Chapter 180: Secret Transactions and Fractured Souls (Patreon)

Sandrone rapped her fingers on the tabletop in front of Piers. Her knuckles struck the wood with two sharp knocks, and Piers snapped out of his daze, his gaze settling on her face.

"Lady [Marionette], you should head back first. Something just came up."

The moment Piers said it, Sandrone's guard went up. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward.

"Don't tell me… you're going to meet someone again?"

Sandrone folded her arms, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Since when has Lady [Marionette] gotten so sharp? You guessed that right away."

"Hmph, of course I… wait. What do you mean by that? Are you saying I used to be dumb?!"

Her pride had barely begun to swell when the meaning hit her. The smugness on her face froze for a moment, then gave way to irritation. She jabbed a finger toward him, decided the gesture wasn't very elegant, and stiffly pulled it back.

"I didn't say that."

Piers looked perfectly innocent. He spread his hands, the picture of sincerity, and Sandrone retreated, arms crossed again.

"Hmph. I've got nothing on anyway. I just got back from my trip, so I'm free as a bird. I'll go with you and see who it is."

"Lady [Marionette] wants to come along?"

"Yeah, why? Don't tell me you're afraid to let me meet them."

Sandrone suddenly leaned in, hoping to find a trace of panic on Piers's face. Her hands propped on the table's edge, her face very close, she scanned back and forth between his eyes.

Unfortunately for her, there wasn't a trace of panic there. If anything, he looked puzzled.

"Since Lady [Marionette] insists, fine. Let's go. We'd better hurry, or they'll have gone home."

"Huh? You didn't make an appointment?"

"No. It's just something that came up."

With that, Piers tidied the desk and headed for the Capital Council's exit.

This Piers! He didn't even set up a meeting first, he just goes off to see anyone he likes. I want to see exactly who it is!

Thinking this, Sandrone hurried after him.

"Mr. Pantalone."

At the Capital Council's entrance, Pantalone, who had just come down the steps, was stopped by Piers's call. He had been looking down at the pocket watch in his hand, and at the sound of Piers's voice he seemed to falter for a moment, the watch lid stopping half open.

Still, he quickly turned around, wearing that trademark smile. As a merchant, he had long since grown used to handling anyone, anywhere.

"Mr. Piers?"

His voice was a little weak and tinged with puzzlement. Piers didn't usually address him that way. When he came to claim reimbursements, it was always "Lord Regrator," and Pantalone was hardly naive enough to think Piers had suddenly decided to change how he called him.

"You're not here about reimbursements today, are you?"

"Mr. Pantalone's instincts are as sharp as ever."

"A merchant whose instincts aren't sharp will struggle to earn any Mora. Still, I can't guess what you'd want from me."

Just then, Sandrone came out behind them. The first sight of Pantalone brought an open look of distaste to her face. Her steps halted in place and her brow creased at once.

"Miss Sandrone."

Pantalone greeted Sandrone out of courtesy, with a slight nod and the same gentle tone as always. Sandrone ignored him completely, her gaze already fixed on Piers.

"The person you wanted to see is Pantalone?"

Sandrone sounded a little disappointed.

"That's right, Lady [Marionette]. Want to join us? I need Mr. Pantalone's help depositing something for me at Northland Bank."

"Hmph. Forget it."

Her interest vanished in an instant, and she walked off in another direction.

She had thought Piers was meeting Odette, or some other girl. Instead, it was Pantalone.

Had it been anyone else, Sandrone, bound by pride and by what she'd just said, would have braced herself and followed along. But with Pantalone… forget it.

Still, once she knew Piers was meeting Pantalone, Sandrone felt oddly pleased all of a sudden.

That Kitty changes her face so fast. Well, it's for the best. If she'd actually come along, it would have been a hassle.

Piers watched her back disappear around the street corner and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

"Miss Sandrone still holds a bit of prejudice against me, I see. You said you wanted to deposit something at my Northland Bank, Mr. Piers. May I ask what it is? I can arrange the minimum custody fee for you."

"Mr. Pantalone, what I need to deposit is rather special. Let's find another place to talk first."

"Understood, understood. Come with me."

Pantalone nodded with a smile and turned to go, the hem of his coat swaying gently with the motion. Piers followed behind, and as he did, he sealed the cavern realm tight with his adept power so Guizhong couldn't slip out.

Northland Bank's headquarters was close by, and Pantalone led him straight there.

They passed through without a single obstacle. Staff members crossed the corridors now and then, and each bowed their head and stepped aside at the sight of Pantalone. Then he turned into another corridor and walked to the very end, stopping before a room.

Pantalone stood at the door with one hand braced on the frame, the other rummaging through the bundle of keys in his coat. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling visibly, though the two of them had walked at an ordinary pace and the distance was hardly long.

At last, after several seconds of searching, Pantalone found the right key. It slid into the lock and turned with a dry, grating sound.

The door opened, and a shaft of sunlight spilled out of the room. Wood shavings stirred up by the door drifted clearly through the beam, tiny specks tumbling in the light before slowly settling. Piers followed Pantalone inside.

The room was not what Piers had imagined. He'd had an inkling from the lock, and the wooden door was plainly decrepit from years of neglect, most of the paint on its frame peeled away.

Inside, there was a piano and two chairs. The place was so bare it looked freshly renovated, with no furniture bought yet.

But the peeling white walls and the dilapidated door showed it was no new room. The good light poured in and lit the dust drifting through the air, leaving the whole room hazy and gray.

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

Pantalone sat down on one of the chairs and turned a cigarette case over in his hand. Maybe it was the nicotine craving, but his complexion looked poor and his breathing grew heavier. Even an ordinary person could probably have heard it clearly, as if something were lodged in his chest.

"Go ahead."

