TLWRO 08

Chapter 08

The man seemed used to the fearful reactions people showed.

He casually snapped the cigarette he was holding in his mouth.

Instead of a harsh burnt smell, it gave off a unique peppermint scent.

Then our eyes met. Even after hearing those kinds of words, the man looked a bit puzzled that I wasn’t scared and stared back at him steadily.

‘I don’t know what scary means.’

Of course.

My standard for judging a man’s appearance came from my grandfather.

My grandfather’s childhood nickname wasn’t wolf or lion—it was Cerberus.

The three-headed dog of hell.

Having grown up around a hellhound like that, how could I be afraid of any man?

‘Well, I guess he’s got a face that’s somewhat bearable.’

The man had a high nose bridge and deep-set eyes. His gaze was sharp but also somewhat languid.

‘But so what?’

He had come to take my money and my lung health.

I was about to slam the door shut when the man spoke first.

“All right, since you said you’re the boss, I’ll ask.”

From what he said next, I realized—

“Do you pawn people here too?”

“Huh?”

That was when I understood I’d misjudged.

This man was neither Hugo’s employee nor a customer.

He was just…

‘What a crazy lunatic…’

This lunatic, who seemed to have thrown manners and morals out the window, raised his tone as if teasing.

“It’s nothing special. I just want you to buy me.”

“Oh, that’s quite something.”

“Why? It’s a pawnshop, right? You take things and give money.”

“So you’re saying you yourself are the item?”

Buying this guy would be like taking on a used, bitter item?

A talisman to shoo away troublesome customers? But honestly, he looked like the biggest nuisance.

While thinking that, he chuckled—a mocking laugh.

“A pawnshop handles all sorts of things, doesn’t it? Buying cheap and selling expensive. Whether it’s a person or a thing, for people like you, there’s no difference, right?”

“There is a difference. For one, there might be display shelves for things, but no shelves big enough for customers.”

“A shelving problem?”

“No, if I had to say, it’s a matter of common sense.”

The man stared at me, as I countered his provocative words one by one. It seemed like he was observing or verifying.

Well, do I look like someone who can’t observe?

Having lived on the streets, I’m well versed in staring contests. I met his gaze steadily.

‘Definitely not someone from Hugo’s side. Hugo is timid and would have hired someone easier to handle and less unpleasant-looking.’

Then where the heck had this lunatic come from?

I recalled my grandfather’s ledger. No one with this description had appeared. So he’s not a regular customer either.

While thinking that, the man opened his mouth again.

“All right, then I’ll ask for something else.”

“It’s after business hours.”

“There’s something I want to buy.”

“What kind of item are you looking for, sir?”

“Huh?”

He looked baffled by my sudden change in attitude, but I couldn’t help it and smiled shamelessly.

Since today was reopening day, even though I encouraged consignment sales, several customers had sold me items they had kept for a while.

So my cash on hand was somewhat low.

‘Okay. Let’s make some money, money.’

Even if it’s from a lunatic, money is money. Thinking of it as gaining experience dealing with troublemakers, it’s not a bad thing.

I quietly clenched my fist.

“What I’m looking for is weaponry. But I don’t see any on the first floor.”

“Weapons are kept on the second floor. If you tell me the details, I’ll bring a few items that match your criteria. Unfortunately, that’s our policy.”

“My client is picky. That’s the unfortunate part.”

Client?

So maybe this lunatic came on someone’s request?

I smiled but thought hard.

“My eye for quality is pretty picky too. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

“I mean I want to see it myself.”

“You can see them yourself. If I filter the items, you can choose from those. For safety reasons, please understand.”

“Safety reasons, huh? Then you promise not to damage any other pawned items. If anything happens, you’ll compensate twice the value.”

“No, it’s not about the items’ safety but about the customer’s safety.”

“…My safety?”

The man looked incredulous for the second time. As if he’d never heard such nonsense.

I answered calmly.

“Yes. You shouldn’t get hurt.”

“Do I look like someone who would injure himself handling weapons clumsily?”

“Well, no one knowingly gets hurt. It’s just in case.”

Good grief, so many objections.

I grumbled silently, but the man’s eyes suddenly narrowed.

“Among the items you keep, you must have some very valuable ones, right?”

I nodded without hesitation.

“Yes.”

That was only natural.

Every item customers pawned was precious.

It’s not about price. Even if worthless to others, they held memories and emotions.

But this lunatic didn’t seem pleased with my answer.

“Alright. Then I’ll leave it with you. Bring it here. The weapon I’m looking for is a sword.”

His tone turned cold in an instant.

‘What’s going on? Is there a huge amount of money at stake?’

“A one-handed sword with a diamond-shaped blade. The handle is adorned with pearls and other jewels. The blade shows signs of use.”

I paused briefly, flipping through the ledger while listening to his description.

The sword sounded familiar.

Was it because it was listed in the ledger? No. It felt like I’d heard it somewhere.

“Any other features?”

“Yes. The most important feature.”

Puzzled as I retraced my memory, I turned around at his last words.

“The sword I’m looking for is stolen property.”

His gaze looking down on me was sharp.

I met that gaze for a long while.

“What now? You came to the wrong shop.”

I slammed the ledger shut.

“We don’t deal in stolen goods.”

Money is important, but what’s wrong is wrong. I crossed my arms firmly.

The man’s mouth twisted into a crooked smile.

“Do you really believe that? Or do you just want to believe it?”

“I’m serious. We don’t deal in stolen goods. We don’t buy or sell them.”

“You said you have a keen eye. So you can tell right away if something’s stolen?”

His tone was clearly sarcastic.

He was asking if I could tell if a customer was trying to fool me on purpose.

Things can’t exactly say ‘this person is not my owner!’

How could I tell if something was stolen?

“No, that’s impossible.”

“Then…”

“But I do my best to tell.”

I explained calmly.

“When items come in, I check certificates and compare. I also cross-check with purchase receipts and auction records, second and third verifications.”

Because I was sure I wasn’t the only one who’d gotten such suspicions.

“If an item doesn’t have certificates—like dolls or books—we rely on conversations with customers. How they felt when they bought it, how much they cherished it, reasons they can’t sell and instead pawn it, and so forth.”

“What if the certificates, receipts, and auction records are all forged? Don’t you consider the possibility of being fooled?”

“Of course, I think about it every day. I worry about it daily.”

I looked him straight in the eye.

“But if a thief breaks in despite three locks, is it the fault of the person who didn’t have four locks? Or the thief’s fault?”

The man’s face hardened like winter frost as he listened.

“Even after second and third checks, if an item is found to be stolen, I cooperate with investigations as much as possible.”

If that happens, I’m a victim too.

“So I’ll take advice after you catch that thief who hasn’t even shown up, sir.”

I said firmly to the man.

‘Oh, now that I think about it.’

A sudden sense of déjà vu.

His strangely aggressive attitude toward the pawnshop, suspicion about stolen goods, mention of human trafficking…

I’d heard this story somewhere before.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Now I understood.

I didn’t know exactly who this man was or what he was looking for.

But

‘I think I know where this guy came from.’