Chapter 168
Chapter 168
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 168
Chapter Title: Farewell (1)
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City employee Paul Carver.
His words seemed to be true after all.
There was a system in the world, and the world turned according to that system.
From small cafes to the vast world, everything was connected to that basic principle.
At first, Oliver vaguely understood what he meant, but as time passed, he came to feel it in his bones.
Even after going to the small town of Burerton near Landa, meeting Willis for negotiations, and hearing that the royal heir had made a deal with a demon, the world hadn't changed at all.
The sun rose and set as always, and the city just kept running.
Like a machine.
And Oliver, who lived in the city, was no different.
After finishing his mission outside the city, Oliver began hunting down the prisoners who had escaped during the jailbreak.
The frenzy had died down a bit, but so many had fled amid the prison's destruction that the city was still on high alert.
Having taken down a big one, Oliver could have rested if he wanted, but he decided to make some money instead.
With the police and city defense forces combing every corner to catch the escapees, the gray markets and Black Market were all shut down, leaving him with nothing much to do.
Fortunately, catching escapees was relatively easy.
Landa Prison's administration was solid—they kept hair and blood samples from all inmates—so Oliver just picked those up and tracked them down.
By granting his minions a sensitive nose, he could locate most of them without much trouble, nabbing at least one or two a day, and up to five or seven on good days.
They were mostly petty crooks, so the bounties weren't huge individually, but the sheer numbers made it worthwhile.
Enough to think that regular prison raids might not be such a bad thing.
Of course, he occasionally ran into dangerous vicious criminals too.
A deranged mercenary swinging twin axes.
A manipulation-type black mage holed up in the sewers.
An Enjoyment Druid who'd robbed eight banks, and so on.
These had bounties five to ten times higher than the others, and Oliver caught every one he came across.
Knock knock.
"May I come in?"
Forrest Restaurant's basement office. Oliver asked.
With permission granted, he opened the door and stepped inside.
There sat Forrest, wrestling with his ledgers.
"You're here."
"Yes. You look busy."
"Business is booming these days."
Oliver nodded.
With all the fixers busy chasing escapees, the middlemen dealing with them naturally had their hands full too.
Especially since it wasn't one big job but countless small ones, which took even more effort.
"Well, no complaints from me. Either way, I get my cut. Better than sitting idle."
Forrest said, ever the pro.
He looked tired, sure, but his hands never slacked on the work.
"I've noticed before, but between the restaurant and this, you must be swamped."
"The staff handles the small stuff, so no real issues. I just check the big expenses now and then and make decisions. Hang on a sec."
Forrest finished his ledger entry, stood, and grabbed a document bag from behind the desk.
"Here's your pay from last time. Looks like it added up since you bagged twenty at once."
"Thanks to Mr. Murphy."
"Murphy?"
"Yeah. Some escapees had set up near a site he had his eye on, so he asked for my help. Told me to keep all the bounties."
"Free cleanup from a guy raking in cash."
It was true. While Oliver had been busy with this and that, everyone else was living their own lives.
Arthur had basically gone from fixer to full-on city employee.
Murphy had successfully merged with Hoffman Transport, verticalizing his business and skyrocketing his growth.
Word was he'd climbed to just below director level in T District.
Everyone was hustling hard.
"He provided manpower and intel on the area, so that was plenty."
Forrest let out a small sigh at Oliver's words.
For a fixer who staked his life on the job, it wasn't the most admirable attitude.
Not that he was going to nitpick.
He knew Oliver's personality by now—advice would fall on deaf ears. And truthfully, that odd demeanor didn't rub him the wrong way.
In this line of work, that laid-back vibe was rare, ironically inspiring a strange trust.
Even some picky clients from the Alphabet Districts up front had started sending requests.
Of course, there were always cheapskates trying to lowball him, but Forrest weeded those out...
"Mr. Forrest?"
"Hm?"
Oliver, who had stashed the cash in his bottomless pouch, spoke up.
"If it's alright, may I head out now?"
"Ah... hold on. Mind if I ask a few questions?"
"Sure."
"The state of emergency should lift soon. Everyone's been grinding day and night since the prison raid, so it's only natural... Though we missed the ones who fled outside the city, or to X or No Districts. Can't be helped."
"Yes."
"That means jobs will pile up again. We couldn't take most requests during the crisis. It'll be like peak season. Planning to dive right back in?"
