Loki had a single, consuming dream: the destruction of the Hunter World.


    To achieve it, he’d need wealth, a notorious reputation, and an army. That was why he formed the Undead Troupe. His childhood had been a nightmare in itself—grown from a tube, raised in a sterile lab, and taught to kill from the moment he could stand.


    And he despised every bit of it.


    He resented how they’d torn him from his parents and from any semblance of a real life. Eventually, once he’d grown powerful enough, he’d wiped out the research facility that created him, leaving no trace of the inhuman experiments born there.


    As he dismantled his creators one by one, they’d let slip a dark truth: he was a clone, built from the DNA of a powerful hunter. His ‘father’ had supposedly sent his own DNA samples and aura patterns—everything needed for the facility to engineer Loki to their specifications. The idea that his so-called father had willingly cooperated with them had been a curiosity to him, even now after all those years. He had no name, no face—just this shadow of a man who had contributed to his creation and then abandoned him to this twisted fate.


    So when Reynard dangled the promise of information in front of him, Loki found himself strangely shaken. The knowledge of his parentage was so close he could nearly reach out and seize it.


    "Are you certain?" he murmured, his voice laced with warning. "I don’t like… liars."


    “Ironic,” Reynard remarked, his tone pointed as he referenced Loki’s notorious habits of lying and manipulation.


    “Can’t blame me for that,” Loki replied, flashing a harmless smile. “You’d hate it too if you’d been lied to especially if it was a byproduct of ill intent, wouldn’t you? And, honestly, you probably wouldn’t feel a shred of guilt if you were the one lying. After all, lying is just… human. Maybe it’s what sets us apart from beasts.”


    Reynard ignored the bait, walking to the table to grab a dessert, casually selecting a cup of fruit salad.


    Loki’s smile faltered, revealing a hint of impatience. “Am I making you peckish?”


    “I disagree,” Reynard said calmly. “It’s not lying that sets us apart from beasts. Beasts lie, too. A chameleon changes its colors to survive. Small creatures puff themselves up to look larger, hoping to scare away predators. Lying isn’t a purely human trait—it’s just another survival tactic. And for a Trickster? It’s as essential as hunting.”


    “What is it that sets humans apart from beasts, then?” Loki asked, probing Reynard’s personality.


    But Reynard ignored his question again, steering the conversation elsewhere. “You see, I am a Dealer… and I make deals. How does eight favors sound for the information I hold?”


    Loki shook his head. “I can give you three… take it or leave it. Just remember, if I owe you a favor, the entire Undead Troupe owes you as well. Use me, and you’re using them. Isn’t that the perfect deal?”


    Reynard paused, calmly spooning pieces of fruit from his salad and chewing thoughtfully. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said at last. “I’m thinking of selling you the information in full, but now… I’d rather sell it piecemeal.”


    “What?” Loki resisted the urge to lash out, feeling the frustration build. He knew Reynard was toying with him, yet the need for that information gnawed at him. If he intended to tear down the Hunter World, he might as well start with his father. “Spit it out… unless you’ve been bluffing this whole time and have no information on what I wanted.”


    “So you need it, huh?” Reynard remarked offhandedly.


    Need, not want. Reynard was quite sly.


    Loki clicked his tongue in annoyance, though he kept it hidden. He put on his best merchant’s persona and replied, “Not so much a need, more of a preference… It would be better to have the information you’re offering, but if we can’t meet in the middle, I’m fine with letting it go. How about gold? Money? Property? Surely you can be more flexible, now that you’re a member of the Hunter Association.”


    “No, I only accept favors as currency in my business… you should know that by now.”


    “Fine,” Loki replied begrudgingly. “Sell it to me piecemeal. But if I find the information lacking, I’ll kill you.”


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    Reynard remarked, “Your father has been with us since the beginning, you know.”


    Loki frowned. He enjoyed a good dose of theatrics and verbal sparring, but he hated being on the receiving end, especially when he was losing so miserably. “And who would that be?” he asked, trying to mask his frustration.


    Reynard only smirked, watching Loki’s reaction with amusement.


    Loki could kill him right now… or maybe torture the information out of him. The temptation was making him anxious. But then Reynard’s words sank in, and Loki froze. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He looked at Reynard, his eyes narrowing. “Who did you say?”


    Reynard’s expression didn’t change. “Silhouette. The same man who hosted the exams… the one who was standing here just seconds ago.”


    Loki’s eyes widened as the truth hit him like a storm.


    “Proof,” Loki demanded.


    There had been no records of his so-called father at the facility where he was born. If there ever had been, they’d likely been erased with prejudice.


