Chapter 105
Chapter 105
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: Bodyguard (1)
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Buuuuuuung.
Oliver watched the rapidly changing scenery outside.
It was quite impressive.
"Fascinating."
"What is?"
"The view outside. I never imagined seeing something like this in Landa."
Oliver said, gazing at the dense forest.
Landa's worker district was mostly a dull gray, and you had to head to the entertainment streets to catch even a glimpse of color.
Of course, there was a park in central Landa, but a forest untouched by human hands like this was a rare sight indeed.
Was it back when he left the mines and traveled with Joseph? First and last time?
"Strictly speaking, this isn't Landa."
The man seated across from Oliver spoke up.
He was Edith's employee, sent to escort Oliver to the assignment site.
"Pardon?"
"To be precise, it's the outskirts of Landa. A sort of neutral zone between Landa and the kingdom. Under the city accords, development is unrestricted within Landa itself, but limitations kick in starting from the neutral areas outside the city limits. That's why the forest is still here."
Oliver nodded.
"...You're quite well-informed."
"Just common knowledge."
"Is that so? I suppose I need to read the papers more. Thank you for explaining anyway."
Oliver spoke politely, but the employee's reaction wasn't favorable.
His face held a perfect poker expression, yet his emotions radiated suspicion and distrust toward Oliver—he didn't seem reliable at all.
'But why the relief?'
Oliver wondered.
He wanted to ask, but something told him not to, so he held back. In the meantime, they emerged from the forest, and man-made landscapes began to appear.
Along with nearly twenty presences.
"Almost there?"
"...?! Yes, that's right. We'll reach the villa shortly."
The employee's words proved true. In an instant, the forest gave way completely to verdant fields and a lake, with a massive house standing prominently before it.
Where had he seen a house like that...? Ah, right—back when he stayed at the hotel with Joseph, in that ad pamphlet: Let's head to an amazing resort.
"Houses like that actually exist. I thought they only belonged in books."
Oliver remarked as he stepped out of the car.
The employee said little in response, but suddenly a question occurred to Oliver.
"But didn't you say development is restricted in Landa's neutral zone?"
"Everywhere has its exceptions. Especially for someone as wealthy as the elder. Undeveloped land is off-limits, but established sites can be spruced up with a bit of lobbying."
"Ah... I see."
"Then, if you'd follow me this way? The team leader is waiting."
Oliver followed as directed.
The space he was led to was a grand hall within the mansion, lavishly decorated with countless chairs and peculiar statues.
For reference, people were already gathered inside.
Five in uniforms like private security.
Four who looked like fixers.
All eyes turned to Oliver, the last to arrive.
Occupational habit, perhaps—they all sized him up. Then, someone spoke.
"Everyone's here."
It was a bald man seated in a chair; he rose slowly.
He cut an impressive figure.
Several items swirled with mana clung to his body, each enchanted with formidable magic.
Beyond that, he himself harbored a vast reservoir of mana—more than the magic tower student or even the lightning mage Oliver had once fought.
'Doesn't seem like a mage, though. What is he?'
As Oliver pondered, the bald man opened his mouth.
"Pleased to meet you all. I'm Duncan, the elder's employee who hired you."
Everyone instinctively gauged Duncan's strength, responding with outward calm but inward caution.
Undeterred, Duncan maintained his rock-steady poise and pressed on. He seemed highly practiced.
"You all know why you're here: to protect the elder's daughter, the young lady."
"......"
"That said, it won't be just you. Including myself, ten of my men will guard her as well. We hired you for backup muscle in case of the unexpected, so daily duties shouldn't be taxing. Looking forward to your cooperation over the next two weeks."
At that moment, someone raised a hand.
A tall man with green-dyed hair—Oliver recalled seeing his type once in the contaminated zone.
"Yes, go ahead."
The green-haired man stroked his green beard, crossed his arms, and spoke.
"Thanks for the friendly rundown. But the way I hear it, it sounds like we're guard dogs to sic on intruders—just shut up and follow orders. Did I mishear?"
"No. You heard correctly."
Duncan replied with calm finality.
"I know everyone's capabilities well. You're all established names in your districts. But protection work demands specialized expertise. Rest easy, stay in top form, and step up when we call for it."
"Hmm, sounds reasonable enough, but I don't buy it. What kind of expertise, exactly?"
With those words, Duncan drew something from behind his waist and lashed out like a whip—blindingly fast.
It happened too quickly to track properly, yet the stone statue beside him had split into two, the struck area utterly pulverized.
Everyone fell silent, stunned.
'...A unique club-like form. His body's vast mana surged into it, unleashing explosive power in an instant. Impressive.'
