451 Out of Control

It was dim inside the tavern. The bartender smoked behind the bar. The smell was pungent. Under the faint light, he looked down at Charles who was sitting outside the bar. The light illuminated his bald head, casting a shadow under his brow bone. His expression was hard to see.

Crash! A fist-sized glass was slammed down before Charles. He jumped at the loud sound. The liquor sloshed, almost splashing onto his collar.

While he was freaked out, the bartender pushed the glass over expressionlessly. He bent down and said, "Shall we drink?" Beside him was a bottle with the label scraped off. Charles froze and looked back. He saw a few men in the corner staring at him coldly. Gulping, he looked up for help. However, there was nothing upstairs save for muffled arguments.

"What?" the bartender asked. "Don't like it?"

"Uh…" Charles plastered on a smile. He was not stupid enough to say that he did not like drinking.

"Don't make the others think that the headquarter treats people badly. Since you're Constantine's man, you have to drink with us now that you're here." The burly bartender cracked his neck. When he looked at Charles, his tone changed. "You'll humor us, right?"

Flinching, Charles nodded forcefully.

"Great." The bartender grinned, showing his sharp teeth. He glanced up. "They'll need some more time to discuss. We can become closer. Come, rookie, let's drink." He stuffed the glass into Charles's hand and forced him to clink glasses. With a bitter expression, Charles downed the cup.

He almost blacked out.

-

After a few days of house arrest, the Revolutionaries seemed to have finally come to consensus. Changing from their previous indifferent attitude, they voluntarily contacted Constantine. Both parties came to this secretive bar to talk.

Constantine brought Charles but after arriving, they only allowed Constantine up. He was powerless and could only leave Charles with the group of terrifying men. Before thirty minutes was up, Charles was pushed into the trap by these prepared men. The pungent hard liquor poured into his throat. He inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. It was the familiar recipe and familiar taste.

There was a unique type of private liquor from Avalon's downtown. The craftsmen would put industrial alcohol, various pigments, and snake bones soaked in flavoring agents to the liquor, creating a 'local specialty.' It was known as kerosene. The poor ruffians of downtown all called it that. Apparently, you had to avoid candles after drinking a glass because you could light yourself up.

Other than drinking, one could also pour the liquor on a corpse for a combustion agent. After burning, not even the best forensic scientist or their own mothers could tell who it was.

The liquor in Charles's hand was comparable to it. In fact, there seemed to also be…

"Drugs?" Charles murmured.

The men in the corner burst into evil laughter. The bartender arched an eyebrow. "You know the ropes? I didn't expect this." Squinting, he picked up the liquor and grinned. "Seems like I'll have to treat you even better."

The order was to make Constantine back down voluntarily and embarrass himself but without losing face. The man he brought with…naturally had to be treated the same.

The bartender was starting to get curious. How many cups could this rookie drink before the ingredients burned his brain?

"Have another." He poured the overflowing cup before Charles. Seeing the youth open his mouth to speak, he pulled out a dagger and stabbed the pocketed bar. "I'll drink with you."

Watching as Charles paled, he leered. "Today, we must drink to our fill!"

In silence, Charles stared at his glass. After a long while, he nodded. "Okay."

Under the bartender's shocked gaze, Charles threw his head back and drank. For some reason, the bartender felt panic. Perhaps he had made the wrong choice.

-

After who knew how long, the door upstairs opened. The tavern's owner brought Constantine to the door and bid farewell.

"Constantine, I'm sorry. You came for nothing." The man shook his hand. "Mr. Gaius has his own plans. I truly cannot help you."

"It's okay. I'm satisfied as long as you all are willing to see me and listen to an old man like me." Constantine sighed and put on his hat. "Thank you for your hospitality."

"I won't see you off, then." The man nodded. "Buck, help him out!"

It was silent downstairs.

"Buck! Buck! Where the f*ck did you go?!" The man froze, embarrassment creeping into his expression. "I'm sorry, Mr. Constantine. Those *ssholes don't understand respect. Recently, they had heard some rumors and have misconceptions of you. Hopefully, they didn't do anything to your man…"

Constantine's expression quickly darkened. He rushed downstairs. Not many would expect for someone as old as Constantine to move so quickly. Anxious, he stepped onto the stairs as if wanting to shatter the rotting boards. Before he got there, he could already smell the alcohol and the disgusting odor of vomit. Stunned, he sped up.

Hopefully, Charles was still in one piece and not torn apart by those f*cking b*stards from the sewers of the Sacred City. But when he turned the corner, he froze.

The room was silent.

