'Yala! Black pine! And, a dozen more!"

  Gasping for breath, Quaid leaned over the bar in the noisy, dim Sunset bar and poured drinks into

  his mouth, one after another.

  "Hey, big guy, no money to tip, no black pine!

  Yala from behind the bar, with a grumpy look on her face, brings up two large glasses of black pine,

  which she slams unceremoniously against the counter:

  'These are the last two, for your father's sake! You've got thirty seconds to finish them and get the

  hell out of here! Every hour you sit here, our bar, nay, the whole underground street, loses ten

  percent of its profits!"

  Quaid was a little dizzy from the drink, but even in the crowded bar, Yala's fierce voice was heard

  far away.

  Feeling the glances of the drinkers around him and the possible smiles on their hearts, Quaid

  caught a fire in his heart.

  Back in the day, he was Quaid "the Blood Axe" Rhoda, who terrorized the whole Lower town!

  If, if it hadn't happened... And now how, how can a girl look at the bar and bully him?

  Even the bald Spence, who came out two years later than him, would dare to laugh at himself and

  laugh at his vagina in front of the beggar...

  Grass!

  "Chicks without long eyes!

  Quaid, exasperated by the thought, gnashed his teeth and shook his heavy head to his feet.

  He grabbed Yala's hand across the bar, dragged her towards him, and bellowed bitterly:

  'I said it! A dozen black pines!"

  The whole bar fell silent.

  Lower Town is the most chaotic part of Eternal City, and Underground Street is the most chaotic

  part of Lower Town - especially after the Black Street Brotherhood took over ten years ago.

  The Sunset Bar sits in a prominent position in this mess, and the people who come here are either

  affiliated with the Black Street Frat House or are looking for a frat house.So when Quaid grabbed Yala's hand and growled, the patrons looked on as if they were watching

  the show. No one said a word, no one stopped them.

  Quaid's head grew fainter.

  Still, he felt the wrist he was holding so soft, so... Soft.

  In the dim yellow light of the bar menorah, and at such close range, Yala's smooth face and delicate

  contours appeared clearer than usual, her short gray hair so clean that Quaid could even faintly

  smell the faint scent on her counterpart.

  His mind wandered, and for a moment he thought of many things.

  Yala seemed frightened by him, too.

  The girl looks in surprise at the former gold medal enforcer, now a down-and-out drinker.

  When the cacophony of drinkers died down, the giddy Quaid felt vaguely satisfied: the silence was

  proof that his actions were getting the attention they deserved.

  And respect.

  But soon enough, as he shifts his gaze to Yala, Quaid's wine gradually wakes up.

  His face changed.

  From his first desperate cheerfulness and arrogance, fear and alarm gradually changed.

  Yala Sariton.

  Quaid is one of the few people who knows her full name.

  This beautiful woman - Quaid suddenly recalled his father's words telling him to "stay away from

  her."

  And what he saw and heard several times at the Sunset Bar.

  And this bitchy, seductive "bar girl" was staring at him playfully, letting him hold her hand.

  Quaid's jaw began to shake uncontrollably:

  "Yala, that, I'm not..."But before Quaid could react -

  "Da!

  His hand, which was holding Yala, was snapped back by the latter!

  And before that was over, his middle and index fingers were broken in the opposite direction!

  The pain was excruciating.

  'Aah!

  Quaid cried out in pain, his face disfigured.

  But that was only the prelude, for Yala, with a sharp face, clasped his arm and wrenched it in the

  opposite direction of his elbow!

  'Clack!

  The crackle of dislocated elbows coincided with Quaid's screams.

  "Ahhhhhhh!

  "No, no, no! Yala! Sister Yala! Oh, I -- I was wrong -- I shouldn't have -- '

  But before Quaid can finish pleading for mercy, the clean-cut girl takes advantage of it, and a slim

  left leg in short leather pants leaps up the bar, plummets down, and smashes Quaid in the neck!

  "Thunk!"

  There was a dull thud, and Quaid's pitiful cry was cut short!

  For a moment there was silence.

  The next moment, the bar explodes with heckling:

  "Well done, little Yala! Not embarrassing the boss! '

  "Ha-ha, this skill can dry the shit out of the end swordsman!"

  "I swear I saw it! Ten coppers, I bet, and she's wearing black!"

  'No, damn it! She's wearing safety pants!"The drinkers around her returned to the toasting frenzy, dancing, crying and howling, one by one,

  to cheer and jeer Yala.

