SWY 5

The awkward silence was broken by an urgent knock at the door.

“Master! Are you alright?”

It was the coachman’s voice. Only then did Sharhan, who had instinctively stepped back, return to his seat. Lestel opened the carriage door.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry. We were almost there, but an addict ran into the road, and we had to stop suddenly. Are you unharmed?”

Beyond the open door, an addict was being dragged away by the gambling hall’s guards. Around gambling dens, it was common to see addicts who had lost everything yet still couldn’t stop gambling, begging passersby for money. Give them anything, and they’d flip out and rush back in to gamble again. They weren’t even worthy of sympathy.

Sharhan shook his head as he looked at the addict still begging for a single silver coin while being dragged away. That one wasn’t alone. Though they didn’t approach directly, there were more addicts lurking nearby, clearly waiting for a chance to beg. Sharhan could feel their persistent, greedy gazes even from inside the carriage.

“Let’s get out.”

Lestel stepped out first. Sharhan followed right behind, gripping his sword’s hilt tightly. He meant to draw it if necessary. But the addicts didn’t even spare him a glance, despite his intimidating presence. Their eyes were locked onto Lestel. Sharhan looked him over. Broad, angular shoulders, a slim waist, long legs – his clothes, made by the empire’s most famous tailor, made that figure even more striking. You could tell from the prominent logo on the fabric: expensive, no doubt. Despite the flashy embroidery on the collar, cuffs, and chest, Lestel wore it all effortlessly.

Sharhan’s gaze traveled from Lestel’s shoulders, down his waist and legs, and back up again. Thanks to that absurdly expensive outfit, his well-proportioned body stood out even more.

That’s all just because of the clothes. If I wore that, I’d look way better.

Sharhan scoffed inwardly, raising his gaze higher until he saw Lestel’s face. He was a little more tanned now, but his smooth skin and long, flowing silver hair gleamed with a luster that screamed wealth. Anywhere else, his good looks would’ve drawn all the attention, but here, the addicts only had eyes for the coin pouch that was surely stuffed with gold.

“What’s with their eyes?”

The addicts, watching for an opening to lunge in between glances at the guards, had strange eyes. Weren’t they unnaturally red, as if filled with blood? Sharhan kept his guard up, watching the staggering addicts who could barely stay on their feet.

“Drugged.”

Lestel clicked his tongue and said,

“Drugged?”

“Drug addicts are popping up in cities everywhere these days.”

“You mean drugs are spreading in the empire?”

“You haven’t heard of Paphun Tea?”

“Paphun Tea? No… Wait, is that the one that supposedly boosts energy, lifts your mood, takes away pain, and even increases stamina? Like a miracle cure?”

He remembered something from a week ago. A peddler had stopped by the Blue Spider’s Goblet. Peddlers weren’t part of any merchant guild, they traveled from city to city selling goods on their own.

That peddler had looked ridiculous, trying to sell his wares to a rundown Grade 4 inn. When asked what he was selling, he pulled out some tea and started singing its praises with all kinds of flowery words. Sharhan had no interest in tea and only half-listened, but the name had started with a “Pa” something.

“That tea was a drug? But it was cheap.”

The peddler had given out a whole pouch for just 20 coppers. A few mercenaries, dazzled by the low price and sales pitch, had bought some. He remembered one of them clearly, the guy in the next room who had kept Sharhan up all night with noisy sex. That guy had definitely bought the tea.

“Yeah. It was cheap and hyped as good for everything, so people drank it without thinking. And apparently, the effects weren’t bad.”

“Sounds about right. At the inn I’m staying at, a few mercenaries drank it and were at it all night. They bragged that the tea boosted their stamina.”

One mercenary had even shouted in the morning that the tea really worked. That guy would never enjoy another night like that again. Sharhan, pissed off from the noise, had beaten him up. He only stopped after the guy promised to take his sex elsewhere.

“Since it worked, they probably started drinking more. One or two cups a day became three or four, then six or more, and eventually over twenty a day.”

“…”

Sharhan frowned. The steadily increasing intake was textbook drug addiction.

“And that’s what happens when they run out.”

Lestel pointed at the man who looked the worst. Covered in grime, as if he hadn’t washed in ages, he couldn’t stand still, swaying from side to side. His legs gave out beneath him, eyes wide and bloodshot, with foam around his mouth.

“So the tea didn’t stay cheap.”

“Apparently not.”

“What do you mean? So it did stay cheap?”

“I don’t know. Paphun Tea was sold by peddlers who never visited the same city twice.”

“They sold a highly addictive tea and never came back? Why?”

A merchant’s goal was profit. With that kind of addiction, they could easily charge double, or ten times the price, and addicts would still pay. But instead, they just got people hooked and vanished. That was strange.

“No clue. I didn’t sell it.”

“…”

“They either didn’t know it was addictive or had some other motive.”

It wasn’t a wrong guess, but Lestel’s smug tone made it sound like he was revealing some great secret, which was irritating. Sharhan glared at him, sweeping his gleaming silver hair under the sun, and suddenly lifted his foot, he had spotted an addict charging at them. The addict was kicked and sent tumbling.

“Why are you coming at me? You’re the junkie.”

He’d thought the addict was targeting Lestel’s coin pouch out of gambling desperation. Sharhan kicked away a second one with a grumble. Once it started, they came swarming like moths to light.

“Can’t you tell? Junkies and gamblers both.”

“Trash.”

Now Sharhan was using his sheathed sword to beat them down without hesitation. Even if the addiction had started unknowingly, gambling addiction alone was reason enough to call them garbage.

“You beat them up so well, honey. I feel safe.”

“Don’t call me that… Dammit, why do they keep charging?”

Even after getting knocked down, the addicts got right back up. Their eyes were unfocused. It seemed they’d reached the peak of withdrawal. While Sharhan cursed and swung his sheathed sword, Lestel watched calmly from behind.

“Honey, you missed one. Hurry up and protect me.”

Lestel said it in a completely unbothered voice. When Sharhan turned, he saw an addict right near Lestel, having slipped past his line of sight.

“You can handle it yourself!”

“Why would I, when I paid for a bodyguard? Come on, honey, do your job. Make me feel like I didn’t waste my money on you.”

Sharhan, fuming and full of adrenaline, quickly knocked down the addicts around him and rushed to Lestel. He slammed the sheath into the addict’s neck, and the man collapsed unconscious. Only then did the guards from the gambling hall rush out. Earlier, Sharhan had wondered why the entrance was empty. Apparently, they’d gone inside to call for backup.

Sharhan handed over the situation to the guards and panted heavily. Killing them would’ve been easier. Trying to subdue them without lethal force was far more exhausting. He cursed under his breath, watching the guards drag the addicts away. The addicts thrashed violently, and one even bit a guard. The bitten man threw the addict aside and began kicking him while swearing.

“Why are they getting so aggressive all of a sudden? Is that a side effect of Paphun Tea?”

They had seemed calm earlier, just staring, but now they were attacking like rabid dogs.

“Yeah. That’s one of the symptoms. I don’t know what the tea’s made of, but the withdrawal’s a nightmare. Sudden fevers, violent outbursts, then they go quiet again. Foaming at the mouth, bloodshot eyes.”

“You know a lot.”

“There’s an addict among the merchant guild’s employees.”

As they watched the addicts suddenly collapse as if the rage had never happened, Lestel turned toward the gambling hall.

“So why are we here?”

“To meet an informant.”