The situation had turned against Dusk.
He had planned to scare his opponents with a gun, but it seemed they came fully prepared.
The sudden appearance of six armed men in this narrow alley made Dusk suspicious—was there a major criminal hideout hidden here?
Though the odds had shifted, not a hint of fear showed on his face. After all, he'd seen far worse in his life—six pistols were nothing to fear.
"Hey, if you're that good, then shoot me already. What's the point of playing these childish scare games? Don't tell me those are fake guns," he said, voice thick with provocation.
He still had no clue what their true intentions were, so he decided to test their reaction.
"Hmph. You think we're idiots? The police station isn't far from here. If we start shooting, we'll have to move our entire operation," the shopkeeper snorted.
Firing a weapon in the middle of the city wasn't something taken lightly—it would be seen as a direct challenge to the authorities. Even if they were criminals, they weren't dumb enough to dig their own graves.
Dusk noted that, despite his provocation, neither the shopkeeper nor the others showed any hostility toward him. That told him something.
Lowering his weapon slowly, he eased his stance. Upon careful observation, he discerned that they harbored no malice towards him. That was enough for him to let down his guard.
Seeing Dusk's movement, the six men exchanged glances, then nodded and holstered their weapons. They hadn't appeared just to pick a fight, after all.
The shopkeeper stepped forward calmly and introduced himself.
"My name is Silas Grimhart. With years of experience, you could say I serve as an advisor for The Crimson Vow gang. Now, how about you introduce yourself?"
"Dusk," he replied curtly. There wasn't much else worth saying. What was he supposed to tell them—that he had 300 years of experience?
"Hoh, cold one, aren't you? But never mind that—the boss wants to meet you. Any objections?" Silas smiled, unbothered by Dusk's tone.
As a seasoned mafia veteran, he wasn't so easily rattled by trivial things.
Dusk raised his hands and gave a slight shake of his head, making those around him feel as though he was utterly resigned.
"Do I have any other choice?"
Though it was a question, Silas could hear the agreement underlying his tone. He smiled and gave Dusk a pat on the shoulder.
"Let's go. Who knows, maybe soon we'll end up as teammates."
Dusk felt a wave of doubt as he followed the six men. For some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that they truly believed he would become their future teammate.
After all, he was a fugitive wanted for mass murder. He had no family or any kind of weakness they could use against him. How could they possibly hold onto him?
From their demeanor, it seemed like they had complete faith in their boss's abilities. Dusk felt a faint sense of curiosity about them. Perhaps, if he were lucky, they could help him with something in the future.
The seven of them entered the abandoned house next door, then stood in front of an ordinary-looking wall.
'What's this? Are they planning to recite some kind of incantation to open the wall?'
The strange thought crossed his mind, but Dusk immediately dismissed it. After all, this wasn't a fairy tale.
"We don't break promises—just bones," Silas suddenly said.
From a hidden corner of the house, a camera started transmitting images of the area.
Within seconds, the wall trembled. A large rectangular section of the wall slid inward, revealing a small, narrow hole and a staircase leading downward.
Seeing this scene, the corner of Dusk's mouth twitched involuntarily, and he cursed inwardly.
'Damn it, who the hell designed this? Did they read too many fairy tales while designing their base?'
"You guys have your own architects? Why does the entrance look like something out of a fairy tale?" Dusk asked, while also silently admiring the group. It was impressive that they had people with such high levels of education among them.
The reason behind his assumption was simple—what kind of normal person would design a place like this? Only a fool wouldn't be suspicious of such a shady structure.
Silas scratched his head, looking a bit embarrassed, then chuckled.
"Haha, you flatter me."
"Flatter your ass. Is your old man really an engineer?" Dusk's face darkened slightly. He clearly hadn't said anything even remotely complimentary.
"We're not just some brainless brutes who only know how to fight. Look at those muscleheads over there—maybe not all of them have degrees, but they've all attended college at some point." Silas gestured at the others as he spoke.
'Indeed, we are not afraid of fools committing crimes, but we are afraid of highly educated people committing crimes.'
That thought made Dusk raise his assessment of the group a bit higher.
One by one, the seven of them climbed down the stairs—of course, Dusk was "politely" asked to go first.
After a while, Dusk finally reached the bottom, where a dimly lit corridor with an oddly cheerful atmosphere awaited.
'What the hell is this? The way to Wonderland?'
Suspicion had turned to certainty. Dusk was now convinced—this old man Silas had absolutely taken inspiration from fairy tales when designing this place.
As he approached the door ahead, he cautiously opened it. The light from inside the room spilled out toward him.
He blinked, stunned, as he took in the spacious room before him. It looked… like a kindergarten.
No! To be precise, it felt even more adorable than any kindergarten he'd ever seen.
Dusk stood there wide-eyed, unable to believe that a damn mafia gang had pulled something like this. He turned toward Silas.
"Hey, what the hell kind of reference material did you use while designing this place?"
"Of course it was fairy tales," Silas replied without the slightest hint of shame.
"Why?" Dusk asked, genuinely baffled. Why would a mafia organization create a workplace with such a bizarre atmosphere?
"Haha, think about it. What would the police say if they saw this? How could they ever suspect a place like this is a criminal hideout? It clearly looks like a secret playroom for children," Silas said, his tone full of pride in his "masterpiece."
"This kind of thinking…" Dusk covered his face. He had no idea how to even begin evaluating this group of oddballs.