"I'm not quite sure what you've experienced in sector-4, Mr. Merrywick, but it seems that my employee Eyreen is to be blamed for the unpleasant development. Please, rest assured, I'll see to it that she faces the consequences of tarnishing the reputation of the Declan Household. I will definitely compensate you once I find out the details of this incident."

In the circle of aristocrats, Merrywick had had little interaction with people at the top. But even so, he felt that the Earl's composure and manners were commendable. The man hadn't come off as arrogant or entitled even while speaking to a commoner teenager. Yet the fact remained that the Earl had expertly shrugged off the personal responsibility behind the incident, pushing the blame onto Eyreen like Merrywick had hinted at him to do. 

This action was both a gesture of surrender and acknowledgment of his handiwork. For appearance's sake, they had merely forged a new, clean slate so that neither party could treat this incident as leverage in their forthcoming interactions.

"Maybe whether I have the intelligence to force him out or not was the essence of the test..." Merrywick mused to himself. 

"Nevertheless, I got what I wanted. He got what he wanted. Now, it's time to use what we have."

The driver popped his head inside the car that very moment, asking, "What's the destination this time? I'm guessing Sir Hector Hospital in sector-2 ain't that. I need to make the entry in the network before I start the car."

"Didn't you say you used to gamble here, mister...?" Merrywick trailed off.

"The name is Morris. And yes, I used to. Five years ago. Quit harping about that, lad."

"Then you must be familiar with the nearby areas, no?" Merrywick asked, ignoring his annoyed look.

"...Yeah, I know some regions. Why? Where do you want to go?"

"I'm looking for a property to buy. Take me on a tour around this place, preferably regions where trouble is frequent."

"....???"

The complex, unsure expression on the driver's face was quite the sight. 

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

"Er...did you say you'd prefer the troublesome areas?"

"Yes, I did."

Mr. Morris stared at Merrywick's face for a long moment before flopping down on his seat and making an entry into the driving service network. Merrywick took his usual position inside the moving vehicle, face stuck on the glass window on one side so that he could observe everything on the way. 

The Stadia wasn't the only major 'attraction' among the segregated regions of sector-4. But it was the main focal point for people who lived nearby in terms of business prospects. Surrounding the massive structure, numerous narrow streets had formed among rows of shops, residential hotels of all kinds, stalls selling food, gadgets, refurbished devices that were mostly stolen goods, second-hand books, counterfeits of branded clothes, essentially anything one could need in this place. The most flourishing business was, of course, the spiritual corruption detectors. Sold as consumables with very brief battery life, these devices were life-saving amulets near the outskirts of any isolated district like Bastion City.

Merrywick began to observe the people in the streets more than the shops at some point. Those who lived so close to the Stadia were people who had some connections to the business inside it, directly or indirectly. He noticed several groups of young and middle-aged men roaming the streets lazily, their gait revealing experience and familiarity with their surroundings. The eye-grabbing attire on them, accompanied by flashes of weapons half-hidden within the clothes, was enough for him to understand that gang culture wasn't unusual here. It might even be a major feature.

"Wonder if these gangs got any mages backing them up. Look at that strut in his steps, tsk~"

Morris, the driver, snapped his neck around, giving Merrywick another strong stare that held a bevy of emotions. Merrywick wriggled his eyebrows at the questioning glare, saying, "What do you think? Do these gangs have mages in the higher rungs?"

Swallowing nervously, Morris nodded. 

"Pretty sure I've heard some stories. Most of these gangs are small and interconnected. Their backing goes straight into the Stadia. So hiring mages temporarily is easy, and keeping mages as permanent members isn't too rare, either. Most of the big shots inside the Stadia are mages themselves. So I suggest you put those troublesome thoughts of yours under a proper cover, lad."

"Do you know any big shot named Lehmann?" Merrywick asked.

Morris shook his head, appearing somewhat uncertain. 

"It's been a long time since my last visit. I didn't know many big shots before that either. Can't help you there."

"That's fine, just roll this window down for me. Need some fresh air," Merrywick replied. As the glass slid down, he pushed his head outside and yelled at the nearest thug, a young fellow in his early twenties carrying a tastefully painted steel rod.

"My friend, where do I find Lehmann's men? I'm new around here. Would appreciate some help!"

Their car was the only commercial service vehicle on the street. The thug identified who was calling him almost instantly. He looked back at the rest of his fellow associates with a hesitant look before walking over to the car.

"Lehmann's boys? What for?" As he made the enquiry, his eyes scanned Merrywick's face quickly, and then fell inside the car, assessing the situation. Morris looked tense as he was subjected to the young man's unbridled scrutiny.

"Business. Couldn't find Lehmann inside the Stadia. Jessie said he's out looking for some new scraps somewhere. Won't pick up calls either. My business isn't too serious, so Jessie told me one of the boys here could get it done."

"That's strange," said a new voice from behind the vehicle. Merrywick twisted his neck to a painful angle to see who it was. 

A burly middle-aged man dressed in a dirty tank top and shorts placed a heavy palm on Merrywick's neck as he walked into view. His leathery brown skin, muscular build, coupled with abnormally bright, protruding eyeballs garbed him in a heavy, oppressive aura. 

"Strange, you say?" Merrywick repeated the word, watching the other thug swing the steel rod left and right, as if warming his wrist up for some demolition. 

"Oh yeah, strange, because Lehmann has no men out here, never did. So, I doubt Jessie told you to look for one," the man replied, his grip on Merrywick's shoulder tightening.

"...Ah, Jessie, that sly dog," Merrywick said with a derisive chuckle. "Guy was probably not happy with my lack of 'courtesy'. I was in a hurry, didn't have the time for formalities."

The man looked unperturbed as he leaned down to the window and said in an authoritative tone, "Open the door."

Merrywick put up no struggle to free himself from the man's vice-like grip as he replied, "It's a two-seater, big guy. You can't get in even if the door is open."

"Haha, funny," the man said in a flat voice. "I wasn't talking to you. Driver!" 

Morris shook slightly at the sudden shout. With a shivering arm, he held up a badge in their view.

"This car belongs to Jet and Sons-"

"I know. Your boss pays us not to smash your cars every month. Now get out."

Morris opened the door on his side with great reluctance and stood by as the man released Merrywick and took the driver's seat himself. The other thug poked Morris in the back, saying, "Go wait in your headquarters in sector-3. The car will be there...soon."

The glass window rolled up past Merrywick's face as his new driver ignited the engine.

"What business were you here for, kid?" he said while the car began to move through the narrow street.

"I would like to buy a property," Merrywick replied honestly. 

The car slowed down as the man turned around with a countenance quite similar to Morris' back when he had said it the first time.

"Who sent a kid out here for that?" the man's confusion was so apparent that it seemed to break past his intimidating aura.

"Earl Declan would be that man," Merrywick answered.

A disdainful look came over the man's face as he scanned Merrywick from head to toe. 

"I've seen punks like you before. You think you can keep lying and lying, dragging over the names of every big shot you know to make yourself seem like somebody significant. Wanna know what we do with those frauds around here?"

"Shelter them?" Merrywick asked back.

The man flashed him two neat rows of yellow teeth. 

"Hehehe, you're not wrong. Tell you what, I'll take YOU to a shelter too. Can't disappoint a fresh face in the business, tch."

If the man expected him to show any hint of panic, he disappointed him. 

"Couldn't be happier, my friend. Just what I'm looking for, to experience what this world has to offer," Merrywick said as he leaned back on his seat and closed his eyes.

"Wake me up when we're there. I'd like to choose what I buy."