The man in black robe pointed to the seat opposite with his index finger, and the young man who walked over took the opportunity to sit in this seat.
As soon as the young man took his seat, Rossby spoke first: "Are you the boy Fortina mentioned?"
"Well...if he means the one who was caught in the interrogation room this morning, then I'm right."
"He didn't tell me that, but I think it was you."
"Well, that's it."
The young man was a little absent-minded, his eyes always on Defoe Rossby's hand.
The man was using a dagger to break up a piece of bread smeared with butter, and then he used the dagger to pick the pieces into his mouth, chewing them slowly.
The smell of flour and butter stimulated his nerves, and the hunger that surged from his stomach became stronger. The boy couldn't help but swallow.
"Mr. Rodsby, your wine."
Mirela came to the table between them with a wine bottle and refilled the empty wine glasses on the table. Defoe Rossby narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at the young man in front of him like a keen eagle.
Of course the young man noticed that the man was looking at him. The young man always felt that the man seemed to be trying to detect something from his face, so he lowered his head and avoided the other man's sight.
Defoe Rossby saw the young man's anxiety. He put down the dagger in his hand and said to the maid beside him:
"Mirela, bring the menu."
"Okay, wait a moment."
At this time Mirela responded, put the filled wine glass back into Rossby's hand, then immediately turned around and took a handmade brochure from another table and handed it to Rossby, and skillfully handed it to Rossby.
He took out a pencil and notepad from his apron pocket.
Mirela asked in a brisk tone: "Would you like to order something more?"
“I’ll just take this ‘special offer’ and add a small cup of honey wine.”
Rossby spread out the menu and scratched the page with her fingernails, while Mirela beside her was copying quickly on a notepad.
Eh? Is it possible that this guy... wants to invite me to dinner?
The stunned young man looked up at the cold-looking man in front of him.
Are there such good people among the profit-seeking smiling puppets?
"Okay, is it prepared for this person?"
Mirela quietly blinked at the dazed boy at the table. She knew what the boy was wondering about, and took the initiative to confirm it with Defoe on his behalf.
"Um."
When he was about to finish his meal, his intention to order another meal was very obvious. Defoe Rossby really wanted to treat him.
"Okay, right away."
Mirela bowed politely to the two guests, picked up the wine bottle and left.
Mirela, who originally thought she was leaving, would just take the copied menu and hand it to the chef, but when the young man saw the young waitress, she actually went directly into the kitchen and got busy.
It seems that the other party is not just a waiter in the tavern, but also the chef of our restaurant.
The young man couldn't help but mutter to himself: "There aren't only two clerks in this store, right?"
"On normal days, there are only two people. During festivals, more people will be added." Of course, Rossby, who was right in front of him, heard what the young man said. There was no secret in it anyway, so he explained to him:
"There aren't many people in this branch on weekdays, and even fewer people come to this store. Sometimes they don't even have anyone to serve them all day long. Two clerks here are enough."
"Um, sure."
It can be seen from the bartender who is immersed in a book that even if there are only two clerks, the manpower is more than enough.
The handmade menu was still on the table. The young man took it over and looked at the content on it. He found that the dishes on it were surprisingly rich. There were not only staple dishes, soups, drinks, side dishes and even desserts in the categories, but also every item.
There are as few as three or five varieties in a category, and as many as more than ten.
If that woman named Mirela could really do them all, she would be quite amazing.
As for the price, the boy took a casual look and found that even the cheapest white bread here costs fifteen Austins, which is more than three times more expensive than the regular pub outside.
This made the young man swallow his saliva. It was indeed an unwise choice to come here to spend money.
"You came to talk to me about the mission, right?"
Defoe Rossby didn't intend to take any detours and went straight to the point.
"Well, yes."
The teenager also means the same thing. Now is the best time to communicate and work at the dinner table.
"Do you have any previous mission experience?"
"No, this is my first time on a mission."
"oh?"
There was a rare smile on this man's face, but the meaning of that smile was unpleasant contempt.
"So you're a useless rookie? How could I have a loser like you as my partner? What did you use to bribe that damn fat guy? Ass?"
"..."
In response to the man's ridicule, the boy remained silent.
"Ass-selling boy, if you are dissatisfied with what I say, you can just punch me in the face."