He took out a cigarette, lit it with a lighter, and clamped it between his lips. Then he held the case out toward Piers, shaking it slightly in his hand.

"Would you care for one, Mr. Piers?"

"No, thank you. I don't have the habit."

After Piers politely declined, Pantalone drew the case back. He set it on his knee, his fingers still tapping lightly against it.

"I wish I didn't have the habit either. Maybe I'd live a couple more years."

His color improved noticeably after a drag, though his breathing stayed heavy and sounded exhausting.

"Now then, Mr. Piers, will you tell me what you want to deposit?"

"What I want to deposit is… a soul."

Pantalone froze. The fingers holding his cigarette stopped in midair, though he didn't seem very surprised, and he quickly recovered his composed expression.

"Oh? It isn't my first time, but clients who deposit that sort of thing are exceedingly rare. I did promise Mr. Piers the minimum custody fee, but for something like a soul, even the minimum is a considerable sum."

Piers walked to the other chair and sat down, its legs scraping softly against the floor.

"I don't just want to deposit it. I also want Il Dottore's earlier research data on soul division. I want to split my soul in two, just like he did. Mr. Pantalone should have that data, correct?"

"Oh? That's a separate price. I do have it, but… what kind of payment can you offer, Mr. Piers?"

Pantalone's interest was piqued. He pushed up his glasses, the lenses catching the light, then took a sharp pull on the cigarette in his mouth and pulled it away, pinching it between his fingers.

"I know these materials are valuable, and as a banker, Mr. Pantalone certainly isn't short of money. What I can offer is to use Liyue's adeptal arts to extend your life, as best I can."

As he spoke, Piers raised a hand and sent a thread of adept power into Pantalone's body. It was faint, like a fine line stretching from Piers's fingertip and sinking into Pantalone's chest.

The next instant, his complexion visibly improved and his breathing quieted. The rise and fall of his chest eased, and the ashen pallor on his face receded a little.

"I'm not sure how much time it buys. It's my first time doing this. But I figured it's probably the only thing besides Mora that Mr. Pantalone would be interested in."

Feeling the change in his body, Pantalone immediately put the half-smoked cigarette back in his mouth and finished it in one go.

He drew hard, the ember flaring bright, then dimming again.

Judging by his look, this wisp of adeptal mist worked rather well. After finishing one, Pantalone lit another right away.

"Mr. Piers, your terms are very tempting. Speaking purely for myself, this fee is excellent. The deal is made and the contract is in effect. Shall I draw up a written policy?"

"No need. I trust Pantalone's character. So, can you hand over Il Dottore's research on dividing the soul now?"

"The research? It's in that piano. It's always been kept here."

He pointed at the lone piano in the empty room. It stood against the wall, a thin layer of dust on its lid.

Piers walked over, puzzled, and sure enough, he found several sheets of manuscript beneath the lid. The pages had yellowed and the corners curled. He took them and went back to sit in his chair.

"Something this important, and Mr. Pantalone doesn't keep it in a safe? You just leave it under a piano lid in an empty room?"

"Ha. To researchers, this is probably a priceless manuscript. But I'm a banker. No one commissioned me to safeguard it, and no one paid me a custody fee. A merchant can't very well take on a losing deal."

Pantalone's way of thinking was remarkable, to say the least. At the very least, Piers didn't quite follow it.

"And the method for storing the soul…?"

"Rest assured. You're not my first client to deposit a soul. Since the first time went without a hitch, there's no reason the second would be worse."

"Good. Then the deal is done, and I'll be going. Once I've worked out Il Dottore's manuscript, I'll come find you again."

"No problem. I'll be in my Northland Bank office these next few days, so come by anytime."

Piers stood to leave, but at the door he suddenly turned back to Pantalone, who was lounging in his chair smoking.

"Oh, right. Please keep this between us, Mr. Pantalone."

"Rest assured, Mr. Piers. Protecting client privacy is the most basic principle of Northland Bank."

"Good."

Only after Pantalone answered did Piers turn and leave, content. The door closed behind him, and the corridor fell quiet again.

…

It was still early when he got back to Zapolyarny Palace, but even so, Piers didn't finish the day's work until afternoon.

Once he was sure no one would disturb him, he took out the manuscript he'd collected from Pantalone that morning.

Piers wasn't skilled at experiments, but he'd been working under Lady [Marionette] all this time. Even without hands-on practice, the terminology in the manuscript wasn't unfamiliar, and it wasn't hard going.

He couldn't pursue new research on his own the way Il Dottore and Lady [Marionette] did, but understanding a manuscript didn't take him very long.

And so it proved. Piers soon had a rough grasp of the method Il Dottore used. But once he understood it, he felt like all the technical terms he'd learned before had been a waste of effort.

The manuscript needed no interpretation at all. The method was brutally crude and simple: it tore half of the soul away by sheer force.

There was no elaborate ritual and no precise calculation. Whoever wrote it clearly didn't care what the operator would endure, only about the result.

If I'm not misreading this, Dottore really is a madman. To try a method like this… he's not afraid of death at all.

As Piers grumbled to himself, he suddenly remembered that Il Dottore had meant to send one half of his soul into the leylines to receive the other half. He'd planned on dying from the start, so dying wouldn't have been a big deal. He was headed for the leylines anyway.

If it went wrong, he'd just enter the leylines early. Thinking about it that way, it struck Piers as oddly reasonable… though if that had happened, Dottore would have had no part to play in Nod-Krai.

Still, Piers had no intention of going to the leylines. He meant to keep on living. But there didn't seem to be a better way now, so he decided to give it a try. His soul already had the strength of an Archon's. Even torn in two, the chance of dying was slim. And considering how other Archons' remnant souls were still kicking around after thousands of years dead, Piers didn't seem all that worried anymore.