But there was no assault.

Ny merely weaved through a few ramshackle buildings before finally making it to a hidden hovel that made some of the places they’d passed by look luxurious. It looked like it had been constructed by a drunk. That was probably exactly how it had been built.

Ny turned around and shot him a brazen grin. “Welcome to my ‘abode,’” he said.

It was strange to Willow. If he lived in such a wretched spot, he would be mortified. He was already ashamed of his humble beginnings as a shepherd and thought of his previous home as beneath him. Yet this crazy drunkard lived in a place far more wretched than Willow could ever dream of staying in, and he looked proud of it.

Complete madness.

There was a flourish to Ny’s movements as he disappeared inside.

Willow’s lip twitched as he accepted the invitation to enter the hovel. Madness was clearly catching.

There was something freeing about the thought, but Willow wasn’t sure he was willing to understand that fact. It was something that made him question his concept of shame.

Away from the exposure of the slums, Willow felt his frayed nerves begin to settle. He didn’t become anxious while in the center of attention, but he always felt the need to appease his audience.

In the privacy of the extremely modest home, with only Ny as company, tension finally left Willow’s shoulders, and his thoughts caught up with him.

First, he would need to figure out who sent a hit on him. He had a long list of enemies who would happily utilize the Assassins’ Guild to eliminate him before he could ever enter a position of power, but there were only a few who knew his name before he became William. While his name wasn’t necessary to track him down, given the speed within which the assassins were able to do so, it was probable that they consulted various inns in order to find one housing Willow Hierde.

He knew he ought to have used a false name when he made his arrangements, but there was something so addictive about being able to use the name “Willow” now. He couldn’t describe it. It was freedom from the self-imposed chains he’d grown used to as “William.”

He turned his attention to Ny. The drunkard was lying down on a pile of garbage that Willow assumed had been assembled as a makeshift bed. He stretched his legs and hummed to himself as he clearly allowed himself to relax in his own element.

Was there ever a moment that this damn drunkard wasn’t relaxed? He always appeared to have the advantage in any given situation just with his composure alone. Perhaps it came with his lax perspective on living.

Willow strongly disapproved.

“You know quite a bit about the Assassins’ Guild, yes?” Willow asked, expecting Ny to dodge his questions once more.

Much to his surprise, Ny turned on his side to face him and grinned. “Only common knowledge. But I’m willing to share what I know… for a price.”

“I’m not buying you alcohol,” Willow said, annoyed that Ny was still lying about the common knowledge.

“What about money?” Ny asked.

“No, you’ll spend it on alcohol.”

“Damn, you’re smart.” Ny grinned, stretching in a way that made him seem more like a cat than a human. The adage that cats had nine lives instead of the normal single one flitted through Willow’s thoughts. He supposed he also had more than one life, returning after death in the past as he had. “What if instead I asked for juice made of peaches?”

“I’m not buying you wine.”

“Stingy.” Ny clicked his tongue. “Alright, what would you like to know about the guild?”

Willow blinked owlishly. He hadn’t expected Ny to actually acquiesce to his request for information, especially after Willow ignored his various pleas for alcohol once more. It was strange enough that Willow decided to treat any information he gathered as extra dubious.

“How would one be able to find out who hired them?”

Ny gave him an are-you-dumb look in response. “You realize that the guild treasures discretion above all else? If those who hired them learned that their contracts weren’t confidential, the entire guild would be out of work with some rather rich and powerful enemies.”

The words didn’t deny the possibility though. Willow followed his hunch. “But you know a way to find out, don’t you?”

Ny actually did look surprised, if only for a moment, before his lips curved into a treacherous smile. “Now why would you think that?”

“I’m good at reading people.”

Willow momentarily wondered why he’d said that. It was true, but it was always best for his opponents to underestimate him. He was supposed to be manipulating Ny, gathering information to make use of him, yet when talking to him he always seemed to forget his original goal. Besides, it had been a wild hunch. He still couldn’t quite read Ny.

The enigmatic bastard just seemed to float without anything ever touching him.

It was difficult to understand. Willow felt as though he had been the one who was being led along Ny’s pace rather than the other way around. How exactly did this drunkard always have the upper hand?

Perhaps it was because he truly had nothing to lose.

The thought made a shard of melancholy strain through Willow’s veins, but he ignored it the best he could as he waited for Ny to make his decision.

Ny clicked his tongue again and sat up. “I suppose you must be,” he said. There was just the hint of teasing to his voice that made it sound as though he was merely humoring Willow.

The infuriating bastard knew just how to get under his skin.

“Alright. I’ll tell ya.” Ny rested his back against the makeshift wall in a way that made Willow worry that the entire structure might collapse on them. “For a—”

“I’m not buying you alcohol.”

“You really are persistent, huh. This is why I hate being sober.” Ny counted off three fingers and held them up for Willow’s perusal. “There are three good ways to learn who signed a contract. Which one do you want?”

“The most effective one.”

“Boring,” Ny announced, holding his fingers up more prominently. “Pick a finger and I’ll tell ya about the one you chose.”

Crazy, fearless bastard.

Willow was being dragged around by the nose by some damn sheep who didn’t know his place.

So why was it that he obediently picked a finger, pointing to the middle one at random and awaiting Ny’s announcement?

Why was he allowing himself to be guided around by a damn sheep?

He must be out of his mind.

Ny looked at the selected finger with a thoughtful expression, eyebrows knit together as though he couldn’t believe that Willow would choose something so insane. It was actually annoying when Willow thought about it. He played the game, and he was still treated like a fool.

Perhaps he was a fool merely for indulging in the game.

Ny let out a low whistle. “This’ll be fun.”

“…I’m not sure I trust your definition of ‘fun.’”

As it turned out, Willow was quite prudent not to. Although that didn’t save him from getting dragged into the harebrained scheme that would surely result in a level of chaos that he was mostly unprepared to cope with.

“If ya want information like that, there’s only one place ya can get it!”