I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 138 Good luck, let's eat chicken tonight!

This is why Dijkstra didn't have the eunuch chief eunuch, Habin, lie in ambush outside the bathhouse.

Seeing Sieg's move, Dijkstra was glad his judgment was correct.

If he had actually ordered Harbin to ambush fifty axemen, it would likely have been the axemen who died.

And because of this foolish decision, Dejestra will needlessly offend a terrible enemy.

Dijkstra was never one to let emotions control his body.

Shame? Insult?

These things were worthless in his eyes.

He sometimes gets angry, roars, slams his fist on the table, and curses.

But that was just a performance, an emotion deliberately displayed to achieve a certain purpose.

He wouldn't be like some foolish nobles who fly into a rage and make impulsive decisions because of a single unpleasant remark.

He's willing to put aside pride and such as anything that brings him profit.

For example, right now.

Although Sieg was aggressive, he pinned him down in the bathtub with one hand, rendering him unable to move, and even conjured up thousands of crowns to show off his power.

If it were anyone else, they would probably have been furious.

But Dijkstra did not.

His mind was racing, analyzing the current situation and calculating all possible outcomes.

This young man is stronger than anyone imagined, and he knows his true identity and may have some connection with Geralt, otherwise he wouldn't have used his name as a stepping stone.

Most importantly—this young man came to him tonight hoping to buy the two women, but Dijestra astutely realized that he could still profit from the situation.

For example, getting in touch with this young man.

The shock on Dijkstra's face lasted only a short time.

Soon, the expression that belonged to Sigir Luwen returned to his face.

He glanced down at the layers of crowns at the bottom of the pool, then looked up at Zieg, who was standing right in front of him.

"Okay, okay, you win, my friend."

"I admit, your negotiation style is very persuasive."

He grinned, seemingly completely unaware that he was still being held down in the bathtub by a hand.

"First, hold him down, then pour several thousand crowns into his bath. Honestly, if I were twenty years younger, I might consider learning that."

His own light fell back onto the golden light at the bottom of the pool.

"However, since this is a transaction, we'd better be clear about the price. You just said five hundred crowns, but these are worth more than five hundred crowns."

Dijestra raised an eyebrow.

"So, the extra money is all for me?"

"Don't get me wrong," Zieg said calmly. "I didn't say these were all for you."

"I just want you to know that five hundred crowns is nothing to me."

His hand twitched slightly again.

The krona scattered at the bottom of the pool seemed to be drawn by some invisible force, and they all flew up from the water.

Thousands of crowns converged into a golden torrent, swirling and churning in the air, emitting a melodious tinkling sound.

The candlelight danced on the surface of the crown, refracting countless tiny points of light, illuminating the entire private room like a treasure cave from mythology.

Then, the golden torrent contracted, condensed, and disappeared into Sieg's hand.

In the blink of an eye, the pool water became crystal clear again, as if the scene had never happened.

The veins on Dijkstra's forehead bulged.

He was now certain that this young man definitely had a close relationship with Geralt.

This way of speaking, which can send your blood pressure soaring with just one sentence, is exactly like Gerald's.

Sieg released Dijestra and returned to the outside of the bath.

His expression remained calm, as if what had just happened was merely a trivial magical trick.

"Give me Anna and Tamara, and I'll owe you a favor."

His gaze was fixed on Dijestra.

"If you are in mortal danger, you can call me for help, but only once."

Dijkstra did not answer immediately.

He leaned against the edge of the bathtub, his fingers tapping lightly on the tiles around the edge, making a rhythmic tapping sound.

He was thinking.

Anna and Tamara are not women of unknown origin.

At least, they themselves did not try to hide their identities.

In fact, once captured by a human trafficker like One-Eyed Joe, concealing one's identity is the most foolish choice.

Ordinary refugees are treated like livestock and sold off, sent to docks, mines, and brothels, and no one knows where they die in some sewer.

But if they have a husband and father who are of considerable standing, then things are different.

Even if it's just for the potential ransom they might receive in the future, human traffickers will let them live a little longer.

So Dijkstra knew who they were.

Anna Strenger.

Tamara Strenger.

The wife and daughter of the military officer named Philip Strenger.

This name isn't exactly well-known in Novigrad, but it carries some weight in the muddy wasteland of Velen.

He was rude, irritable, and a heavy drinker, yet he did have a group of soldiers under his command who were capable of using human skulls as bowls.

Such a person would be insignificant in the royal palace of Redania, but in a place like Velen, he would be enough to make many people turn away.

Dijkstra bought the mother and daughter from One-Eyed Joe as part of his habitual practice of collecting any potentially useful assets.

Your network is like a huge net.

If you don't accumulate or cultivate resources in your daily life, it will definitely be too late to burn incense and pray to Buddha when you need them.

Therefore, he habitually includes all sorts of potentially useful people in his network.

If something has value, it's worth keeping it temporarily.

Anna and Tamara were two new fish caught in his net.

But now, someone wants to take the two fish out of his net.

Dijkstra quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind.

What will he gain by detaining Anna and Tamara?

Perhaps it's a ransom.

Perhaps it will be a favor in the future.

Maybe you'll get nothing, only a drunken madman with a bunch of soldiers coming to cause trouble.

By letting them go, he only lost two chips he had bought with four hundred crowns.

But he could gain a favor from Zieg.

A favor to a monster who, even under the influence of the magic-blocking gold, can still cast spells, can instantly close in on you, and can pin you to the bottom of the bathtub with one hand, rendering you unable to move.

More importantly, things will get very ugly if he refuses.

At that point, he would have offended more than just Philip Strenger, the Willen military commander.

And this young man in front of me.

By giving up the wife and daughter of a military leader, one can gain the favor of a monster and avoid offending two troublesome figures at once.

This is not a difficult calculation.

Dijkstra was a clever man.

Smart people know when to hold onto their chips and when to give them away for something more valuable.

"All right."

He forced a smile onto his face.

"Since you've spoken, you can take those two women with you. The five hundred crowns are unnecessary."

He leaned against the edge of the bathtub, a shrewd glint in his small eyes.

"The wife and daughter of a military officer are certainly worth some money."

"However, compared to your favor, it's nothing."

He grinned.

"But let me make this clear first: I always keep a very good record of things. I will remember this favor you owe me perfectly. If someone really tries to kill me, you can't stand me up."

Zieg looked at him, his eyes devoid of any emotion: "Don't worry, I keep my word."

Dijkstra nodded and reached out to pull a small bell by the bathtub.

The crisp sound of the bell echoed in the private room.

Not long after, the door was pushed open and Habin walked in.

"Sir, what are your orders?"

"Go and bring those two women here," Dijestra said. "They're the mother and daughter we bought from One-Eyed Joe a few days ago."

"Yes."

Habin bowed in response.

"in addition----"

Just then, Dijkstra's stomach rumbled.

He touched his round belly.

"Hurry up and bring up the food and drinks."

I was really hungry this time.

Dijkstra glanced at Sieg and gave him a warm smile, like that of an old friend.

"Young man, would you like to grab a bite? My chef here is quite skilled; braised venison, pan-fried trout, cream of mushroom soup, and a truffle and butter roasted chicken are all his specialties. Even the royal chefs of Redania can't replicate this taste."