Thanks for all the reviews! I'm also excited to write about the underground days of Ryo since it's a part the anime didn't touch upon too much.

Chapter 3

An agreement

The silence permeating the air stirs a freezing sensation that spreads from the extremities of her body to her limbs. His gaze alone made the temperature drop a humongous amount of degrees at once. He has to look down to see her face from this close, even with the exaggerated high heels she wears, the top of her head can barely go over his chin's height.

Her hands move on their own, pushing him so hard, he lets her wrist free, tottering a step back, her palms keeping a barrier between them while her cheeks become as pink as the ribbons on her attire.

A muffled laugh bursts between his lips, his gaze runs from tip to toe, he has to cover his mouth, turning his face away. Did they really force her to dress like that? Her cheeks prickle even more now adding anger to the embarrassment, having the urge to strangle him. Is he mocking her? Instinctively her arms come to cover her chest and lower regions.

His eyes paralyze while rounding back at her, rendering him breathless for a second when he sees a yellow and greenish blemish on the upper arm she uses to cover her chest, it has the shape of fingers wrapped around her skin, where Saruyama had grabbed her before. With how much she was pushed around, it's no surprise. He takes a step back, folding his arms, a rigid, but collected tone.

"Listen, you're free to leave. I don't care, really, but once you step out of this room," he points at the door from over her shoulder. "I'm not going after you a second time. It's on you to believe whether what I said is true or not, but you might just end up in someone's bed that will be probably twice if not more your age," bobbing his head her way, he ends with a sharp blow. "You choose."

She shudders, he's not joking. His hand rummages through one of his overcoat's pockets, taking out a black deck case, tucking it in his pant's pocket. He then starts undressing the coat, her feet instantly sliding back, what is he doing? How shameless can he be?

He scoffs, tossing it her way, offering the bit of dignity he could. "Take this."

She clumsily accepts it, switching glances between the cloak and him, as if asking what he's doing. He heads to the couch, sitting down with a plop, bridging his hand over the centre table towards the padded chair across from him, inviting her to sit.

Mantling herself with the loose coat whose sleeves went past her hands, she fastens it around herself, the shoulders looked funny, sticking out too much from her figure. Stepping near the padded chair, she hesitantly sits at the edge, as if preparing to run in case he tries anything improper, unsure of which distance is even safe.

"I'll be direct here. I didn't call you here for your," he pauses, thinking of the best word. "Services. In fact I have no interest in it whatsoever," rummaging in his pocket, he takes out the deck he put there before, slouching on the cushioned seat while spreading the cards with a thumb. "So you can just sit, stand or do whatever you want as long as it doesn't distract me."

There's a gasp that follows his bold, but strange statement, she tilts her head confused, her lips opening a closing as if she's trying to form a sentence, but even if she can't pronounce it, her confusion is written on her face. His avoidant gaze fixated again on his cards as he organizes them in lines on the table, completely erasing her presence from his mind.

It was convincing enough. He isn't even sparing a glance at her. Should she feel offended or rejoiced in this case? Not like she wanted anything to happen, but this is too huge of a broken expectation to be normal, there has to be a catch.

This night has been a true ride, from being coerced into paying a debt, seeing a man almost be murdered in a male's toilet to ending up in a shady, illegal prostitution scheme and coincidentally this said man in front of her is the same one from that nightclub.

She spends a few seconds, then a minute, wondering when he will sketch any reaction, but he's so absorbed looking at the damn cards on the table, flipping them and God knows what he's thinking, she can't take it anymore.

He sighs deeply, unsettled while listening to the ruffling of cloth rubbing against cloth as she shifts on her seat amidst the silence and taps her feet on the carpet restlessly.

"Look, if I wanted to get laid, I could just go out and there would be a line of pretty fangirls waiting for a chance. I wouldn't even need to pay for it," he raises a hand as she scowls at him, gawking offended. "I'm not going to eat you alive," she can't tell if the word choice was intentional, but there was a sardonic smirk on his face as he said that. "Don't worry."