  'Listen up!

  "Yala stared hard at the crushed Quaid.

  She stood on one foot behind the bar, her left leg pressed against it, her right hand clasped behind

  Quaid's outstretched arm, revealing her slender figure.

  "You disgusting human skin gorilla!

  Calmly, the girl slowly pulled a weirdly shaped knife out of the holster of her left boot -- the blade

  and handle were out of line, and from a distance it looked like a Wolf's leg.

  The knife fell straight into Quaid's hand.

  "Thunk!

  The tip of the knife even nails into the bar!

  "Whoo!

  Quaid was crying with pain, but with his neck crushed he could only let out an ugly howl that

  resembled a pig's bark.

  The drinkers got more agitated and the heckling got louder.

  Slowly lowering her upper body to reveal her perfect flexibility, Yala leaned close to Quaid's

  weeping face and whistled disapprovingly, a dangerous grin.

  Her face was harsh and fierce, and in a voice full of rhythm and flavor, she uttered these chilling

  words:

  "Quaid Rhoda..."

  "I don't care whose son you are, or what scrounger you are, or what black-ledger enforcer..."

  "But you fucking listen to me..."

  Yala slowly turned the handle of the knife.

  From finger to palm, Quaid, who had nowhere to complain about the pain, "whined" against the

  bar with his knee, to no avail."From now until the end of the world..."

  "If you ever show up in my bar again..."

  The girl with a cold face got the words out between her teeth:

  "I will put you, under, face, that, words, son..."

  "Piece by piece..."

  "Chopped into shreds..."

  "Mixed into wine..."

  "Mouthful by mouthful..."

  "Down it for you..."

  'Do you understand? Wuss! "

  Only a few minutes later, as Quaid wailed out of the Sunset bar, protecting his punctured right palm,

  to the laughter of the drinkers and the scorn of Yala, did Yala clap her palms and wipe the blood

  from the Wolf leg knife with a look of disgust.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  It was as if, instead of blood, it had been smeared with demon slime.

  The drinkers were still Shouting excitedly about what had just happened, and many of them were

  still staring at the female bartender behind the bar, some with ulterior motives and lustful eyes.

  Yala looks back angrily and slashes her knife against the bar!

  'What are you looking at!

  "Anyone who dares to look again will pay twice for the drink!"

  Peace was restored at the Sunset Bar.

  After a few harsh words had drawn the drinkers' attention back from her, Yala threw the rag down

  viciously and went into the back kitchen.

  There, a young man in a top hat smiled at her and slapped his wrists.

  Yala snorted dismissively."Is that enough?

  "I made a point of mentioning his' little 'thing, as you said."

  Yala grabbed a bottle of white wine, a utility knife suddenly appeared in her left hand, and neatly

  uncorked the bottle.

  'Of course, of course, Miss Yala,' she said.

  In the back kitchen, Naric, Quaid's deputy and de facto manager of the begging business, gently

  lifted his black top hat and nodded with a smile.

  "Let's hope he restraps himself a bit from now on -- the Brotherhood can't keep wiping his ass,

  from drinking too much to abusing begging children without limit."

  "What you're saying is, you can't keep cleaning up for him." Yala throws her head back and slurps

  her drink smartly.

  Rick suddenly felt that this rude gesture was just right in Yala, fresh and inviting.

  It made him subconsciously swallow his throat.

  What a shame...

  "And that's true, because the fraternity is my home, and what's good for the fraternity is good for

  me." Rick smiled and involuntarily touched the back of his neck.

  "Are you sure this really works?"

  Yala scowled down the bottle:

  'Why do I get the feeling that a man like him will go back and find more trouble? Like taking it out

  on your beggar son? '

  You really know him, Rick thought.

  "I don't know if it works, because I don't know him either," Rick shook his head helplessly -- in what

  was already his trademark innocent and heartfelt gesture -- and said:

  "But lately, he's stepped it up a notch. Three days ago, just for the sake of a few coins, he actually

  put a seedling that I am optimistic about... If the boy hadn't been more clever, the future of the

  Brotherhood in Quaid's hands would have been another one."Blimey.

  Yala rolled her eyes inside.

  Accountant, I had no idea you were so generous and righteous.

  "So I decided: This can't go on. He has to be warned." At this point, Rick drops his hand touching

  the nape of his neck and his gaze becomes suddenly firm.

