《Capítulo 2: El Galope del Desastre/Chapter 2: The Gallop of Disaster》 Capítulo 2: El Galope del Desastre/Chapter 2: The Gallop of Disaster El bar estaba abarrotado. El aire ol¨ªa a cerveza rancia, sudor y apuestas perdidas. La Gran Carrera del Duque estaba a punto de empezar, y todo el mundo quer¨ªa asegurarse un buen sitio, una buena apuesta o, en el caso de Hans, una buena comida gratis. tono divertido¡ª. Oye, ?me est¨¢s escuchando? Su pie. Un pie ajeno debajo de su bota. Los dedos de ese pie probablemente convertidos en papilla. Y luego mir¨® hacia arriba. ¡ª?Sabes¡­ qui¨¦n¡­ soy? ¡ªgru?¨® Viktor entre dientes. Ten¨ªa dos opciones: A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡ª??Qu¨¦!? ENGLISH The bar was packed. The air smelled of stale beer, sweat, and lost bets. The Grand Duke¡¯s Race was about to begin, and everyone wanted to secure a good spot, a winning bet, or, in Hans¡¯s case, a free meal. ¡°Move it along!¡± the bartender shouted, trying to clear space at the counter. Hans stood in line, waiting for his turn, when he saw her. A woman with dark hair and sharp eyes, her posture both elegant and defiant, sipped from her mug, seemingly unbothered by the chaos around her. Something about her expression fascinated him. Was she a noble in disguise? A thief? Or simply someone with far more class than the rest of the drunks crowding the place? Whatever she was, Hans was mesmerized. ¡°Pretty, isn¡¯t she?¡± a man beside him muttered, nudging him with an elbow. Hans barely reacted. His mind was elsewhere. ¡°They say she can gut a man in under five seconds,¡± the man added with amusement. ¡°Hey, are you even listening?¡± Hans wasn¡¯t. What hedidhear was a bloodcurdling scream when, without realizing it, he stepped forward¡ªputting all his weight onto another man¡¯s foot. The problem? Hans wasbig¡ªbuilt like a well-fed ox. Theotherproblem? The foot in question belonged to someone no sane person would ever dare to cross. An illegal racer. More specifically, Viktor ¡°The Swift,¡± one of the most infamous¡ªand notoriously crooked¡ªjockeys in the underground circuit. Hans felt something shift beneath his boot and finally snapped out of his daze. ¡°Huh?¡± He looked down. His foot. A crushed foot beneath his boot. Those toes were probably mush by now. Then, he looked up. Viktor ¡°The Swift¡± had gone crimson with pain and fury, his bloodshot eyes bulging, veins in his neck pulsing like the rigging of a storm-tossed ship. ¡°AAAAAAAAH!¡± Hans immediately lifted his foot. ¡°S-Sorry! I didn¡¯t mean to!¡± Viktor collapsed to his knees, clutching his foot with both hands, tears welling in his eyes. The music in the tavern stopped abruptly. Every eye in the room was now on them. Hans felt a cold sweat trickle down his back. ¡°Do you¡­ have any idea¡­ who I am?¡± Viktor growled through gritted teeth. Hans swallowed hard. ¡°Uh¡­ a guy whose footreallyhurts?¡± Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some placed bets on whether Viktor could still fight with a busted foot. Others just waited for the inevitable brawl. But the real trouble began when a deep, mocking voice came from the back of the room. ¡°Viktor, my friend, you¡¯re not seriously going to let a brainless oaf humiliate you like this¡­ are you?¡± Hans stiffened. The speaker? Dorian the One-Eyed. The man stood slowly, resting one hand on the bar. The torchlight glinted off his eyepatch. ¡°This guy just stomped you like a cockroach,¡± he continued with a cruel grin. ¡°And everyone here saw it. So¡­ what are you gonna do about it?¡± Viktor, still on the ground, bit his lip and glared at Hans. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ going to break his face.¡± Hans raised his hands. ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa! It was an accident. I don¡¯t want trouble, really.¡± Dorian smirked. ¡°Well, then, let¡¯s make thisinteresting. Viktor needs to get even¡­ andyou, big guy, owe him a debt.¡± ¡°What? I don¡¯t owe him anything!¡± ¡°Yes, you do,¡± Dorian said calmly. Hans glanced at the bag of gold on the table. Then at Dorian, who was smiling like a shark that had already decided to eat him. ¡°So tell me, Hans,¡± Dorian continued, his voice dangerously smooth, ¡°are you going to pay your debt¡­ or start working for me?¡± Hans swallowed hard. Two options:
  1. Work as a thug for Dorian (which probably meant he¡¯d end up dead before the week was out).
  2. Pay the two hundred gold coins (which he didn¡¯t have¡ªnot even in his wildest dreams).
Before he could answer, Viktor¡ªwho had been groaning in pain just a moment ago¡ªraised a hand to interrupt. ¡°Wait.¡± Dorian raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yes?¡± Viktor, his face still red, took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on Hans. The rage in his eyes now burned with something else. ¡°Theremightbe another way to settle this,¡± he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. Hans frowned. ¡°Another way?¡± Viktor nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal.¡± Dorian crossed his arms, intrigued. ¡°And what do you propose, Viktor?¡± The racer grinned proudly. ¡°We both know he can¡¯t pay me back right now. But¡­ what if heracedin my place?¡± Hans froze. ¡°WHAT?!¡± Viktor leaned against the table, ignoring his injured foot. ¡°Listen, big guy. Tonight¡¯s race has a prize offour hundredgold coins. If you race andwin, we split the prize 50/50.¡± Hans felt the world tilt beneath him. ¡°You wantmeto race¡­ in an illegal, high-risk competition¡­ against riders who¡¯ll probably try to kill me?¡± Viktor shrugged. ¡°Would you rather work as Dorian¡¯s hired muscle?¡± Hans glanced at Dorian, who smiled at him as if to say,Pick whatever you want¡ªyou¡¯re screwed either way. Then, he looked back at Viktor. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know how to ride a horse.¡± Viktor grinned confidently. ¡°You just have to stay on andnotfall headfirst.¡± Hans wasn¡¯t convinced that was as simple as it sounded. But then¡­ he thought about it. Four hundred gold coins. Never in his life had he seen that much money. Instead of evaluating the obvious dangers¡ªhis inexperience, the criminal crowd, the guaranteed risk of death¡ªhis brain filled with images of feasts, fine clothes, and maybe even a comfortable inn where he could sleep without worrying about getting his boots stolen. His eyeslit up. This was madness. This was suicide. But¡­ what if hewon? ¡°¡­ I¡¯m going to die,¡± he muttered. Viktor grinned. ¡°Welcome to the underground races, Hans.¡±