Inside the temporary base of the Black Panther Organization.
Sol, Anby, and Jane stood quietly outside the room, listening in on the conversation happening within between the captured members of the Sons of Calydon. From time to time, both Anby and Jane threw strange, judgmental glances toward Sol.
To be fair, his earlier "negotiation tactics" in that room had been so outrageous that even as mere bystanders, the two women had felt physically uncomfortable.
After a long silence, Anby couldn't hold it in any longer and whispered, "Are you really going to do those kinds of things to them?"
"You know me. I'm not that kind of guy."
Sol waved it off casually.
Anby nodded solemnly. "I'll keep an eye on you tonight."
Yes—she'd watch him tonight. She would definitely make sure that no seven-people-one-bed "incident" ever happened.
"Hm?"
Sol turned his head toward her.
So… that meant, in her mind, he was that kind of guy.
Anby, whatever happened to trust between teammates?
At that moment, Anby's face turned slightly red, but she forced herself to stay calm as she said softly, "If you do like kids, I… I could help you."
Ah. Now he got it.
Sol finally understood, taking her small hand with a grin. "We'll talk about that… when the time comes."
"Mm."
Anby just nodded, saying nothing more.
Watching the two of them flirting so openly, Jane shivered.
What on earth was going on here?
Zero frame start, instant lemon delivery straight to the face.
Did these two even consider how painful it was for a single, aging undercover agent to watch this?
Meanwhile, the women inside the room had finally quieted down, making eavesdropping no longer entertaining.
Sol shook his head and turned to Jane. "Let's go. Take us to Chekkat's office—I want to see how his progress is coming along."
"Oh, right! Sure thing!"
Jane snapped out of her spectator mode instantly, taking the lead through the winding corridors of the base.
Before long, they arrived at Chekkat's office.
Sol sat down casually on the sofa, his tone calm and commanding. "Chekkat, how's it going with my buyers?"
Chekkat first motioned for Jane to pour tea, then turned respectfully toward Sol. "Mr. Pantalone, I've already made contact with the buyers. All seven of my business partners have confirmed their intent to purchase."
Upon hearing this, Jane's heart leapt with excitement. The plan was almost complete.
"Good. Seems like you can get things done quickly."
Sol nodded approvingly.
"You flatter me." Chekkat smiled modestly, then probed cautiously, "My partners have agreed, yes, but for security reasons, they insist on choosing the meeting location themselves."
"So, you still don't fully trust me?"
Sol's smile deepened, a faint edge to his tone.
"No, no! I trust you completely," Chekkat said quickly, panic creeping into his voice. "It's just… my partners haven't witnessed your heroic feats at the old base. They're just being overly cautious."
"No need to apologize. The arms business is all about caution—I get it." Sol took a sip of his tea and smiled faintly. "Let them choose the location. But make sure it's soon. The faster this goes, the better my organization will evaluate me—and that benefits you too."
Relief washed over Chekkat's face. "Thank you for understanding, Mr. Pantalone! The transaction will take place the day after tomorrow at the latest. You have my word!"
"Good. We'll go with that."
Sol nodded lightly.
He was in a great mood. Seven buyers, each purchasing a zinc-aluminum art piece for twenty billion Denny.
That meant he was about to pocket one hundred and forty billion Denny.
With that kind of money coming in, he didn't mind playing along with Chekkat's little black market games.
After all, no matter how careful they were, the Black Panther Organization—with three double agents inside—was bound to leak information.
Finally relaxing, Chekkat walked around from behind the sofa to his desk, pulling a small, anonymous bank card from a drawer.
He presented it to Sol with both hands, smiling obsequiously. "Mr. Pantalone, just a small token of appreciation. Please, accept it."
So, he'd caught on. Chekkat must have realized Sol's real meaning behind the "zero-cost purchase" at his stall earlier, and this was his attempt at damage control.
"This isn't right," Sol said with a straight face, pushing Chekkat's hand back. "I work for the organization—I can't accept personal profit. What would others think of me if they found out?"
"Oh, no, no, this is just a bit of tea money! Everyone gets some tea money; nothing wrong with that at all."
Chekkat smiled wider, though in his heart he cursed the man's hypocrisy.
If you really didn't want it, why are you pushing my hand away but not letting go of the card?
Only then did Sol "reluctantly" take it. "Well, if it's just tea money, then I suppose I'll take a look. But if it's not enough to buy actual tea, I'll be upset."
Without hesitation, right in front of Chekkat, he transferred the funds into his own account.
One billion Denny. Enough tea money to drink tea for a lifetime—very nice indeed.
"Good man. You've got potential. Once this deal is done, I'll report your contribution to the higher-ups. Don't worry—I won't forget you. Next time something comes up, you'll have priority."
Sol tossed the now-empty card into the trash and patted Chekkat on the shoulder with a smile.
"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Pantalone! Whatever your organization needs, I'll give it everything I've got!"
Chekkat straightened his back, excitement coursing through him.
Sol gave him another friendly pat on the shoulder, saying nothing.
Hiss!
Chekkat trembled, his mind spinning with grand visions.
This "Mr. Pantalone" was backed by an organization powerful enough to influence Vision Corporation and even the TOPS Alliance. If he could establish a connection here, wouldn't that make him the next oligarch-level tycoon?
He could already see his future—personally appointed as an external representative of the mysterious organization, forming an alliance with seven other partners who controlled advanced weaponry. Together, they would dominate New Eridu's arms market… perhaps even the entire underground world.
They would form a Council of Eight, ruling everything in the shadows.
The Eight Kings Council… What a glorious name.
The thought alone made Chekkat giddy with excitement.
He hurriedly extended a hand, smiling deferentially. "Mr. Pantalone, please—allow me to escort you to the dining hall. Our people have prepared a grand feast."
"Good. You've got sincerity, I like that." Sol clapped him on the shoulder once more, saying warmly, "No need to be so formal. Who knows? We might be colleagues on the same level one day."
Hiss!
Chekkat's whole body jolted like he'd been injected with pure adrenaline.
Same level! This man operated deals worth hundreds of billions, commanding top-tier military assets—and he said same level!
If that were true, he'd be leagues above his current small-time arms dealer status.
Jane could only shake her head quietly. Sol had patted Chekkat's shoulder three times, and the guy was now completely hooked.
Her eyes flicked toward Sol again, quietly impressed. His performance was textbook—smooth, confident, manipulative. Just like the slick bureaucrats of New Eridu.
Tsk tsk… the ravens of New Eridu really are all the same shade of black.