Chapter 143
Chapter 143
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 143
Chapter Title: Collaboration Proposal (1)
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Project.
It was a rather intriguing word.
So Oliver asked Forrest.
"What’s this project?"
"It’s not confirmed. Just rumors, nothing more. Still want to hear it?"
"Yes."
Forrest stood up and straightened his clothes.
"...It seems the city councilors are thinking of forming a new armed group through city officials."
"An armed group?"
"Yeah, an armed group. Something like private soldiers they can wield more flexibly. The police department and city defense forces are strictly administrative bodies for city security and defense, so it’s hard to use them exactly as you please. Too many watchful eyes."
Just as Oliver was about to ask why they needed forces, the reason flashed through his mind unbidden.
"...Could it be because of the mages?"
"Exactly. It’s not the whole story, but it’s a big part of it. Looks like you’re getting familiar with the city now."
Forrest’s words didn’t feel much like praise.
"With mages gathering power around Landa, the councilors are getting anxious. So they want an armed group that’s flexible and easy for them to control."
Oliver nodded.
He’d heard plenty about that already. But one thing puzzled him.
"Why have city officials handle something like that, though?"
"I haven’t heard that far, but I can guess."
"What’s your guess?"
"Passing the risk onto them. The world’s a big place, so there are fixers, street mages, and retired soldiers out there who can stand up to Magic Tower mages. The problem is, they’re not easy to handle."
Oliver thought it over quietly. It made a certain sense.
There were plenty of eccentric types among those who wielded force. That’s why fixers existed in the first place.
"Of course, some councilors are good at handling these people, and some already have their own forces. But not everyone. So they’re handing it off to city officials. Using already tamed dogs to tame the stray wolves. And if things go south, they can shift the blame. That’s more important than it seems."
Understanding, Oliver nodded.
"Sounds like a tough, thankless job. Why would city officials accept it?"
"Not necessarily. They didn’t agree blindly, at least. I called them tamed dogs earlier, but city officials are pretty cunning ones."
Oliver showed interest at this new angle.
Noticing, Forrest continued.
"The councilors decide Landa’s policies and direction, sure. But the city officials are the ones who actually run things. They’re an elite group in their own right here in Landa."
"Really?"
"Yep. The public calls them tax thieves or deadweights, but they’re a pillar of Landa with real talent. If they accepted, they’ve got their own calculations."
Oliver nodded, intrigued.
It felt like glimpsing another side of the city.
"So, what’s their angle?"
"Hard to say offhand. More work means more hassle, but also more authority... I’ll look into it and get back to you. For now, handle what the city asked you to do. To talk with them, you need to meet their demands first. Can I count on you?"
Oliver nodded and gathered the file.
"Any deadline?"
"End of the month. Sooner the better."
"Got it."
Oliver nodded again, picked up the file, and left.
Ding-a-ling— Ding-a-ling—
Oliver stepped out of the restaurant with Al waving him off.
The end of the month Forrest mentioned wasn’t far off, but it wasn’t endless time either.
After some thought, Oliver decided against seeking them out right away. He’d handle his own preparations first, calmly.
It wasn’t slacking.
He needed time to bolster his forces properly.
With that decided, Oliver hailed a taxi and asked to be taken near the comprehensive museum in R District.
The driver chugged from a bottle in a brown paper bag, nodded, and started driving.
Oliver sat in the back, reviewing the file Forrest had given him.
It detailed the big and small executives of the Kell Free Independence Army—modified humans who’d undergone illegal augmentations, black mages, and even a few regular mages.
Quite novel for Oliver.
The fixer world wasn’t exactly friendly between mages and black mages, yet these were all in one organization.
He wondered what bound them together.
Maybe ask if I get the chance later?
Oliver thought as he checked bounties, profiles, and traits.
Some even had predicted hideouts.
Mostly X District. Oliver decided to target those first.
They were riskier, but the narrowed location would save search time.
Just worried about how to track them down.
Before leaving, he’d asked Forrest about blood traces or anything to find them, but sadly, nothing.
Northland’s admin was looser than even the kingdom’s territories, so unless special circumstances, hard to pin down.
Hmm, no clue how to find them.
Oliver pondered both how to locate and capture them.
Having been through a lot lately, he had personal ideas he wanted to try.
Moments later, the cab stopped.
Near R District’s comprehensive museum. Oliver thanked him, paid the fare plus tip.
The driver grinned, pocketed it, and waved goodbye.
"Thanks. Have a good day."
"You too. Drive safe."
"Always do."
The driver replied after another swig from the bottle.
Oliver reached the museum entrance, then slipped aside to the Black Market’s shadowy entry.
The guard, disguised as staff, eyed him warily but relaxed upon recognizing Oliver’s face.
After a long descent, he arrived deep in the museum’s Black Market.
Tenant suppliers brought fresh stock constantly, so the scene had shifted a bit from what Oliver remembered.