"I am indeed annoyed by the unwarranted title you gave me, but before I take action, my throat will be cut by the dagger in your hand, right?"
"Ha ha!"
Unexpectedly, the boy would answer like this, and Defoe laughed twice.
"No, the organization strictly prohibits fighting to the death below. It's always bad to kill someone, so the most I can do is... pick off your tendons and hamstrings."
Yes, it is always bad to take human life.
So in other words: as long as no one is killed, you can do whatever you want.
The Laughing Puppet does not allow its members to kill each other, but it does not prohibit private fights that "do so until the point is reached."
"What you just said is true. I am indeed a rookie, so now I want to ask you, a senior, for advice."
The young man maintained a neither humble nor arrogant attitude. He knew that Defoe Rossby was provoking him. It would be foolish to go head-to-head with a powerful cold-blooded killer, but there was no need to wag his tail like a pug to show favor to this person.
"You're a really interesting guy. It seems that Fortina didn't arrange any boring guy for me."
Defoe Rossby put away the contemptuous smile on his face and returned to his original expressionless appearance.
"I understand everything about you. Even if you don't come to me, I plan to go to you. Now if you have any questions about this mission, you can ask me."
Just now Defoe Rossby wanted to understand the boy's character, so he made a test.
This young man with a childlike appearance behaved quite calmly, and there was really nothing wrong with him. It can be said that he passed the test.
The young man straightened up and asked the man in black robe in front of him: "Well, I want to know, what is my position in this mission this time?"
"My deputy, but if something unexpected happens, I won't care about your life or death. You can understand that you are a 'cannon fodder' who can die at any time..."
"Haha, this is really a direct and true answer."
Regarding this expected answer, the young man could only laugh twice, and then asked the following questions.
"Did you make the specific plan for this assassination mission?"
"Yes, you should have basic information over there, but I have information about that businessman's recent activities, and I have already made an execution plan."
The young man in front of him is a veteran after all, and he is extremely efficient. This blue-level mission is not a difficult challenge for him, but no matter how difficult the mission is, he must make detailed plans in advance to deal with various situations.
possible situations.
"Um, can you tell me something?"
"cannot."
Defoe simply rejected the boy's request and added:
"At least not now, I will tell you that part of your plan then."
"Well, okay."
"Oh? Don't you ask why?"
Defoe was a little surprised by the young man's overly calm behavior.
"Although I can't completely guess your intention, I think you are afraid that I will reveal the plan in advance."
The reason why the young man did not ask questions was because he could indeed understand what Defoe was doing.
"I don't have any capital worthy of your trust, and there is no 'absolute trust' in this business. You should keep everything in reserve. If there is no need to rehearse the part I am responsible for, then telling me the plan in advance is harmful and useless.
, that’s why you don’t tell me your plan now.”
"Yeah? Aren't you very wise? It seems that you are not a 'naive fool', which makes me a little relieved. Maybe I will give you a hand when you are about to be chopped off."
This cold black-robed man finally showed a kind smile on his face, at least it was much kinder than the "you owe me two million" look before.
"Thank you very much."
The young man quietly breathed a sigh of relief. When he was talking to this man, he felt both physically and mentally stressed. This man seemed to be testing him all the time.
Defoe took a sip of ale and said:
"Do you have any more questions?"
"I want to know what happened when the assassination attempt on this target failed last time?"
This is a question that the young man has always wanted to know. Why did the last mission fail?
"Oh? Are you talking about poor Blot? It was at night when he wanted to kill this businessman. It went smoothly, but this reckless guy accidentally stepped on the wolf dog raised by that guy."
"Although the wolf dog was killed by this guy, the assassination couldn't be done. Then when he ran out of the yard, he happened to encounter a night patrol team, and he was caught by the guards in that town.
"
It turned out that there was nothing wrong with the task object, it was just an accident.
The young man who felt a little more at ease couldn't help but worry about another thing.
"Uh? How is he now?"
"What else?"
Defoe turned the dagger in his hand, and the white blade shone coldly under the oil lamp.
"Of course he died. The body was hung on the platform for ten days. It is said that when it was taken down, half of the meat on the body was eaten by crows. Then he was thrown into a mass grave a hundred miles east.