A group of rough-looking men came to a house near the deep woods at the edge of the royal capital.
“Are you the information broker?” one of them asked.
“What do you want, meow? This is no place for thugs,” said a catgirl as she lounged in a chair with her arms crossed.
The man scoffed, and the group emitted an aura of menace as he spoke. “Don’t play dumb. We know the catgirl broker is here. Don’t try to deny it.”
Pista scratched her cheek nonchalantly. “I’m not playing dumb. I’m just no longer a broker, meow.”
“What?”
“I don’t need to do that kinda work anymore. Now I just do it occasionally, as a hobby.”
“What do you mean, ‘hobby’?”
“Mya ha ha! I thought about quitting entirely, but it turns out I kinda enjoy it. Go ahead, let me know what you want. Maybe it’s interesting enough that I’ll help you out.”
The men exchanged glances, and their leader took a step closer. “Fine. We want to buy information from you.”
“I’m about to eat lunch, so could you losers wait?”
“Mind your damn tongue, cat!”
Pista sighed, shrugging. “I’ll have you know we catfolk only lick people we care about. You sort have no need to worry.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Nothing, meow. If you ask me, the Skull Gang should disband and start making an honest living.”
“You know about us?” the leader asked as the group stared at her, surprised.
“Yeah, I’ve heard stories about some boring bunch going around extorting and thieving lately.”
“Hmph. So your skills as an information broker are still sharp. Now hurry up and give us what we want,” the leader said, reaching into his pocket.
Pista sighed wearily. “Hasty, hasty. What do you want to know, meow?”
“About the legendary guy in the Black Guild.”
“What ‘legendary guy’?”
“You’re a broker and you don’t know? I mean the guy who made it to the top in that hell of a place in just a month. He was the leader of the legendary Mistress Carmilla’s Merry Minions.”
“Pfft!”
“What’s so funny, woman?!”
“Nothing, nothing, meow. You just said that with such a serious face, I couldn’t help but want to laugh.” Pista cleared her throat. “So, why do you want to know about him?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He made it to the top among the worst of the worst in record time. Dude’s got that evil charm going. We want to join him so we can rise in the underworld quickly too.”
“Evil charm? Pfft!”
“What’s so funny, damn you?!” Veins were throbbing on the men’s foreheads.
Smiling wryly, Pista propped her elbow onto the desk and plopped her chin on her hand. “I heard that man’s faction disbanded right after the massive undead outbreak in the sewers.”
“We know that! And we heard he was always masked, so nobody knows who he is. We tried to find the former members of his faction, but they all joined up with some monstrous dude named Beast King. And now for whatever reason that faction’s become a bunch of goody-two-shoes doing odd jobs. But they’re all way too intimidating for us to talk to ’em.”
“Sounds like you’re in a pickle.”
“That’s why we came to you.”
“Sadly, I don’t know anything either, meow,” Pista said with a yawn.
The leader pulled a knife from his pocket and pressed it to her neck.
“What are you doing, meow?”
“We heard stories, see, while we were looking into this man of legend. Apparently, the number two in Mistress Carmilla’s Merry Minions was a catgirl.”
Pista’s gaze traveled from the tip of the knife to the man’s face. “And you think that’s me?”
“I can’t be sure, but catfolk are rare. Find and threaten enough of ’em and we’ll eventually get the right one.”
“I see, meow. For a moron you’re pretty smart.”
“You little—”
As the men grew agitated, Pista stood up casually. “Don’t underestimate me.”
“What was that?”
“Even if I knew anything, you think threatening me with a knife would make me talk?” Pista’s voice dropped. “You’re taking me a little too lightly, meow.”
Some of the men took a step back.
“I ain’t scared of her!” one said.
“I dunno man, maybe she’s not just an ordinary catgirl,” another pointed out.
“Sh-She must be the number two,” a third stammered.
“Stand your ground!” the leader yelled, gripping the knife with both hands. “We’ve got her outnumbered!”
Pista narrowed her feline eyes at the leader. “And haven’t you heard, meow? Seeking out information on this ‘legendary guy’ is taboo in this line of work. Those who try tend to run into great misfortune.”
“W-We did hear about it, but that’s gotta be a bluff!”
“Is it, meow? Why don’t we ask the great misfortune to join us?”
“Huh?”
Pista pulled back the curtain behind her, revealing a giant lion. The man’s figure was as intimidating as it was massive, and the air felt heavy, as though it were about to ignite.
“Wha—”
“Wh-Who is this monster?!”
“N-N-N-No way!”
“Groooar!”
That single roar from the Beast King was enough to make the men foam at the mouth and pass out on the spot. “Aw, what? They fainted from just a roar! Bunch of spineless fools. How disappointing. I’ll have to drag them into my faction and toughen them up,” he groused, running a hand through his mane in exasperation.
Pista sighed, casting a sidelong glance at her father. “And what kind of weirdo could remain unfazed after being intimidated like that by a former top executive of the Black Guild?”
“Zenos was fine.”
“Yeah, but you can’t compare people to him, meow.”
“True, true.” The Beast King chuckled slightly and looked at his daughter. “So it was you who spread the rumor that great misfortune would befall those who sought information about the man of legend, huh?”
“Mya ha ha. It was just a token of thanks. I don’t want the shadow healer to run into any unnecessary trouble.” Pista glared at the unconscious men. “Hmph. Even an information broker wouldn’t stoop so low as to sell info on a friend.”
“Friend, you say.”
“Wh-What, meow?”
“I heard from Percia that after the undead incident you licked Zenos’s cheek. Licking the forehead is a sign of affection, but licking the cheek is—”
“Dammit, mom! You and your big mouth!”
“Fwa ha ha! Seems like even now he’s still out there doing remarkable things. I’d be thrilled to have him as my son-in-law.”
“Stop it, meow! Don’t just show up randomly and say weird stuff!” Pista shouted, kicking her father over and over.
“Sorry, sorry!” the former top executive said, bringing his hands together in profuse apology.
Amid the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, a voice from further inside the house called them over for lunch.