It wasn't just Furina who wanted Richard's photo. In just one afternoon, Clorinde had already received inquiries and offers from Lynette, Ningguang, and Shenhe.
But surprisingly, even her close friend Navia brought it up.
Not to buy a photo, rather, to ask Clorinde if Richard needed any help.
Navia was very grateful to Richard, yes, but gratitude didn't mean she was ready to "join the war" over it.
According to the spies, the Spina di Rosula had in Gray River, soon after the event organizers took down the photo, the underground black market became active again.
An uncensored collection of "The Cat Who Stole the Heart" was already circulating there. The photo quality wasn't quite the same as the one displayed at the venue, but not because of printing skill, rather because of the paper used.
The exhibition had used Fontaine's finest photo paper, capable of perfectly reproducing colors and details. The black-market versions, on the other hand, looked cheaper.
Still, if one paid enough, higher-quality prints could be arranged; it just required patience.
From what Navia knew, many people were buying them. The photo dealers quickly realized the market's hidden potential.
Their customers used to be almost all men… until Richard appeared.
Then, for the first time, they discovered a new, previously ignored demographic:
The female market.
This market, long overlooked, suddenly cracked open thanks to that man named "Richard."
And beyond that door… was an ocean of Mora.
These women were really willing to spend.
For the first time, the photo dealers felt that making money was this easy.
They also realized, when women became infatuated, men didn't stand a chance.
It was madness.
Taitor, the bartender working for the Spina di Rosula in Gray River, had witnessed this frenzy firsthand. In just one afternoon, he saw countless such transactions happen right in his bar.
The price per photo wasn't high, but the sheer volume made up for it. There were even custom editions, clients could specify the size and paper quality, and most shockingly, animated versions.
Those were achieved through small mechanical devices that created simple moving effects. Even Taitor had to admit.
"These guys really deserve the money, they're working hard for it."
He hadn't personally joined in the craze, but the bar's profits soared anyway, thanks to the increased traffic.
Gray River wasn't a kind place; it was Fontaine's no-man's-land, lawless and dangerous.
Only establishments under the Rosula maintained a shred of order.
So the rich ladies and gentlemen from the upper city preferred to do business there, at least it was somewhat safe.
And one of those rich clients, a breathtakingly beautiful woman, had caught Taitor's attention.
Not just because she rivaled even his young lady in looks, but because in Gray River, beauty usually spelled trouble, especially when it came with such obvious wealth.
From his observation, she had already purchased at least ten different sets of Richard's photos, including one of those animated ones, never haggling, never hesitating to pay. She was loaded.
Might as well have "easy target" written on her forehead.
Unfortunately, Taitor knew others had already noticed her, some of them people even he wouldn't want to cross. Word was, they'd taken lives before.
He could protect her inside the bar, but outside… that was beyond his reach.
Even the Rosula's influence had limits, especially against desperate men.
That white-haired lady might get away with just losing money if she were lucky.
If not… well, Taitor had heard of things far worse than robbery in these alleys.
He sighed. "She doesn't look like someone short on cash. So why come here alone? Couldn't she just send someone to buy it for her?"
Feeling uneasy, Taitor eventually walked over to her and said carefully, "Miss, would you like to order a Peace Wine?"
In Gray River, that was code for a private escort service, a discreet protection arrangement.
Anyone who ordered it would be safely escorted out of the undercity by Thorned Rose personnel.
"Thank you, but I'm not thirsty," Shenhe replied softly, her tone flat and emotionless.
She kept fiddling with the animated photo, completely unaware, or indifferent, to the danger around her.
Taitor wasn't sure if she truly didn't understand… or just didn't care.
Before he could say more, the group of men watching her from across the bar began moving.
They approached, shoving Taitor aside.
"Hey, Taitor," the scar-faced leader said lazily.
"When did the Rosula se start pushing sales now? We don't do forced business here, do we?"
His tone made it clear: mind your own business.
"This is the Rosula's territory," Taitor said coldly, standing his ground despite being shorter.
"Ha! Look at you, just a doorman making pocket change a month. What are you risking your neck for?" one of the thugs sneered.
The scar-faced man laughed and half-heartedly scolded his underling, "Now, now, don't be rude." His eyes, however, gleamed with mockery.
Taitor knew reasoning was pointless.
