Negotiation for life

Ryan felt sharp pain throughout his body from the impact of his fall, along with a piercing sensation in his chest, as if a bone had been broken. His head was spinning, and his vision blurred, but he managed to stay conscious—his training had paid off. If it were an ordinary person, they might have fainted or even died from such an attack. It had happened so suddenly and with such speed and strength that he hadn't been able to react properly. This level of power surpassed human limits.

From the brief glimpse he had of the attacker's face, he was certain—this was the fugitive knight that the Viscount, the police, and everyone else were searching for.

Ryan cursed himself for not listening to his instincts. He should have left the moment he started feeling uneasy upon entering the alley. He suspected now that those thugs from earlier had been beaten to death by the knight. Everything had seemed to be going smoothly—he had shot Captain Hook without any resistance, killing him before he could even react. He had expected pursuit from the remaining loyal guards, but he hadn't anticipated that they would be armed with crossbows. And what shocked and unexpected bad luck to him even more was the knight's presence in the alley.

His original plan had been simple: use the knight as a distraction for the pursuing guards, letting him take a few arrows while Ryan escaped. After all, loading a crossbow took time, and he could have used that window of chance to flee. But things had gone terribly wrong.

Even with his blurred vision, he could hear the hurried footsteps of three men approaching. They stopped a short distance away, hesitating at the sight of an unfamiliar figure—the knight. Without asking questions, they raised their crossbows and fired.

The knight, however, was prepared. He grabbed his sword, which had been leaning against the wall, and deflected the incoming arrows with a swift movement before charging forward. The three men barely had time to react. Their expressions shifted from determination to sheer terror, as if they had just realized they had made a fatal mistake. Before they could beg for mercy or turn to flee, a silver light flashed. They clutched their throats, eyes wide with disbelief, before collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

"Why do these insects keep bothering me?" the knight muttered, his voice filled with irritation. "First a few thieves, and now these fools. Can't I have a peaceful night?"

But just as he finished speaking, he suddenly dropped to one knee, coughing up blood. The quiet alley was filled with the dripping sound of blood and sweat hitting the ground. Using his sword for support, the knight struggled to stand, his body trembling. Despite his injuries, he started moving toward Ryan, clearly intent on finishing him off.

Ryan, having just witnessed the brutal deaths of the three men, felt his breath catch. He didn't know how to react. Should he take the chance to attack? The knight was wounded, barely standing, but Ryan himself was in no condition to fight. Even a surprise attack might fail. He needed to think fast if he wanted to survive.

Seeing the knight's condition, Ryan realized that this could be his best chance to negotiate. But before he could speak, a sharp pain shot through his chest, making him cough violently.

"Cough… cough… S-Sir, wait a minute," he gasped. "You want to kill me to silence me, right? But I don't think that's a good idea."

The knight gave no response and continued stepping toward him. Ryan knew he had no time to waste.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have attacked you. I sincerely apologize. But killing me won't do you any good," he blurted out in desperation.

The knight didn't stop, but his pace slowed slightly. Seeing this, Ryan spoke even faster, his panic rising.

"You're wounded. If you let me live, I can help you get medicine. Right now, your face is everywhere in the city. If you go looking for medical treatment, they'll be expecting it. It'll be a trap. But if you stay with me, I can get you what you need without raising suspicion."

The knight finally came to a halt. He frowned, considering Ryan's words. He knew Ryan was right—seeking help openly would be dangerous. He needed someone who could move unnoticed, and thieves and assassins had their underground networks for exactly this kind of situation.

"How can I trust you?" the knight asked, his voice cold.

Ryan's mind raced. His life depended on his answer, but he had nothing to offer as proof of loyalty. He couldn't share any secret that would guarantee trust as they didn't know each other and secret would be useless, nor did he have a way to prove himself.

After a brief hesitation, he finally said, "Sir, I don't have a way to make you trust me. But just this once, please believe me. You can come to my home—it's safer. I can bring the medicine without drawing attention."

The knight remained silent for a long moment before sighing. He was a rational man. He knew Ryan couldn't prove his sincerity, but he also knew he needed treatment. His body was reaching its limit. If his wounds worsened, he might not survive. And forcing Ryan into a desperate fight wouldn't help either. A willing accomplice, even a weak one, was better than none.

"Fine," the knight said. "Lead the way. But don't try anything foolish."

Ryan exhaled shakily, pressing a hand against his injured chest as he struggled to his feet. He gestured for the knight to follow and led him toward the other side of the alley, where he retrieved his spare clothes. Quickly, he changed into his original outfit and removed his mask before handing the dark clothes to the knight.

"Wear these. Your clothes are torn and covered in blood—they'll attract too much attention."

The knight wordlessly took the clothes and put them on. Despite his pain, he forced himself to walk normally, matching Ryan's pace as they made their way through the city. Every step was agony, but neither of them had a choice.

Ryan, too, winced with each movement. The pain was unbearable, but at least for now, he was still alive.