Hm... Oliver pondered for a moment.
"Not sure. I've got some personal business, so I was thinking of taking a break."
"Good."
"Good?"
"Yeah. Normally I'd work you to the bone for my cut, but with the current situation, better to lay low."
"Situation?"
"Word is the Pater Church is about to launch a major crackdown."
Ah, right. He'd heard something about strange power detected in the icy lands, sending the Pater Church into a frenzy.
He'd thought it was just talk, but apparently not.
"So I figure laying low for a while is smart. The city says it'll protect us, so no huge worry, but no need to go out in the rain."
"Yes."
"How about resuming work once the crackdown ends? You rest up, and I'll line up some good jobs."
"Yes, sounds good. I'll follow your lead."
"Perfect. Off you go then. Good work."
After collecting his bounty, Oliver left the restaurant.
He headed straight home but stopped at a street vendor on the way to buy one copy of each paper from the major outlets.
"Smart choice. The city's in chaos, so there are tons of juicy stories. They're selling two or three times better than usual. Lucky, right?"
Whether it was luck or not, the shopkeeper wasn't lying.
Back at his lodging, skimming the papers revealed plenty of intriguing articles.
Reports on the damage from the escapees, tales of brave police working to resolve it.
Countless people chimed in, even penning editorials.
Some busybodies and councilors analyzed the issue, proposing solutions like bolstering the police force—or complaining that inmates were treated too well and advocating for a prison in the polluted zones.
Quite entertaining.
All of it groundwork to push through the city's project.
Using the prison fiasco like this? Impressive, even.
"What's so funny?"
"Hard to say. Seeing the hidden groundwork others miss is just... amusing, sir."
A third voice chimed in suddenly. Oliver turned calmly, unperturbed, to reply.
There stood Merlin.
"Not startled, eh?"
"I haven't forgotten you used a portal to send me here, sir. I figured you'd show up anytime."
"Haven't you heard I'm no fun?"
"How'd you know?"
"...Call it an old man's insight. Excuse me a sec."
Merlin snatched the paper from Oliver's hands and scanned it.
"Hm... Looks like the city's plotting something. Laying bait everywhere... Trying to form some armed group to check the mages?"
"...!"
"Oh, that reaction. You know something, huh? Makes sense—a capable fixer like you rubs shoulders with that crowd."
"Mind if I ask how you knew?"
"Old man's insight. See one puzzle piece, grasp the whole picture."
"O... Impressive."
"Nah, lying. You bought that? At my level, info flows in from everywhere. I just predict from there."
"......"
"Don't look at me like that. It'll hurt my feelings. It's Magic 101."
"Lying?"
"Well... kinda, but no. It's staging."
"Staging?"
"Yeah. Acting wise, acting impressive. Magic's foundation. Most folks eat it up and don't dare challenge you."
Hm... Not entirely wrong. Staging, huh.
"Here to teach me that?"
"Do I look that idle? Here for something else."
"Something else?"
"Yeah. A place has been set for Rosburn and the kids."
The hideout for Rosburn and the other kids who'd escaped Matel was a branch owned by the Elemental School.
Sending them to Landa could've been risky, so they chose a remote spot with little foot traffic. The kids had all agreed.
"Not much choice in the matter, anyway. Kids or not, they know their situation."
Merlin said as they walked the hallway of the mansion.
"I see."
"Cold. Don't you feel bad for them?"
"Sad, but no helping it."
Merlin chuckled at Oliver's response, though he couldn't quite read the man's emotions.
"They'll train in magic there."
"Magic?"
"Yeah. Matel modified their bodies to hold and wield mana. No clue how far they'll go, but worth a shot. Better than sitting around."
"I see. But why me...?"
"They politely asked to see you before leaving. Wanted to say thanks."
"........."
Oliver said nothing. He had no words, really.
He hadn't done it for thanks in the first place.
Sensing that, Merlin offered serious advice.
"It'll be tough for those kids. Really."
"Pardon?"
"They're old. Mage tower kids usually start basic training around seven. That's late enough, but Rosburn's fifteen—twice the age. I pulled strings to get them in, but surviving there? That's on them."
"........."
"So give them some advice or whatever. They... look up to you."
"Me?"
"Yeah, you."
Oliver furrowed his brow. He knew the word "admire," but hadn't connected it to himself.
"Strange."
