At Yasen, a place operated by a small, exclusive membership, and one so familiar that Banteon recognized it by name alone—it could only mean one thing. Yasen was one of Madam Ressot’s main business partners. He had immediately requested a meeting with Yasen’s representative, and now, after arranging an appointment, he had finally come.
After walking down a long hallway, he arrived at the end, where—just like when he entered—he faced a smooth, handleless door. The moment Banteon’s steps halted, a voice crackled through the speaker above the door, layered with mechanical distortion.
[Please come in.]
Beep— the sound of the lock disengaging echoed softly. The door opened on its own, and standing within was a man wearing a pristine white half-mask, beaming brightly as he welcomed Banteon.
“It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve been expecting you.”
It was clear that this unannounced visit wouldn’t have been welcomed under normal circumstances, yet the man’s smiling mouth didn’t waver in the slightest. His formal manners were impeccable, but Banteon disliked the insincerity of his demeanor—and even more so, the arrogance of refusing to remove his mask in front of him.
Ignoring the host’s welcome entirely, Banteon entered and sat down on the prepared sofa, leaning back.
Despite Banteon’s haughty posture, the man remained polite, serving him tea with practiced grace.
Banteon quietly observed the room. Decorated in black and silver, the space offered no clues about the man who ran it. He couldn’t have been older than his forties—more likely mid to late thirties—but even Banteon found it difficult to discern who this man truly was.
Not that it mattered. The other party would already know all about Banteon.
“Give me a way to contact Madam Ressot.”
“My, that’s unexpected. I didn’t think you’d be interested in something like that.”
The man’s smile widened into a sly smirk, feigning surprise. The subtle curiosity in his tone—wondering why Banteon wanted such a thing—was irritating. Seeing Banteon’s eyes narrow, the man quickly waved his hands in denial.
“Oh, my—just joking. Ha… haha.”
“Your answer?”
“To be honest, Madam Ressot is such a mysterious figure that even we don’t know her true identity.”
“……”
“That’s what I’m supposed to say… but I couldn’t possibly respond like that to you, could I?”
The man bared his teeth in a sly grin.
“You’re the kingdom’s next pillar, after all.”
The next pillar. A phrase gossipmongers liked to throw around. Esrante, already powerful enough to keep the royal family in check, had now acquired a weapon named Delroz. It wasn’t a stretch to say the balance of power might shift soon.
But anyone who knew Banteon—or even just understood the Esrante family’s nature—would know that was a baseless assumption. A common mistake among the nouveau riche. Eager to show off how much they think they know, they end up blurting out things they can’t back up.
Banteon had seen plenty of people crash and burn after flaunting a single scrap of trivial information, just because they knew it before others did.
“You’re a bit shallow for what you possess.”
Yasen may not be strong in power, but it held a wealth of information. In some fields, they likely knew more than Esrante. With the kind of clientele and scale they maintained, they were clearly enjoying the benefits of their position. Which meant they should be even more cautious.
The more one has, the more one must protect. When Banteon spoke along those lines, the man’s smile vanished from his lips.
“Haha… I merely wished to have a more friendly conversation with you…”
“Does the Tofre family not know how to judge people? Or are all Northerners like that?”
“……”
The man’s face stiffened at Banteon’s words. Just a club operator, yet he dared posture like he was presiding over the world. It was laughable. True to his name, Banteon had only come to receive the information he wanted. Yet this man wouldn’t stop his useless chatter.
“W-What do you mean by that…?”
“No matter how cleanly you try to hide something, there are always things you can’t cover.”
The near-empty, pristine office was clearly designed to conceal the identity of whoever ran this club. There wasn’t a single trace that could be linked to any family. But human traces—those remained with people.
“Boiling Timely leaves until they turn black to extract their fragrance—that’s a Northern method, used because fresh leaves are hard to come by. And your speech still carries a Northern accent.”
“……”
“There’s no way someone would entrust a place like this to a stranger. It had to be left in the hands of kin or someone deeply loyal.”
There were several families based in the North. But there was a specific reason Banteon was certain it was the Tofre family.
“You haven’t fully mastered royal etiquette yet, have you? When pouring tea, leaving two fingers raised is a habit of those from the Tofre family, who value martial prowess.”
“Haha… ha. It seems I’ve much to learn.”
The man gave an awkward laugh and reached into his chest pocket. With trembling fingers, he pulled out a crisp business card and handed it over. Unlike earlier, his demeanor was now thoroughly respectful.
