Chapter 119
Chapter 119
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 119
Chapter Title: After the Job is Done (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ten days had passed since the conversation with Edith Rock.
During that time, Oliver had been in charge of Jane's protection at the complex cultural facility for five days.
In truth, it wasn't much of protection duty—it was basically just a vacation.
After the talk with Edith, Jane had holed up in her room without stepping foot outside, and Pinkman had handled all the actual security work.
In the midst of that, Edith had vanished without a word, leaving Oliver with nothing much to do.
So he passed the time reading books or newspapers, or practicing his personal black magic.
On the final day of protection duty, Edith returned with a lawyer in tow and formally presented Jane with documents transferring a portion of her assets.
Oliver stayed by Jane's side only for that moment.
She signed with an utterly cold demeanor, and with that, all duties were complete.
For a job where he'd nearly died twice, it felt a bit anticlimactic, but he had no complaints.
Quite the opposite—he was thrilled. Sure, there was a touch of boredom, but wasn't it better for things to wrap up peacefully?
Thanks to that, Oliver had made it home safely and could practice his black magic like this.
Crackle—!!!
"—Ugh."
Oliver shook his hand, feeling a sharp pain.
A bone-deep ache.
He was currently practicing mixing emotions, life force, and mana, but it was proving quite difficult.
Blending emotions and life force was a minor annoyance at worst and not particularly hard, but adding mana to the mix was an entirely different beast.
Entirely different.
He'd thought his failure during the fight with Duncan was due to the urgent combat situation, but trying it again now made it clear that wasn't the case.
Emotions, mana, life force. Combining these three was an incredibly tough task.
The best he could manage was forcing together tiny amounts, like grains of rice, and suppressing the backlash.
For the first time facing such a challenge, Oliver felt a mix of frustration and fresh excitement.
It might sound odd, but he didn't hate how things weren't going as planned. In fact, he was enjoying it.
The thrill of encountering something novel and wondrous.
He couldn't even imagine the joy that would come from overcoming this hurdle.
Perhaps it would be as moving as when he'd first met Joseph and learned to handle emotions.
"...Still, one thing's for sure. Puppet went to such lengths to hide it and used all those contraptions for a reason... I feel kinda sorry now."
Oliver said it sincerely.
No matter how dire the life-or-death situation, smashing an artificial soul of that scale and using it like that...
He suddenly felt bad for Puppet.
Creating an artificial soul that size must have taken tremendous effort.
"Maybe I should apologize later?"
With that, Oliver pulled an empty notebook from the bookshelf and began sketching—scratch-scratch-.
Not anything else, but the apparatuses and devices he'd seen that day for creating the artificial soul.
He didn't remember them perfectly, but the general structures and shapes came back to him.
A few among them were things Oliver recognized.
These weren't cheap trinkets—combined, they'd easily surpass tens of millions.
Equipment he couldn't dream of owning yet. Even so, Oliver sketched what he recalled.
For whatever future it might serve.
Kiiiieee...
As the drawing neared completion, an eerie sound came from one corner of the lab.
A wail that was neither human nor beastly. The source was a test tube on a table in the corner of the lab—more precisely, the Child recovering inside it.
Oliver hurried over at the sound.
Then he checked on Child's condition.
"Something wrong?"
At Oliver's question, the Children chirped, signaling they were hungry.
Oliver immediately extracted life force and emotions from the test tube, then pulled out another container.
It was an iron canister similar to a milk can, but filled with transparent liquefied fuel instead of white milk.
Its official name was 'hearthstone liquefied fuel,' abbreviated as 'HLF' or simply 'LF.'
A cutting-edge technology from a new mana stone processing method—not cutting, but liquefying for greater convenience and versatility.
Oliver spread his hand over the liquid.
Then he focused his eyes.
Shoooo—!
With the extraction sound, transparent mana gathered in Oliver's palm.
The first time fighting Duncan, it had been amazing and novel, but now it felt quite familiar.
As before, Oliver tore off grain-sized bits of emotion, life force, and mana, then mixed them.
Crackle—! Crackle—!
The repulsive force caused pain, but he forced them together anyway. At that, the Children squeaked excitedly—keek! keek!
Children ate emotions, life force, or mana with gusto, but they loved artificial souls made by mixing all three the most.
They'd helped diligently and endured hardship, so Oliver put up with the hassle and mixed it fresh each time.
With their voracious appetites, feeding them took more time and effort than expected, but they recovered and grew quickly enough that it didn't feel like a loss.
Plus, it's good practice, he thought.
'Even so, my skill isn't improving much.'
Oliver reflected, reminded of his stalled progress in mixing mana, life force, and emotions.
He'd practiced dozens of times, yet his skill hadn't budged from the start.
Compared to how he could grasp most things after one or two tries and master them in five, this was painfully slow.
Even more frustrating was not knowing the reason why.
But Oliver wasn't discouraged.
There was still too much to do for that.
The Children were mostly recovered with some care, but the corpse puppets were another story. Most were badly damaged.
Especially the lead swordsman—its waist was so shattered it might be better off scrapped.
'Honestly, that's not a big issue.'
Oliver thought.
Because he had better material. Duncan, currently stored in the glutton pouch.
He could probably make a superior corpse puppet to replace the swordsman.
The problem was that Oliver had never made one from scratch.
It made him a bit nervous, but it wasn't a huge deal. He knew the basics from Gleep's journal and Puppet's book.
The materials for corpse puppets were pricey, but that would resolve once his payment came in.
The real issue was manpower.
It sounded contradictory, but Oliver wanted to research alone while also getting help.
Someone to handle the cleanup and assist during puppet manufacturing.
