The Transmigrated Professor

Chapter 63: Interesting...

"Why don't you kids find an empty table and order some food?" Ray instructed the three of them, as they followed behind him, heading to the bar.

"Aww. We want to sit there too." Izzy complained, her eyes excited at seeing the pyramid of bottles displayed behind the counter.

"Unless any of you is over 21, go find a table! Jacob, please take care of them. I will be back in a while."

"No worries."

Leaving the minors in Jacob's hands, Ray made his way to the bar.

"What can I get for you, Sir?" The bartender asked as Ray occupied a stool.

Looking at him, he looked like a typical bartender - light-blue eyes, with dirty-blond hair and piercings lining his ear. His clothing was similar to that of bartenders on Earth - a crisp black tie and white shirt under an ironed black vest with sleeves pulled up to the elbows. There was even a hint of hardened edge in his voice like an Italian mafia bartender, definitely adapted from his ruthless clientele.

"One glass of gin, please. On the rocks."

"Alright! One Engine coming up." Elegantly, he whipped up a glass and poured the ice and drink.

"You are a new face. First time at Wolfsbane?" The bartender asked, trying to make small talk.

"Yeah. Just arrived here today."

"Mainlanders usually don't like coming to Wolfsbane. Too barbaric, they say. You running from something?"

A smile curled up on Ray's lips as he sipped his drink.

'This man's really sly! He just implied that he knows I belong to the Laxon family, but even left himself room for excuse if I decide to point this out, though quite unlikely.'

And indeed, Ray didn't point this out. Because the bartender's status screen was floating in front of his face.

Instead, he decided to answer his question.

"Not really. I'm here visiting with my family...Actually, that's why I am here. The receptionist at the Portal Station told me to come here if I wanted to rent a place, so I was wondering if you could help?"

"The Pack indeed does provide places of stay for newcomers. However, I can't help you with that, I am just a lowly bartender. You will have to meet the receptionist" The man politely declined Ray's request for help as he cleaned the glass.

"That's where you are wrong, Mr...Lucius." Ray answered in a low tone, reading his name from the nametag pinned to his pocket. "I believe you are the only one who can help me. Because the receptionist would never help anyone unless they get your approval."

Mimicking his low tone, Lucius asked him with a smile. "And why do you think I can help you, Sir?"

Motioning to the customers of the establishment, Ray casually explained.

"The mercenaries of Wolfsbane are famous for their hot temper. Yet they are all sitting quietly in this restaurant, like domesticated cattle. Or, would it be more apt to call them scaredy-cats? Scaredy cats, wary of a ferocious lion. And I have to say, your test is too simple."

Ray concluded as he sipped the last of his drink.

Indeed, ever since Ray and the others had stepped into the Pack building, they were being monitored and evaluated by everyone, to see whether they were worthy of joining the Pack as mercenaries.

The Pack believed in the law of the jungle.

And the law of the jungle is survival.

The only way one can survive is if one knows whether the person in front of them is stronger or weaker than them.