He turned toward Shenhe. "Miss, "
BANG!
A thunderous crack silenced the bar.
The scar-faced man had slammed his palm down, shattering the wooden table beside him.
"Yo-!" Taitor barked, as several suited Rosula enforcers emerged from behind the counter.
But Scarface didn't flinch. He tossed a few Mora coins onto the floor and said mockingly, "Oops. Saw a fly buzzing around, slapped it too hard, and broke your cheap table. Here, buy a new one, haha!"
His laughter echoed through the bar.
The Rosula men bristled, some ready to fight, but Taitor raised a hand, stopping them.
He didn't even look at the broken table. Narrowing his eyes, he said, "Scarface, are you declaring war on the Rosula?"
"War? Of course not. Just a joke. What, can't your gang take a joke?" Scarface smirked.
He didn't want to provoke them yet; his goal was the rich woman, not a turf war.
He turned to Shenhe, forcing an ugly grin.
"Miss, we've got better photos of that pretty boy, ones that not only move, but can even respond. Interested?"
Shenhe froze. When she heard him call Richard a "pretty boy," her eyes flashed coldly. Her lips pressed down slightly.
"How much?" she asked flatly.
Scarface grinned wider. "We'll talk price after you see the goods."
"Where are they?" she said.
"Outside. This way…"
"Miss…" Taitor tried to warn her, but Shenhe had already put the photo away and stood.
"Let's see them," she said.
"Now that's a brave lady!" Scarface jeered. "Taitor, maybe you could learn from her, stop clucking like a mother hen!"
He wasn't surprised she agreed. Anyone who dared walk Gray River alone clearly trusted her own strength.
He noticed the Vision on her waist. So that's her confidence, he thought.
But he'd seen plenty of Vision holders before, and even killed one or two.
If that was all she had, then this windfall was as good as his.
And that beauty… she could fetch a high price later, too.
He'd just need to be careful not to ruin her face.
Taitor wanted to stop the,m but hesitated. When they exited, he finally decided to follow with a few men, just in case he could save her life.
Yet, not long after stepping outside, he heard heavy thuds from a nearby alley, like flesh striking metal.
The iron floor beneath his feet even trembled slightly.
"They're fighting already?" he thought, face paling, as he rushed toward the sound.
And there he saw something he would never forget:
A silver-haired woman, ethereal and calm, standing alone amid the filth of the alley.
Around her lay the thugs.
Scarface, no, former Scarface, was embedded halfway into the iron ground. If one looked up from beneath the floor, they'd see his face imprinted clearly on the metal.
His men were likewise embedded in walls and trash bins, like grotesque decorations.
Head vs. steel, steel won.
"I misjudged her," was Taitor's first thought.
Then Shenhe looked his way. Instinctively, he raised his hands.
"Miss, we're just checking, nothing more."
Her face remained calm, no anger, no effort, as though she hadn't just folded a gang into the pavement.
"I know," she said coolly. Despite her emotional detachment, she could tell friend from foe.
She glanced at the wreckage and asked, "These people…?"
"We'll take care of it," Taitor answered immediately.
She nodded, then quietly walked away.
After she left, Taitor and his men dug Scarface out of the iron floor.
His face was now flat, nose broken, teeth shattered, but he was still breathing.
She'd held back, used precision instead of full force.
Otherwise, with that kind of impact, his brain would have been mush.
"What now, sir?" one of Taitor's men asked.
"Dump them at the border of the Rosula's territory. Someone will take care of the rest," he said coldly.
Word of what happened would spread fast. The message was clear: The Spina di Rosula isn't weak.
As for Scarface's fate… that was up to luck.
In Gray River, grudges piled up easily.
And now, helpless and beaten, he wouldn't last the night.
Sure enough, not long after they dumped him on the street, he and his men vanished from Gray River.
Elsewhere, "Servant, the targets have been secured," said a Debt Collector, emerging from the shadows.
"Good," replied The Servant, closing the photo album in her hands.
"Dispose of them cleanly… oh, and the leader, make sure he suffers before he dies."
Her strange, cross-shaped eyes glowed faint red as she spoke, her tone light and casual, as if discussing the weather.
The collector vanished back into the darkness.
The Servant glanced down at the soaked photo cover, Richard's image smiling faintly through the gloss.
"…'The Politician,' huh." She sneered.