His voice cannot reach her, she blinks confusedly at him, trying to understand the whole situation, he shrugs off, going back into his deck analysis.

Her eyes are latched onto him, eyebrows joining at the middle of her forehead. This doesn't make any sense. She's here because he paid for her, right? If he paid, then isn't it expected he'd want to receive what he paid for? But then, he says he's not interested? Does that mean she'll be punished for not doing her job or whatever she's expected to?

Is it me?

Her head bends down instinctively, peeking through a small opening she makes on the coat, looking at her defined cleavage and remembering how she could see half of her butt sticking out of the panties too. She couldn't find anything bigger than that, much to her dismay. She even took the clothes that covered the most skin possible, but there wasn't anything chaste about any of them. Did her tactic work? Or…

She wraps herself tightly again. Thinking back on it, he didn't even flinch at her, maybe she isn't his type? Or he's just a Casanova. No, he even gave something for her to cover herself, there's gotta be something off about him, he's been giving these mixed signals the whole time. Which boy would pay for an escort and ignore them? And he even stated he has no interest. A deep, shocked gasp escapes her lips against her will, both her hands covering her mouth, her blue orbs widening as she looked at Ryo's eximious posture as he slid some cards around the table, profiling him.

Does he… like boys?

Attacked by her constant, piercing stare, he felt obliged to answer. "Whatever you're thinking now is probably worthy of the tabloid headlines and completely mistaken."

He was waiting for a reply on her part while shuffling his deck and drawing a hand to see which cards would come out, until he remembered an important detail: she can't speak.

Lifting his gaze, he adjusts his posture, crossing a leg over the other. She's staring at him puzzled, as if she didn't understand his last statement. In hindsight, he was a VIP at the nightclub, so he has to be a celebrity of sorts, but who exactly?

He risks the question. "Don't you know who I am?"

Her brows curl up worriedly, is this question important? Will he get mad at her for saying no? Her shoulders stiffen, fearing his reaction, her whole body shrivelling together, her head shaking briskly, denying it.

The first blow is dealt, like a punch to his guts. True his face has vanished from magazines, TV and media in general, but with all the promotion going on back when he started, no way she wouldn't have at least seen his face at least once, right?

He was featured in papers, broadcasts and popular medias for some time, then once he started losing, all sorts of defamatory articles were written, they even lied in many of them, but once all the novelty of his defeat wore off and he was losing in the minor leagues too, the journalists suddenly lost interest in him. He wasn't the trending topic anymore, and all he got was his name written in the schedules for his next match in the magazines announcing it, reduced to a zero.

"Right, I never introduced myself," he keeps his cool. "I'm Ryo Marufuji, a pro duelist also known as Hell Kaiser Ryo," his hand cups his chin as he asks in utmost boredom. "I believe your name is Rie Kinomoto?"

Hell Kaiser? Well, that explains a lot of his demeanor…

Unsure of what he aims with that question she nods once, her legs buckling inward in discomfort. Now that he mentioned it, a faint reminiscence from months ago pops in her mind: she did see someone like him in an advertisement screen hanging from a skyscraper while she was off to work, and there was also a pretty silver-haired boy advertised along, weren't they duelists from the young-adult's league?

The ad was about a match of theirs, but she didn't give it too much attention, it was spread everywhere in the city, though, so it was hard not to notice it.

So this is why he keeps looking at those cards… A pro duelist?

"Are you really mute?"

His question disrupts her thoughts, she nods again, his answer coming flat and rather indifferent.

"I see," he trails off, resuming after collecting himself. "Listen, I have no interest in whichever reason they told you to come here for, all I care about now is my dueling," his eyes narrow, holding a single card high, Cyber Dragon. "But tonight I'm bailing you out, this evens out the little incident at the locker, right?"

