THIS BRIBE FOR YOUR SOUL
♫ “Dusk. The time when most of the creatures of night started prowling and darkness’ cold breeze greeted every denizen of the earth.” ♫
On the nearby smaller, much quieter tavern’s farthest corner was an old bard softly playing his worn down lute. Even if he was hungry, without a drink nor food on his table and with no one listening to his music, he went on. Fret to fret, sliding his dirty long-nailed fingertips on the strings – strands of his own white beard – he sadly sang his song, ♫ “Beware, beware, hunters and hunted alike. Born from nature, we are all.” ♫
His soft plucking followed as he finished the final chorus. His voice, though, was nothing as loud as his empty stomach. Still, he managed to get through his song.
♫ “Never mistake one to be superior over another.” ♫
Out of force of habit, he bowed his head and tipped his tattered hat despite seeing not a single soul in front of him, cheering… so he was startled when someone, with a gloved hand, slid three silver coins on his table.
“Thank you, good sir!” The bard bowed again, much lower this time, as the fellow walked back to his own seat at the table on the opposite corner. He settled his lute gently against his chair and then raised his finger to get the tavern keeper’s attention while with his other hand, he fumbled to pick up the coins. “Where are those bastards playing dice again?”
The man who just gave him the coins shook his head in disappointment as he sat back watching the bard head out without his lute. He figured he should have ordered him a mug of fresh goat milk and a whole apple pie instead. Wearing a frown, he ruffled his short, blood red hair.
A gent in his late twenties, he sported neither a beard nor a scar unlike most of the men his age. All he had with him were the revolver holstered on his waist and his standard hunter’s cloak provided to him by his organization.
His mortal gaze wandered in the tavern, trying to find something else of interest until he no longer could deny what was in front of him. A table ward with a sigil of a staked wolf head, a large bag said to contain 500 gold coins, and a comely young woman sitting on the opposite side, pushing that bag his way.
“It’s our downpayment, Sir Hajime Saitou. Please, take it,” she pleaded as he directed his gaze away from the bag and into her.
With caution on his tone, Hajime retorted, “Downpayment? We’ve yet to decide whether we’ll take the job, Miss… er…” He trailed off as admittedly, he wasn’t paying attention when she introduced herself earlier. “I’m sorry. Your name is?”
“Um… uh… I…” she hesitated answering, “I already…”
“What you gave was an alias, not your real name,” his stare bore onto her, almost making her recoil either due to his pointing out her lie or the winsome but discerning look on the hunter’s face.
Nervously, she clutched the ties of her fine cloak. “Um.. Uh… Is it really necessary, sir?”
Hajime explained, “We’re not mere hunters, miss. We need our clients’ profiles for documentation and all that boring stuff for The Agency,” yet his investigative gaze didn’t ease up.
“Th-then… my name…” She sighed in defeat, “It’s Rika. Rika Hiyama.”
Then came the loud, booming voice of another gloved hunter – a fully bearded, much older fellow – who sat next to Hajime, “What a LOVELY NAME for an EQUALLY LOVELY FACE~!” The man casually settled his elbow on the younger hunter’s shoulder and winked at their client. He blew aside his long, scruffy white hair to reveal his wrinkled face and a smile that signaled what exactly went on his mind as he ogled at their client. Starting from her cloaked chest area up to her lips and back down again. “I’m sure beneath that cloak is one LOVELY VIEW too.” He made sure to emphasize the words.
Not really sure how to respond, Rika thanked him.
Hajime wanted to chastise his aged hunting partner, Ryuuji, but because the latter was the veteran hunter among them, the former stayed quiet.
She then sighed as she went to the heart of the matter again, “Please, gentlemen, accept this mission.” She began narrating how bad it was, her voice almost cracking in despair.
“Every night, a monstrous werewolf terrorizes my village, killing and eating our livestock… murdering people in their houses… mutilating corpses… turning our lives into a living hell.”
Hajime’s stare became more intense. More investigative.
“You have to help us. All of us in the village do not care how much we have to pay you… Just put… this monster down!” Her silver eyes met his discerning deep blue pupils. Meanwhile, the old hunter next to him was conspicuously licking his lips as she continued, “I was told that members of The Agency accomplish 98% of their hunting expeditions. You are our best hope… Please, my good sirs, hear our plea. We will do anything for you in return.”
Old Ryuuji asked, casually addressing his and Hajime’s client, “Are you sure you will do ANYTHING, Rika?”
‘Ugh, here we go,’ Looking away, Hajime mustered his strength to keep his exasperation down.
“Yes, of course, sir!” Rika immediately answered the question. “Tell me what you want. As long as it is within my reach, it shall be yours.” She hoped fervently that her response would spur the men into action.
Ryuuji leaned forward, reducing his voice to a hush, “How about you become my sex slave when I have the severed head of the damn werewolf?”
Hajime openly protested. “HEY! THAT’S JUST–”
But just as openly, Rika accepted, “If that’s what it takes for you to accept this mission, then you shall have me, Sir Ryuuji Sakamoto.”
Shocked, the younger hunter tried to stop the client from saying further but she offered herself to him as well, “You can have me too, Sir Hajime. You gentlemen can… take turns.”
He quickly stood up and started to walk away, “Sorry but I’m not that kind of guy. So no way in hell that I’m taking this job.” The pretty maiden stared at him in a moment of open-mouthed dumbfoundedness. He shook his head, waving his hand goodbye, thinking, ‘Besides, such a reward guarantees doom. I’ve seen it happen to my co-agents. I will not walk that path.’
“W-wait!” Rika called out as a waitress comes over their table with Hajime’s order.
Ryuuji lounged on his seat, calling out to him too, “Oi, Hajime. You might wanna go back here.” He took in a whiff of his order, “Brewed Arabica coffee with fresh goat milk. Ahh… The aroma!”
The honorable hunter halted in mid-step. ‘I can’t believe they’re trying to lure me… with an innocent cup of coffee!’
The shamelessly dirty hunter chuckled, “I know you want it.”
Curious if a cup of the premium drink could really convince Hajime, Rika gave Ryuuji a questioning look. Not a second later Hajime turned back around, disappointed in himself.
“DAMN IT!”
Coffee has more appeal than a s*x slave. Lol
Ahaha, well that was a very rare coffee blend in the story's lore, so...