Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra-Chapter 570: Deal (2)

Draven exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders before finally speaking. "I'll think of a plan myself." His voice was steady, carrying that same edge of control. "For now, you wait."

Lucavion didn't argue. He simply tilted his head, tapping a finger idly against the table. "I can wait," he mused. "But not for too long."

Draven smirked. "I figured as much."

Lucavion leaned back, relaxed but attentive, waiting for what came next.

Draven exhaled through his nose, already calculating. "I can arrange a good place for you," he said, watching Lucavion carefully. "Somewhere quiet, out of the way. No one will bother you there."

Lucavion hummed, amusement flickering in his gaze. "That would be nice."

Draven gestured to his men with a small motion of his fingers. "Take him there. Make sure he has what he needs."

His men hesitated for only a second before nodding, stepping forward. One of them gestured for Lucavion to follow.

Lucavion stood, stretching slightly as if he had all the time in the world. He cast Draven one last glance, smirking. "I'll be waiting for that plan of yours."

Draven didn't respond—just watched as Lucavion was led out of the room, his figure vanishing beyond the doorway.

The moment he was gone, Draven finally let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple. "Tch. What a fucking headache."

Then his gaze shifted—sharp, deliberate—straight to Caius.

"You," Draven muttered, voice flat.

Caius, who had been trying very hard to look invisible, tensed. "Uh—yeah?"

Draven leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning just slightly. "You're staying."

Caius blinked. "What?"

Draven tilted his head. "You brought that crazy fucker to me. No matter what happens, this is your mess, too."

Caius felt his soul leave his body.

"Boss, wait, hold on—"

Draven waved a hand, already done with his complaints. "Shut up. Sit down."

Caius groaned, miserable.

'Why the hell did I take this job?'

Caius groaned internally. Of course this was happening.

He ran a hand through his hair, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. "Boss, listen," he started, lifting his hands slightly as if to defend himself. "I didn't have a choice. I was attacked—about to die."

Draven just stared at him, unimpressed.

Caius gritted his teeth, trying to explain faster before Draven decided to make his life worse. "If I didn't agree to bring him here, I would've been dead. Boss, you saw his strength yourself, didn't you?"

Draven's glare deepened for a moment, but then—after a long pause—he exhaled sharply. "Tch." He leaned back, rubbing his jaw. He wasn't wrong.

Lucavion had walked into this room like he owned it, sat across from Draven without the slightest hesitation, and made his intentions crystal clear.

But there were still too many unknowns.

He came here with a target in mind, but what else? Who the hell was backing him? What had happened between him and Aldric to push him this far?

And most importantly—

Was he truly strong enough to do what he claimed?

Draven didn't like uncertainties. And Lucavion? He was one big, walking unknown.

Which meant Draven needed eyes on him.

He smirked slightly, turning his gaze back to Caius. "Fine," he muttered. "I won't blame you for bringing him here."

Caius relaxed slightly. Maybe he could actually—

"But," Draven interrupted, his smirk widening, "you're going to follow him around."

Caius froze.

His stomach dropped. "Wait. What?"

Draven exhaled, leaning forward slightly. "You heard me. You're going to keep an eye on him—make sure he doesn't cause a scene or go completely insane while I set things up."

Caius felt all the blood drain from his face.

"No. No way." He shook his head rapidly. "Boss, you can't be serious! You want me to follow around that madman?!"

Draven's smirk only widened.

Caius slammed a hand against the table. "Boss, did you see what he did earlier?! I felt like I was going to die just standing next to him! You think I can control that lunatic?"

Draven chuckled, enjoying this way too much.

"You don't need to control him," he mused. "You just need to make sure he doesn't do something reckless."

Caius let out a very loud, very frustrated groan, dragging a hand down his face.

"I hate this job."

Draven leaned back in his chair, his smirk still lingering as he watched Caius suffer.

"This is your punishment," he said smoothly, drumming his fingers against the wooden surface. "You brought that crazy bastard to my doorstep. If he decides to do something funny—" His gray eyes darkened slightly, the smirk fading into something sharper. "You know what's waiting for you."