“This is my direct contact information.”
“Good. I was going to need it anyway.”
For the first time, Banteon accepted something with satisfaction. He had no intention of coming to a place like this twice. If the man continued playing word games and wasting his time, he had every intention of mobilizing the force waiting outside and prying the information out by force.
The man, unaware that he had narrowly escaped death, bowed his head with a look of sincere regret.
“The truth is… we don’t have a way to initiate contact with Madam Ressot either. We can only speak with her when she reaches out to us.”
“This is supposed to be the primary distribution channel, isn’t it?”
“That was the condition when we first signed the contract. As you know, it’s such a rare and in-demand medicine… we had no choice but to accept.”
For all the arrogance he’d shown earlier, his competence was sorely lacking. Banteon lightly spun the business card between his fingers. His dissatisfied expression drew cold sweat down the man’s forehead. Accepting and distributing a substance of unknown origin simply because it was profitable—when things inevitably went wrong, all responsibility would fall squarely on Yasen.
A reckless and foolish decision. Even if Madam Ressot’s exact abilities were a mystery, she clearly had a talent for picking fools to do her bidding.
“My apologies for the disappointment. The moment Madam contacts us again, I’ll inform you immediately. Perhaps… is there anything you’d like me to pass along to her?”
Being forced to wait passively for contact that might never come—such a situation was rare for Banteon. In his mounting irritation, he began swinging his leg idly. The man’s mouth grew even more rigid.
A message for Madam Ressot. There were many things he wanted to ask.
How did she create something that could suppress an Esper’s power? Was it her own intention to use it on Delroz, or had someone commissioned her to do it? And if it was a commission—who was behind it?
The questions swirled in his mind. But she wasn’t the kind of person to give answers just because she was asked. Judging by the scale of what she’d set in motion, she was cunning and meticulous. Even if the drug was exposed as a problem, she likely had enough confidence that no one would be able to trace it back to her.
In that case, she needed to be forced out of hiding—before she vanished entirely.
Banteon rose to his feet and spoke to the flustered man, who was frozen with his mouth slightly open.
“Tell her this: I know what she’s bottled in those vials. That should be enough.”
The sense of déjà vu that had clung to him ever since seeing Madam Ressot’s drug came rushing back. The answer was now clear—undeniable.
The red energy that was only ever seen around Espers—he had seen the same aura in that liquid. No matter how much the color was altered or how pretty the bottle was, he could tell.
That should be enough for her to understand.
Madam Ressot was refining Esper blood and selling it as a drug. No blood reaction showed up in any tests, but Banteon could see it. His eyes could discern it plainly.
Leaving behind the still-bewildered man with no idea what he’d just heard, Banteon turned on his heel and exited. Striding quickly back through the hallway he’d come down, he emerged to find his entourage waiting, just as before.
“Finished your business, sir?”
“Yes.”
“What shall we do?”
“Leave it. He doesn’t seem to know anything.”
Had the man shown even a hint of deception, Banteon would’ve ordered his men to drag him out by the collar and shake every answer from his mouth. Even the ones who merely looked like drivers were Espers, and with four of them present, it would’ve taken just a single finger from each to level the building.
But the pathetic display had drained his interest.
You have to actually have something to shake loose. The man was clearly nothing more than a lackey. Judging by the informal nature of the arrangement, there probably wasn’t even a written contract. What was the point of tormenting someone who didn’t even realize he was leashed? It would just be a waste of time.
Banteon got into the car once more. As it pulled away in silence, the vehicle rolled onto a broader road. Passing through the darker fringes of the area, they brushed by the front of Yasen. The silhouette of a massive tree flickered between light and shadow across the window, and between those flickers, he spotted a few people standing in front of Yasen.
He glanced out casually—just more people preparing to spend another long night there. But for some reason, his gaze locked onto one individual. He didn’t know why, but something about that person held his attention. As if frozen, Banteon stared, unable to look away, and suddenly reached urgently toward the front seat.
“Stop. Pull over, now!”
The brakes screeched sharply, tires scraping against the dirt road. Ignoring the startled bodyguard who looked back to ask what was wrong, Banteon gave the order to remain on standby and quickly stepped out of the car. Dust and gravel crunched under his polished shoes, but he paid it no mind as he strode back toward Yasen.
I feel like Banteon is going back on his promise to go to Delroz first when he has a problem