Is it wrong to try to build a criminal Empire?

chapter 7

"Why do I keep hearing you? I should have made sure to truly destroy you."

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One week and four days since joining hestia familia.

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"So, Jon, was it? You don't look like a Jon. You look more like a guy who's been fired from a stable job," Eddard—a brown-haired human wearing a bodyguard suit—said, trying to spark a "friendly" conversation. "What'd ya do before comin' to Orario?"

Jon, a blonde-haired man who also happened to be human, sighed in annoyance. "I was at the Grand Sand Sea. Merc work," he replied irritably, his tone carrying the weight of someone who had answered this question far too many times.

"Kaios?! No way! I was there too! Got lost for three days ‘cause I told my guide his name sounded too deserty." Eddard chuckled, his face lighting up. "I was huntin' treasure and—uh—chasin' the local talent, if you know what I mean." He winked at Jon, giving him a knowing smirk. "Problem is, some of them had those... y'know, those 'curtain outfits.' Like, you can't tell if it’s a girl or someone’s grandma under there. Real suspicious if you ask me."

"Yeah, no shit," Jon replied flatly, his expression shifting to one of mild disgust as he assessed his new job buddy.

Jon's eyes wandered around their work environment: a bar-slash-gambling ring. Nothing special, really. He wouldn't have taken the job if it weren't for the debt he owed the owner. At least he was being paid, and his debt was slowly shrinking.

"What were you doing there? Don’t tell me you were fighting, like some noble soldier or somethin'," Eddard asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Psh, as if there’s anything noble there," Jon said casually, as if discussing the weather. "It was real classic 'business.' Just me and a sword, cutting through villages, collecting coin. Good times."

Eddard chuckled darkly. "Villages, huh? Ain’t it great? Nothing smells better than fire, blood, and the sound of people screamin'. It’s like... music," he said, a twisted fondness in his voice, as though recalling a cherished memory. "Unless someone’s beggin' too loud—that just kills the vibe." His face turned into a scowl, clearly having encountered that kind of screaming.

"Gods... You're even worse than I thought. I mean, I’m bad, but at least I don't monologue about it like some second-rate villain," Jon said with disdain. He couldn't believe he was stuck with this gangster wannabe for the foreseeable future.

Suddenly, a white-haired kid strolled past them without so much as a glance, opened the door to the boss's room, and walked right in.

The two men froze, staring at each other for a full, dumbfounded minute as they tried to process what had just happened. Then, like fish flopping on dry land, they scrambled toward the door, desperate to stop the punk who had just barged in and made them look like complete idiots.

When they burst into the room, what they saw made them stop dead in their tracks.

Their boss—an elf—was blushing furiously, her face as red as the cocktail they served in the bar. The white-haired kid had her jaw held in his hand, his posture casual and calm.

"Oh. OH." Eddard murmured under his breath. "Well, damn, Didn’t know elves were into... that."

The kid turned his head to glare at them, locking eyes with the duo. His gaze radiated pure irritation. Meanwhile, their boss’s blush only deepened.

"Hey, man, we didn’t mean to interrupt your... uh... whatever this is! You good, boss? Cool. We’re out!" Jon stammered, and without waiting for a response, he and Eddard slammed the door shut behind them.