Is this a reward because she threw that shoe? He 'ordered' her to help her? Suspicious. Nonetheless, it's a fact that had she not come out and helped him, he'd have been stabbed. Was it worth it in the end? Even if he's really serious about helping her tonight, she won't have the same luck next.

It was about the fifth sigh he heard coming from her in the timespan of a minute when he decided to finally ask before he lost the bit of patience left in him:

"Thinking about your debt?" he said, deadpan. "That was quite the amount you got yourself in trouble for."

Grimacing at his insensitive remark, she sways her head in denial. And here he thought a speechless girl would be easy to deal with since she shouldn't make any sounds, then he's stuck with her sighing all night long, the true recipe for disaster: he can't concentrate.

He takes his phone out of his pants pocket, furrowing his brows, it was bothering his sitting posture. Placing it on the table, he's finally free to look into his cards.

More than troublesome, even if he means to ask her and "relieve" her from whatever is going into her mind, all they can do is stare at each other once she can't communicate. Her glance lands on his cellphone, transfixed by it.

"Oh, by all means," he goads with his acidic tone, a smirk playing on his lips, allowing her to seize it. "The police won't help you even if you call them. They'll probably take it as a prank call, since you can't speak. Moreover, if you try escaping the underground or denouncing them, they'll make sure you won't see sunlight ever again."

Is he trying to warn her or scare her? She can't tell. Clutching the coat around her with a hand, she bends over the center table, her hand stretching all the way to the cellphone, a small opening showing her cleavage as her chest bouncing a bit at her begrudging movement, he clears his throat, avoiding his gaze until she sits down again.

He observes as her whole posture shrinks inwards, both hands holding his phone, her chin creased with her lips curved down so pettily, exchanged annoyed glares between him and the screen of the device.

[Just so you know, it's not my debt,] is what he sees written on a note app on his phone.

"Oh, you can write," his brow raises in a meek, uninterested surprise.

[I'm mute, not illiterate. I can hear you very clearly too.]

"Right, you're just owing someone a hundred fifty million."

[It's my father's debt.]

There's a pause as he gapes slightly, a sneer coming between his lips, his hand covering his face as he controls some snickers, his gaze landing on the table ahead, bundling some cards in groups while at it.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about my manager, you know? The man who dragged you out of the locker room. He told me you had a huge debt, but it seems like this isn't the case and I'm here wondering what are you here for, then? If the debt is from your father, you shouldn't be worrying about it, should you?" a crude advice, she wishes she could follow it.

[It's not as simple.]

"Why not? You seem to be working on your own, if you have a job, just leave the house, no hard feelings. Aren't you a grown woman?"

[I was brought against my will and they forced me to sign a contract, so I'm legally bound to work here.]

"Is that really all?" he pressures, watching her face wrinkle all over in concern.

[They made some revealing pictures of me while I was unconscious.]

She blinks her eyes away from him before typing more, he can imagine well which types of "pictures" they made, some that could ruin her whole public image.

[They've threatened to sell the photos and spread it on the media 'if I don't keep my mouth shut and listen', it would ruin my life and no one would hire me for a job, ever. Plus, If I quit despite that, they'll probably go after my brother.]

"Blackmail, huh? Sounds about what I'd expect from the underground…"

Ryo leans onto the cushions, this story is getting him more and more inclined to believe her father might fit the profile of the prey who get easily lured by the underground's traps and she got entangled along.

"And how did it get this bad? Surely you didn't waltz in their office so they could picture you?"

Despite the expression completely devoid of emotion, she can tell he's making an effort to comprehend the situation.

[The debt collectors were all over our apartment. My father was afraid they'd take him somewhere here, make him pay the hard way or go after my brother, I was worried too.]

"Slave labor, selling his organs, this is how most deals are done, if you aren't someone like me who can be ditched into a different pit for entertainment, it is," the last part comes off a tad rueful, but his voice is standoff again as he continues. "So you wanted to sacrifice yourself for the sake of your family and came in place of your father? How very noble of you," he snorts.

