The final echoes of applause still lingered when Joseph stood from his seat.  

The other guests whispered in cautious awe as he approached the Ghost King’s table—no one dared walk that close, not after the match that had just twisted fate itself.

Josmar Matuwen turned his head slightly, his eyes glimmering with the calm weight of old storms. “Approaching the victor, mortal?”  

Joseph smiled lightly. “Just returning the courtesy.”  

He reached into his inner coat pocket and placed a black velvet box on the table. The Ghost King’s attendants tensed instantly—until the lid opened with a soft click.

Inside lay a watch—sleek, midnight silver, its ticking heart powered by condensed soul fragments.  

The brand engraved faintly on its back: **Ghi Phaerielie** — the legendary *鬼達翡麗*.  

Joseph’s tone was smooth. “A small token of respect, Your Majesty. Precision and eternity—two things your reign deserves.”

Josmar raised an eyebrow, amused. “A *timepiece* for one who no longer keeps time. How poetic.”

Then Joseph lifted another box from his coat, smaller, wrapped in obsidian silk.  

“This,” he said, handing it with both hands, “is for Her Grace.”

Inside coiled a necklace of luminous black pearls—each one pulsing faintly, each a captured tear of a forgotten soul.  

The crowd murmured again. The *鬼珍珠* necklace was a treasure even noble spirits rarely possessed.

The Ghost King’s expression softened, if only a fraction. He gave a low, rumbling laugh that seemed to shake the room.  

“You understand the game well, mortal. You play with grace and pay with style.”

Joseph bowed slightly. “One should never leave a table without tipping the house.”

Josmar laughed again, deep and genuine this time. “Well said! Then it’s decided. You’ll come to my manor soon—my gates open to few, but you’ve earned the right.”  

He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with interest. “I’ll even make your… ‘tasks’ more convenient. You’ll find the rules bend more kindly when my name is attached.”

Joseph’s mind registered the implication immediately: *Ghost King endorsement—authority in the underworld’s hierarchy.*  

A favor worth more than any currency.

Before he could respond, Josmar lifted a hand. “Mariserna,” he called, voice echoing through the chamber.

The elegant hostess appeared instantly, her smile steady though her aura flickered faintly under the King’s presence. “Yes, my lord?”

“I hear this mortal intends to buy your fine establishment.”  

Josmar turned his gaze toward her, still smiling. “He’s proven… entertaining. If his offer is fair, I suggest you sell.”

Mariserna hesitated, glancing between the two men. “Your Majesty, this hotel—”

“—has drained half your essence maintaining its glamour,” Josmar interrupted smoothly. “I can see the cracks, Mariserna. Sell it, and you’ll live longer. Let this one try his luck managing it.”

The hall was silent for a heartbeat.

Then Joseph chuckled softly, meeting her eyes. “You heard the King, Lady Mariserna. I’m buying—if the price is right.”

She looked at him, her poise slowly melting into a sigh of resignation. “You truly don’t stop, do you, Mr. Gates?”

“Not until I own the view,” he said with a grin.

The Ghost King laughed again, rising from his chair. “Hah! Good! A merchant after my own heart. Then it’s settled. I expect both of you at my manor soon. We’ll celebrate the city’s new arrangements.”

He snapped his fingers. The candles in the hall flared to blue, and every ghost present bowed their heads in unison.  

“From this night forth,” Josmar said, voice echoing through the room, “the living man, Joseph Gates, is under my protection. Let all know: those who trade fairly with him, prosper. Those who cheat him, answer to me.”

The proclamation rolled through the chamber like thunder.  

Even the walls seemed to shudder in acknowledgment.

Joseph bowed once more, calm and measured. “Your generosity honors me, my King.”

“Generosity?” Josmar grinned, teeth sharp as ivory. “No, mortal. Call it… investment.”

---

Later that night, as the banquet dispersed and the echoes of laughter faded into the black corridors, Joseph stepped out into the ghost-lit street. The *Gui Baojini* awaited him, its engine humming like a heartbeat.  

Mariserna followed behind, her expression unreadable. “You just bribed the oldest ghost in the city,” she said softly. “Most men wouldn’t even look him in the eye.”

Joseph slipped into the driver’s seat, glancing up at her. “Bribes are for the desperate. I gave him gifts because kings remember who makes them smile.”

She tilted her head. “And you think you’ve bought his favor?”

He smirked. “No. I bought his curiosity. That’s worth more.”

Mariserna laughed quietly. “You’re either the cleverest mortal I’ve ever met… or the next one to vanish.”

“Maybe both,” Joseph replied, starting the engine. Blue flame licked the air around the car. “But before that happens—this hotel’s mine, right?”

Mariserna hesitated, then sighed. “You’ll have the documents by morning.”

“Good,” he said, pulling away from the curb. “Because by tomorrow, I plan to buy the skyline.”