Chapter 120
Chapter 120
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: After the Job is Done (2)
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"Ooh la la... Who's this sharp dresser?"
The information broker Coco said as she looked at Oliver entering the office.
Forrest, sitting across the desk, chimed in.
"It suits him pretty well, doesn't it?"
"Pretty well? You could take him as a date to a party looking like that. The suit fits him great, Mr. Dave."
Coco meant every word.
Oliver himself seemed oblivious, but the suit really suited him.
He figured he should thank Jane, who had picked it out for him.
"Thank you for the compliments."
"I mean it. Anyway, you're pretty savvy, aren't you? No offense, but I didn't think you were the type to worry about that sort of thing."
"Pardon? What do you mean?"
"Oh, nothing? I just figured since you've been making a name for yourself lately, you'd dressed up to match."
Oliver wondered what his rising reputation as a fixer had to do with his outfit, but luckily Forrest explained.
"Once your name gets out, big shots start coming with requests. Around then, people usually start sprucing up their appearance and clothes. This business is a bit special, but it's still business in the end. You have to project a trustworthy image to clients."
"Ah..."
Another new fact learned. Oliver asked,
"I see. Should I do the same, then?"
"Not necessarily. Plenty don't. ...But if you want smooth negotiations and to build rapport with clients, it's a good idea. It's a form of courtesy."
"Exactly. Your attire is courtesy."
Coco shrugged in agreement.
Everything they said rang true, and there was no flaw in the logic.
Come to think of it, that Pinkman fellow named Jonathan had always worn a neat suit and was among the more polite people Oliver had met.
To build connections with major players and learn about the Black Market, Oliver figured he should follow suit.
"Understood. I'll pay more attention to my clothes."
Forrest nodded in satisfaction, while Coco pulled a business card from between her breasts.
"If you need clothes, visit here."
Oliver took the card.
It read [For the Gentleman].
"It's a men's suit specialist. A bit pricey, but if you're going to wear it, do it right. Don't get the wrong idea—I'm not getting a kickback for recommending them."
Oliver examined the card and tucked it away.
Along with the labor union card he'd gotten from Arthur.
"I don't know much about clothes. Is that okay?"
"Of course. That's why they get paid—to handle that for you. Mention I sent you, and they'll take extra good care."
"Thank you."
"If you're grateful, spend some money. Rich folks have to splash cash so us poor ones can pick up the crumbs. What was that theory called again that got big recently?"
"Trickle-down economics. Pushed by the crowd saying we should lower taxes on the rich."
Forrest answered. He didn't seem to buy into it.
"Alright, enough chit-chat. Let's get to business—the most important part."
That important part was payment, and sure enough, Coco didn't argue as she began pulling out bags from the side.
"Yes, of course. Gotta end on a high note. Um... Mr. Dave, if you don't mind, have a seat?"
Oliver nodded and sat down.
Coco handed him a small box wrapped with a ribbon.
"What's this?"
"Open it yourself."
He took it as instructed and opened the box.
It was quite light. Inside was a bankbook and a seal.
"It's an anonymous bankbook. Good at any Goldsmith Bank branch, and untraceable origins. Use it like cash."
A bankbook. He'd heard of them, but this was his first time seeing one.
For reasons even he didn't know, he'd never opened one and stuck to cash.
Maybe it was natural. With his glutton pocket, large amounts of cash weren't inconvenient anyway.
Still, having a bankbook didn't seem like a bad idea.
"Hm?"
Something odd caught his eye as he checked the bankbook.
"What's wrong?"
"The amount seems off."
There was only one line in the bankbook, but the figure exceeded imagination.
£400,000,000
"I thought it was weird too, so I asked Lady Edith. She said it's correct. Something about hating to owe anyone..."
Oliver thought of Edith.
The man who had ended the talk by giving up on an answer himself at the end.
He'd said it was fine, but it clearly still bothered him.
"She's something else."
"Pardon?"
"Lady Edith seems to really like you, Mr. Dave. She's not the type to pay like this. Oh, and the brokerage fee was paid separately, so keep it all."
Oliver looked at Forrest. He nodded in confirmation.
"Now, the next gift."
Coco handed over another ribbon-wrapped box.
Inside was a signed business card.
"Details on the Black Market location and a ticket to get in. They mostly deal in drugs."
"Drugs?"
Forrest looked mildly surprised at Oliver.
"Impressive. Looking for some?"
"No, just curious about something."
"Ooh, that sounds fun. Something to check out at a drug Black Market... What is it?"
Oliver looked at Coco. She was genuinely curious, as was Forrest.
"Um... Could I tell you later? It's a bit personal."
Personal matter. The word piqued their interest further, but they didn't pry. They knew when to hold back.
"Fair enough. Us proud Landans respect each other's business. Shall we get back to work, then?"
Oliver nodded, tucking away the card and bankbook.
This next box from Coco looked ominous compared to the others.
