In the sleek silence of Damien's office, the old man sat like he owned the place. He sat there with his legs crossed leisurely and his eyes half-lidded behind thick glasses. Despite the oppressing presence of Damien, his presence oozed indifference. Damien's jaw tightened as he sat across from him with his fingers curling around the pen lying on the desk waiting to be used.
"Don't stretch this too far," Damien said with his voice clipped. His gaze was cold and oppressing as he glared at the man. "I am giving you a fair chance here. If you're not willing to negotiate, you will regret it."
"Regret it! how?" the old man interrupted with a quiet laugh, raising a brow mockingly. "I will regret the handsome amount you are offering me when the offer would not be valid anymore or you would send a few goons to break my windows and burn the ivy down, perhaps? Or…" the man leaned lower as if he was sharing a sacred secret between them. "Or are you going to send them behind me to get rid of me so that you can claim the property for yourself?"
Damien didn't deny it. He simply smiled as he played with his pen.
It was a smile devoid of warmth, calculated and sharp as a blade. "I said I am giving you a chance. If you think I offer that to everyone, you are mistaken. I could have done all these things already but I am a fair businessman and believe in paying the cost for acquiring anything. So tell me, what's your price?"
Damien watched him with a cold smirk. He did not believe that this man had no ambition. He was sure it was just the opposite. The old man leaned back with a lazy shrug.
"You are right. I am here for the price. It is not that I do not want to sell the land to you but I haven't seen much sincerity so far. You say the land's important, but if it were truly worth something to you, you would offer more. You and I both know the value of that project. It is worth billions, isn't it?"
Damien's eyes narrowed. He was not happy at all that his intuitions about this man had been right.
"I already offered double the price. If you are still not interested, then.."
"You are going to triple it?," the old man cut in with a dry smile. "And I am still not interested. I don't want money."
Damien froze, his fingers loosening their grip slightly. "Then what do you want?"
The old man reached into his worn leather folder and pulled out a stack of documents, placing them neatly on the table with a crisp thump.
"I want land… for land."
He tapped the paper with a gnarled finger.
Damien's brow furrowed as he read the top page. It wasn't a sale document for the northern house, but a trade request where he would give the plot in exchange for four pawnshops Damien owned on Old Street.
"You are joking," Damien muttered, flipping through the pages. "Your land is barely worth the cost of a shop here."
He paused. How did the man know about these properties? These were not under the name of the business or company but it was his personal property. The shops, though neglected and outdated, were inherited from his grandmother.
A sentimental project she had once begun for local artisans and pawn collectors. Though he never paid attention to them. Since their location had now become the part of the old city which did not thrive in business. He had let go of those properties over the years. But their market value would be more than triple that land he would get in exchange.
But it was not money that made him frown since they didn't generate profits and were mostly forgotten in the books. What irked him was the knowledge the old man held against him.
"They are not earning much," the old man said, reading Damien's thoughts as if they were printed on his forehead. "But they have value and if I work on them I could earn enough to live my life. Since they did not value you much to you, give them to me and you can have the land you need."
Damien looked up slowly with his eyes full of suspicion now. "Why those shops? Why not just sell your house and buy something else for income?"
The old man didn't answer immediately. He tilted his head and gave a quiet, knowing smile before standing.
"You think I owe you answers, Mr. Albrecht?" he asked, brushing invisible dust from his coat sleeve. "I don't. But I will say this, I want a steady source of income, not a lump sum. I am an old man and I am planning ahead. You get your project moving, I get a future that doesn't rely on hope."
Damien remained seated, eyes locked on the papers. Something still didn't feel right. The man's knowledge was too precise, too deliberate. He hadn't just guessed about the shops, he had targeted them.
"Since you are reluctant, I will not force a young man to do business with me." the old man shook his head and stood up to leave.
But as the old man walked toward the door, Damien gritted his teeth.
"Wait."
The man paused with his hand on the doorknob and then he turned slightly with a smirk.
Damien sighed heavily, picked up the pen, and signed the papers. "Fine, you have this deal."
The old man walked back and took the papers calmly. "It is my pleasure doing business with you," he said. "You will find the signed deed for the northern plot inside as well. My lawyer will handle the transfer."
Damien's eyes stayed on the door even after the man left.
Something about the entire meeting sat wrong with him, but the deal was done. He had what he needed. And yet, as he looked down at the documents again, a quiet voice in the back of his head whispered, something was off about it.