    Reynard offered his proof calmly. “L. O. L. The initials carved under your left abdomen. Of course, you don’t know what it means, but that was your father’s name… or rather, Silhouette’s name before he disappeared off the grid.”


    Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know what those initials stand for?”


    Reynard shook his head. “Not exactly.”


    “How is your ‘proof’ relevant to my father’s name? It proves nothing…” Loki said, refusing to be fooled. “If anything, it only proves you don’t know it. Hmmm… unless you actually know what those initials stand for?”


    “Calm down and don’t be impatient,” Reynard replied, setting down his dessert and walking over to him. “Lance O’Brien Law. That was his name. Came from a family of lawyers, graduated top of his class at the police academy, killed in the line of duty… later resurfaced as the hunter Nightfury, and then vanished from the scene. But in reality, he’d simply changed his name to Silhouette.”


    Loki nodded thoughtfully. He knew he’d need to confirm the information on his end. If he discovered any falsehoods, the favors he promised today would be void.


    Reynard was looking at him expectantly.


    It was time to settle the payment.


    “That should be worth three favors,” Loki stated, crossing his arms.


    Reynard’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Don’t get smart with me. I gave you three distinct pieces of information: your father’s true name, his life before that, and his civilian identity. Just to break it down for you—Silhouette, Nightfury, and Lance O’Brien Law. Now tell me, wouldn’t that be worth eight favors? Especially considering the rarity of this information now in your hands… And given that it concerns Silhouette himself, that only makes it more valuable.”


    Loki exhaled, conceding reluctantly. “You drive a hard bargain. Fine.”


    Reynard smirked. “What else? Ah~! Don’t try to weasel out of your payment. I have my ways to make sure my clients always pay their dues.”


    Loki could imagine plenty of ways a high-level information broker like Reynard might enforce the favors he was owed. Who knew what kind of dirt Reynard was hiding and what sort of hunters he had under his thumb? Loki didn’t want to make an enemy of him, especially with the Undead Troupe still far from reaching its full potential.


    “Pleasure doing business with you,” Loki said, turning to leave—until Reynard called out one last time.


    “Wolf, if you ever want to know more about dear old daddy, just give me a call… because I still have lots of information to offer you...”


    A card flew at Loki, and he caught it with ease. It was a tarot card representing The Fool.


    “Don’t lose it,” Reynard added.


    Loki inspected the card and noticed something written on it with aura— it was Reynard’s contact number and a short message: ‘Thank you for your patronage. You get the VIP, my curious Querent. Congratulations.’ It was signed, The Author.


    And there wasn''t even an ''Author'' in the tarot deck... how presumptuous.


    Loki immediately understood the hidden function in the tarot card now in his palm. He realized he could communicate with Reynard covertly with the embedded aura from the tarot card. Carefully, he covered the card with his own aura, cautious not to activate any possible tracking or hidden tricks.


    How shameful would it be if a trickster of his level got tricked?


    Loki walked out of the venue, deciding not to continue the exam. Waiting for him just outside was Kara, still in her revealing outfit.


    “This is awkward,” Loki muttered. “I got found out…”


    Kara’s eyes seemed to smile. “It was Reynard… that guy told me. He slipped a piece of paper into my hand during the attack and said I could either interpret it as him paying the favor or as me owing him one. Apparently, he likes to clear his debts quickly. But since I’d much rather have him in my debt, I chose the latter, obviously.”


    “You’re talking about the ambush on Reynard’s life, huh?” Loki said. “His special ability is strange. I’d like him on the Troupe, but he rejected my offer. Are we still good?”


    Kara nodded. “It’s fine. I know you weren’t keeping tabs on me.”


    “Yeah,” Loki sighed. “I really wanted to recruit that guy. I even thought maybe we could strike a double deal—bring him in, and you could recruit his wife… but he seems dead set on joining the Association. It’s a pity.”


    “Then why send me?” Kara asked. “Having two licenses in the Troupe seems redundant.”


    “Because I had no plans of showing up myself,” Loki replied. “But I heard the ‘Author’ recently made a move. Just a little while ago, he hired a few hunters and went on a rampage, slaughtering some wealthy types and a few unofficial hunters. Of course, there’s no evidence linking it back to him, which is why there’s no Hunt Order on his head. I think he’s looking to join the Association to get a license to kill, or something like it. Best to keep clear of his path. He’s useful, after all.”


    They arrived at the entrance, where a sleek limo was waiting for them.


    The Hunter World was about to enter an era of turmoil… and the Undead Troupe would be at the forefront of it. What role the Author would play in the turmoil? No one could tell, but Loki was looking forward to it.