Chapter Six: Grateful Gifts

It was already half past six in the evening. However, I’d heard that in the Black Coffin, the lamps burned bright and unceasing, making it impossible to distinguish day from night—only a select few penthouses had panoramic windows overlooking the outside world.

Michael shook my hand once again, holding the statue carefully at his side. “Thank you again,” he said. “You’ve truly been a great help to me.”

I replied, “Don’t mention it. Still, about that grand gift you promised me—have you forgotten?”

Michael laughed, “I’m so overjoyed I nearly lost my head. Here, let me show you what I’ve prepared for you.”

He whistled, and a man ran out from a distant café. This fellow wore a tailcoat, his long hair and mustache perfectly groomed, about forty years old, with deep-set eyes like a panda’s. He was the very image of the typical, lifeless, meticulous, and loyal butler.

He announced, “Young master, next time you mustn’t take such risks. This old servant was truly worried for you.” His tone was measured and steady, betraying none of the concern he claimed.

Michael replied, “My dear Jean Valin, you know you can’t control me—why bother with fruitless admonitions? Each time I escape danger only proves that I’m more than capable of handling any peril.”

In truth, had it not been for me, he would likely be dead right now.

Jean Valin bowed low. “As you wish, sir.”

Michael said, “Now, where is the thing I asked you to bring?”

Jean Valin produced a small box, barely palm-sized. Inside was a silver ring set with a purple gemstone, the size of a flower petal.

Michael grinned, took the ring, and solemnly placed it in my hand. “This is the masterpiece of Master Mavi Eden—a rare purple gem ring that appears only once in a decade. I personally named it and inscribed the dedication: ‘The Silver Poem.’ Congratulations on your marriage, Mr. Fishbone Longinus.”

He knew about my wedding? He was well-informed indeed. Still, I couldn't hide my disappointment. “Is that all? Then perhaps you should return the statue of the Goddess Iks to me.”

Jean Valin drew a sharp breath, Le Gang smiled faintly, and Michael looked utterly astonished. “I must have misheard—you want me to give the goddess statue ‘back to you’?”

“That’s right,” I said. “This statue must be priceless, while your gem ring is clearly worth only a pittance.”

Michael fixed me with a gaze. “Allow me to repeat myself. I—Michael Teardo, Marquis—am the adopted son of the current Regent, Diamond Teardo, district governor of the thirtieth through fortieth floors, and owner of the Black Coffin’s Classical Museum. And you now ask me to return this rare, dearly beloved, and still-warm-in-my-hands statue of the Mayan Goddess Iks ‘back to you’?”

His words made my head spin. “Exactly! I bought this mansion with my own money, and the statue was taken from inside. I even retrieved it from that lady with my own hands. Isn’t it mine? And you expect to fob me off with this little trinket?”

Michael’s eyes widened. “A trinket? You have no idea what this ring is worth. Even without my inscription, Eden’s craftsmanship alone sets its value above two million gold coins!”

I’d been swindled before, so no amount of boasting could move me. Let them think I was money-mad—I didn’t care in the slightest. “Count out twenty million credits and transfer them to my Mercury Bank account—not a cent less! Then the statue is yours.”

Jean Valin blinked at me, Le Gang lounged nearby with a quiet smile, and Michael threw out his arms, sighing dramatically. “Heavens! What ignorance, what utter foolishness! Twenty million credits are nothing to me. Are you sure you don’t want this gift?”

“Cut the nonsense and pay up, or leave the statue,” I insisted. “This mansion already bled me dry. I won’t let you cheat me again!”

At the time, I didn’t realize just how powerful Michael was. If he’d wanted me dead, he’d not have needed to lift a finger. He could have banished me from the Black Coffin with a single word. Only later, when I recounted the story to Lamia at our wedding, did she remind me of the danger I’d courted—I was deeply shaken.

Michael looked at me, then at the statue, his expression shifting uncertainly. He lowered his voice, “You refuse my goodwill? I treat you as a friend, but you don’t recognize it? Very well, very well…”

Suddenly, Le Gang interjected, “Mr. Fishbone, let me offer you fifty million credits, in clear black-and-white. No tricks. Sell me the mansion and the statue together?”

His offer filled me with joy. “Really? Then—”

Le Gang murmured under his breath, “I’ve thought this through. The curse on the mansion is broken, and from now on, it’ll be the only attraction of its kind in the Black Coffin. Fifty million is nothing—it’s worth a hundred million. I don’t need to live there; just charge admission for tours and I’ll recoup everything in two months.”

A chill ran through me. “Let me think about it.”

Everyone in the Black Coffin was cunning. Le Gang was no fool; he’d never make a losing deal. If he wanted to buy, I definitely shouldn’t sell—otherwise, I’d be the one shortchanged.

