Episode 26: Charon's Hidden Scheme (1)
Late at night.
Grey storm clouds blotted out both moons, plunging the world into pitch-black darkness.
Right on cue, a shadow descended like a black cat onto the roof of the Path of Waves Inn. The figure had leapt from the adjacent building's rooftop with astonishing silence.
The masked man in black nightclothes slipped through a second-floor hallway window before the clouds parted. He pressed his ear against the door where two people slept.
Hssst—
Drrroom—
Pfoo—
Rhythmic breathing and snoring confirmed the occupants' deep slumber. From his pocket, he withdrew his trusted tools: a thin wire and a flat metal plate.
Kneeling with meticulous care, the masked man worked on the lock. Cold sweat dripped from his brow and his heart raced, but he maintained a thief's composure.
Tick.
The latch released with a barely audible click. He scanned the hallway again for open windows, wary of air currents when opening the door.
The airflow stayed calm. He eased the door open to reveal two beds with sleeping figures. His gaze snapped to the central table by the window—and widened.
There, brazenly displayed, sat a small pouch.
'Jackpot!'
Valuables were usually hidden, making retrieval harder than entry. But tonight favored him.
The masked man mentally cheered as he rolled forward twice, reaching the table soundlessly—proof his legendary stealth wasn't mere rumor.
He peeked inside the snatched pouch: gold coins. At least ten by weight.
As he pocketed his prize, something caught his eye—a sword leaning against the table leg, wrapped in tattered cloth. Initially dismissed as worthless, it now drew his gaze.
'Hmm?'
The blade emitted a faint crimson aura, equally mesmerizing and ominous. His hand moved instinctively.
After carefully sheathing the sword at his back, he slid out of the room, closed the door silently, and vanished from the inn.
Moments after the door shut—
Charon's eyes snapped open from his deathlike sleep. He sat up slowly, glancing at the empty table where pouch and sword had lain.
'Quite the dramatic exit.'
He shook his head and lay back down, sensing the energy he'd absorbed earlier. As he released it through his body, the energy pulled insistently in one direction—where the Black Blade had gone.
'Like a lodestone.'
He'd left a trace of energy in the sword. Its wielder wouldn't go mad immediately but would grow violent, sensitive, and gradually unhinged...
The masked man scaled down the inn wall into an alley where Reki and his Hinzo Faction enforcers waited, blades glinting. Their faces lit up at his success.
Cautiously returning to their hideout in rival Megamon territory, Reki and his men gathered around scattered coins on a second-floor table.
"Less than expected," a subordinate muttered. "Mostly copper below."
"Ten gold's decent," Reki countered, grinning. "No need to report such petty sums."
The men nodded darkly.
"Your 30%." Reki tossed three gold coins to Haskell. Though the thief had done all the work, the Hinzo's protection warranted the cut.
Haskell bowed obsequiously. "My gratitude, Captain. Contact me for future jobs. And this blade..." He placed the Black Blade on the table. "...is a gift. Looks valuable."
Every eye locked onto the sword.
"Has presence," Reki declared, stripping the cloth wrap.
Shiiing!
The polished blade gleamed with frost-like malice. Reki admired its balance. "Unique black steel. Fits my hand perfectly. I'll keep it."
None objected—their hunger stayed fixed on the gold.
Unaware of the crimson energy seeping from the blade into his palm, Reki carried the unsheathed sword to his office.
Next morning.
"STOLEN?!" Shong's scream rattled the room. "Don't tell me all thirty gold coins are gone! They can't be!"
Charon dug a finger in his ear. "They are."
"ARRRGH! I TOLD you to let me safeguard them!" Shong tore at his hair, bouncing around the room like his own fortune had vanished. "How could your superhuman senses miss a thief?!"
"Must've been exceptional."
"That's impossible! You’re—"
"The blade's gone too."
Shong froze mid-tantrum. He knew the sword's dangers but wailed, "Who cares about the sword?! That's 30,000 shillings! I'm reporting to the guards and sniffing out Blue Crows at the docks!"
"Do that alone. I'm busy."
As Charon strolled to the bath, Shong gaped at his nonchalance. "Why am I panicking for you?!"
He glared at the closed bathroom door. "Useless. Meet here tonight."
Charon wandered leisurely later, following the Black Blade's magnetic pull. Slave carts crowded the streets—whole villages emptied, their people similarly dressed.
The energy surged near a two-story brick building guarded by blue-armband enforcers.
Hinzo Faction.
Charon's eyes narrowed. Last night's lesson from Shong replayed: blue armbands for port-controlling Hinzo, red scarves for Megamon's slave-market domain.
The sword's energy pulsed strongly upstairs. Its wielder remained sane—for now.
Satisfied, Charon left. By now, Shong's report would reach both gangs through corrupt guards. Conflict was inevitable—especially with the blade as timed bait.
That evening, Shong slumped into the inn. "Nothing at the docks," he groaned as bread and soup appeared. "Just wary stares. What about the—"
"We'll recover it." Charon dipped bread into soup. "He only took ten coins."
Shong shot up. "You LIED?!"
Patrons stared as he hissed, "What scheme are you—"
"Wait and see."
"Wait for WHAT?!"
Charon chewed calmly as Shong's eyebrow twitched.
Somewhere in the city, a sword's crimson glow deepened.