Caius let out the longest sigh of his life. He didn't argue. Didn't even bother trying anymore. He just ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath.

"I know, I know…" His voice was heavy, defeated. He pushed himself up from the chair, rolling his shoulders. "Tch. Might as well get this over with."

Draven gestured lazily toward the door. "Then get moving."

Caius grumbled something unintelligible as he turned on his heel and stalked toward the exit. The door creaked open, and with a final exasperated sigh, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Draven alone.

The room fell silent.

Draven exhaled through his nose, rubbing his jaw as he let his smirk fade completely. His fingers drummed against the table, a steady rhythm, measured and deliberate. Lucavion.

That name was going to cause problems.

Draven wasn't the type to overthink things. He liked to keep his life simple—run his operations, keep his enemies at bay, and make sure Varenthia stayed exactly as chaotic as he needed it to be. But this? This wasn't simple.

Lucavion wasn't just another rogue swordsman looking for revenge. He wasn't some hired blade with a grudge.

That much had been obvious from the second he walked into the bar.

He was something else entirely.

Draven had met plenty of killers before—men who oozed violence, who reeked of unchecked bloodlust, who built their entire identities around their ability to take lives.

Lucavion wasn't like them.

When he said, I am going to kill him, it wasn't the declaration of a man seeking vengeance. It wasn't a hot-blooded outburst, filled with rage and emotion. It wasn't even a warning.

It was a fact.

Lucavion had already decided how this story ended.

And that…

That was what unsettled Draven the most.

He had dealt with power before. He had stood in front of men stronger than himself, had worked alongside warriors who could cut down entire battalions. And yet, none of them had made him feel the way Lucavion did.

That moment—that single moment—when Lucavion had released his killing intent, it had been suffocating. Too sharp. Too real.

Draven had spent years in this city, sharpening his instincts, honing his senses. He knew when he was in the presence of a monster. And Lucavion?

Lucavion was something worse.

He exhaled, rubbing his temple. If Lucavion really was after Aldric, then this situation was about to get a whole lot messier. The Black Veil wasn't just some new gang trying to take control of the streets—they were something calculated.

And Aldric himself?

Draven had fought 6-star Awakened before. He knew what that kind of power meant. A single man at that level was enough to shift the entire balance of a city. If Aldric had been working in the shadows all this time, securing his hold over Varenthia, then what was his endgame?

Draven hated not knowing the full picture.

And now, standing at the center of it all, were two men—one trying to seize control of the city, and one who had come to burn it all down.

Draven let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Tch. This is going to be a goddamn disaster."

But despite himself, he couldn't help but smirk.

Because if nothing else—

It was going to be one hell of a show.

Draven exhaled through his nose, stretching his neck before rolling his shoulders. No use sitting around. Things were already moving, and if he didn't act fast, he'd just end up being dragged along for the ride.

"Let's arrange the things first," he muttered, pushing himself up from his chair. His gray eyes swept across the dimly lit room before settling on his closest men—the ones still standing by, waiting for orders.

"Get word out," he said, his voice sharp and measured. "I want every key player in the city to know I'm brewing something." He gestured vaguely with one hand. "Start with the ones we trust—or at least, the ones who owe us enough to listen."

The men exchanged glances before nodding. One of them, a wiry man with a scar across his jaw, spoke first. "You want us to go direct, or keep it quiet?"

Draven smirked. "Direct. No need for secrets just yet. Let them wonder what I'm up to. Suspicion makes people nervous, and nervous people make mistakes."

The scarred man grinned, already turning to leave.

Draven crossed his arms, his mind running through the names he needed to reach out to. There were rules in this city. Unspoken ones, but rules nonetheless. No one made a big move without the other factions taking notice. If Lucavion was going after Aldric, and if Draven planned to use this opportunity to weaken the Black Veil, then he had to prepare the ground first.

That meant making sure the right people were paying attention.

"Get me in contact with the Crimson Dogs first," he said, glancing at another one of his men. "They've been losing jobs ever since the Black Veil showed up—they'll want in on whatever's coming."

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