Chapter 93: Feeling Out of Place in This Small Team

“It’s Balairu and Garum!”
Yuxing’s tone was questioning, but Magna’s was already certain. The figure with the signature red scarf was nimbly dodging Diaborig, the mechanical beast’s attacks, when suddenly a beam of light shot in from offscreen, striking Diaborig and sending up a shower of sparks!

As Diaborig howled in pain, the crowd’s cheers outside the arena rose to a frenzy.

The camera swung instantly to follow the direction of the beam. Entering the frame was a white-bearded old man, hefting a giant sniper rifle taller than himself onto his shoulder. He dodged a counterattack, swiftly changed sniping position, ducked behind an artificial barrier, and set up for another shot.

“Waaah, that’s my bro! Waaah, that’s the old man!”
Magna’s excitement made him raise his voice, drawing the bartender’s attention and causing him to pause mid-polish.

Soya Homare also noticed, his gaze settling warily on the bartender.

“Are those your companions? Who are they?”
The bartender addressed Homare, the only one facing him, his tone casual, as if making idle conversation. Homare shrugged and didn’t answer. He only knew Magna was looking for someone, but not who exactly.

Yuxing, on the other hand, seemed to know perfectly well, though he hadn’t told Homare. That was to be expected—after all, it didn’t really pertain to their main quest.

Meanwhile, Yuxing was in danger of being shaken to pieces by Magna’s exuberant shoulder slaps.

Yet there was joy in the pain, for Yuxing had finally increased his bond points with Magna. Helping him find clues about his companions’ whereabouts had netted him some points, and perhaps finding the actual people would yield even more.

According to common practice, one would fully invest in a single enhancement before considering others. This was his eighth bond point, the second available on the general panel, so Yuxing allocated it to expand his item pickup range.

Not that this skill helped much in combat; otherwise, Yuxing might have considered using it to snatch enemy weapons or other items. But it required intense concentration, which, during a fight, was the same as dividing one’s attention—a dangerous proposition.

Still, Yuxing thought its lack of side effects made it a thousand times better than “Gate.”

If it had any particular use, it was likely just to make light-fingered pilfering that much easier.

Having taken care of the bond point, Yuxing turned his attention to the bartender. The man’s earlier line of questioning had put him on guard, especially since just a few days ago, someone on the black market forums had been trying to get information on Balairu and Garum for free.

So Yuxing smiled at the bartender. “I wouldn’t say they’re companions.” They weren’t formally teamed up, after all. He paused, then continued, “But I do know a thing or two about them.”

With just a glance, the seasoned bartender understood.

Yuxing’s very expression broadcasted, “I’m waiting for the right price.” He could offer information on Balairu and Garum, but the bartender would have to make it worth his while.

The bartender considered for a moment, then asked, “Do you need money?”

“Money?”
Yuxing echoed. He’d only bartered once so far and hadn’t even seen the local currency. The bartender reached under the counter and produced a coin, placing it on the bar.

It was a metallic disc, a red crystal set in the center. Yuxing picked it up curiously, surprised by its weight.

“Gold?”
“It’s gold inlaid with ruby. Gold and corundum—specifically, red corundum.”

Couldn’t he just call it a ruby?
Yuxing glanced askance at the bartender’s pointless display of knowledge, then weighed the coin again.

Something about the weight was off.

“It’s a bank card, you could say. Anonymous, no password,” the bartender explained. “There’s a chip inside, a verification module proving you’re authorized to access the small vault attached to this card.”

“There are 400 gold coins on it,” the bartender continued, eyeing the group. “You’re new in town, I take it? I should tell you: 400 might sound small, but it’s enough to keep you fed and clothed here for two years—if you can hang on to it.”

But the bartender had already made up his mind. As soon as they left, he’d tip off the local gangs—a flock of fat sheep carrying a fortune. If those thugs managed to steal the card using the information he’d supplied, he’d simply ask for a cut as his fee. That way, at least, he’d recoup half the loss.

“Four hundred gold coins…”
Yuxing’s lips curled into a subtle smile as he looked at the bartender. “So, the exchange rate between ‘gold coins’ and Interstellar Alliance credits is one to a thousand?”

The bartender was clearly taken aback. One to a thousand? Four hundred gold coins—that was four hundred thousand credits... The realization hit, and his eyes widened in shock. “You’re—the one who posted that bounty on the black market…!”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. asd. I’m Yuxing.”

At that moment, Senior Homare rose from his seat, stepped outside to flip the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSE,” and returned to draw the curtains, as if nothing had happened, resuming his seat.

The bartender fell silent.

Pegga, feeling more out of place than ever with this odd group, was speechless.

“I believe I mentioned I was acting on someone else’s behalf. So I’ve brought the client,” Yuxing said, nodding toward Magna, who was transfixed by the screen. “You two can speak directly, or, of course, continue having me act as your go-between…”

“I’m commissioning you.”
Magna replied without looking away from the swirling dust on the screen.

“All right. Thank you for your trust.”
Yuxing nodded, then turned to the bartender. “You can exchange their current location for their personal information. I can’t accept anything but information as payment—neither 400 gold coins nor 400,000 credits is what my client wants.”

Just then, the commentator’s passionate voice thundered from the screen—

[Here they come! The first champion team of the year to secure a ship ticket at Starport Tower!]

Yuxing glanced back at the screen, then turned to the bartender with a polite smile. “Well then, sir, they’re currently at Starport Tower. You can’t trade us information we already know; you’ll have to offer something else.”

Now the bartender wanted nothing more than to turn off the screen, but the remote was on the far end of the bar. Dashing over to snatch it would be unseemly.

But so be it—if it had to look bad, so be it. He didn’t care.

He glanced toward the remote, only to find it had vanished. Just then, the screen’s volume increased. As the volume slider appeared on the broadcast, the bartender’s face darkened.

It was Magna. He’d taken the remote, turned up the sound, adjusted the contrast for a brighter image, and was now clutching it tightly in his hand.

Damn it, didn’t your mother ever teach you to put things back where you found them?

The bartender fumed inwardly over Magna’s upbringing, though outwardly his businesslike smile was only barely holding together.