Pizza Parlor Intrigue
'They’ll ask about the antidote’s source or recipe.'
And of course, even if I wanted to tell them, I couldn’t.
'If Eden were here, I’d just have him handle the negotiations instead.'
What a goddamn shitty situation.
“Still, let’s go for now.”
Just asking about prices at the market doesn’t cost anything.
Bessinia was no different.
Checking it out was free, so there was no reason not to poke around.
“Please be close by.”
He pulled out the magic tool and followed its guidance.
Several dozen minutes passed like that.
The arrow’s endpoint pointed to…
Cheese Pizza House
A pizza joint located in a commercial area just off the main drag in Dembad’s center.
These guys are serious about food.
'Pizza, huh? Sounds delicious.'
It was right around lunchtime, so solving his meal here seemed perfect.
“No way… is this a setup?”
No, think about it.
He’d come to ask for information, and if the conversation dragged on, it’d naturally hit mealtime.
Then, too lazy to go elsewhere, he’d eat at the nearest spot.
Leading seamlessly to secondary revenue, right?
'If this is really calculated… I tip my hat.'
Struck anew by how terrifying the organization was, he pushed open the door to the pizza house.
“Welcome! Cheese Pizza House!”
The lively voice of a staff member hit him the moment he stepped inside, along with the rich aroma of cheese.
The tables were nearly full—definitely a popular spot.
'That pepperoni pizza looks good.'
Scanning the tables, the pepperoni pizzas had generous toppings.
“I’ll help you with your order.”
Unlike typical restaurants, you ordered first then sat.
He approached the counter and faced the staff.
“Pepperoni pizza and soda water for the drink, please.”
“Yes! That’ll be 22 silver.”
'Pretty pricey.'
Yet the place was packed, confirming it was a true hotspot.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you! We’ll call number 23 when your food is ready.”
“Got it.”
With a curt reply, he took a seat at an empty single spot.
'Wonder how they’ll approach me this time.'
All he could do was wait.
And this downtime was perfect for brainstorming.
'Cambedia Factory.'
An ominous feeling creeping up from his feet.
Too many suspicious points.
'Worst case when we dig in: forced labor.'
Ridiculously low prices.
Calculating where they cut costs, materials were unlikely.
Leather didn’t fall from the sky.
A businessman wouldn’t skip his own cut either, so that left labor costs.
'Just a hypothesis, so stay cautious.'
As with any worst-case, the odds were low.
“Huh…? Loyalty!”
While sitting and waiting for his pizza, two lieutenants passing by spotted him and saluted.
'Who’re they?'
Unfamiliar faces.
Not from his department, but they’d saluted seeing his major insignia.
“Here for pizza?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Enjoy.”
“Bon appétit, sir! Loyalty!”
“Loyalty!”
No real chat material, so he returned the salute and turned away.
'But seriously, why’s my pizza taking so long?'
Someone who ordered after him had just gotten theirs, but number 23 showed no sign of being called.
'I’m starving.'
Watching someone next to him stretch cheese strings in a pizza mukbang wasn’t easy.
'Did the order not go through?'
As he debated checking again, a staffer approached carrying his pizza.
“Your order. And this is from the owner, as thanks for your service to the Empire.”
A complimentary dish beside the pizza.
It was french fries.
'What’s this, a jab?'
For a split second he wondered, but it couldn’t be mockery.
Only Eden knew how much it wrecked him to have his fries swiped.
“Thanks, I’ll enjoy it.”
“Have a pleasant meal.”
The staffer left, and he casually inspected the food.
'There it is.'
A napkin wrapped around the fries.
Tiny writing on it.
Finish your meal and enter the warehouse behind the shop.
Neat handwriting.
Enter the warehouse—no further details.
'Well, I’ll find out when I go.'
First things first: eat as instructed, so he polished off the pizza.
“I’ll dig in.”
A quick grace, then he grabbed a slice from the six-cut pie and bit in.
“Tasty… damn good.”
The meaty pepperoni savor you couldn’t get from industrial stuff, plus natural cheese’s nutty richness.
Tasty enough to make him forget his real purpose.
'Aren’t these Bessinia guys basically a gourmet seal of approval?'