Oliver analyzed the fleeting glimpse he'd caught.
"...As you can see, I'm a former mana user. Ex-Pinkman, too. I've specialized in this field, naturally. Any further questions?"
Surprisingly, the instigator raised both hands and backed off.
"Nah, we're good. Figures you'd be the real deal."
He yielded more readily than expected—no anger, embarrassment, or defeat. As if he'd anticipated it.
'Hmm......'
Duncan continued.
"I hope there's no misunderstanding. Any orders would only cover routine matters. If thugs show up, you'd handle them entirely—we'd be tied up protecting the young lady. Strictly speaking, we're just support. Cooperate as needed in daily life."
His persuasive skills were remarkable.
Most nodded in acceptance; the unspoken tension dissolved.
As if scripted.
"Then, we'll assign your quarters. Two weeks may feel long and confining, but I ask for your cooperation. Please wait a moment."
With that, Duncan exited with his subordinates.
This left only the fixers behind.
They eyed one another awkwardly until one man spoke up.
The tall green-haired fellow who'd boldly questioned Duncan earlier.
"How about introductions? Like it or not, we're bunking together here for two weeks."
He seemed quite upbeat, with a sly edge.
His long hair and trimmed beard aged his look, but he was probably fairly young.
A burly man in his mid-thirties, with massive luggage nearby, replied.
"Spare us the chit-chat. We're here for a job."
"Aw, such a downer. I'm new to this scene, don't know the ropes, but hey—these are connections, networks. Who knows? Might land a sweet gig later."
"That why you're here? Networking?"
A female fixer cut in.
She had a sturdy build, clad in a tight leather vest and pants.
Topped with a silk top hat and goggles, no less.
"Me? Obviously killer connections and skills. Magic Gun Lady."
"You know me?"
"Who doesn't? Nina. Sniper who made a name at Pinkman HQ? Took down three gangs, quashed seven major worker riots with that beast of a gun. Question is, why ditch a cushy gig for street work?"
The woman dubbed Magic Gun clamped a Filterette between her lips.
No—definitely a Filterette. And a familiar one at that.
"Hoo... Why'd the Druid hit the streets? Spill, and maybe I'll tell you."
"How'd you peg me as a Druid?"
"Plain as day. Dye job notwithstanding."
The Druid burst into hearty laughter.
"Reason? Simple—ditched the stuffy old doctrines for lively, fun new ones. Out into the world."
"Enjoymnet."
"Bingo! 'Use your talents for yourself!' That's the creed. Your turn, miss. Why bail on the good life?"
"Pay sucks. Fucking awful."
"Short and sweet—perfect. Anyone else wanna share?"
".........."
Silence reigned, until Oliver raised his hand.
"Oh ho, gloomy black mage volunteers. Too discriminatory?"
The Druid tittered like it was prime comedy, but Oliver pressed on with his question.
"Magic Gun Lady. What's that?"
Oliver pointed at the 'cigarette' in her hand.
The woman paused before answering.
"Cigarette? You one of those 'ladies shouldn't smoke' types?"
"No. It looks like a Filterette."
"...!"
Filterette.
A refined narcotic: emotions processed and blended with tobacco.
Once Oliver's interest—and merchandise.
But he hadn't interrupted just for that.
The woman sighed heavily.
"This is why I can't stand black mages... Gonna snitch?"
"No. Just wanted to confirm it was a Filterette. Mind if I take a quick look?"
"Lemme think... Nah? These run 300k Landa apiece. Short supply jacks the price higher."
"Per pack?"
"Per stick."
"Whoa...! 300k for one cig? End of days."
"Filterette, not cig. And not some cheap knockoff—Gift brand."
"Gift?"
"Yeah. Even a black mage like you hasn't heard? New Filterette hitting the Black Market. Stupidly popular. Word is some shady black mage cult pumps 'em out—quality's on another level."
She finished with a long exhale of smoke.
"So, no freebies. Craving one? Pony up your own cash. I paid premium myself."
Premium? Oliver slipped a hand into his pocket.
Several around him tensed, muscles coiling—but Oliver produced his wallet and pulled six 100k Landa bills.
"How's this?"
"Ha! Buying one outright?"
"No, just a borrow. Very brief. Got something to verify."
She glared a moment, then fished one from her pack and handed it over.
"Try anything funny, and you're eating fist."
Oliver expressed thanks and swapped the bills for the Filterette.
He examined it closely, focusing his senses: two clashing emotions balanced precariously within.
'...No way around it—this is my recipe.'
Clunk—
Duncan opened the door and entered.
"Everyone, follow me. Time to meet the young lady."