Le Gang called out, “What’s there to think about? You’re being indecisive.”

My mind raced, but chaos reigned in my thoughts. “I’m not selling!”

Le Gang sighed. “Is that so? What a pity. You really are shrewd.”

He must have been trying to outwit me, but I’d bested him at his own game.

“Then,” Le Gang continued, “I’ll give you thirty million credits for the statue alone.”

Impulsively, I nearly agreed, but caught myself just in time. There must be a trick.

Le Gang said, “Once the deal is done, you’ll have nothing more to do with the statue. To anyone who asks, you must say that I—Le Gang Teardo—retrieved this treasure from the haunted house. You had no part in it.”

“Why?” I asked.

Le Gang whispered to Michael, “I’ll deposit this treasure in your museum, labeled as my discovery. Visitors will inquire about its origins, and over time, everyone will hear of my courage and skill. For me, reputation is far more valuable than money; only the shortsighted put wealth above all.”

Michael nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve planned well.”

Their conversation, though whispered, was still audible to my keen ears. I realized what was happening. “Wait! I have another condition.”

Michael smiled. “I’m all ears.”

“I’ll gift you the statue,” I said, “but only if you display it in the museum with a label stating: ‘Discovered and retrieved by Fishbone Longinus, owner of the Thirtieth Floor Henry Mansion!’”

Michael slumped, forcing a wry smile. “Alright, you’re a tough negotiator.”

Le Gang sighed in defeat. I felt a surge of pride, having once again outwitted him.

Michael added, “You demonstrated extraordinary ability during this adventure, which I deeply admire. Therefore, this Silver Poem ring is my wedding gift to you.”

Better something than nothing. The trinket was probably a cheap fake, but I could give it to Lamia. I’d heard it was customary here to present a diamond ring at weddings. Besides, Michael’s earlier flattery might be useful—I could quote him and maybe please Lamia.

I accepted the gift with a calm “Thank you.”

Le Gang and Michael exchanged glances. Michael nodded, “Then it’s settled, my friend. Farewell—go to your beautiful bride.”

At the time, I didn’t know about Michael’s peculiar custom: he would give gifts to those he accepted as friends. By accepting his gift, I also accepted the status of being his friend. He would never betray me, and I could never betray him.

On the contrary, had I refused, I would have become his enemy.

Le Gang’s elaborate scheme to get me to accept the ring had, in fact, saved me from disaster.

From that moment, a long and remarkable friendship began between the three of us.

Michael ordered Jean Valin to escort me to a clothing shop on the forty-third floor, where I endured an interminable and excruciating bath and fitting. The wedding attire there was shockingly expensive, but, seeing Jean Valin, the staff were all anxiety and deference, insisting on gifting it for free.

I suspected some trick, perhaps a scheme like the one with the mask and the real estate agent—maybe they meant to swindle something from me—but for now, I saw no harm.

When I was finally dressed, I checked the clock in a panic—it was already 7:25. I had to hurry to Normandy Avenue on the fortieth floor!

“Sir, don’t rush,” Jean Valin cautioned. “In wedding attire, one must move with elegance, like a gentleman—not a crease must mar the suit…”

But I dashed away, waited impatiently for the slow elevator, and by the time I reached the fortieth floor, it was 7:30.

I barely made it. After all, I was about to marry into a better life, and beggars can’t be choosers.

Lamia stood at the street corner, dressed in a spotless white gown with subtle makeup, beautiful beyond words—like a model from some ancient magazine. At her side were Salvador, Betty, and a dozen or so rangers.

She saw me, and I saw her. Lamia smiled. “My, you look dashing in that getup.”

I scooped her up for a kiss, forgetting she was a bioengineered woman and heavier than I, nearly wrenching my arm. Betty shouted, “Hey! It’s bad luck to kiss the bride before the wedding!”

“I’ve kissed her plenty already,” I retorted.

“But not before the wedding!” Betty protested. Then, glancing at my suit, she jumped in surprise. “Is that Zoffergud’s brand?”

Her reaction suggested the suit was genuinely valuable. Perhaps Jean Valin hadn’t tricked me after all.

“Zoffergud is a top aristocratic label—only nobles on the eightieth floor wear it,” Betty said.

Lamia whispered in my ear, “Where’d you get the money? Don’t tell me you stole it?”

I grinned, “That’s right. You going to arrest me?”

She laughed. “I won’t arrest you. But next time, steal a set for me, too?”

She pressed her forehead to mine, and a wave of happiness enveloped us, making me forget all the previous turmoil and heartbreak.

At that moment, Sten approached, his face expressionless. “Sir, I can’t find a witness for the ceremony.”