NOVEL NEXT Chapter 638 Mask - I
"Please, help my father, Miss Mistine."
In the office, a frail young man knelt on the ground, pleading incessantly to the woman with her legs propped up on the desk. "You must have the medicine here; I know you can help. My father is truly going to..."
The woman interrupted him indolently, "If he's so close to death, you should be in a hurry to get the medicine."
"If you're in such a hurry..."
The woman, with a coarse face adorned with several scars on her neck and cheeks, grinned menacingly. "You wouldn't mind paying a bit more, would you?"
"I..."
The young man opened his mouth, and faced with Mistine's query, he gritted his teeth and answered resolutely, "One gold coin... that's all I can muster, Miss Mistine."
"Not enough."
Mistine stared at him impassively. "Ten gold coins."
"Ten... ten gold coins?!"
The young man exclaimed in disbelief, "How could I possibly get that much money? That one gold coin... I borrowed it from Mr. Black Hat. I can't get any more money!"
"That's simple." Mistine snapped her fingers, and one of her lackeys tossed a contract in front of the young man.
"The sorcerer in the upper district is in need of some experimental subjects. If you are willing to offer yourself, your father can get ten gold coins as payment. He can then use these ten gold coins to buy the life-saving medicine and save his old life."
The woman clapped her hands and grinned, "You save your father, I get my payment, everyone's happy."
The young man's body trembled slightly. He looked at Mistine, his eyes brimming with stark despair and sorrow.
"Mistine... Miss," he said with immense difficulty, inching forward on his knees.
"I'm Clift, do you remember me? We lived in the same neighborhood for three years. You dined at my house; my father… he treated you. We were once friends—ugh!"
With a dull thud, the young man, punched in the stomach by one of the room's thugs, fell to the ground, curling up in pain.
"So, are you taking the medicine or not?"
Mistine asked impatiently. "If not, then get out; I'm running out of time."
In the end, the young man, unwilling to sign the contract, crawled out by himself. His worm-like wriggling made Mistine want to laugh.
Life is hard.
Mistine once asked her father why they didn't leave and live elsewhere. Her father told her that the world was the same everywhere.
Living elsewhere would be harder than in Dispute Fortress. At least here, Lord Milo was willing to offer protection and blessings, allowing them to live securely.
Young Mistine had no concept of security. She rarely saw the sun and could never envision life outside Dispute Fortress, so she believed this life was indeed stable.
But suffering and hardship need no comparison. Hunger comes from lack of food, sickness from poor conditions, and chaotic social rules make everything around dangerously unpredictable. Without comparison, Mistine knew her life was hard.
Thus, unlike the numb majority, Mistine had a powerful advantage—a desire to escape this hardship.
So, in nine years, she grew from a bewildered fourteen-year-old asking her father why they didn't move, to the notorious gang leader of the Lower district.
She understood life's rules better than most, making life not only less difficult but even enjoyable.
Despite many unexpected events during this time... Three extraordinary beings controlling the lower district were killed one after another. Residents, for some inexplicable reason, commissioned these beings to purge the gang forces, and the extraordinary beings actually did it! This led to significant damage and loss.
If not for Mistine's seasoned experience, she might have perished in the last purge.
She had no idea what the current controller of the lower district , "Wicked Wolf," had in mind. She didn't believe that dangerous woman wanted to save the lower district, just as she didn't believe in Milo's so-called blessings.
Sure enough, after Wicked Wolf took over the lower district and did some seemingly noble deeds, the winds of change began to subtly shift in the shadows.
"Boss, everything is ready."
Mistine, with her legs propped up on the desk, waved dismissively at the obsequious subordinate. "Got it. Give the order, and remember to wait for the signal. Be ready to start at any moment."
After the subordinate left, she propped her face on her hand and turned to the envelope on the desk detailing today's operation, a slight smirk tugging at her lips.
Even those in charge can't manage their underlings. Ultimately, they treat the lower district as a mere plaything, losing interest once they've had their fill.
Mistine was not vexed by this state of affairs. As long as she could reap the benefits, the thoughts of the extraordinary beings mattered little to her.
She picked up the envelope, reopening it to review the cold, venomous script, while leisurely strolling to the balcony to gaze down at the abyssal lower district.
From her mid-level residence in the lower district, Mistine's vantage point allowed her to see the most shadowy and chaotic areas. Down there… a massive crowd had already gathered; the lowest tier of residents seemed to converge in that spot.
"So lively..."
Mistine mused, tearing the envelope into pieces and tossing them into the air.
"Just like a cricket fight. Do the big shots also enjoy such trivial amusements?"
She muttered to herself, still puzzled by her employer's motives for these actions.
But it didn't matter. As long as the pay was good, oppressing civilians, sowing discord, igniting conflicts... such trivial matters were her specialty.
Even if she had crawled up from the very bottom, even if she once shared the same origin with these despicable people, she was once an ordinary, powerless mortal.
—But that was all in the past.
Mistine didn't consider herself a reprehensible villain, because she would bet that any mortal who had exhausted every effort to reach her position would make the same choices without hesitation.
Where in this world are the great, radiant saints who emerge from the stinking mire untainted?
Most are simply greedy beings who no longer wish to drown in the swamp, craving fresh air—ordinary people, far from noble.
After gaining control over a portion of the drug and contraband channels in the lower district, becoming one of its top figures, Mistine had never intentionally done anything malicious.
Regarding that young man... if it weren't for the fact that they had indeed lived together for a few years and he was indeed an old friend from her youth, she wouldn't have handed out that contract at all.
What a joke, thinking that becoming material for a sorcerer was a simple matter? Thinking that those ten gold coins were easy to get? The sorcerer was very picky!
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Mistine, who never considered herself to act out of malice, genuinely believed she had done nothing wrong and felt nothing towards the commoners.
She neither felt the urge to mock them nor experienced much guilt.
She simply didn't care.
Bang!
A loud explosion caused the crowd below to suddenly freeze.
Hearing the sound, Mistine turned back into her office, poured herself a glass of wine, and walked back out, shaking the glass as she looked down.
Would the big shots find this amusing?
A common soul, stained black in its struggle upwards, wondered this as she cast her gaze towards the gradually spreading sea of blood below.
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