A powerful creaking sound rang out. The man looked at Gantz and the four crates beside him.
— "Already?"
— "Wasn't I supposed to deliver them now?"
Seeing the boy's icy gaze and expression, the man smiled. — "Of course! Of course! How fast and experienced you are! Don't you want to come in and have a drink?"
Gantz looked past the man and remembered the woman hanging from the chain. He shook his head in refusal and began to leave without saying another word, his black cloak billowing in the wind as his curly brown hair fluttered.
— "Scary guy," the man reflected before going to get a trolley.
...
Clarissa was naked, her body bathed in some kind of oil that left her skin glistening and slippery. She smiled while looking at a tall, naked man. His muscles were strong and his phallus erect; he massaged her legs with force while his gaze seemed like a laser wandering over her entire body.
A seductive aura emanated from Clarissa's body, gradually driving the man even more insane. His mouth was drooling as he squeezed her thighs tighter.
Another man entered the room—short, wearing a cloak, his face covered by an expressionless mask.
— "My Lady," he uttered in a raspy voice.
— "What is it?" she replied, not paying attention.
— "We've lost contact with our envoys."
Clarissa wasn't paying attention to the man; she watched as the large fellow doubled over in pain. He clutched his strong chest while his mouth bubbled with saliva, his veins protruding beneath his dark skin, inflating moment by moment like a ball being pumped. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing and fracturing his bones, leaving his arms and legs at odd angles, while in some places, signs of compound fractures were visible.
Clarissa leaned toward the body; her rosy breasts were hardened, and she let out a deep sigh. The result might be useful for something, but it was undoubtedly not the outcome she had planned.
Looking at the man standing in the dark room, with the light from outside hitting his back, she thought of his stories. The only man she had ever been interested in—she remembered her heart nearly leaping out of her mouth when she met him many years ago. How she dreamed of possessing him, of being possessed, of being impregnated by him. But in his eyes, she was nothing more than a pretty, uninteresting face.
She turned her face toward the body and then toward the light pouring over her.
— "But now he is mine—at least a part of him is."
— "You were saying?"
— "The men have vanished."
Sighing, she stepped down from the iron table and walked toward the man, one leg in front of the other, slowly until she stood before him. He raised his head to look into her eyes, and she into his..
— "Still empty eyes?".
He remained silent.
— "One day... one day." She left the room first, laughing. — "Come, let's go resolve the problem of these useless fools."
...
Gantz was sitting in the bar's lounge, eating a type of moist cake while waiting for Vincente. All the customers kept their distance, forming a circle around him.
— "So, is that cake any good?" Vincente inquired as he sat down.
— "Better than I expected. So, what do you have for me?"
— "Straight to the point? You've been a bit stressed lately. Well, we have a ball to prepare for."
— "A ball? Since when do thugs throw balls?"
— "Hey, we have class too! But no, it's not that kind of ball. Come with me; let's talk somewhere more secluded."
They went to the kitchen, and Gantz saw the same cook from that day, cutting meat on the same table. I hope he cleaned that properly, he pondered, looking away.
— "So, how important is this party going to be?"
— "Remember the party I told you about before?"
— "Yes, vaguely. But what's so good about it?"
— "My friend! Let me explain. Unlike back home, the relationships between couples—especially noble couples—are much more complicated."
— "I imagine."
— "Not at all. But back to it—it's much harder to sneak away when you live in a place with so many people. Besides, being a prominent figure doesn't help. You know, it's not forbidden, but decorum must always be maintained."
— "I know. I always had to sneak out of Melinda's house before her partner arrived."
— "In the city, it's more complicated than that. That's why the ball is so important. It takes place in a restricted area of the tunnels, and it's our job to organize everything and provide security."
— "Us? Because we're criminals and we guarantee the secret?"
— "I wouldn't say 'secret,' but sure."
— "When?"
— "In three days. We'll be doing security there. But relax, it'll be full of beautiful noblewomen thirsty for rascals like us!"
Gantz ignored the last part while thinking. If many nobles gather in a secret place without guards, wouldn't it be the perfect target to kill that bastard? I doubt his type would miss this kind of event. I have three days to think of how I'll do this without ending up dead or hunted.
A few hours later, he was in a suit shop. He walked out with a simple, sharp black suit and a black cane topped with an eagle's head. This cane will be perfect if I can fit a blade inside it, he thought as he passed more shop windows. Stopping at one, he noticed a dress worn by a mannequin, and a yellow wig on the dummy's head. For a moment, he thought about wearing them and pretending to be a woman, but he quickly shook his head, thinking how horrible he would look.
— "My God, the things that pop into my head lately. I hope it's not a side effect of consuming so many memories."
As he pondered, the reflection on the glass vanished due to a cloud, making it possible to see inside the shop where two girls were trying on dresses. He was nearly speechless for a moment; although he had heard of twins, he had never seen them in person.
Both had hair as red as embers—straight at the top and wavy at the ends—blue eyes, and skin as white as snow. He could see through the dress with a waist belt, which squeezed their small but well-rounded breasts. Both looked almost like dolls and couldn't have been over twenty.
He thought about going in but noticed a guard in the mirror's reflection staring at him from across the street.
— "Better leave before I get beaten up."
He wasn't in his suit yet, and although his clothes weren't the worst, it was still obvious he wasn't from the area.