly. “But I’ve never held their life and death in my hands. They had no obligation to answer my questions. You, however, are different.”

Zolf bared his teeth, unable to mask the fury bubbling beneath his calm exterior. The boy was toying with him, manipulating the situation like a seasoned predator.

And yet, Zolf couldn’t deny the truth in Manasei’s words. The boy was stronger, younger, and more cunning than he had anticipated. But then why would Manasei risk coming here to confront him?

The answer lay in the very question he was asking, the value of the children.

Their worth far exceeded the risk involved. If Zolf, a mere frontman, managed to secure them, the rewards from his superiors would be unimaginable. But the tables had turned. Manasei wasn’t some naïve street rat. He was a cunning customer, one who had maneuvered Zolf into a corner.

“We have a way of determining the value of dan’yor,” Zolf admitted, his voice low and reluctant. “It’s done using a special device. The tool scans their eyes, and their value is revealed.”

Manasei’s expression darkened further. “And what are these ranks of value? How do those kids stack up?”

Zolf hesitated before answering, his words careful. “There are three main ranks: White Stone, Orange Stone, and Red Stone. Each of these has subdivisions; Lesser, Middle, and Greater.”

He paused, studying Manasei’s reaction closely before continuing. “Those kids… they’re Lesser Red Stone.”

Manasei’s mind whirled, his thoughts racing as he pieced together the significance of Zolf’s revelation.

It all made sense now. Zolf’s willingness to bow to every demand, to risk meeting Manasei in such a precarious situation, this man wasn’t just cautious; he was blinded by greed.

The siblings’ high ranking had tempted Zolf into underestimating him. He must have assumed Manasei was desperate and wouldn’t see through his schemes. Coupled with the rarity of a Red Stone ranking, it was no wonder Zolf had played along so easily.

Manasei’s gaze sharpened as he leaned back, his voice cold and calculating. “So that’s it, then. It’s not about some noble cause or unity. It’s about profit. You saw their value and couldn’t resist the opportunity.”

Zolf said nothing, his silence confirming Manasei’s suspicions.

Manasei's thoughts churned as the realization solidified in his mind. Everything about Zolf’s behavior now made perfect sense. The old man wasn’t motivated by altruism or principle, he was blinded by greed. The moment he had scanned the siblings and seen their extraordinary ranking, he must have assumed that Manasei was desperate, a pawn ripe for exploitation.

Rising from his seat, Manasei didn’t even bother sparing Zolf another glance at first. Instead, he tilted his head upward, staring at the sunlight spilling through the broken roof. It burned his eyes, but he didn’t look away.

How foolish I’ve been...

He let the thought sink in, its weight crushing his fleeting hopes. No matter how far he had run from his past, it seemed determined to catch up to him, always lingering just beyond his reach. Even here, on this remote island, it taunted him, mocking his pitiful attempt to escape.

And in his desperation to finally face it again, he had nearly sold the people who he cared about these past few years. Those siblings, who had saved his life and given him purpose, were almost bartered away like cattle.

Manasei laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that echoed through the dilapidated house. It was a laughter filled with anger and profound self-loathing. He laughed at Zolf’s greed, at his own blind naivety, and at the absurdity of the situation.

But then the laughter stopped.

Turning to face Zolf, Manasei’s expression hardened into something icy, unreadable. The jovial facade he had maintained moments ago was gone, replaced by a chilling resolve.

Zolf felt it immediately. The shift in Manasei’s demeanor was palpable, and for the first time, genuine fear flickered across the old elf’s face.

“No... Don’t you—” Zolf stammered, his voice trembling. “If you kill me, they’ll know! They’ll find you! They’ll hunt you down and never stop!”

Manasei said nothing. His cold gaze bore into Zolf like a blade. Reaching behind him, he grabbed his metal pipe with a firm grip.

“Wait! You don’t have to—” Zolf began, but his plea was cut short.

With a single, fluid motion, Manasei swung the pipe. It whistled through the air with brutal speed, colliding with Zolf’s neck. The force was so precise and devastating that it took the old man’s head clean off his shoulders.

The headless body slumped to the ground as blood pooled around it. Manasei stood over the corpse, breathing heavily.

His hands trembled slightly as he lowered the pipe, but his expression remained stoic. He had no regrets.