Chapter 101
Chapter 101
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 101
Chapter Title: Moving (2)
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After signing the contract and gaining official access to the place, Oliver started by tidying up the room.
The living space on the second floor thankfully came equipped with a small bathroom and toilet.
People had mentioned that plenty of houses lacked even those basics.
And the single room inside had a bed, a small refrigerator that ran on magic stones, and a desk.
Suddenly, Oliver wondered if Murphy had gone out of his way to find him a good spot out of consideration.
"What a kind guy."
Oliver muttered to himself as he pulled out the Glutton Pouch and unpacked the groceries from the market.
They weren't much—just essentials like bedding, a pillow, a clothes hanger, and some simple snacks—but he didn't need anything more than that.
After laying out the bedding, moving the desk, and stocking the fridge with food, Oliver wrapped up the light tidying.
"Perfect."
With that, he headed straight down to the basement.
This was the main event.
Oliver pulled out the massive Glutton Pouch again and made it regurgitate his haul.
"Grrrrrrrr—"
The Glutton Pouch let out a sudden grumble of dissatisfaction.
It made sense, really. He'd been working it nonstop since the market.
Oliver took out a smaller Glutton Pouch and forcibly pried open its mouth to extract 10,000 Randa.
At the sight of the fluttering bills, the Glutton Pouch's eyes sparkled.
"How about you eat this and calm down?"
The response was not what he expected.
"...? Grrruk—! Grrrrruk! Gruk! Ruk!"
Surprisingly, the big Glutton Pouch gestured like a person, as if saying something.
Did bigger size mean stronger willfulness—and higher intelligence and self-awareness?
But even more astonishing was that Oliver could faintly understand what the Glutton Pouch was saying.
He had no idea how that worked.
"Uh... You want me to give you a name instead of just calling you Glutton Pouch? A proper one?"
"Guk—! Grrruk!"
"...Intriguing. I should ask your creator about it later... How about Big Mouth? Since your mouth's so huge."
The Glutton Pouch flapped its hands-like appendages. It seemed pleased.
"Gruk? Grrruk!"
"Glad you like it. Now, put this back since you don't need it—"
"—Gruk! Grrruk!"
"Ah... You need the money too?"
"—Gruk! Grrruk!"
After devouring the 10,000 Randa Oliver gave it, the Glutton Pouch—no, Big Mouth—began spitting out the purchased goods.
There were more furnishings and tools for the basement than for the upstairs lodging. Most came not from the traditional market but the Gray Market.
He neatly arranged an operating table for laying down cadaver dolls, mobile shelves, materials for repairing and modifying cadaver dolls, and more—plus flasks and cases for storing emotions, mixing devices for experiments, and other lab tools.
He even rearranged things a few times to find the most efficient layout, and just like that, the day was gone.
The next day, Oliver had a light breakfast of bread, milk, and apples bought from the market, then immediately set to work on the cadaver dolls.
He'd confirmed they'd been successfully repaired during the fight with the truck bandits, but their movements still looked awkward at times.
Oliver changed into work clothes and laid the cadaver doll on the workbench, disassembling the problematic parts to check for issues.
He untangled knotted tendons and oiled the joints between processed bones, occasionally glancing at his books to make sure he was doing it right.
Thankfully, it seemed he was.
"Phew... This is a bit tough."
Oliver wiped the sweat from his brow.
Working on actual cadaver dolls was physically draining, and doing it alone made it even harder.
Just one extra pair of hands would make it so much easier.
'Hmm... Should I make a cadaver doll to assist me? Something strong, so male. Maybe combine two or three. It needs to help with various experiments, so multiple arms would be good. And to keep up with my head, maybe more Childs.'
Oliver turned his gaze to the table in the corner.
There sat test tubes containing Child-First, Second, Third, and Fourth. From their emotional states, they seemed hungry.
Oliver extracted some stored emotions and life force, mixed them, and fed the appropriate amount to the Childs.
The meatball-like Childs, puffing black smoke, slurped up the emotions and life force with satisfying slurp-slurp sounds.
'Higher completion than expected.'
The Child was an imitation of the puppet's artificial soul.
More precisely, an upgraded minion version based on his guess at the artificial soul's production method.
He'd done it half-expecting failure, so the results were a bit bewildering.
At first, it was just a crude artificial soul, but combined with a minion, it developed survival instinct.
Whining about hunger was proof.
Oliver had fed it emotions and life force as a half-experiment, raising them to now.
The intel gained boiled down to three points.
First: Feed them steady amounts of life force and emotions, and the Childs wouldn't dissipate—they'd persist. And they seemed aware of it, begging Oliver when hungry.
Second: They'd express their needs but never resist him.
He'd tested it once by starving them a full day until they weakened, and amazingly, they just signaled hunger without anger.
Just like minions.
Though their low ego and intelligence might explain it.
Childs grew stronger egos and higher intelligence as they consumed life force and emotions to extend survival. Now, they could distinguish circles, triangles, and squares.
