The Villain Professor's Second Chance

The walk back to The Shadow's Nook was laden with a silence that spoke louder than any argument. The stolen box rested heavily in Liora's satchel, its weight a bitter reminder of the risk they had just taken. Derrin trailed close behind, his footfalls sharp against the cobblestones, the tension radiating from him palpable even in the dim light of The Hollow's flickering streetlamps.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You could've gotten us killed back there, you know." His voice was low, tight with frustration. "All for that damn box."

Liora didn't break stride, his sharp gaze fixed on the uneven path ahead. "It was necessary."

"Necessary?" Derrin scoffed, quickening his pace to catch up. "You call taking on an entire gang in their own territory necessary? I'd call it reckless."

Liora glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Reckless is letting someone else dictate your next move. We needed leverage, and now we have it."

Derrin threw up his hands. "And what happens when this leverage gets us deeper into Quickstep's mess? Or worse, when Fenrick decides to double-cross us? You're playing with fire, Rylan."

Liora stopped abruptly, the scuff of his boots against the cobblestones the only sound in the otherwise suffocating silence. He turned to face Derrin, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering light of a nearby lantern. The faint glow deepened the shadows under his eyes, making his intense gaze almost unbearable.

"If you want to turn back, do it now," Liora said, his voice low and edged with steel. His tone cut through the air, as cold and unyielding as the blade at his side. "But if you're coming with me, you'll stop questioning every move I make."

Derrin hesitated, his jaw working as though he was biting back a dozen retorts. The tension between them was almost palpable, crackling like the lantern's faltering flame. "Do you even hear yourself?" Derrin asked, his voice taut with frustration. "I'm not questioning you to slow you down—I'm trying to keep us alive."

Liora's expression didn't waver, his eyes boring into Derrin's with an intensity that left no room for doubt. "Second-guessing me out loud in the middle of The Hollow is a good way to get us noticed," he countered, each word deliberate. "I know the risks, Derrin. I've lived them."

Derrin shook his head, muttering under his breath before throwing up his hands. "Fine. Lead the way, then. But don't expect me to stay quiet if you keep pulling stunts like that back there."

Liora's lips twitched into a faint smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Good. I wouldn't know what to do if you stopped complaining." He turned sharply, his coat billowing slightly with the motion, and resumed walking. For a moment, Derrin stood in place, glaring at Liora's back before reluctantly falling into step behind him, his muttered curses swallowed by the heavy night air.

Derrin hesitated, his jaw tightening. After a moment, he sighed and gestured forward. "Lead the way, then. But don't expect me to hold my tongue."

The Shadow's Nook was as lively as ever, its cramped space filled with the clink of mugs, bursts of laughter, and the murmur of clandestine deals. The warm glow of lanterns bathed the room in a golden haze, the air thick with the smell of spiced ale and pipe smoke. Conversations dipped as Liora and Derrin entered, more than a few sets of eyes narrowing in recognition.

Fenrick Broadtooth sat in his usual corner, his ever-present toothpick shifting lazily between his teeth as though it were a baton orchestrating the room's chaos. He looked up with a practiced ease, his sharp eyes assessing them even as his grin widened to reveal a hint of wolfish amusement. "Well, well. If it isn't my favorite risk-takers," he drawled, his voice carrying a casual air of mockery that danced just shy of insult. His hand idly tapped the rim of his mug, a slow rhythm that mirrored his calm demeanor. "And here I thought I'd be forced to endure my own company tonight."

The air around Fenrick seemed to hum with unspoken challenges, his sly grin never faltering as his gaze flicked between Liora and Derrin. "Judging by the look on your faces, I'd say you've had quite the evening. Care to share the highlights, or is this strictly a business call?"

Liora placed the box on the table without a word, the worn wood groaning slightly under its weight. Fenrick's eyebrows lifted as he leaned forward, inspecting the prize with exaggerated care.

"Ah, you've outdone yourselves," he said, his voice laced with mock appreciation. He ran a finger along the edge of the box, as if savoring its texture. "No scratches, no dents. You're more thorough than I gave you credit for."

"Spare us the theatrics," Liora said, his tone sharp enough to cut through the air. "We did our part. Now it's your turn."

Fenrick's grin widened into something sharper as he leaned back, letting the toothpick roll between his teeth before flicking it into an empty mug. "Straight to business. I like that," he drawled, tapping the side of the box with a deliberate, almost theatrical rhythm. "The boy you're looking for goes by the name Renner. Quick hands, sharp eyes, and not much of a talker. A scrappy kid—been running with Jorven's crew for a couple of months now."

Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle like smoke in the room. "Word on the street is, he's laying low near the old cobbler's shop at the edge of The Hollow. Not exactly prime real estate, but it's out of the way enough for someone who doesn't want to be found." Fenrick's tone dipped into something closer to intrigue as his fingers idly traced the edge of the box. "But here's the thing about Renner—he's not just any pickpocket. The kid's got a knack for vanishing when it counts, and if he's smart, he'll see you coming long before you see him."

Derrin crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. "You're awfully well-informed for someone who claims to be on the sidelines."

Fenrick chuckled, low and throaty, his grin never faltering. "Let's just say I've got my ear to the ground and a knack for knowing things others overlook. It pays to be curious, especially when Jorven's involved. And let me tell you, this isn't just about some kid nicking a few coins. Jorven's been sniffing around for something bigger. Connections, power... maybe even magic." He leaned forward, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper that carried an edge of warning. "Whatever game he's playing, it's not one you want to lose."

Liora's gaze sharpened, his fingers brushing the edge of the box before pulling back. "What kind of power?" he asked, his voice quiet but cold.

Fenrick shrugged with infuriating nonchalance. "That's the question, isn't it? All I know is, Jorven's reaching beyond the usual muck of The Hollow. And when people like him start dabbling in things they don't understand, well... let's just say it rarely ends well for anyone."

Derrin's expression darkened. "You're saying Jorven's reaching beyond The Hollow?"

Fenrick nodded. "And if he's playing with forces bigger than this place, you'll want to tread carefully. Shadows have a way of swallowing the unprepared."

Liora's gaze hardened, the weight of Fenrick's words settling like a stone in his chest. He lingered for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning Fenrick's smirking face as if searching for the deeper implications behind his cryptic warning. The sounds of the bustling Shadow's Nook seemed to fade around him, leaving only the steady rhythm of his own pulse pounding in his ears. Without another word, he turned sharply and strode toward the exit, his boots striking the wooden floor with deliberate finality.@@novelbin@@

Derrin followed close behind, his brow furrowed with a mix of irritation and unease. He glanced back briefly at Fenrick, who was now leaning back in his chair, swirling his drink with a self-satisfied smirk. As they approached the doorway, Fenrick's voice rang out, cutting through the din of the room with a tone that teetered between mockery and genuine forewarning.

"Good luck, Duskwhisper. You'll need it."

Liora didn't pause, but his jaw tightened imperceptibly at the words. Derrin, however, shot a glare over his shoulder, muttering under his breath, "That bastard's enjoying this far too much."

Outside, the cold night air wrapped around them like a shroud, carrying the faint, acrid smell of smoke and damp stone. The Hollow seemed almost alive in the darkness, its shadows shifting and whispering as they navigated the uneven cobblestones. The tension between the two hung thick in the air, unspoken but palpable, like the oppressive weight of the past neither was willing to fully acknowledge.

_____

The cobbler's shop was a crumbling relic of a better time, its broken windows and sagging walls barely holding together against the relentless grip of decay. The faint smell of leather and dust lingered in the air, a ghost of its former life that seemed to mourn its forgotten purpose. The sagging roof bowed under years of neglect, and the uneven cobblestones leading to the entrance were swallowed by creeping moss and weeds, as if nature itself was trying to reclaim the ruins.

Liora and Derrin crouched in the shadows outside, their breaths shallow and synchronized, blending into the oppressive stillness of the night. The faint glow of a lantern flickered from within, casting long, irregular shadows that danced across the warped floorboards visible through the broken windows. A soft breeze stirred the air, rustling loose shingles and producing a faint creak that made the structure seem almost alive, groaning in protest of their intrusion.

Liora's sharp eyes scanned the building, taking in every detail—the worn path near the side door, the scattered shards of glass glinting faintly in the lantern's glow, and the muffled voices that carried through the cracks in the walls. Each sound and sight painted a picture of the lives now inhabiting this decayed place. His gaze lingered on a pair of muddy footprints leading inside, their faint impressions evidence of hasty movements. "Three inside," he whispered, his voice a ghost of sound that barely stirred the air. "Younger, less experienced. We can handle them without a fight."

Derrin raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear in the furrow of his brow. "And if they don't scare easy?" he murmured, his hand instinctively brushing the crossbow slung over his shoulder.

Liora's lips curled into a faint smirk, a flicker of confidence amidst the tension. "Then we teach them why they should."