  "Otherwise, sooner or later, he's going to ruin the business I've worked so hard for."

  Yala groaned and shook her head.

  "Well, well, you don't have to explain to me so much 'I had to kill my boss'."

  "I didn't say I was going to kill him..."

  "All right, all right, pay the fee. I only take cash." Yala impatiently interrupted Rick's innocent plea.

  Yala finished the white wine languidly, stuck out her tongue and licked the last drop from the mouth

  of the bottle into her mouth.

  The gesture sent a jolt through Rick's heart.

  She yawns and waves her hand to let Rick go.

  "Also, you still have to pay for the black pine he owes today."

  "Including those 'private goods' you brought with you."

  Yala narrowed her eyes slightly, looking at Rick as he took off his hat and walked away.

  Others may not recognize it, but I, Yala from the Sunset Bar, know it all...

  The so-called "black pine" you brought here today to "treat" Quaid to drink is actually banned

  Chaka spirits.

  It was drunk on the battlefields of the Western front, facing the Orcs, for shackled death-row

  prisoners before a suicide charge. It was not strong, but it was highly intoxicating.

  So, Nal Ric.

  Yala frowns at his back.Are you sure you have too much money to spend and you don't really want to kill him?

  But...

  Well, forget it.

  Yala turned unconcerned.

  Scum fighting among themselves.

  ————

  As Quaid, full of shame, pain, and booze, returned to the great stone door in front of the

  abandoned house -- he did not live in the Black Street headquarters, and Quaid felt that anyone

  inside who knew anything about it looked as if they were staring at his lower body when they saw

  him -- two hurrying goons happened to pass behind the wall.

  "Have you heard? The beggars are carrying a rumor..."

  Their chatter spread far away.

  "They say that the Quaid Boss is not a man anymore..."

  Quaid's giddy brain was confused.

  "What do you mean? Can he still be a woman? '

  "Fool, that means Quaid has been castrated! Some years ago, while collecting bills in Carima Street,

  in one of the murder houses -- the one left by the Earl of Norfolk and his family after they were

  hanged -- something very strange happened..."

  'They say a female ghost in red cut off his bottom, clean.'

  'The Ghost in red? Ha ha ha, not some bitch he fucked... So he can't now..."

  For a split second, Quaid felt the blood rush from all over his body to his head.

  The next moment, out of control, he was running from behind the wall, roaring!

  "Who is it! Who said so! What bastard!"

  Quaid grabs one of the beaters by the neck hard!

  "What bastard!"I'm going to kill him!"

  "The other enforcer took a few panicked steps back.

  The vindictive Quaid pinned the man to the ground, tightening his grip on his neck.

  Somehow, at that moment, the pain from his punctured hand was no longer there, but a faint

  numbness and irritation.

  It left Quaid free to think about something else.

  Back in the day...

  He was, after all, the famous head of the Brotherhood's enforcers, and the best in the class.

  In the lower town, he was mobbed everywhere he went.

  Edeleonza, the Talon brothers, Leyok, the famous thugs of the brotherhood, were only his

  descendants.

  Did not even great men like Morris and Lancer talk with him in a pleasant way?

  Who dared laugh at him then?

  Then, he believed that he would one day take over his father's business and rise to a higher place

  in the fraternity...

  Even... Close to what even my father feared... The man.

  But now...

  Now...

  Quaid looked at his frightened enforcers and his words kept ringing in his head.

  So now he couldn't...

  Not anymore...

  No more...

  Quaid fought back the tears in his eyes and let out a wild howl in his throat -- his father had told

  him with a whip that if he could not bear sorrow and pain, he should simply turn them into anger and hatred.

  Sure enough, his father was right.

  At that moment, the wine rose, but Quaid felt himself more sober than ever.

  It was as if all the hate and anger in his body had turned into unquenchable strength.

  "Boss Quaid, it was all a rumor, we didn't believe it... Aaah!"

  Quaid, like a beast, jerked his head up!

  The other enforcer, who was trembling in his defense, took a step back.

  But he immediately saw that the other partner had turned pale, with more air coming out and less

  air coming in.

  The retreating enforcer met the Quaid's fierce light, his face full of fear:

  "Ah, yes, it is all the rumours spread by those beggars, boss, it is really not our fault, you, you ask

  those beggars to know!"

  "Ka-ching!" It's the sound of a broken neck.