He wanted to browse, but time was tight, so he headed straight to the Crime Firm office at the far end.
As before, an empty desk and cabinets sat beside the office.
"Ah, you’re here."
Said the elderly man seated at the empty desk.
Gold-rimmed glasses, old suit, arm garters—he recognized and greeted Oliver instantly.
"Hello. Here for the item."
With that, Oliver pulled an iron key from his pocket.
The elder took it politely, inspected it, and asked,
"Payment ready?"
"Oh, one sec."
Oliver fumbled like he’d forgotten, then drew his wallet-shaped glutton pouch.
The pouch scanned around, flailing as if anticipating trouble and trying to flee,
But alas, Oliver mercilessly pried its mouth open, shoved his hand in, stirred, then shook it upside down.
Oek—!!
Kueeeek——!
Kueeeek———!
Kueeeek————!
Kueeeek—————!
Getting the knack, resistance lessened, and bills tumbled out rhythmically, accompanied by the pouch’s teardrops.
The elder, now accustomed, silently sorted the falling stacks.
Soon, having counted,
"Balance: 125 million Landa. Exact."
He called a nearby staffer, handed over the money; others quietly fetched the item.
"I’m not too late, am I?"
Oliver checked.
The order form mentioned storage fees for delays.
The elder replied smoothly, without hesitation.
His demeanor showed he had everything under control.
"No worries on storage. You’re not that late."
"Oh, good."
"Yes. If you need anything else, please visit us. We’ll strive for the best... Ah, here it comes."
The elder pointed.
Two burly men in overalls and dingy sneakers approached, each hauling a massive body bag.
Faint mana flowed from the bags—ice magic, by the feel and flow.
"Kept at ultra-low temps, pristine condition, no decay. But at room temp, rot sets in fast—note that. Here’s the item manifest."
The elder unzipped a bag to show, then handed docs.
Oliver skimmed the papers, inspected the goods.
Cold, no rot, as claimed.
Process this and the Martel staff corpses, repair-augment the invoice dolls—couple days. Experiments too, so 2-3 days min... Tight for commissions?
Oliver mused while checking.
Skimp sleep to shorten, but issue was pinpointing Kell execs.
Blood, clothes—tracking aids would help, but none. Tricky.
"Hmm..."
"Something wrong?"
A familiar voice from behind.
Jo stood there, bushy hair, rumpled suit.
"Ah, Jo. Good to see you."
Jo nodded likewise.
"No issues? They’re waiting."
Jo gestured to the elder standing by.
Patiently awaiting.
"Problem with the item?"
"No, none. Just thinking. Sorry."
"No matter. If all good, sign here."
The elder clipped the confirmation to a board.
Oliver read it, signed receipt.
Elder checked, bowed politely.
"Thank you for using our branch. Visit anytime. Better service next time."
Oliver returned the courtesy; elder returned to his desk.
Oliver asked Jo to wait, unclipped the leather case from his belt, pulled out Big Mouth.
Then had it swallow the two bodies.
"Anything happen?"
Jo’s sudden question prompted,
"Pardon? What do you—"
"Nah, just... more reliable... Never mind."
Jo waved it off.
Oliver spoke.
"You working?"
"Yeah. Gotta eat."
Oliver eyed him, then,
"Were you waiting for me?"
"Yeah... Any word on next lesson?"
"How’s practice?"
Practice meant extracting raw emotions—basics of basics.
Necessary since Jo learned black magic oddly. Fundamentals key for Black Suits.
Instead of explaining, Jo pulled a vial.
Crude, cheap emotions, but raw-extracted.
Shuuuuh——
Not fast, but steady. Huge progress from initial struggles.
"Whoa, impressive. Way faster than expected?"
"Thanks to you."
"Pardon?"
"Before we parted last time, you showed the knack. Got the trick, practiced nonstop. Cost some cash, but... Where’d you learn it?"
"Learn?"
Jo extended a finger, tapped his other hand’s back—mimicking Oliver’s indirect demo.
"Like this. Let me practice efficiently."
"...? Didn’t learn it. Always knew, from way back."
"Huh. Weird."
"Why don’t others teach like that?"
Jo nodded.
"Only seen our boss teach black magic worth a damn, but you’re the only one who does it that way... Knew it from start?"
"Yes."
Oliver replied, scrutinizing Jo. Seemed honest.
Come to think, no such method in Joseph’s study, Glip’s logs, or Puppet’s books.
Oliver wondered suddenly.
How’d he know to teach that way?
Only memory: reflexively did it teaching Marie.
"So, next lesson when?"
"Ah... Sorry, can you wait? Got work, no time."
"Fixer gig?"
"Yeah, hard to explain—"
"—The Kell rebels hiding in Landa?"
Oliver stared silently.
Jo caught on.
"Rumors spread."
"Ah, makes sense."
"Hey, Dave."
"Yes?"
"If it’s okay... Can I help?"