Extra's Revenge: Reincarnated As A Slave-Chapter 105: First Task

The two of them navigated back through the underground passages, emerging into a private courtyard where an unmarked carriage stood ready.

Once inside and moving through Elkrim’s streets, Cassius began his briefing.

"The situation is worse than it appears on the surface," he said, his voice low despite the carriage’s privacy. "The Fanged Serpent Club didn’t just tip off random Guards. They targeted Category C Guards in district nine specifically because they know that division isn’t on our payroll."

Rey processed this. "Deliberate targeting of our weak points."

"Exactly. And it gets worse. The Fanged Serpent has been systematically eroding our influence across the city. They’ve made alliances with other Houses—trading favors, sharing resources, coordinating to suppress the Red House position."

Cassius’s expression darkened. "When Lady Z’s father was alive, none of them would have dared. He commanded too much respect, had too many connections, and was too dangerous to cross. But with him gone and Lady Z still proving herself..."

"They sense opportunity," Rey finished.

"Blood tells, though," Cassius said with conviction. "Lady Z has her father’s cunning, his strategic mind. She’s young, yes, and still learning. But she’s a true leader. I believe in her, and I’ll do whatever it takes to help her secure the Red House position."

There was genuine loyalty in his voice—not the forced obedience of a slave or the calculated cooperation of a business partner, but real dedication.

’Interesting...’ Rey chuckled inside himself.

The carriage continued through the city, eventually arriving at a fortified building that Rey recognized as a Guard station—specifically, the Category C Guards for district nine.

"Remember," Cassius said as they prepared to exit, "you’re here to observe. Let me handle the negotiations. Only speak if I indicate you should. Understood?"

"Understood," Rey confirmed.

They entered the station, and immediately Rey’s enhanced senses picked up the atmosphere—hostile, aggressive, deliberately unwelcoming.

Guards watched them with expressions mixing contempt and calculation.

A senior officer approached—a heavyset man with a sergeant’s insignia and eyes that betrayed his true nature.

This was not an honest enforcer of law.

This was someone who’d learned to profit from his position.

"Cassius," the sergeant said, not bothering with pleasantries. "I wondered when you’d show up."

"Sergeant Torvin," Cassius replied smoothly. "I believe there’s been a misunderstanding about the activities in district nine. Perhaps we could discuss this reasonably?"

Torvin’s smile was unpleasant. "No misunderstanding. We received credible intelligence about illegal operations—smuggling, unlicensed sale of restricted materials, possible trafficking. We conducted a raid and arrested several individuals. Open and shut."

"Those individuals were legitimate merchants conducting legal business," Cassius countered, his tone reasonable. "If you examine their documentation—"

"Documentation can be forged," Torvin interrupted. "We’re conducting a thorough investigation. And if we find evidence of organizational crime, we’ll expand our scope. Could be very problematic for certain businesses in the area."

The threat was clear—cooperate and pay, or face escalating harassment.

Cassius tried a different approach. "Surely we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement. The Red House has always maintained positive relationships with law enforcement—"

"The Red House?" Torvin laughed, and it was a cruel sound. "I hear the Red House isn’t what it used to be. New management, uncertain prospects. Maybe it’s time to reassess which organizations deserve cooperation and which ones don’t."

Rey watched this exchange carefully, his analytical mind dissecting every word, every gesture, every subtle signal.

Cassius was skilled—his arguments were logical, his tone diplomatic, his body language non-threatening. He was doing everything right from a negotiation standpoint.

And he was failing completely.

Because Torvin wasn’t interested in negotiation.

He’d already been bought by someone else—either the Fanged Serpent Club directly, or more likely, another House that was coordinating with them. The sergeant’s confidence, his dismissive attitude, the casual way he threatened escalation—all of it pointed to someone operating from a position of superior backing.

’He’s not here to be persuaded,’ Rey realized. ’He’s here to demonstrate dominance, to show that the Red House is weak and vulnerable. This entire meeting is theater.’

Cassius continued trying different angles—appeals to reason, subtle reminders of past cooperation, carefully worded suggestions of consequences if relations deteriorated too far.

All of it met with increasing contempt from Torvin.