Her shoulders slump, not directly answering his question, her eyes flickering, a layer of glister coming to them a moment before she goes back into typing.

[It doesn't matter.]

"And where is this father of yours you tried to help now?" he watches stoically as she jolts on her seat, uncomfortable with the topic, but he's relentless. "Does he know what you're going to do here? Which work they'll put you up for? About those pictures and the blackmail? What does he think about it?"

The questions had all the intents to provoke her, she's practically bragging about how good she is in taking the bullet for the family, but all he can hear is how much she's invested into people who don't seem to care in the least. A waste for such a pretty girl, really.

[I don't know!] she snaps, her clicking becoming increasingly faster and angrier. [Probably drunk somewhere! He doesn't care what type of work I do, as long as I work all day long to pay bills while he's wasting it all and sinking us into more debt! Can we skip the interview?!]

Here it is, the ugly truth. She's on her own too, abandoned even by her own family, what a tragedy. The police can't help her either since he has no proof and the underground people hold her "hostage" with the photos.

"How did he even get into so much debt?"

She takes a deep breath, calming down, getting angry at him won't do any good.

[Gambling, drinking, loans. I didn't even know it was so much until the bank took our house last year.]

"Loans? For his addictions?"

[He had a small company that went under, he took many loans for that, his credit got busted. Then, he started taking loans from shady sharks to pay the bank loans. You know where it ends.]

"So he dug his own grave, huh? Did he not learn the lesson then?"

[No. He signed some contract with the scammers and we can't legally complain. They added so much interest to his debt that it was five times the price at the end,] she sighs, decompressing all the air stuck in her lungs. [A day doesn't have enough work hours for me to pay the bills, school and the debt. And I can't refuse their "work proposal" as it stands.]

"School? Haven't you graduated yet?"

[I did, but my younger brother is still studying. He was admitted into the main branch of the duel academy just this year.]

"I'm familiar with the place," he blurts out shortly, his mind traveling to the imposing front of the main building of the academy momentarily before he sees another message.

[Do you know how much the tuition fees cost? We can't afford that with only me working. And my father isn't worried in the least about it.]

Tuition fees? From what he recalls, his parents used some money he got from a tournament he won in his childhood. He never had such concerns with money, not until recently when he realized how that Obelisk blue dorm had luxurious rooms compared to the less than inviting place he has to live in.

"What a fool," he mutters thoughtlessly, almost inaudible.

A reminiscence comes to his mind: that of himself in the cage. It's incredible how enlightening and also destructive the experience was. Ever since then, he's drowned himself into those pains. Then, he looks at this girl who can't even speak for herself with words, thrown into this, no chance to fight back, he can portray her future, decaying in those sewers, until there's nothing left of the girl he sees in front of him.

This world is full of cruelty and he's seen it firsthand, it broke him a tad, he concedes bitterly. The real question is: how much more will he let it crush him?

"Don't you know 'no good deed goes unpunished'?" a brief, sour smirk crosses his lips. "You didn't need to help me back in that bathroom, I would've survived just fine. Had you just stayed hidden, you'd be in no trouble now. Ironically, your kindness is ruining you."

[They would've caught me even if I stayed all night long,] she contests with a grumpy pout. [Hiding won't make the debt go away.]

"Yes, it won't. But do you have any idea of what you did? Had I not taken that guy down, you would be the one splattered on the floor, bleeding out, not me. Besides, I could've fend for myself without your assistance. Does that sound like you're helping anyone? Your actions amounted to nothing in the end."

Rough words, but very realistic, her head lowering. For someone who was blatantly speaking he "doesn't care", he's said more than most would. So much could've gone wrong, that guy had a weapon and could have stabbed her instead, just what was she thinking? Being brave is one thing, but often courage and stupidity walk the same tight rope.

