This Place Is a Total Ripoff!

"A kid? You've got to be kidding…" A bald, burly man blinked in disbelief at Ryan, who—thanks to his tall frame and "early maturity"—looked more like fourteen or fifteen rather than twelve or thirteen.

In a dim corner, a man with a savage scar across his face sneered. "Probably just wandered in here out of curiosity after hearing about this place from someone flapping their lips…"

"Hey, brat! This ain't the kind of place for someone like you. Run along home and drink your milk!" A sweaty, shirtless man roared with laughter as Ryan walked in.

"Don't be so harsh. Maybe he's here to be a bounty hunter!" another man snickered. This one was tall and skinny, with a longsword strapped to his back. He burst out laughing, clinking mugs with his drinking buddies.

A swordsman seated near the center nodded and muttered, "Wouldn't be the craziest thing we've seen…"

And that was true. In this bloody, ruthless shinobi world, nothing was off the table—madmen, murderers, monsters, geniuses. You could bump into anyone at any time.

From behind the counter, a beautiful young woman with an easy smile asked, "Hey kid, do you even know where you are?"

Ryan looked around the bar. Many patrons were openly carrying weapons, and most had the thick, metallic scent of blood clinging to them. Clearly, none of them were decent folk.

He casually strolled over and dropped into a stool at the counter. Glancing at her sideways, he chuckled. "Isn't this the entrance to the Underground World?"

"Oh? You know what this place is?" the woman raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Then why would you come here? Don't you know the kind of people who hang out here? Bounty hunters, mercenaries… some of them won't even blink before killing someone."

"That has nothing to do with me," Ryan replied with a shrug. "Say, if I wanted to become a bounty hunter… is there some kind of registration process?"

Looking around the bar again, Ryan couldn't see anything that resembled an actual task board or mission posting area.

His words stunned many of the bounty hunters within earshot. They began examining him more closely.

"No way… he's serious?" The tall man who had joked earlier now stared at Ryan in shock. He'd only said it as a joke—but the kid actually wanted to register?

"If he's a ninja from one of the Great Villages, then it's not that unbelievable for someone his age…" said a stern-faced samurai, his eyes narrowing. Though Ryan looked small and young, he radiated a quiet, coiled danger that couldn't be ignored.

Hearing this, several others nodded.

"Yeah, looks like a ninja backpack to me. Could be legit."

The woman behind the counter leaned forward, smiling. "So, little brother, are you really here to be a bounty hunter?"

"Yeah. So—what's the process?" Ryan smiled back.

Still smiling, she explained, "Becoming a registered bounty hunter in the Underground World isn't that simple, you know. First off, you've got to pay a registration fee of 10,000 ryo. Got that kind of cash?"

"And then?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by her teasing tone. Without a word, he pulled out a thick wad of cash and tossed it onto the counter.

Gasps rippled through the bar.

Ryan's casual gesture instantly drew every pair of eyes. Greedy, cold, murderous stares locked onto him.

A kid, carrying that much money? Even if he was a ninja, how strong could he really be?

To the blood-soaked mercenaries and killers in the room, it didn't matter how old he was. Unless they feared the consequences, robbing and killing him was perfectly normal in their line of work. And they were all now eyeing Ryan like fresh prey.

Of course, the only reason this black market could operate so openly was because it had rules—and the power to enforce them. At least here, in the bar, no one dared make a move.

The beautiful woman blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected Ryan to actually pull out that much cash. She counted it quickly, then pulled out a form from somewhere below the bar and handed it to him.

"Huh? Just codename and gender? That's it?" Ryan stared at the form. "You're not even asking for my village, rank, abilities?"

She giggled. "Of course not. As soon as you stepped through the door, our security system captured your image. This is the Underground World. We're a decentralized organization that partners with bounty hunters. People come here to post bounties, we take a commission, and you guys take the jobs. Why would we bother collecting your private info?"

She gave him a knowing look. "Besides, let's be real… if the form did ask for details like your rank or techniques, would you honestly fill that out truthfully?"

Ryan grinned. "Fair point."

It made sense—why waste resources collecting fake information? The Underground World likely had its own intel networks to gather what mattered.

"Oh, right. Do you guys sell intel here too?" Ryan asked, quickly filling out the form.

"Yep. Say you pick up a mission to assassinate someone—we usually have data on the target available for purchase. But of course, info isn't cheap. Gathering intelligence is hard work."

She glanced down at the form. Her brow raised.

"'Peacock King'? That's your codename?" she asked, both amused and surprised.

"Heh." Ryan just grinned and didn't explain.

"Well then, congrats. You're now officially a registered bounty hunter in the Underground World. Your information will be relayed to our other branches shortly."

Ryan rolled his eyes. A single form cost me ten thousand ryo? What a scam.

"Do you have a mission board or something?" he asked, realizing he had no clue which missions were even available.

"Here," she said, pulling out several thin booklets. "These are the latest compilations of active missions, ranked by difficulty—SS, S, A, B. No C-rank stuff here. We don't bother with that."

Ryan glanced over the covers. "These look like… mission catalogs."

"Each one costs 10,000 ryo."

Ryan's face instantly darkened. He nearly flipped the counter.

I haven't even taken a mission yet and I'm already bleeding money!

Registration fees, mission catalog fees, intel fees… he had to admit—this place really knew how to squeeze money out of people.

Especially the intelligence services. They didn't force you to buy it, but without it, you'd waste half your life trying to gather the info yourself—and probably fail anyway.

Muttering complaints under his breath, Ryan still bought the SS, S, and A-rank catalogs. He skipped B-rank entirely.

"Other than the occasional high-paying escort job," the woman continued, "most missions here are straightforward: kill or capture. Once the job is done, bring the target—or the body—to one of our cash-in branches around the world."

She smirked. "No way we'd let people drag corpses through the front door of the bar, right?"

Made sense. You couldn't exactly run a bar if people kept dumping bloodied bodies next to the liquor.

Ryan frowned. "Wait… you guys take escort missions too? I thought this place was all about murder and robbery."

"Usually, yeah. But if someone offers a lot of money, we'll post any job. Take a look at the booklets and see what catches your eye. If you find a mission you want, we can sell you the related intel."

Ryan's eye twitched. There it is again—money, money, money.

"You people are such scammers!" he groaned.

She laughed, clearly used to this reaction. "You're not the first to say that, you know. Just ask the rest of the hunters behind you."

"But," the woman added in a low voice, glancing past Ryan at the bar's patrons, "you'd better be careful once you walk out of here. Most of the people in here… aren't exactly friendly."

Ryan turned slightly. Sure enough, dozens of bounty hunters were watching him like hawks—hungry, eager, and dangerous.

And none of them were smiling.

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T/N:

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