Regardless of the bartender behind the bar, the poker players on the sofa, the guests pretending to play pool and darts, they were all on the ground now. Some panted drunkenly. They opened their mouths and vomited out sticky liquid with undigested black beans mixed in. The disgusting smell and the scent of bad alcohol were pungent. But in the middle of the scattered bodies, Charles sat in his chair, playing cards by himself in boredom. When he saw Constantine, he smiled.

"Sir, you're finally done?" He jumped down. "I waited for so long I was wondering if I should get food delivered."

"Uh…yeah." Still not having processed everything, Constantine nodded stiffly. "What…happened?"

"All Revolutionaries are family. They're all so enthusiastic." Charles looked around awkwardly. "Sadly, they weren't very hospitable because they have low alcohol tolerance. They all got drunk after a few glasses."

After a long pause, Constantine nodded, seemingly accepting this reality. He looked away, pretending he did not see Charles subtly kick two bloody teeth under the bar.

"The talk is over. Let's go," he said.

"Oh, okay. Wait a second." Charles knocked his head and ducked behind the bar. He put the things the bartender had prepared into his bag. Seemingly offhanded, he ripped open the bartender's pocket and found a small packet. Sniffing it, he hesitated before putting it in his pocket.

"Thanks for waiting, sir." Patting his hands, he ducked back out. "Let's go."

-

In the carriage on the way back, Constantine took off his hat tiredly. He leaned in his seat, seeming to nod off. He could not help but sigh.

Charles looked outside and ask, "Sir, will we visit anyone else?"

"Let's go back." Constantine shook his head. "I'm a bit tired. We can finish the rest tomorrow."

Charles fell silent. After some time, he started, "Sir…" but trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Your pallor…" Charles pointed at his own face.

Confused, Constantine touched his face and could not help but chuckled dryly. He shook his head. "As expected." Now, Constantine looked like he was exhausted to the max. He did not need a mirror to know how bad he looked. Even worse, he could smell the age and fatigue…

"When you become old, you start paying for your debts. The slightest breeze will make you lose sleep. Even talking to someone is like going into war. You must be completely focused." Sighing, he pulled out some medicine. Counting four pills, he dumped them into his mouth and swallowed with some warm water. "Can't handle it after forgetting to take pills for two days."

"Did something happen?" Charles asked.

"Not too big of a problem." Constantine smiled bitterly. "If I guess correctly, I'll be dragged over to be criticized soon."

"Huh?" Charles froze, getting a bad feeling. "What do you mean?"

"What it sounds like," Constantine said coolly. "I was deputy commander for so many years and had angered many people. Since my favor has fallen now, many will be happy to push me down further."

Charles could not understand. "H-how, it's so sudden…didn't you just come out?"

"I was too naïve." Constantine pinched his nose bridge and murmured, "Charles, people change. I was locked up for half a year and did not expect that everything has gone out of control. The Revolutionaries is nothing like before. Isn't it logical for an old guy who can't keep up to be swept into the trash? Gaius probably refuses to see me because he is hesitating as well."

Charles felt a head-splitting pain. He had felt something wrong these days but he thought it was just safety precautions. He did not think that the house arrest and investigations were due to the Revolutionaries' extreme distrust of Constantine. It seemed to be intensifying after he came out. What had Constantine been doing these days?

"Charles, it's not like before." He sighed. "It had been ninety years since the last burst of the Dark World's beastliness. The active period of natural catastrophes is coming soon. The human world is on a tightrope now. It can no longer bear the internal conflicts. Even if it's just for the big picture, the conflict between the Sacred City and Revolutionaries must be resolved."

Gaping, Charles finally stammered, "Isn't that good?"

"Gaius might not like my idea." Constantine shook his head. "He's already lost himself."

"What…does he want to do?"

"Is that still a question?" Constantine lit his cigarette and inhaled. "Gaius wants to create a new world. He will definitely destroy the old… If he realizes that I'm standing before him, he will destroy me along with those things, as well as the majority of those who support me."

He looked at the blank Charles with a tired expression. "Charles, no matter what I choose, many people will die in a few days. Many, many. Perhaps because of me, perhaps because of him. This is my last chance…but I don't even dare to decide."

"Gaius…does he want to attack the Sacred City?" Charles could not help but ask. It may be too direct, but he couldn't care less. He could feel that he was only one step away from the truth! But he could smell something terrifying. The dirty secret had a tantalizing scent, luring him to danger.

"Attack the Sacred City?" Constantine scoffed. "Not just that."

Clenching his fist, he crumbled the cigarette in his hands. Even though the burning tobacco scorched his palm, he could not feel any pain. "Charles, he wants to release a natural catastrophe. He wants to release the Dragon of Disaster that the third pope had sealed beneath the Sacred City!"