Drunken Dreams and Death! (Second Bonus Chapter for Ten Thousand Coins)

Chapter 158: Drunken Dreams and Death! (Second Bonus Chapter for Ten Thousand Coins)

"I like stories."

Hearing Count Nefaria’s words, Zhang Ye raised a hand and pushed his hood back to his neck, then picked up the glass on the bar and took a drink. He had been parched after the journey.

Turning his gaze back to Count Nefaria, Zhang Ye was finally able to properly study the old man who had fallen so far.

Count Nefaria was hunched over. As he had aged, his body had shrunk considerably. The top of his head was bald, with only sparse white hair remaining at the sides. His gaunt, withered face was covered in an untrimmed, scruffy beard, speckled with glistening drops of liquor.

He wore the battle suit from his younger days, but he had grown too old and shrunken to fill it out. It was like clothing a size too large, hanging loosely from his body in a mass of wrinkles.

"You like stories. Good. Wonderful. Whenever I told other people about these things, they laughed at me behind my back. I knew they looked down on me. But they knew nothing."

Count Nefaria’s unfocused eyes cleared slightly. He forced himself upright and shifted into a more comfortable position before turning to look at Zhang Ye. He wanted to see what sort of young man was still interested in the glory of the old days.

"Go on, then. I’m quite interested," Zhang Ye said with a smile.

"That… that was a glorious battle. I personally finished off those people who called themselves ‘heroes.’"

As he spoke, Count Nefaria muttered something incoherent. Then he raised his head and shifted his gaze toward the other two hooded figures, both completely concealed beneath their robes.

"…We were powerful and merciless. Those heroes… those arrogant fools."

His clouded eyes moved slightly as an inexplicable energy stirred within him. Looking at one of the figures, Count Nefaria felt a sudden, unprompted sense of familiarity.

"…Those… those…"

Gasping heavily, Count Nefaria felt his head spinning. He shook it hard, trying to clear his mind.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again.

Through the haze, he saw a silver-haired figure smiling at him, watching him with a mocking gaze.

Old Count Nefaria’s hunched body trembled slightly. He rubbed his eyes over and over, then summoned all his strength to open them wider, trying to see more clearly.

"Those what?" Zhang Ye asked calmly.

"Those… th-that…"

Count Nefaria opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing came out. In his field of vision, he truly saw a silver-haired man hidden beneath a hood.

"Is it you? It’s you!"

The wineglass shattered, crimson liquor splashing across the floor. Count Nefaria cried out and lurched to his feet, but he had drunk too much to stand steadily and knocked over the chair he had been sitting on.

"What happened?" The curtain was pulled aside, and the bartender hurried out from the back kitchen.

Count Nefaria let out a drunken belch. One hand braced against the table to keep himself from falling, while the heel of the other pounded against his dizzy head.

"My lord Count, you’ve really had too much to drink…"

"I haven’t had too much! No… I’ve had enough!" Count Nefaria shouted in retort. The next moment, his gaze swept sharply over Zhang Ye and the other two before finally settling on Pietro.

"I know you. I know you! You came for me. After all these years, I thought everyone had forgotten me. Heaven has eyes—you finally came for me…"

"Fine, to be honest, I’d quite like to hear your story." Seeing Count Nefaria like this, Zhang Ye knew without thinking that Pietro had definitely been exposed.

There was no helping it. No matter what universe he was in, Pietro drew hatred like a magnet. Almost everyone could recognize him at a glance.

Since they had already been exposed, there was no need to keep hiding. Besides, according to the original plan, no one here was meant to leave alive anyway.

"That doesn’t matter… cough, cough, cough… that doesn’t matter at all."

Count Nefaria’s hurried breathing set off a violent coughing fit. Then a broad smile slowly spread across his face, and excitement filled his entire body.

"Hahaha, I knew it. I knew this day would come someday. I’ve waited forty-five years. Every night, I sat in this bar until dawn. Even in my dreams, I hoped that heroes would push open that door—and now… you’ve finally come!"

"You’d better calm down, Count. Compared to your affairs, I’d rather have something to eat right now. Honestly, in the final stretch of your life, can’t you sit down and have a proper drink?" Zhang Ye said evenly.

"I told you, I’ve had enough to drink!"

Count Nefaria roared, glaring straight at Pietro with bloodshot eyes. He had recognized who this man was now.

His hands stretched out tremblingly, as though he intended to give Pietro a hug.

"Quicksilver, yes, that’s the name. I remember you. I still remember you. You were that young Avenger, and you’re still young now. That’s good. Better than good."

Pietro’s expression shifted slightly. He turned and exchanged a look with Kara, and each saw the same meaning in the other’s eyes. The old man had gone mad.

"If you want release," Zhang Ye said slowly, "I don’t mind sending you on your way right now."

"No, no, no…"

Count Nefaria, who had been staring intently at Pietro, immediately objected upon hearing Zhang Ye’s words. He took two steps back, shifting his gaze to Zhang Ye as he muttered repeatedly, "I’m not ready yet. I’m not ready yet… I can’t just…"

Old Count Nefaria stood there in a daze, then forced himself to straighten up, hoping to make his chest look more imposing. At the same time, he sucked in his beer belly, trying to make himself appear bigger and more intimidating.

Seeing this, Zhang Ye sighed and returned to drinking from his glass. He rather liked the taste of this liquor. It was strong, but it did not burn his throat.

Count Nefaria muttered to himself as he clumsily arranged his battle suit. He repeatedly undid and refastened buttons that were already fastened, his movements frantic and sometimes mistaken.

Yet he seemed to care deeply about it, as if he were about to face the most important moment of his life, just as he had forty-five years ago.

(Good night.)