Keep raising them, and they might reach human-level smarts.
Oliver was curious.
Would they still follow him then? Even rebellion might be fun in its own way.
After feeding the Childs, Oliver returned to the cadaver dolls.
He'd fixed all the issues and run basic tests. Next came modifications.
For example, he added razors and daggers to the limbs of "Rags," the one with Third inside, boosting ambush potential.
He coated the blades not just with black magic but also paralyzing poison from the Gray Market.
It wasn't lethal, but it should amplify Igzexthion's effects.
For "Swordsman," who wielded sabers with three arms, he mounted a small shotgun and a single-shot pistol for surprise ranged attacks.
"Black Mage" got two extra arms to cast multiple black magics at once.
He upped the emotion tanks on the tank types too, improving combat endurance and firepower.
"Sniper" gained a dispersing tear gas launcher for close-range foes and spring-loaded knives for ambushes.
It ate up a good chunk of his contamination zone reward money, but finishing the job felt rewarding.
That was when it happened.
Beep— Beep— Beep—
A signal tone rang out.
It came from the direct-line communicator Forrest had given him. Oliver turned on the beetle-shaped device and held it to his ear.
[Dave?]
It was Forrest's voice. The serious one he used for business.
"Yes, Mr. Forrest."
[Got a moment? I'd like to see your face... There's something you might be interested in.]
***
Oliver moved without delay.
He'd finished all the urgent tasks anyway.
And it was time to earn some money.
But he didn't just leave carelessly.
First, he packed vital books, cadaver dolls, Childs, and valuables, leaving only theft-proof junk in the warehouse.
Before going, he stationed a minion dosed with Wrath Boom in the basement.
In case of intruders, it would self-destruct.
With everything squared away, Oliver arrived at Forrest's restaurant office.
Knock— Knock—
"Come in."
Oliver opened the door at the permission.
Forrest was there, dressed sharply as usual, with Coco too.
The info broker he'd exchanged brief words with once or twice.
He knew she dealt with Forrest, but seeing them together was a first. Instinct told him she was tied to whatever big deal Forrest mentioned.
"Have a seat."
"Hello, Mr. Forrest."
"Oh, this is fun."
As Oliver and Forrest began talking like always, Coco chimed in with an amused laugh.
"...What's so funny?"
"Sorry... It's just, you're the hottest fixer around here lately, but you haven't changed a bit since I first saw you."
"Is that bad?"
"Not at all. The opposite. It's impressive. Holding onto that beginner's mindset. Most can't. Especially men."
Her cryptic words were the same as ever, but Oliver could tell she meant it.
He could see her emotions.
She was satisfied with his demeanor and had expectations.
He didn't know what kind, but it wasn't negative.
Forrest brought order.
"If you don't mind, have a seat first?"
Oliver sat as directed.
"I called you because of the matter I mentioned ahead of time. Sorry to pull you from rest, but it's time to work. I hope you understand."
"No problem. I was thinking the same... So, what's the job? Seems important."
Coco cut in.
"Mind if this rude girl interrupts your gentlemen's talk?"
Forrest graciously allowed it. That confirmed it.
The big deal came from her.
"Before we get into details, I have one question."
"...?"
"You have to answer a lady's question if you're a gentleman."
"What's a gentleman?"
"...? Are you messing with me?"
"Surprisingly, Dave doesn't joke. It's all sincere."
Forrest spoke like he knew from experience.
Coco continued.
"Sigh... It means a cultured, polite man. Strong, brave, kind to women."
"I'm not particularly strong, brave, or kind."
"Doesn't matter. These days, it just means a guy with money. Money is courage and power... Please don't say more. It's just politeness."
Oliver started to say he wasn't rich, but shut his mouth at her words.
She gave a weary smirk.
"Sigh... Who's been your client so far?"
"Hmm... Magic research institute, gang, city."
"The institute was chimera hunting and capture, city was contamination cleanup... Both stretch 'formal client.' So your only real one is the gang. Crime Firm's gang."
Oliver glanced at Forrest.
Forrest shook his head innocently, and it was true—he hadn't said a word.
"No secrets in this city. Poke a little, and it all spills indirectly. That's how I make a living."
"Impressive."
"Yes, it is. That's how I know you're collecting books on black magic and demons too."
"Sorry, that was me."
Forrest confessed upfront. Coco defended him.
"Don't blame Forrest too much. It was my price for gathering your info."
"My info?"
"Yes. Info buys info. That's why I can use it now."
Coco smiled slyly.
"Another question. You're building a rep as a fixer. Reached your goal yet?"
Oliver pondered.
It had been fun, full of surprises, new books and knowledge... but still...?
No, he hadn't hit his original target.
"No."
"Of course. What you're after are rare treasures even I hear about once in a blue moon. Hard without big connections... What if you could get a book on demons?"
Demons.
The word conjured the mounted old man from his fight with Joseph, the myriad unknown runes, the gateway to hell through the puppet's maw.
Oliver answered.
"Sounds good."