"All right, Lord Gnaeus Pompey. I'm here to collect the twenty talents of gambling winnings that originally belonged to me."
His calm voice cut through the silent confrontation.
"And my companions' winnings as well. Please settle them together."
At his words, Pompey finally shifted his gaze away and Crassus quietly let out a breath he had not realized he was holding.
Just moments ago, he had genuinely thought he was about to die.
Others might not have noticed, but when Pompey had locked onto him, Crassus felt a bone chilling instinct, far more terrifying than being stared down by a lion.
It was like facing a prehistoric behemoth, something that could crush him into paste with a single step.
At that moment, Crassus made a firm decision.
The remaining thirty five Thracian warriors were no longer for sale.
Being targeted by someone like this, if he did not surround himself with powerful warriors, he would not be able to sleep at night.
If he had known Pompey would become this strong after only a few years of experience outside Rome, he would never have invested Spartacus so easily.
No wonder Marius urgently needed powerful combat strength.
Was it to deal with Pompey from Sulla's faction?
Had he known earlier, he would have kept Spartacus by his side as protection.
Of course, the real reason was that Crassus still did not fully trust Spartacus.
Otherwise, he would already be regretting the deal and trying to take him back.
"Twenty talents? Why don't you just go rob someone!"
Gaius Octavius shouted angrily.
Pompey's friends, young nobles like himself, also shot hostile looks toward him and the others.
However, Night glanced at him indifferently.
"Lord Gaius Octavius, if you don't speak, no one will think you're stupid."
"I wagered twenty talents and won the bet."
"That money should have belonged to me from the beginning."
"I'm merely taking back what is mine. Is there a problem with that?"
"No problem…" Gnaeus Pompey revealed a smile as he pressed down the subordinates who wanted to stand up, his gaze deep as it settled on Night.
"But I don't have that much money on hand right now. Let's write an IOU first."
"Have you ever seen an IOU written at a gambling table. As the host, you can't even produce the money.
That's truly strange."
"If I say I want it right now…"
"The Lord Crassus beside me is still waiting for me to pay him. Making people wait is not a good habit."
"Send someone to fetch the money. I can wait here."
Night might as well not have spoken.
The moment Pompey heard that he still had to pay Crassus money, his thoughts immediately twisted in the wrong direction, and his whole body jolted.
'Damn it. So it really is you, Crassus.
That twenty talents of gambling money was probably funded by you from the start.
You deliberately found nobles from this generation of the Lista family to draw my attention, then lured me into the trap.
And in the end, you sent Spartacus out as the trump card, won the gambling money, and then split the profits.'
In the end, Pompey had no choice but to send one of his attendants back to the family to get the money.
To be honest, facing Night's forceful and rude attitude, he wanted to resist, but although the other man wore a smile on his face, an invisible pressure had already locked onto him.
Pompey even suspected that if he dared to refuse to pay, his head would be blown apart the next moment.
No. That feeling was far too strange.
He absolutely did not believe that someone would dare to act against him in full public view.
That would be trampling on the Pompey family's face.
Killing him outright was unlikely, but perhaps he would be beaten half to death.
Although Pompey was still very confident in his own strength, and even though Night's pressure was terrifying, without actually fighting, who could say who was stronger.
Still, he did not want to clash with someone over something like this.
It would be extremely undignified.
When Pompey's man brought the message back to the family, Strabo Pompey happened to be at home.
When he heard that his son had just returned and already owed twenty talents outside, his face immediately darkened.
Strabo was already dissatisfied with Gnaeus for following Sulla.
He had originally planned to stop caring about this ungrateful son of his.
But when he heard who the other party to the wager was, his expression changed completely.
"Say that again. Who did Gnaeus lose twenty talents to?"
"A young noble named Lista Night…"
"…!! Fuck!" Strabo's face instantly turned even uglier, to the point of being unbearable to look at, but he immediately gathered men and prepared to go rescue his son.
If it were someone else, knowing the reputation of the Pompey family, they might still give some face.
But if it was Lista…
That man could chop off Gnaeus's ears and send them back to him, and Strabo would believe it without hesitation.
After all, he really was a completely lawless existence.
More troublesome than Marius, more terrifying than Sulla, and utterly unrestrained by rules.
Just as Strabo(well..I don't know really if it's Strabo or Stella) had hurriedly rushed out the door, he remembered that he hadn't brought the money and quickly ordered someone to start packing the chests—twenty talents.
This number was all too subtle and familiar, making him feel as if he had just swallowed shit, his heart churning with discomfort but he still couldn't refuse.
By the time he arrived at the arena with his men and saw his unharmed son in Crassus's private backyard, along with that familiar devilish figure, he coldly glared at Lista Night, while ignoring everyone else around him, suppressing the trembling in his heart, straightening his attire, and then walked forward with feigned composure.
"Don't you go too far... Lista Night!!" His growled in a low voice, barely containing his fury.
He wanted to salvage a bit of dignity as the head of the Pompey clan—
"This is the last time!!
The Pompey family does not wish to be your enemy, but we do not fear anyone either!"
But Night paid no attention to the man at all, directly stepping past him and kicking open one of the chests.
Upon seeing it filled with gold, je said, "Not bad—I do like generous and open-handed friends like you.
So, my fearless friend, could you trouble yourself to count this wealth right in front of me and see if it truly amounts to twenty talents?"
Originally, screwing over the Pompey family again had been an accident, but Strabo's attitude left Night dissatisfied.
Did this fool think that becoming the clan head and putting on new clothes made him a different person?
Dignity was never something earned through empty words, but through strength and fists!
Just as Strabo was about to retort, Night simply returned a glance, and the latter's body suddenly stiffened.
Then, driven by fear from the depths of his heart, he instinctively bent down beside the treasure chest.
When his hand picked up the first gold coin, he jolted back to awareness, his face flushing crimson!
What—what am I doing?!
To be so frightened by just one sentence, one look from this man?
Even doing something only a servant would do?
At this moment, not only Strabo himself, but Night, Gnaeus Pompey, and everyone around looked at the man in shock.
Night's expression even turned somewhat peculiar...
Although it was somewhat meant to be troublesome, the most important thing was that he couldn't be bothered to count it himself.
He needed to figure out exactly how many gold coins were required to pay Crassus for the transaction.
Since this guy had brought many servants to carry the chests, having them count and separate the wealth would make things much easier.
But Night never expected Strabo himself to bend down and start counting.
Oh my, making the future War God of Rome's father bow down and serve him right in front of him, damn—this move was undeniably too evil.
However, he didn't have much interest in humiliating such a weakling.
If it were the beautiful Mrs. Pompey instead, he might have found it somewhat intriguing.
A different kind of humiliating interest, as a man, toward a woman of high status and beauty.
.
.
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