Thinking of that, the blood just runs away from her veins, feeling so cold, her body quivers slightly, her numb fingers gripping her knee so strong it hurts. Ever since she helped him at the nightclub, her life just derailed.

"How do you plan to get out of this? I've paid for tonight, the whole night. But from tomorrow on, you're alone. I don't believe you want to embrace this line of work like they've asked you to, do you?" there's a low noise as he taps his finger on the couch's armrest repeatedly.

She gulps coarsely, imagining herself into a dark room, in those clothes, the scenes of the dressing room from earlier flashing on her head, how those women were, the pills, and the dizziness, her throat dries in an instant, her vision spiraling.

[I don't know.]

Her boots become nothing more than a blot of color on the fancy carpet as her sight blurs, water filling the borders of her eyes, not a single tear falling down, blinking so slowly that small droplets gathered on her pink eyelashes, sparkling as she stared at the table ahead bleakly, holding her chin high.

That sadness and her posture that didn't curve down to it had a graceful subtlety, so enthralling he couldn't take his eyes off, his mind going adrift. If it was Asuka, would he have just watched? Catching himself having such thoughts, he scowls. He has no time to be worrying about others. But knowing what's about to happen to her, and not doing anything about it, that would mean achieving a whole new level of low wouldn't it? Even for underground standards.

He doesn't care, really. He doesn't want to. But this irking feeling inside him, yelling that if he ever crosses this border, he would lose to Saruyama's games, that he'd turn into this abject monster his manager always wanted him to be. That is defeat. The thought alone disgusts him.

His promoter has been deceiving him, using his distorted views to sweep Ryo to his side ever since they met. Under the disguise of getting more sponsors or becoming more known to the community. He knew duelists have public duties, but to be pushing this to the underground who abides by secrecy, there's something very wrong in his tale.

At the nightclub too, he wanted the duelist to find something besides the duels in this muddy underworld that entices him, then use that as a leash. He's been suggesting Ryo to drink alcohol to "forget" the agonizing duels, even drugs to numb the pain from the leftover marks of shock collars, anything that would make Ryo dependent on him, telling him that if he doesn't go "overboard" and ruin his dueling career even more, it's fine to enjoy "a little something".

He's not stupid, but he's fallen once. This most disturbing creep encroaching on him that he'd fall again if he stays long enough here is what drives him to a drastic approach.

This girl… I can use her situation to my advantage…

"Hey, do you want to make a deal?"

It was all it took to call her attention, her brows arching as she hunched her shoulders, asking for an explanation.

"I'm talking about paying your debt," he spouts nonchalantly.

[You can pay that much money?] her jaw drops in stupor at his declaration.

"Not immediately, but yes. I can, if I pay it in parcels."

[So you don't have that kind of money now?]

"Do you accept it or not?" he cuts off her question, a hint of underlying irritation.

Once I win, that too will be no problem.

[Isn't that too much? And aren't you just fueling their prostitution network with this?]

"Oh, don't you worry about it, I'll just be raining down all the filthy money I get back at the source," he lets out a mischievous muffled laugh, as if the thought was ludicrous. "By my calculations, in a span of time of less than an year, your debt would be settled, in theory."

She's too astonished to even think of sentences to write down, staring at him awkwardly. He first paid for a night he isn't willing to go through with, now he's even offering to pay her debt? Despite his harsh words about her kindness being unrewarded? Seeing her conflicted expression cast at him, he continues:

"I can get my manager to pull an exclusive 'contract', in other words, I'd be paying for you every night, and you'd need to come here for the sake of appearances, with the exception you don't need to sleep with anyone and they'd still think you're doing you 'job'. As long as they get their money, I doubt they care what happens between us. That works for me too, since you'd become my 'excuse'."

[Slow down,] she shakes her head in disbelief. [Excuse? For what?]