Gleep's journal and Puppet's book noted that the process caused significant physical fatigue, recommending two or three assistants.
It made sense—working on a full human body required a lot of strength.
Oliver had no intention of taking disciples, so he'd solve it with corpse puppets.
An assistant-type corpse puppet.
Fortunately, it wasn't impossible.
Corpse puppets basically retained the specs of their base bodies,
so a body from a manipulation-type black mage or someone knowledgeable in medicine would yield a high-performance assistant instantly.
And such bodies could be obtained through the Black Market.
"They really have everything... Should I make another Child, then?"
At that moment, Child-First, having finished its meal, pecked at the test tube to get Oliver's attention.
Then it chirped—kiieek- kiieek-—as if saying it wanted to help Oliver.
Well, that wasn't a bad idea.
With their huge appetites, maintaining the Children cost a pretty penny.
Mindlessly multiplying them wasn't economically smart.
"I'll think about it."
Oliver said, rubbing the test tube lightly. First rubbed back, trembling with joy.
Keek- keek- keek- Second, Third, and Fourth cried out in discontent.
At the sudden noise, Oliver pressed a finger to his lips, signaling them to quiet down.
Then he organized his thoughts.
'What else is on the list? I need to meet Joanna and ask some questions, finish the code book from the bookstore and buy the next one... Ah! And check if Marie and the others are doing okay.'
Honestly, it'd be funny to inquire now after leaving on his own whim, but Oliver still wanted to know.
How everyone was faring. From the situation, it seemed they'd snapped out of it and returned to normal.
That was good news.
If he had time, he'd like to go down and see for himself.
To feel that thrill from meeting Kant again.
Beyond that, he needed to read the book on demons from Edith once he got it.
Thinking about it, he had a ton of things to do.
The catch was most required his payment first.
Just as he thought it was about time for that, a signal tone rang out.
Beep—beep—beep—
The communicator from Forrest. Oliver answered immediately.
"Hello. Yes, Mr. Forrest... Yes, I'll head there right away."
With that, Oliver turned off the device and wiped down with a towel.
Then he changed into a suit and headed straight to Forrest Restaurant, where Forrest was.
"Thank you for coming, Dave."
Ding. Jingle. The restaurant door opened, and Al greeted him as always.
"Yes, good to see you, Al. I got Forrest's call."
"Yes, I was informed. I've been waiting for that reason myself. Coco is with him now—I'll escort you right away."
"That's a relief."
Oliver said.
Usually, there was a few-minute wait, so in his current eagerness for payment, this was music to his ears.
As he passed through the dining area toward the office, Oliver caught several gazes along with the emotion of curiosity.
He reflexively turned, spotting burly men, tough-looking women, middle-aged gentlemen in suits, and bespectacled students averting their eyes and pretending otherwise.
As Oliver continued on, faint conversation drifted from behind.
"That's the guy? From the contaminated zone?"
"Yeah, supposedly survived a fight with Puppet."
"Doesn't look it. Fake Puppet, maybe?"
"Nah, one of the survivors is my brother-in-law. Said a zombie army swept through—not a mindless horde, but organized."
"Heard he took down Northland Raider Hero and Hoffman Family's Hilton too? With corpse puppets."
"Corpse puppets?! Then the rumors—"
"—Shh. Keep it down. Corpse puppets aren't exclusive to that crowd. Not in someone else's place of business."
Oliver's back itched. A new sensation.
Honestly, it didn't feel great.
"Something wrong, Dave?"
Oliver paused and said,
"Ah, feels like everyone's talking about me."
"Might be presumptuous, but yes, they are."
"They are? Why suddenly?"
"Word about the contaminated zone is spreading."
Ah... Come to think of it, he'd heard the city might keep it secret, but rumors would leak eventually.
He'd brushed it off then, but it actually spread? Was that why he'd felt watched on the streets?
"Still, it's weird. The zone wasn't that long ago, but time has passed."
"Recently, news of you taking down Duncan resurfaced and brought it back into the spotlight."
"Is beating Duncan such a big deal?"
Oliver asked.
Duncan was strong, sure, but he questioned if someone under Edith was that famous.
Al answered smoothly, as expected.
"In fixer circles, he's a legend retired over twenty years ago. Young folks might not know, but veterans remember. He stood out even as Pinkman... Losing to a fixer debuting less than a year ago has everyone stunned. The fallout revived the contaminated zone talk."
"Ah... I see."
At a loss for words, Oliver replied.
Then he fiddled with the Filterette in his pocket.
Made from Duncan's emotions. First thing he'd done after the job.
Enough quantity to barely make two.
Considering that, it wasn't so strange.
That a man emitting beauty rivaling Joseph's had built such fame in his past.
But whether that fame benefited Oliver was questionable.
Sure, it raised his fixer value, but public attention was another matter.
Then Al handed Oliver a notebook.
"What's this?"
"Notes on my waiter duties, daily routines here, fun anecdotes, shop slang, jokes, etc. You asked me to teach you about restaurant work before, right?"
"Ah..."
Oliver recalled the forgotten past.
He'd lied to the bookstore old man about being a restaurant worker, then asked Al to teach him to cover it.
The issue was he'd requested but rarely showed up to learn.
Oliver apologized.
"Sorry about this..."
"No need. I'm grateful you focused on fixer work instead. Thanks to you, the boss is regaining his past glory."
"Past glory?"
"Ah... Forget I said that. Not my place. Anyway, it's just thanks for your hard work benefiting us all—no need to thank or apologize."
Al said so, but Oliver still felt sorry and grateful.
Asking to be taught, not following through, and causing extra trouble.
"...Thank you."
"No trouble at all. Now, let me guide you."