  The enforcer who had been strangled by Quaid was out of air.

  The rest of the beater was shaking all over.

  Slowly, Quaid rose from the ground, his eyes full of murder.

  The enforcer, seeing the trouble, screamed and rolled and crawled away.

  Quaid tries to give chase, but he chases around a corner only to find that the man has disappeared.

  Dammit.

  He took two hard breaths, turned back to look at the dead bodies in the alley, felt restless, kicked

  several more times, and then shook his head and walked toward two dozen abandoned houses.

  Quaid did not ponder why the enforcers on patrol tonight had not shown up at all - it was necessary

  to keep an eye on the beggar.

  He just had something going on in his head.Just trying to find the people who laughed at him.

  Then.

  One by one...

  Torture them to death.

  Having just killed someone, Quaid feels like a long-lost chain has been opened from his brain.

  It was as if he had gone back to the old days of making a living by knife.

  These damn thieves, he thought viciously, if they dare to spread rumors...

  You'll pay for it.

  Fucking thieves.

  He gasped, feeling that his strength and his will had not been stronger in a long time.

  Trembling, the escaping enforcer climbed out of the large stone door of the abandoned house and

  ran into Rick under the trees outside.

  "Mr. Rick!

  The enforcer sees Rick as if he's met his savior:

  "Boss Quaid - Quaid he's crazy! Don't you say, don't you say just rub it in his face and threaten to

  blow him off... And then, before we'd even finished talking, Quaid was... Pearson, he..."

  The enforcer was so out of breath with fear that he couldn't speak clearly.

  'You mean, Pearson? He, he was given by the Quaid..." Rick looked taken aback.

  After receiving confirmation that the goon was crying, Rick shook his head sadly:

  "It was my fault."

  "I thought Quaid was going to... There's nothing to be done. You close the big stone gate, lock

  Quaid in the scrap room, then prepare the carriage, and we'll go at once. '

  'All right, Mr. Rick, where are we going?

  'To the main station. Find Boss Morris.'The frightened enforcer nodded his head when he heard he was leaving.

  He did not even think about what to do with the beggars in the abandoned house.

  Rick's face suddenly turned serious as the thugs threw themselves at the stone door, laboriously

  closing the double iron doors and then locking them in.

  Now Quaid would go looking for beggars, but there were only a few dozen of them... One of them

  must be what the ghost wants.

  I have moved up today's sleep time, it is not very late.

  Quaid had half the night to take care of the beggars.

  As for what he wants to do with the punching bags, that's all the ghost, the damned stalker, cares

  about.

  If he was interested in begging children, he wouldn't sit back and watch.

  Rick thought, staring at the door of the abandoned house.

  He will no longer have time to find himself.

  If he had come for some beggar, he would have killed Quaid.

  Then the Brotherhood of Black Street would take over tomorrow -- Rhoda, Morris, even someone

  of Black Sword's rank would take care of him and be out of trouble.

  If he's here to kill a beggar, he'll probably watch Quaid continue to do so -- which is a good bet,

  since his father was in prison, Rick has often told himself, never underestimate how inglous a noble

  house is.

  Then the ghost will have achieved his goal, and his troubles will be solved naturally -- the

  Brotherhood will find only the mad boss Quaid the next morning, the tired deputy Rick, the

  miserable beggars, and of course, the ghost who got his wish and the important people behind

  him...

  Rick thought with satisfaction:

  Anyway, the trouble, the big man's problem, the coldness at the back of his neck, will be solved

  tonight.

  Without a shadow of repercussion.Otherwise, one day, the ghost who can't find a purpose will find himself.

  Rick did not think that the lackeys of these big families would be good-natured, and he did not

  think that after meeting each other, he would be able to see the sun the next day intact.

  So there had to be another safe, unsuspecting scapegoat to puncture the ghost's intentions and

  put an end to the whole mess.

  Master Quaid, this is your trouble again!

  Rick thought faintly.

  For the last time, of course.

  Well, yes, I may have been killed for failing to watch me, but compared with my life and future...

  Rick sighed, a little pity and regret flowing through his heart.

  Too bad this bunch of scroungers, that Tyles guy, that Karak guy.

  I'll be praying for you.

  I will also cover the burial and the aftermath of the victims.

  This moved Rick:

  Even in the dark, at least he has a bottom line.

  At least Narrick's humanity hasn't been lost.

  Isn't it?

