Count Nefaria (Ten-Thousand-Coin Bonus Chapter)

The bars of Rox Springs were a paradise for thieves and thugs.

Unlike the territories controlled by Red Skull, this place had a relatively peaceful atmosphere. After the great Nefaria Family took over its rule, these gangsters had surprisingly begun governing this land with mercy.

There were no gang wars, nor was there any killing for amusement. Ordinary people living here had only self-sufficiency and quiet peace. Though taxes were a little higher and there were a few more thieves and swindlers, living here at least did not cost them their lives.

The Nefaria Family forbade all residents from leaving, but they were extremely courteous toward outsiders. It was said that many gangs from other places conducted weapons deals with the Nefaria Family. Even Hydra was no exception.

When it came to the Nefaria Family’s rise to power, there was one person who had to be mentioned—Luchino Count Nefaria.

Count Nefaria had once been a renowned figure. Any hero who could last two exchanges against him was a leading figure among superheroes. His enemies had spanned the Avengers and the X-Men, and nearly every famous hero had crossed paths with him later on.

But now, he was no longer a mafia boss.

Slumped in a chair at the bar counter, Count Nefaria held a wineglass in both hands, his fingers constantly rubbing against it as though there were dust on the glass that could never be wiped away.

The bartender had long since grown accustomed to this strangely dressed old man. Leaning against the far end of the counter, he occasionally glanced at Count Nefaria. The others in the bar also kept to the edges, trying to stay as far away from the old man as possible.

They were not afraid of him. Though the old gentleman was nominally the godfather of the Nefaria Mafia, he had long since retired after achieving success—after the night when all the superheroes had died.

The reason those around him did not want to approach him was because the old man had long since gone "mad." He remained trapped in the past, unable to escape it. Whenever he saw someone, he would tell them of his glorious days fighting the heroes.

Perhaps, on the day the heroes died, Count Nefaria’s heart had died with them as well. At this point, he was merely an existence lingering in that event, no longer able to find a reason to devote his life to.

The bar was filled with the stink of bodies and the pervasive scent of alcohol. Compared to the Nefaria Family’s interior, the environment here was far from good, but for Count Nefaria, this was the only place where he could drink himself into oblivion.

He knew that most people here looked down on him. Some regarded him as a strangely dressed joker, while young punks and thieves even mocked his battle suit behind his back. But only he knew how glorious that suit had been in those days.

".You… you know nothing."

Count Nefaria’s eyes were clouded, his soft words like murmurs from a dream.

"Back then, in Los Angeles… those people would tremble just hearing my name."

His hands clenched the wineglass tightly as the yellowish, low-quality liquor sloshed within it.

Count Nefaria looked at his reflection in the glass, at his aged and weathered face, his heart filled with mixed emotions.

At that moment, the bartender could not help but reveal a bitter smile. He set down the polished glass in his hand, turned to take a cup of strong liquor from the shelf, and knew that the Count was about to start reminiscing about his glorious past again.

"Let’s make a deal, Count. I’ll give you a drink for free. Please, stop telling us about your glorious past, all right?"

The bartender smiled faintly and refilled Count Nefaria’s glass with strong liquor after he drained it in one gulp.

Whenever Count Nefaria was about to recount his past, the bartender would stop him this way. Over time, the two had formed an unspoken habit.

But tonight, the winds of Rox Springs had changed.

The bar’s doors were gently pushed open. Hearing the sound, the bartender looked over and saw three figures concealed beneath hoods slowly enter.

Perhaps they were travelers from elsewhere, the bartender guessed.

Winter was approaching. Around this time, merchants from other places often came here with their families seeking shelter. Perhaps in the wasteland, only this place allowed those unable to control their own fates to rest properly.

Every winter was a disaster for ordinary people in this world. After being stripped clean by the various gangs, the farmers’ storehouses would not even have enough left for rats to survive. Compared to outside, this place was far better.

The three approached the bar. The bartender hurriedly draped his rag over his shoulder and warmly greeted them. He knew outsiders were wealthy, and whether he could make a fortune off them depended on his skills.

"What can I do for you three?"

"Bring us some food, and your strongest liquor." The man in the lead raised a hand and took a piece of gold from within his robe—a chunk of gold as large as a wineglass.

The bartender’s eyes widened instantly, his gaze fixed directly on that astonishingly heavy gold nugget.

Then, with lightning speed, he pocketed the gold. He took out three glasses from beneath the counter, then turned and retrieved a bottle of liquor from a dust-covered cabinet.

"Have a drink first and warm yourselves up. This liquor definitely won’t disappoint you. I’ll tell the kitchen to make something for you."

After filling the three glasses, the bartender forced an ugly but heartfelt smile.

"I’ll have a glass too!"

Count Nefaria drained the strong liquor in his glass, then slammed it heavily onto the bar.

"This is one of my regulars. He’s drunk, so please don’t mind him." The bartender gave the three an embarrassed smile, then turned to Count Nefaria. "Count, my wages can’t afford you this kind of high-end stuff."

At those words, Count Nefaria frowned deeply.

Just then, the man hidden beneath the hood spoke again.

"Give him a glass. Put it on my tab."

The bartender blinked and froze for a moment.

But he quickly came to his senses.

".All right, as you wish."

Since someone was willing to pay, the bartender naturally said nothing more. He quickly refilled Count Nefaria’s glass, then turned and walked into the bar’s kitchen.

Looking at the crimson wine in the glass, red as blood, Count Nefaria stuck out his tongue and licked his slightly cracked lips. Only then did he tilt his head slightly, casting a hazy sidelong glance at the three strangers seated beside him.

"From out of town?"

"Something like that," the man replied.

"Do you think my clothes look strange? Don’t misunderstand, I know everyone thinks that." Count Nefaria took a sip of the strong liquor in his glass. "As thanks for this drink, would you like to hear my story?"