Chapter 167
Chapter 167
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 167
Chapter Title: Aftermath (3)
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During his conversation with Jane, Oliver received a call from Forrest.
The reason was, predictably, work-related.
Since it was over a communication device, Oliver couldn't read Forrest's emotions, but it seemed the talks with the City had truly gone well.
Even so, he found it a bit hard to understand.
A story he'd stumbled upon while handling a City job—one that could put him in danger because of it...
Well, no point dwelling on it. Oliver pushed the stray thoughts aside and headed to the location Forrest had mentioned.
The meeting spot wasn't far. A café near the hotel.
"Thank you for coming."
A table covered in a pristine white tablecloth. Seated there was Paul Carver, a City official, who greeted him.
He was enjoying tea and pie.
"Hello, City official."
"Just call me Carver. Please, have a seat?"
Carver gestured politely to the chair. Oliver sat as directed.
"I chose a crowded place on purpose. Figured you'd feel more at ease."
True to his word, the café was bustling.
Given the district, most patrons were well-dressed—elderly gentlemen, ladies, and the like. Their tables overflowed with tea, coffee, cakes, scones, and more.
"I appreciate the consideration... That said, there are a few around here who aren't ordinary folk."
Carver raised an eyebrow in mild admiration.
"They said you had sharp eyes, and it seems they were right. Reading minds?"
"No, nothing like that. Just spotted the ones scanning the room tensely. They're all watching you, Mr. Carver."
"...They're assigned by protocol for certain duties, so don't take it personally. It's a rough city, after all. And I'm just a regular guy with no real protection."
Hmm... Oliver wasn't so sure.
Not that Carver was hiding some great power.
Sure, it was possible, but his mana and life force levels were on par with any ordinary person.
What gave Oliver pause was his emotional state.
It might sound odd, but Carver's emotions were remarkably steady.
Even fixers and gangsters living on the edge sometimes showed flickers of unease, yet this man was unflappably calm and composed. Like a fortress wall.
Cliché as it was, he seemed to have a rock-solid mind.
"Mind if I ask something? Forrest told me not to, but I'm dying to know."
"Go ahead."
"Do they really take out fixers who take on jobs?"
The question hit like a sudden punch to the face.
No malice behind it from Oliver, but a punch was still a punch.
For most people, it'd prompt a flush and a awkward cough, but Carver didn't flinch.
"Not common, but it happens. Enough to count on one hand."
Sincere.
Oliver let out an "Ah." Not annoyance or anger—just reflexive surprise at the answer.
"Just curiosity: why?"
"Hmm... There's an Eastern saying."
"Heavenly Secrets Leakage."
"What does that mean?"
"It means if heaven's secrets slip out, heaven silences the one who knows."
"And why's that?"
"Personally? I think it's to protect the system."
"The system?"
"Yeah. Short example: look around this café. Staff and customers, right? Customers pay, staff provide service and goods."
Oliver glanced around. Just as Carver said—customers paid on the way out, staff delivered tea and cakes.
"What if customers stopped paying? Place would fall apart, no?"
"Yes."
"The world's the same. Bigger scale, more complex roles, but the core system isn't much different. Landa City does its part, the royals and central council theirs. Things creak sometimes, but they keep the shop running together."
Not perfectly clear, but Oliver got the gist.
Even if Landa City seemed at odds with the royals and council, they needed each other.
"So if I blab what I learned on the job, it risks that system?"
"Risk... Better to say it'd stir up noise. You live in Landa—you know truth is fragile. Needs power behind it to stick."
"Then why bother with me at all?"
"The higher-ups don't like even small risks. Bold, yet timid."
Just then, a server arrived with a tray, pouring coffee into the cup before Oliver and setting down a banana cream pie.
"Enjoy."
"I ordered it for you. Give it a try. The pies are what this place is famous for."
Oliver took a bite as instructed.
"...Delicious."
"Glad it suits you. I love pie myself... Anyway, what I mean is, the City has done that sort of thing a few times out of necessity, but we have no intention of harming you, Dave. Reputation matters—we don't act rashly. It's a last resort."
Mostly sincere. Oliver nodded.
"Got it."
"...Really?"
Carver's voice carried a hint of surprise.
"Yeah. Could've been risky, but we talked it out—no issues."
"Well, true."
"Then we're good. I'm fine. Your take on heavenly secrets and the system was interesting, too... Since you're sharing wisdom, one more question?"
"...What?"
"Does this mean the coffee's on you?"
Oliver pointed to the cup in front of him.
"...You're a fun one."
"Am I?"
"Yeah... Coffee's full price. Saving it for emergencies, not blowing it now."
"Figures. Arthur said as much."
