World's Best Protagonist [BL]-Chapter 133: Barcode Creator

He is an old man with a beard, not gray, but his unkempt hair has already begun to show signs of aging. He’s probably between the ages of sixty and seventy. His eyes are wrinkled and...kinda look kind, if they’re not scrutinizing me. His clothes are simple: just a white long-sleeved shirt, faded pants, and...flip flops.

Honestly, he looks like an old granddad fixing a car in his garage. Or he could be an old bouncer in a club, since his muscles are so obvious.

"You must be Jade Dela Torre."

The old man finally spoke after staring me right in the face. Under normal circumstances, I would not have been bothered by his scrutiny, but this is the man who held my teammates in the palm of his hands, so I couldn’t help but be wary.

The UAO did not inform me of who this man is. After I arrived at the building, I was whisked away by an employee and brought to this room, was told to wait for the man who held the key to Noir’s Sanctum and then left.

So, I don’t know his name. I just know he was one of the mighty, suspicious Chambers. Therefore, I just answered a simple "Yes, sir."

I wanted to add that I’m a bit tired and would absolutely appreciate it if he give me the key to my new residence already, but after seeing the interest flickered in his eyes as he looked down at me—yes, he’s old but still taller than me a bit—I knew saying so would be futile.

"I heard so much about you."

His tone was indeed filled with curiosity. Should I be worried about what kind of things he heard about me? Nah. But for the sake of holding this conversation and faking my respect for his higher-ranking person, I should answer him.

"I hope they’re all good things, sir."

The old guy grinned. He walked to the other side of the room, where another door was, with a yellow sign saying ’Do Not Enter’. The moment I walked into this room, that door caught my attention. I was tempted to peek inside, but I held it back, since the wall on this other side, next to the hallway, is glass.

I could see the people hurrying outside. Naturally, I also saw this old man before he even entered, that was why I could compose myself.

"Follow me." He said as he pushed the door open.

I stood, but my feet did not move. Before I could speak again, the old man laughed. Being guarded and cautious is not something to laugh at. How the hell would I know if that door leads to a slaughterhouse or not?

"This is where you get your key into your new home. I need to do something about that, and it’s something that I don’t like showing people."

His eyes moved to the glass wall, then back to me. I took a deep breath before following him inside. My curiosity deepened after I witnessed the interior of the room. Everything I looked at was all white. Walls, ceiling, and flooring are white.

There was no window, just a round fluorescent white light in the center of the ceiling, and directly below it were two white chairs. One rolling stool, and the other a reclining one like what dentist has in their clinics.

So, is he a fucking dentist, then? When he pointed at the reclining chair for me to occupy, he folded his sleeves up to his elbows, and I realized he was not a tooth doctor, but a tattoo artist. His whole arms were covered with tattoos of different images. There were faces of humans, animals, and some words I’m not familiar with.

"Let’s begin. Lie on your side. Left or right, whichever one you like."

I did sit on the client’s chair, but I did not lie. I stared at him, my mind working the best it could. After a while of our staring contest, I spoke.

"The key is the barcode. You’re the one who draws it. Then, it means that I’m not only going to be given a new house, but my whereabouts will be monitored as well. Why? I’m not from another world. I was born here on Earth. You can check my files, sir."

The old guy pulled the rolling chair and sat on it. The seat creaked from his heavy weight, but he was not bothered. Instead, he caressed his beard like a wise man, while his eyes narrowed at me.

"Boy, you certainly know things you should not. That’s all the more reason to watch you."

"Is it because I am my father’s son?"

"That’s one thing. But there’s more than that. Whatever those things are, I advise you not to find out. If you learn more than you already have, a code in your body is not the only thing you’re gonna end up with." He waved his hand down once, dismissing our conversation. "Get on with it."

Am I going to be a doormat in this organization until I send those seventeen otherworlders to their home? Finding one takes so much time already. How many years do I have to endure? Ah, fuck. If the World Tree bestowed me a mind-controlling ability, everything would have been easy.

I had no choice but to comply. I lay on my right side, facing the old guy. He looked unbothered that I was staring at him intently. I wanted to know how he does it. There were no tables or other equipment in that room, so where the hell would he get the right tools?

My question was answered when his right hand morphed into a tattoo machine, with his index finger turned into a metal coil that holds the needles. My mouth gaped in amazement. However, at the back of my mind, there’s this nagging question. I let it out.

"Is that all you can do?"

The old man’s brow cocked. A deadly glint flashed in his eyes. I pressed my lips tightly to block the words pouring out of my mouth and swallowed hard.

"I’m just wondering how you fight in battle if...well, a tattoo machine can’t be a deadly weapon, isn’t it?"

Fuck. My heart almost jumped out of my chest. Judging from the way he looked at me, he understood what I was trying to say. Someone whose ability was just painting on skin is at the top of the ladder. If Claude attempts to kill him, what can he do?

"The machine is not what’s deadly. It’s the ink."