  At this moment, the lucky goons came from a distance.

  "Don't worry, it's all right."

  Rick walked over to the wagon and nodded at him, offering an encouraging and comforting smile.

  "I've got you."

  The next moment, he pulled the miniature retractable crossbow out of his arms and fired the bolt,

  infused with the poison of cranberry, precisely into his startled gaping mouth.

  ————

  When Rick made a decision that would never be known to the world, but which would still

  profoundly affect the fate of the kingdom, the scroungers in the Sixth Room, led by Tyles by the

  fire they had so labored to build, counted the day's harvest.

  "The woman in black gave eight coppers. I heard her youngest son had recently died of typhoid.

  No wonder she was so generous."

  'Milala, with her floppy ears, gave us all the pennies left over from her grocery shopping... Oh, only

  two. '

  With a smile on his face, Sinti counted out the coins one by one and piled them on his left hand.

  Tyers nodded, grabbed a sharp stone, and marked the word "positive" on the ground.

  "The skinny guy in the highland boots wouldn't give the money, so Lane and I just gave him a little

  lesson."

  Kellett reached for a card and looked agonizingly at the words:

  "But this was all he had in his arms, and I don't know what it was for."

  "It's a key to the National Institute for Research, the Great Brilliant Library, five blocks uptown,"

  Tyles said after examining the card.

  "That thin fellow must be a scholar from the college. I don't know if he's a bachelor from the college

  or a priest from the church, but he's probably a writer, judging by his poor state."

  "Wow! Tyles, you know the words on it!" Coria and Ned both looked adoring at Tyles.

  "How can it be!

  Tyles shrugged, vaguely reading the hopes and longings in the children's eyes:

  "Nobody taught us how to read and count... I didn't know until I saw the book logo on the back of

  the card. '

  But, Tyers thought, yes, he was already trying to teach himself how to write.

  Such as "Sunset Bar," "Grove Pharmacy," "National Research Association" signs, and his vague

  memory also gave him a mysterious respect and worship for knowledge, to miss every opportunity

  to learn and accumulate.It is difficult for those who have never experienced it to understand... To be able to sit freely in

  front of the desk to absorb the wisdom of the predecessors -- Tyers raised dusty hands, looked at

  the above because of hard work and premature wear of cocoon, and touch the belly that is not full,

  sighed -- really is a kind of happiness.

  Tyles had no memory of his time travel.

  Rather, the memories that preceded the time travel only emerged bit by bit as Tyles grew and his

  brain and spirit formed.

  His memories of two and three years old are scattered and sparse, like those of a real two year old,

  only a thick -- he doesn't know why the color could be described as "thick" -- blood red, a black

  stone room filled with the cries of a baby, a skinny woman.

  Only later did he learn that it was Bess, the "widow with a black heart", the head woman in charge

  of raising new children in the fraternity.

  Tyers was sent to the junked house at age three, and since then, memories of his past lives have

  come back to him, most frequently, sitting at a desk, looking back and forth between books and

  screens, or in a classroom, discussing something with a dozen young people in different costumes,

  or with a middle-aged or elderly professor.

  But that was already illusory.

  For four years, Tyers had managed to keep the sixth house of beggars alive through a life of beatings,

  bullying, darkness, sin and death for the beggars downtown.

  Four years of panhandling gave Tyers a lot of new skills compared to his previous life as a graduate

  student with a bigger brain than his body:

  Sympathetic acting, stealthy pickpocketing, clever, unsentimental observation.

  Along the way, Tyles does a lot more than scrummaging, such as cultivating relationships with

  different classes of people -- downtown, different classes, "presumably" different classes of the

  lower class."

  Such as sneaking frat secrets, arranging secret locations, hiding some inventory from superiors --

  Quaid was right about that.

  Yes, Tyles wasn't prepared to accept the fate the world had given him.

  He's not going to be an honest beggar, a frat beater or a thief, and he's not interested in playing

  "Gangsters" in Star City.He's running away.

  Then, live his life and be a...

  A free man.

  At least more free than they are now.

  Just step by step, with your own plan... Tyers looked to the corner of the room, where there was

  an unremarkable SLATE.

  I could...

  Be able to

  Right now.

  From the seventeenth room next door, there was a sudden exclamation, mixed with fear and panic:

  "No! Kara!"

  Soon, Tyles will learn the most important lesson of his post-time travel:

  Accidents, they happen suddenly.