Villain's Second Heart: Trapped in A Fantasy Novel (BL)-Chapter 48: Room 14

"You want to learn to manage Demetrius' curse?" Navarro's brow twitched, as if the mere thought made his head hurt. "Agh."

The man hesitated for a long moment, staring at Rav, who had already begun pulling his signature trick - his ears slightly flattened, his tail swaying slowly, eyes wide and glistening with exaggerated innocence.

Ezra had to admit, even he couldn't say no to those big, pleading cat eyes.

Navarro groaned. "Fine, fine, just stop giving me that stupid look." He exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples before turning to Ezra.

"It's not a tough skill to learn, from what I've heard," Navarro admitted, arms crossed. "But it requires a lot that most people won't have access to. First, you're going to need an absurd amount of mana. Demetrius and his assistants could only manage it because they had a steady supply of mana crystals to replenish themselves."

Ezra's hand instinctively went to his chest, where his Apocalypse Engine pulsed faintly beneath his skin. If mana reserves were all that mattered, he might already be ahead of the curve.

"Second," Navarro continued, "you need to learn the Drain Kiss."

"Kiss?" Ezra repeated, blinking rapidly.

"More like a bite," Navarro corrected dryly. "And before you ask, I'm not the one teaching it to you. But I can direct you to a colleague who knows the technique." He hesitated, then added, "Bit of an odd fellow. A Dark Elf, if that's something that bothers you."

"Whoa, an Elf?" Ezra perked up slightly.

Rav stifled a laugh. "Gods, you really are new here, aren't you?"

Ezra ignored him, still fascinated. Just like in the high fantasy worlds he'd spent his youth devouring, this world had Elves. But a Dark Elf... the title carried an ominous weight.

"Indeed," Navarro muttered. "The Drain Kiss, performed directly on the curse mark, combined with a massive well of mana to counteract the cursed energy. That's what you need. Simple as that."

Navarro retrieved a worn notepad from his coat, scribbled something down, then tore off the sheet and handed it to Rav.

"Varlen. Most people call him 'V.' You can usually find him here."

Read lat𝙚st chapters at fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓ Only.

He tapped the paper. Beneath 'Varlen,' he had scrawled 'Hokio Ethermill Company.'

Ezra frowned. The name sounded...industrial.

'Is this Varlen a factory worker or something?'

Rav glanced at the paper and nodded. "V at HEC. Dark Elf. Straightforward enough for me, Navarro. Thanks, as always." Then, he turned, giving Ezra a once-over.

"You good?"

Ezra exhaled slowly. A faint pulse throbbed in his chest. Offbeat, wrong. His pendant siphoned mana as expected, but this... this was beginning to feel different. As if the necklace was drinking too much.

'Weird...'

He shook it off. "Yeah. Sounds like we have a plan. But where exactly is this place?"

"The HEC?" Navarro let out a dry chuckle. "Doubtful anything you're imagining. It's a dive bar for criminals. I know it well."

"You - of course you do." Ezra sighed.

"If that's all you needed," Navarro said, already gesturing toward the door, "I do have other things to do today."

They took the not-so-subtle hint and stepped back out onto the bustling streets of Asteria. The city was alive with movement, with market vendors shouting their wares, carriages rattling down cobblestone paths, and the distant hum of magical machinery blending into the din of voices.

Rav stretched, rolling his shoulders as he set his sights eastward.

"We'll be going into a seedy part of town, with a lot of... character," Rav said with a knowing smirk. "Stay close and you'll be fine. Not like we're visiting at night, hm?"

Ezra followed Rav deeper into the city, the polished streets gradually giving way to rougher, uneven cobblestone. The storefronts, once pristine and elegant, became shabbier, their wooden signs hanging askew, letters fading from decades of sun and rain.

The scent of baked bread and fresh herbs was slowly overtaken by something earthier - the tang of alcohol, sweat, and charred meat wafting from food stalls that operated long past sundown. Laughter spilled from shadowed alleyways, voices low and murmured beneath the clatter of dice hitting wooden tables.

"This part of town is where you'll find the real Asteria," Rav mused, stepping around a drunken merchant slouched against a stone wall. "Quite a colorful place."

Ezra kept close, eyes darting between the hodgepodge of people filtering through the streets.

By the time they reached the Hokio Ethermill Company, it was clear - this was the kind of place where people went to disappear.

At the threshold of a narrow alley, the Hokio Ethermill Company loomed before them. The Ethermill looked nothing like a factory. Just a dimly lit, boisterous tavern, its sign barely clinging to rusted chains above the entrance.

Even from outside, Ezra could hear the raucous laughter and the clinking of glasses.

"Well, come on, then," Rav beckoned.

As they stepped inside, Ezra was hit by a wall of heat, noise, and mana. The place buzzed - quite literally, as thick neon tubes pulsed along the bar, powered by concentrated mana. The entire room carried an electric charge, thrumming with raw energy.

All around, the patrons were an eclectic mix of rogues, mercenaries, and black-market dealers. But the real spectacle was the drinks - rows of glowing bottles, each containing liquid ether-infused mana.

"All sorts of interesting folks come to a place like this," Rav murmured. "Most people don't burn through mana fast enough to need a booster. But these guys? Hm. Different story."

Ezra's gaze swept the bar. If the drinks were spiked with magic, it meant this place catered to Magicians. It also meant anyone here was far from ordinary.

Rav strutted forward, tail flicking behind him, and leaned against the bar. With a single look, he weaponized his bright blue eyes, flashing them at the bartender—a tall woman with a sharp jawline and a bored expression.

"I'd appreciate discretion, fair maiden," Rav purred. "You wouldn't happen to know where I might find Varlen, would you? No trouble. We come from a mutual friend."

The bartender gave him a slow once-over. Her eyes lingered for just a moment too long.

Then, she leaned in, voice barely above a whisper.

"Upstairs. Room 14."

Rav grinned. "You have my eternal gratitude, my lady."

Her expression didn't change, but the moment she turned away, she relaxed.

"Oh, and," she added over her shoulder, "when you finish your business, you better be buying."

Rav flicked a gold coin onto the counter. The bartender snatched it midair with impressive dexterity.

"Maybe a round for everyone, hm?" Rav mused. "But not until after I leave. I don't need the attention."

The bartender smirked. "Got it."

Ezra followed Rav toward the stairs, shaking his head. "You really can't help yourself, can you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

The two ascended the rickety wooden steps, weaving past a few cloaked figures lingering near the railing. The upper floor was quieter, save for the muffled conversations leaking from behind closed doors.

At the end of the hall, Room 14.

Rav wasted no time.

Knock, knock.

The door creaked open an inch, revealing narrow silver eyes, shadowed under the deep hood of a worn cloak.

A sharp, measured voice slipped through the crack.

"Who sent you?"

Ezra tensed.

And for the first time, he found himself staring face-to-face with a Dark Elf.