Carver eyed Oliver for a moment before speaking.
"...Thanks for hearing me out. Shall we move on?"
With that, Carver pulled a crisp white envelope from his pocket.
Inside was a bankbook and seal.
Like with Edith—an anonymous Gold Smiths account. And just like then, the balance exceeded expectations.
"Mr. Carver, this amount seems off."
"It's not. The City tallies precisely."
"Even so, I shouldn't be getting this much. Too generous."
True enough. The out-of-city job's success fee was 10 billion Landa.
Plus the bounty from the incinerator raid that hadn't been fully settled.
With recent expenses piling up, Oliver had tracked every payout.
Including this reward. But the account showed at least double.
When asked, Carver replied calmly.
"Arthur told me all about your contributions. From scouting to negotiations, even throwing yourself in harm's way to protect everyone... Without you, the job wouldn't have succeeded."
"You're too kind."
"No—Arthur said it, so it's no exaggeration. He's cutthroat on these matters. It's a bonus based on contribution and results. No strings attached—take it easy."
At that, Oliver dropped it.
With a move on the horizon, more money was better. No reason to refuse a gift.
This should secure a solid middle-class spot.
"Ah, one correction. I do have a request."
"Oh... What is it?"
"Please don't mention what you heard on the job to anyone. Might get dismissed as rumor, but who knows what ripples. Call it hush money."
"Of course. Makes sense. Thought it'd be tricky, but glad it's settled. My lips are sealed."
With that wrapped up, Oliver rose to leave. Coffee and pie finished—delicious, as promised.
As he excused himself, Carver called out.
"Mind if I ask something?"
"Sure? What..."
"Just personal curiosity: why be a fixer, Dave?"
A loaded question, but no malice. Pure calculation.
Seemed harmless, so Oliver answered honestly.
"To understand the world."
After the meeting, Carver drove back to the office.
Landa civil servants enjoyed decent pay and benefits, but early outs and vacations were pipe dreams.
So off-site errands like this were a rare treat.
Risky, sure, but tea and pie outdoors on work hours hit different.
Upon arrival, instead of his own office, Carver headed straight to the top-floor minister's office, home to the Internal Affairs chief.
Centrally positioned like the king on a chessboard.
Knock-knock.
A beat late came the invitation to enter. Voice as limp as the delay.
"Good day, Minister."
Entering, Carver greeted the listless middle-aged man.
The esteemed minister of the world's greatest city.
An old coot whose biggest goal was holding the seat without fuss... Infuriating.
"...Back?"
"Yes."
"The job?"
"Handled smoothly."
No reaction. Long pause, then:
"Hmm... Still uneasy, no matter how I slice it?"
"......"
"A warlock, right? Knowing the risks... Worth it?"
He pressed without saying it outright—worried about blowback on himself.
Carver kept his expression neutral.
"Best to monitor for now, I'd say."
"We've dug into Dave's recent moves—no red flags."
Half a lie.
The contaminated zone, corpse puppets—suspicious, if not outright dangerous.
But worth keeping regardless.
100% success rate, no scheming like the usual crowd.
Luckily, the minister nodded slowly. He left everything to staff anyway.
"I see..."
"Yes, Minister. Warlock or not, no visible threats. Especially this job—he bought time fighting an embedded mage and escaped on his own."
"Embedded mage?"
"Yes... Details fuzzy, but per Arthur's report, he stalled the mage and got out solo. Worth the risk. Councilors want that too."
Councilors. The magic word made the minister back off.
They held his leash.
"Right... How about folding him into the project outright?"
"Floated it—he declined."
"Cheeky street rat."
"No need to take it personally. Shame, but warlock in public office? Doesn't fit the project's vibe anyway."
"......"
"Core is building a strong organization, not gathering stars. Better to leave him with his fixer crew and call when needed—cheaper."
"Hmm... Yeah?"
"Yes, Minister."
"Fine, then. No more to say if you vouch. Good work. Out."
Carver bowed politely and left.
Incompetent overall, but self-preservation sharp. Pinning it on him if Oliver went south.
Nothing for it but pray it never happened.
Oh, Lord...
Back at his desk, Carver sorted the paperwork mess.
Too hectic during work to tidy.
"What the hell's his deal, anyway..."
He muttered despite himself.
Testing the waters, he'd asked why Oliver did fixer work. Blatant answer: to understand the world.
Questions scholars might ponder—why colonies, why poverty?
Not the answer from this kill-for-cash world. Yet rang true.
"...Sticking around this city, he'll figure it out eventually."
Carver shoved tangled thoughts aside and finished sorting.
Tap-tap. Aligning the stack, he reread the top sheet.