Blasphemous maybe, but pulling out the magic tool for the Bessinia branch when hungry seemed fine.
'Eat fast and go.'
No time to linger, so he scarfed the pizza and headed to the back.
No Unauthorized Entry
Obviously a warehouse, plain as day.
No lock, so he easily opened the door to reveal stairs plunging downward.
“Atmosphere’s kinda off.”
Just a few candles lit, making the stairs pitch dark.
One misstep and he’d tumble.
'What if a trap springs halfway down…?'
Cliché with 100% appearance rate, but he hoped not this time.
“Hoo.”
A quick breath to steady, then he descended slowly.
'Feels like basement level 1 now.'
Too dark to see ahead properly.
Clutching his heart, proceeding cautiously…
Dr-r-r-r-rrk.
A stone in the wall began to shift.
“Shit!”
Anybody’d think it was a trap activating.
Any second now, sharp spears would—
“Heh heh, you jumped. Come in. Long time no see.”
As he instinctively spun to flee up the stairs.
A familiar voice pinned his feet.
“Yorn… sir?”
“Yes, this way.”
The stone slid aside, revealing a new passage.
Yorn smiled kindly, bowing slightly.
'Damn, showed an ugly side.'
Freaking out and fleeing at a mere stone rumble.
Bet he was laughing inside.
'Thicken the armor. I’m here to deal.'
He’d shown weakness, but couldn’t play the weakling.
“Structure looked flimsy; thought something broke and startled.”
“Old as it is, it’s solidly built—no need to worry.”
“I see.”
He entered the passage where Yorn appeared and walked side by side.
“Stairs kept going down—mind if I ask what’s at the bottom?”
“Heh heh, got worries? Curious?”
Yorn’s grin screamed horror flick.
'This old man, why so creepy.'
Anyway, he got the layout.
'Uninvited, you’d descend forever into a trap and die.'
Simple yet brutally effective.
“Curiosity gone.”
“Haha, sit. You had pizza upstairs, so light dessert prepared.”
Opening the door at the passage’s end revealed a room with warm tea and assorted pastries.
'Mouth was dry—perfect timing.'
Pro-level hospitality.
“I’ll partake gratefully.”
No hesitation; he sipped the tea, and Yorn smiled.
“Heard you skipped meals before—seems we’ve built some trust now.”
“Ahem, you know even the small stuff.”
“Take it as deep interest in you, Major. I served you personally, after all.”
Facing Yorn, his expression was unreadable.
“Thought you operated in the Aditz Empire—moved here?”
“An old man like me has no fixed seat. Just drift with the wind as needed.”
'What’s that mean?'
Hard to parse.
“I see.”
“More shocked by the news. First-class military medal—you always exceed expectations. Good we connected before your value spiked.”
“Thanks to Bessinia getting me back from Aditz to Lycan.”
“We didn’t help. Just traded. And you’re here to trade today too.”
“Yes.”
Before the main topic, he wet his throat with the last of the tea.
'Stay cool.'
No reason to shake.
He was the customer here to deal.
“Need detailed info on a factory called Cambedia.”
“Cambedia—what angle do you want investigated?”
“I visited recently. Reason was a bid…”
Much like his explanation to others.
He detailed what he’d sensed and seen.
Yorn, having heard it all, turned his gaze somewhere.
“I get what piques your interest. Wait a moment.”
“Yes.”
Probably signaling someone outside, so he waited patiently with the pastries.
A few minutes later, Yorn spoke first.
“On Cambedia, we don’t have special info right now either.”
“Is that so.”
He’d hoped Bessinia differed, but no info here either.
But what set intel agencies apart was what followed.
“If suspicious, we’ll comb it thoroughly within two days.”
“Two days?”
“Yes. Plus, we’ll track that child you saw and how they produce gloves so cheap.”
“Possible?”
“Bessinia speaks with one voice.”
Voice quiet, but the conviction rock-solid.
“Then the cost.”
“How about the antidote recipe or source from last time?”
'As expected.'
Right on prediction.
And he had a counter ready.
“Hmm, you think that balances the scales now?”
“Scales?”
“An antidote for Aditz’s deadly poison. Doesn’t that outweigh info on one factory?”
Finishing, he leaned back, arms crossed.