"Let's just say me and my manager have different ideas on how I should be spending my time after I duel," he shuffles his deck all over again, drawing some cards. "And if I can pay to get what I want, that's no problem for me. Of course, I won't lay a finger on you, and you can do whatever you want as long as you don't bother me. Those are all the conditions…"

It takes her a moment to consider all he's said, still shocked at how sudden it was.

[You'd pay the debt for me? But why?]

"Why did you try to help back then in the locker room? If you can answer that question, I'll answer yours."

She inhales deeply, stuffing her torso with air, the words eluding her mind when she attempts to weave a sentence together. All left for her is to shrug and sway her head, deflating in disappointment. Isn't it normal to help someone? But if she was hiding, then there's no actual reason for her to risk herself, yet she did it on an impulse.

Honestly, he also doesn't fully know why he's doing this. Pity? Empathy? Is he clinging to the last ounce of whatever was left of his morals in him, despite adapting his newfound philosophy? No, this will be beneficial to him, to escape this loop of madness Saruyama wants to throw him into, so he can employ all his efforts on what's really important.

Before he knows it, he holds Cyber End Dragon's card in his hand, his eyes delving on its intricate design.

Will you follow me through this, Cyber End? Or will you abandon me?

A meek shuffling noise alerts him, the cushion of his seat sinking a bit more as extra weight is added to his side. Rie took a seat there, holding the screen of his phone close to his face. With how intensely he was glaring into those cards, she trusts he wouldn't attack her right now.

[Will you really help me?]

There is a little sheen of hope or expectancy in her blue marbles, like she'd finally seen a light at the end of the tunnel.

"If you have any better ideas, you're free to refuse."

Her head instantly shakes aplenty, as she nervously wobbles both hands, trying to say that it wasn't her intention to sound ungrateful. He seemed a completely different person than the one that relished breaking the arm of that man in the toilet. Was that only self-defense? Regardless, there's no other choice, but she should keep an eye on him, for now, the idea seems harmless enough, if he's keeping his end of the deal, that is.

[We have an agreement, then.]

She stretches her hand out for a handshake, his eyes landing on her apathetically, a mechanical move as he complies to it.

[ I'll pay you back every cent of it!] she closes one of her fists, determined.

"If you could have paid this much money, you wouldn't be here," he points out sharply.

She grimaces at his statement, but he's right, if she would have solved this before, she wouldn't accept such terms after the whole humiliation she went through: when her boss shouted at her, firing her unjustly because she helped a guest at the nightclub; when she suddenly found herself refused for many part-time jobs due to those men from the loan company making most places blacklist her for hiring; or when they finally came to her rented house earlier today, grabbed her by the arms and forcefully arrested her against her will as her father could but cower in the corner, letting her go, she won't forget his expression: a smile of relief, like she'd be taking a burden from his shoulders by coming here. Then, a cloth was slammed both over her mouth and nose from behind and her sight blackened out instantly.

That a stranger would do more for her in a single night than her father did for the last years, it's heartbreaking.

[Thank you.]

"Don't thank me. I'm no hero," he spits out harshly, his brows angling subtly as he concentrates on the deck he spreads all over the table. "I'm doing it for myself, my own interests, and it just so happens they align with yours. Plus, if you trick me or breach our agreement," the image of the insidious smirk of Camula crosses his mind, his eyes squinting irritated. "I'll have no qualms kicking you out of here, just like I did to that guy,"

He glares at her on the last part, eliciting a worried gulp on her as she worms herself a bit back on the seat. Is he mentally healthy?

If I'm here, Saruyama will believe I'm doing exactly what he wants and he won't get the last word.

In the end, this isn't for anyone else but his own egotistical conscience and wishes. In fact, it could've been any other person in front of him right now and he'd have come to the same conclusion. It's what he keeps telling himself.

I'll not fall for your games, Monkey Saruyama.

Even if it's uncouth, even if he's using people, trampling on them, even if he's humiliated, he'll always have victory set as his priority. His newfound thirst for winning can't be quenched. He will walk this road to glory, one only he can trail.

I'll pave my own path.