Black box, black ribbon.
It screamed "handle with care."
"...That book."
"You mean... that book."
Oliver deliberately avoided the word "devil."
Items related to devils were taboo goods—possessing or trading them was a serious crime.
"Yes. Sorry, but could you check it later when you're alone?"
Oliver nodded.
Books on devils were ominous beyond legal issues, steeped in superstition.
"It's guaranteed authentic, so no worries."
Oliver trusted that. Edith was quirky, but not one to break promises.
He could inspect it at home alone.
"Yes, got it. Thank you for bringing it."
"Aw, that makes me happy. Most folks don't say that. They just clam up proudly or gripe about the pay."
"Can't be helped when lives are on the line. Always tense and scared, so they're bound to be touchy."
Forrest said with a resigned tone.
Oliver somewhat agreed.
The fascinating thing about emotions was their interconnectedness.
Even seemingly opposite or unrelated ones influenced each other deeply.
Disappointment stems from expectation, inferiority turns to anger, fear profoundly affects vigilance and aggression.
Like a spiderweb.
Now that he thought about it, such cases were everywhere.
For instance, in the orphanage and mines where Oliver had spent most of his life.
The orphanage bully boss was always more vicious than anyone out of fear his position was threatened,
and the mine supervisor vented his fears, inferiority, and anxiety toward superiors by lording over kids like Oliver to feel superior.
Maybe that's why over-extracting one emotion depleted them all.
Then Coco pointed at Oliver.
"So, Mr. Dave, you must be braver than most. Never scared or angry, always so consistently polite... Oh, I've seen this in novels. The leisure of the strong. Is that it?"
Oliver tilted his head at Coco's question.
"Leisure of the strong?"
Coco chuckled at his response.
"Nothing. Anyway, thanks sincerely for your help this time. We know from the details how much effort Oliver put in. Truly grateful."
"Just doing my job."
Coco stood up. She reached between her breasts again and offered a business card.
It read [Black Cat].
"A shop run by our Sisterhood. Come by if you're interested."
"Bold. Proposing that with the broker right here."
Coco laughed at Forrest's jab.
"Bear with me, Mr. Forrest. A little shamelessness is a woman's charm, right? Or come with him. If you two show up together, the staff will give you the full treatment."
"Can't argue with that."
Coco smiled at Forrest's reply and turned to leave.
Oliver stopped her.
"Um, Ms. Coco."
"Yes? Something to say?"
"What exactly is the 'full treatment'?"
"......."
"That was your fault."
Forrest scolded Oliver. The last remark had ruined the meeting with Coco.
When he'd asked what the full treatment was, she'd hesitated, shaken her head, and left.
Oliver had no idea what the problem was. She hadn't even answered.
"What did I do wrong?"
"That kind of joke is fine from a woman to a man, but not the other way around."
"I wasn't joking."
"You asked what the full treatment was? Even specified 'exactly.' What were you aiming for?"
"I meant literally—explain it in detail."
"Sigh... Drop it. Just rein it in. Didn't think you were that type."
Oliver wasn't sure what to rein in, but he nodded anyway.
Talking more would only tangle things further.
"Anyway. Just to confirm—are you taking jobs?"
Oliver thought for a moment.
"No. Taking a break for now. Any issue?"
"None at all."
Forrest nodded.
"Normal to rest after big jobs. Recover condition, heal injuries, enjoy some fun in the meantime. But you're not the fun type, I bet."
"No, similar. I'll rest, do some experiments and studying. Got personal stuff to look into too."
"That Black Market thing from earlier?"
"Yes."
"Got it. Won't pry—sounds personal. Just be careful."
"Careful?"
"True, the Black Market keeps order via Crime Firm and other powers, but it's no regular market. Fine for buying, but they won't like you sniffing around. Get my drift?"
Oliver nodded. Don't cause a fuss.
"Yes, understood."
"Pricey, but you could ask Black Market info brokers or the Sisterhood. Worst case, I can proxy through Heimdal. Just saying—if you change your mind, tell me."
He meant it. Forrest had no ulterior motive; it was genuine concern for Oliver.
"You're kind. Thank you."
"Kind? Nah, no need to thank me... Notice anything on the way here?"
"Hm... People staring at me."
"It'll get worse."
"Pardon?"
"Word's spreading quietly about the contaminated zone. Secrets don't last long in this world anyway."
"Arthur mentioned that."
"Then you know killing Duncan sped it up. He was somebody back in his prime, especially known for that obsessive win-at-all-costs drive."
Oliver got it. Duncan was tough. Like a stiletto.
Not flashy, but optimized for lethality.
Armed to the teeth with anti-black mage holy items, tenacious and meticulous.
If Oliver couldn't extract mana, he might've been the one dead.
"Plus handling Nina of the mage guns and Druid Scott's betrayal... Mind if I ask something?"
"Ask away."
"When you fought... did you really extract mana?"