"I think we’re done here," Torvin finally said, his tone making it clear this wasn’t a suggestion. "Your ’merchants’ will remain in custody pending investigation. If you have problems with that, take it up with the judicial system. Or..." He smiled unpleasantly. "Find better friends. Ones with more influence."

His meaning was transparent—get better backing, or get crushed.

"You’re making a mistake," Cassius said, his diplomatic mask finally cracking slightly. "The Red House has resources you’re underestimating."

"Do we look worried?" Torvin gestured at the Guards around him, all of whom radiated confidence. "Now leave before I decide your presence here constitutes obstruction of justice."

Cassius’s jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly.

"We’ll be in touch, Sergeant."

"Don’t bother," Torvin called after them as they headed for the exit. "Next time you come here without proper backing, you’ll leave in chains."

The laughter of the Guards followed them out.

The carriage ride back was silent for the first several minutes. Cassius sat with his head in his hands, the shame and frustration evident in every line of his body.

"I’m sorry," he finally said, his voice thick with self-recrimination. "I failed. I couldn’t convince them, couldn’t even open a dialogue for future negotiation. I’m... I’m incompetent."

Rey said nothing, but his mind was racing.

’He’s not incompetent,’ Rey thought, analyzing what he’d witnessed. ’His approach was actually quite sophisticated. Logical arguments, emotional appeals, veiled threats—he tried everything a skilled negotiator should try.’

The problem wasn’t Cassius’s competence. It was his fundamental approach.

’He’s too gentle. Too compliant. He went into that station already positioning the Red House as the weaker party, asking for favors rather than demanding respect. And Torvin saw that immediately, recognized it as a vulnerability to exploit.’

Rey understood something that Cassius apparently didn’t—sometimes you couldn’t negotiate with unreasonable people using reasonable methods.

Sometimes, when facing an opponent who had been bought by a superior offer, who operated from contempt rather than calculation, you had to change the entire dynamic.

You had to become unreasonable yourself.

A plan began forming in Rey’s mind, pieces clicking into place with the satisfaction of a puzzle being solved.

It was risky, aggressive, potentially problematic if it backfired.

But it would work.

And more importantly, it would demonstrate to Lady Z exactly what kind of advisor she’d recruited.

’This is my real test,’ Rey thought, his elderly features settling into a small, calculating smile. ’Lady Z gave Cassius the official task, but she’s watching to see what I do with it. She likely knew things would end up this way and wanted to see if I can turn the situation around...’

He looked at Cassius, who was still lost in his shame and self-doubt.

"Tell me," Rey said quietly, "where do the Guards who arrested our people take prisoners for processing?"

The central holding facility in district six." Cassius looked up, confusion mixing with his shame.

"Why?"

"And their families—do we know where they live?"

"Some of them, yes. We keep records of our operatives’ personal situations in case we need to provide support. But—"

"I’ll need those addresses," Rey interrupted. "Along with information about Sergeant Torvin—his routines, his habits, his vulnerabilities."

Understanding began dawning in Cassius’s eyes, mixing with apprehension.

"What are you planning?"

Rey’s smile widened slightly, and for just a moment, the elderly merchant facade cracked enough to let something colder show through.

"I’m planning to get Lady Z exactly what she wants. And I’m planning to win flawlessly."

He looked out the carriage window at Elkrim’s darkening streets, his mind already several steps ahead, calculating angles and consequences.

’The Guards think they can dismiss the Red House because they’ve been bought by a higher bidder. They think they’re protected, untouchable, that they can humiliate us without consequence....’

Rey’s thoughts turned darker, more dangerous.

’They’ll have to learn otherwise.’

******

[Meanwhile...]

Silence dwelled in the reception hall as a few officers stood in different corners of the room.

They had uniform attires, and their presence commanded respect. Seated on one of the two large sofas in the pristine room was a female official who looked different from the other uniformed attire.

She had a unique atmosphere about her, and a serious expression was on her face.

Then, the door to the room opened up.

A certain girl with silver-colored hair, wearing an Academy Uniform entered the room, her countenance dark—almost emotionless.

She walked in and sat without saying a word, her eerie gaze fixed on the seated officer.

Then—

"Greetings, Lady Amara Desgarron. My name is Selene, a proud member of the S Guards, 6th Division." The officer said with a calm, understanding smile.

"Shall we talk?"