Wes Elwin slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a small, finely crafted pouch. He pinched one corner of it and gave it a light shake. The next second, a crisp jingling sound of coins rang out, clear and pleasant to the ear.
Jonathan, always proud of his keen hearing, perked his ears up the instant the sound came. He immediately recognized the unique clinking of gold coins colliding. His eyes lit up at once.
Wes casually tossed the pouch toward Jonathan. Jonathan hurriedly stretched out both hands, carefully catching it. When he impatiently opened it, the dazzling glow of dozens of gold coins nearly made him dizzy. He stared blankly at the pile of treasure in his hands.
"My sincerity," Wes said calmly. "Seeking out the legendary Hamunaptra isn't easy. A lot of preparation is needed. Think of this as my investment."
Jonathan clenched the pouch tightly, though hesitation still lingered in his heart. His gaze darted between the coins and Wes, thoughts spinning like a windmill.
The amount of gold was considerable. Even after buying supplies, he would still have a fortune left. Even if they never found Hamunaptra's treasure, with these coins alone he could live lavishly for quite a while.
But if they did find the treasure, and Wes didn't stick to their agreement—taking the lion's share for himself—then the loss would be catastrophic.
Jonathan fell into an inner struggle. On one hand, the gold before him was a fortune. On the other, he couldn't ignore the massive potential wealth at stake.
A conflicted expression crossed his face, his brows furrowing as if two little devils in his mind were bickering endlessly.
"Jonathan, I think you should be able to tell—I don't lack money. I'm not interested in it."
Though Wes's words sounded a bit arrogant, they were true.
Evelyn and Jonathan, however, were so irritated they nearly ground their teeth to dust. Their faces said plainly they wanted to punch him.
Inwardly, they thought: This guy is unbearable… but so enviable!
"If we reach Hamunaptra, I'll only take two items. The rest of the treasure is yours." Wes spoke again, making his promise.
"You're telling the truth?!" Jonathan asked suspiciously.
"Absolutely."
Hearing that, Jonathan immediately grabbed Wes's hand, holding on tightly as if afraid he would go back on his word.
Evelyn, watching from the side, finally let out a sigh of relief. She knew Jonathan's personality well—whenever treasure was involved, he always became extremely sensitive.
Soon after, the three of them set out for the prison.
Along the way, Jonathan kept chattering, introducing the man they were about to meet.
"That fellow is a deserter. After being caught, he was locked up here."
The prison was dark and damp, the air heavy with the stench of mold and rust.
Using money to smooth the way, Jonathan quickly got them access to see the man in question—Rick O'Connell.
Two guards dragged him out roughly, forcing him to kneel on the ground.
He looked haggard, his hair unkempt, his face covered in filth, and wounds still fresh upon his body.
The moment O'Connell laid eyes on Jonathan, he recognized him and glared with fury.
"You thief!" he shouted angrily.
Evelyn quickly pulled out a black box and placed it in front of O'Connell. The box looked old, exuding a faint air of mystery.
"Where did you get this?" she asked.
O'Connell recognized it at once—it was the mysterious box he had brought out of Hamunaptra.
"I got this from Hamunaptra," he answered.
Evelyn's eyes sparkled. She crouched down excitedly, staring into O'Connell's eyes.
"You've been to Hamunaptra? Hamunaptra really exists??"
"Of course," O'Connell replied.
"Tell me how to get to Hamunaptra," Evelyn asked again, her voice urgent.
"Come a little closer," O'Connell said mysteriously.
Thinking he was about to reveal the secret, Evelyn leaned in without hesitation—only for O'Connell to suddenly steal a kiss through the bars.
The guard nearby erupted in rage, slamming his club across O'Connell's back, followed by a flurry of punches and kicks.
Dragged away like a dead dog, O'Connell shouted at the top of his lungs, "If you want to get to Hamunaptra, you'd better get me out of here!! I'm about to be executed!! If I die, you'll never find Hamunaptra!"
Evelyn stood frozen, stunned by the unexpected kiss, her face bright red and her heart pounding uncontrollably.
Jonathan quickly snapped back to his senses, grabbed Evelyn by the arm, and rushed to the warden's office. In the end, they paid ten gold coins to ransom O'Connell out of prison.
"You'd better actually know where Hamunaptra is, or you'll regret it," Jonathan grumbled, counting his dwindling coins with heartache. They hadn't even set out yet, and already ten gold were gone—it felt like bleeding.
O'Connell inhaled the fresh air with relief, though his body still stank so strongly that no one wanted to be near him.
"Give me some money," O'Connell demanded bluntly, turning to Jonathan.
Jonathan clutched his purse defensively. "For what??"
"Weapons and supplies," O'Connell spread his hands. "You don't plan to walk into Hamunaptra barehanded, do you?"
Untrusting, Jonathan followed him to shop for gear.
All the while, Evelyn kept staring blankly at O'Connell, her thoughts unreadable.
Wes Elwin quietly led her back to the hotel. Hours later, O'Connell and Jonathan returned, lugging several heavy bags.
"Boom!" O'Connell dropped one onto the table and opened it, revealing a small arsenal.
Long guns, short pistols, boxes of bullets—even bundles of dynamite.
"My goodness!!" Evelyn gasped. "Did you empty out an armory?"
"Huff… huff…" Jonathan collapsed into a chair, utterly exhausted from hauling everything. "Ask him."
Evelyn's eyes turned toward O'Connell. By now, he had shorn off his long hair, washed up, and changed.
Dressed in simple suspenders over a white shirt, his well-built frame stood out, and there was a rugged charm about him.
While loading ammunition into the weapons, O'Connell noticed Evelyn's gaze. He looked up and said calmly, "Hamunaptra isn't some safe treasure site. It's guarded—by people you don't want to meet unprepared."
Embarrassed, Evelyn quickly averted her eyes, though her respect for O'Connell's professionalism deepened.
Wes, meanwhile, studied O'Connell more carefully. Beneath the surface, he could sense something faint—some kind of force.
'This isn't magic,' Wes thought. 'What kind of power is this?'
O'Connell's gaze shifted to him. "And you are?"
"Just a lover of ancient Egyptian history," Wes replied simply, offering no further explanation.
Sizing up Wes's thin, fragile-looking frame, O'Connell smirked. "You're too weak. The desert will kill you." To him, Wes looked like nothing more than a pampered noble's son.
"I can protect myself," Wes answered calmly.
"Is that so? Then suit yourself."
°°°
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