"I thought so too. Still, play along. In a harsh life, even a white lie helps sometimes."
It was baffling, but Merlin's tone was earnest, so Oliver nodded. A necessary lie...
They entered a room.
It looked like where the kids had been staying.
Five beds, and the children sat before them, bags packed.
"Ah...!"
The kids spotted Oliver.
Joy, admiration, gratitude, awe, fondness—all bright emotions shone.
The intensity overwhelmed Oliver; he said nothing. The kids stood awkwardly, fidgeting, unsure how to speak.
An awkward silence.
Then Rosburn mustered his courage and approached Oliver.
Just like the first time he'd asked to learn letters.
"U-um, teacher."
"Yes, Rosburn."
"Th-thank you. We got a place to stay because of you. And we can learn magic too."
The others crept forward shyly, adding their greetings.
"Thank you."
"Thanks."
"Really, thank you."
"Thank... you."
Oliver fell silent, unsure what to say. This... was hard.
He realized anew how foolish he was. Not knowing what to say in a moment like this.
Oliver racked his brain desperately.
"...Um, mind if we drop the formalities? I'm not great at this stuff."
Rosburn, still tense, replied.
"...Sure."
"You all seem scared of something. Care to tell me what?"
They didn't deny it. After hesitating, Rosburn spoke for them.
"C-can we adapt there? I mean... can we really become mages?"
"Who knows? I don't... But one thing I can say."
"........."
"I became a black mage's apprentice at your age, Rosburn. That's when I met my master—my lord."
"R-really?"
"Yes. So you and the others can become mages too, if you try."
Not the most logical advice, but it seemed to work. The fear clouding their eyes lifted a bit.
Except for Rosburn. Hope flickered, then despair returned.
"But..."
"Speak freely. I want to hear you."
"B-but you're amazing, teacher. And I'm... nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Just what I said. I read in a book here—magic takes talent. I don't have any."
"Wouldn't you know without trying?"
"...But compared to you, I'll definitely fall short. Not just talent—courage, wisdom too. Can I even do it?"
"What are you talking about? No courage?"
"...???"
"Rosburn, remember asking me to teach you letters?"
"...Yes."
"You were braver than me then. This is sincere."
"........."
"I couldn't have done that. I only became a black mage's apprentice because of luck, not bravery."
Oliver spoke from the heart. Back when Joseph chose him, if even one other with black magic talent had shown up, Oliver would still be in the mines.
Rosburn asked in a trembling voice.
"...Really?"
"Yes. Like I said, pure luck. You're braver than me—you had the guts to speak first."
Oliver looked away from Rosburn to the other kids.
"Same for all of you. You looked out for each other right away. No running off alone or crying... At least, I think that's courage."
The kids listened in silence.
Oliver turned back to Rosburn.
"I don't know your future, can't promise anything—that'd be a lie, and I won't lie to you. But I think you're braver than me. You learned letters fast too. You're smart."
"...R-really?"
"Yes. So keep doing what you're doing, and you'll adapt just fine."
Rosburn bit his lip and bowed his head.
"One more question?"
"Go ahead. I'm here to listen."
"I'm angry. At Matel. I want revenge. But revenge is bad, right? What do I do?"
Rosburn dragged out his deepest rage and hatred, emotions he'd buried for survival. He bared them before Oliver.
"I want to give it back. All the pain, the fear—to every one of them. I try to forget, but I can't. What should I do?"
Rosburn pleaded for an answer. Oliver thought, then replied.
"Do what you want. If you truly can't forgive."
"...Is that okay?"
"Yes, Rosburn... I'm no expert on this. Anger, forgiveness—can't relate or give good advice."
"........."
"And as you know by now, I'm a fixer. I kill when needed. How could I tell you to forgive? That'd be... wrong."
Rosburn's emotions tilted further toward rage and hate.
"But Rosburn."
"Even if you gain power for revenge, it'll be incredibly hard. The world's a huge machine—it doesn't tolerate those trying to break it."
"...Doesn't matter."
"Then it's fine. But you'll spend your whole life fighting with the knowledge and power you gain. Did you learn letters from me to fight?"
"........."
"Not forcing you. Just curious. When you asked to learn, what were you thinking? Your goal? I don't think it was fighting."
"........."
"I'll say it again: I won't stop your revenge. It's your right. But if you let it go and chase your original dream... well, I'll help one more time if you need it."