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“I didn’t ask you... to come all the way out here... in order to spare bystanders from our fight. At least, not just that. Really, I asked you to do it... because I didn’t want anyone to overhear our conversation.”

“Is that so?”

Hector took a silent breath and braced himself. This was it. This was where the stupid-as-shit part came into play. “...They don’t call you the Salesman for no reason, right? So I was wondering... do you like to make deals?”

The yellow man paused at that. He gave Hector a wide, empty-eyed stare, as if he’d become a porcelain doll all of a sudden. Then he smiled faintly. “You certainly aren’t a Rainlord. Ha.”

Hector didn’t know what to make of that.

Ivan blinked a couple times, still smiling the whole time. “To be frank, I’m about eighty percent certain that what you’re telling me is complete nonsense, but I must admit: I am curious as to where you think you’re going with any of this. Are you trying to stall? For whom, exactly? There is no one in this entire country who could possibly show up to save you from me right now. Trust me, I keep track of these things.”

“...I’m not lying,” Hector said again. “Why would I need anyone to save me from you? The only way for me to be capable of lying to you... is if I’m powerful enough to resist you. So from your perspective, I’m either lying but not in need of saving... or simply telling the truth.”

“Mm, yes. But you see, I’ve heard stories. About certain people. Certain irregulars. And these folks, for whatever reason, seem to be entirely immune to the psychological effects of oppressive soul power. It’s quite strange.”