Chapter 174
Chapter 174
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 174
Chapter Title: Randa's Women (3)
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In the Black Market staff office next to where special goods were being purchased, an elderly gentleman who had been assisting with the transaction turned toward Oliver and bowed politely.
In response, the four burly men guarding the elder clasped their hands together respectfully and silently gazed at Oliver.
All of them possessed considerable magical power.
"It's an honor to meet you like this, Director."
As an awkward silence settled in, Coco stepped forward.
"You know me?"
"Yes, we met at the last party. I'm the information broker Coco."
"Ah... I remember now. Nice to see you."
The old man greeted him with impeccable courtesy.
Oliver asked Coco who he was.
"Gordon Goodheart. He's a director at the Randa Culture and Arts Association and also a director at Crime Firm. He's officially retired, but he's still quite active."
Hmm... I figured he had some gravitas and handled things cleanly—not your average person—but I never imagined he'd be a Crime Firm director.
Oliver apologized to Gordon.
"Sorry for not recognizing you last time."
"No need. I'm already retired. This is just a bit of pastime work. In any case, it's nice to meet you again... What brings you here?"
Oliver glanced at Jane. She nodded.
"...I've been hired as a bodyguard."
"Ah..."
Gordon's eyes sharpened as he turned to Jane.
"Pardon my late introduction, miss. I'm Gordon Goodheart. If it's all right with you, may I ask your name?"
"I'm Jane. Nice to meet you too."
"Jane? Ah... Are you perhaps interested in this painting as well, miss?"
"Yes, I just covered the amount you bid."
Gordon turned back to the painting with evident interest.
"Is there a special reason you chose this one?"
"It just caught my eye the most."
"You have a good eye. It's quite a fine piece. A painting captures a person's true heart, after all."
"Thank you for saying so. Did you come to look at paintings too, Director?"
"Not today. There's an item at the auction that piqued my interest, and I heard a valuable guest was coming, so I stopped by just in case... So I'll yield this painting to the young lady. You'll have to pay more for it, but no one else will bid higher."
Gordon tapped the amount he had written below the painting.
"Thank you."
"No trouble at all. It's good to see a young person so full of vigor, especially one like you. Madam Miranda will surely appreciate a piece like this."
Miranda—the person Jane planned to gift something from the auction house.
Gordon had gleaned everything from experience and insight, without hearing a word.
"Thank you for the kind words."
"Think nothing of it... Hmm, if it's not too much trouble, would you like to join me at the members-only auction house?"
"Pardon?"
Jane was caught off guard by the sudden invitation. In contrast, Gordon continued calmly.
He had an agenda, but it wasn't aimed at Jane.
"I thought you might be interested... If you go as part of my entourage, you can enter without issue. I have a stake in this event, after all."
The members-only auction house.
It was a special auction held at the Subrepto Grand Museum, accessible only to members who had passed rigorous vetting among those attending the regular auctions.
Members were those who had built influence in Randa's underworld and overworld alike, making it—as with the VIP auction—the main event of the entire affair.
Naturally, Jane didn't pass up the opportunity.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Gordon. I'll never forget this kindness."
Putting on the mask given at the entrance, Jane spoke while artfully concealing her tension.
Though dealing with Gordon was daunting and intimidating, she summoned courage and acting skill, coming across like a granddaughter chatting with her grandfather.
"No need to thank me. But if you're truly grateful, remember this old man once you make it big."
Gordon replied with the crisp politeness and gentlemanly demeanor he reserved for Black Market work.
Jane nodded, seamlessly continuing the conversation with Gordon, while Oliver kept watch around them.
Places like this were hard for Oliver to access alone, so it was worth taking in as much as possible, right?
The members-only auction was held underground, but its splendor rivaled anything above ground.
Even with the subdued lighting and heavy, majestic curtains giving a somber vibe, it had its own unique charm.
A sense of pressure, mystery, and the like.
The main items were stolen goods, illegal magic artifacts, highly refined life elixirs, and top-tier drugs produced in minuscule quantities—but surprisingly, there were quite a few attendees without masks.
"Not that strange."
Gordon turned and remarked during his conversation with Jane, as if imprinting his presence on Oliver.
"Those who care about appearances usually send proxies. So the ones here in person are mostly underlings, weirdos who love spots like this, or folks with one foot in the shadows. Like that guy over there."
The old man pointed to a man with long green hair in the distance.
He wore a vivid green suit, had ivy-like tattoos on his face, and sported small deer antlers sprouting from his head—more eye-catching than anything else.
"A druid."
"Shaymus of Enjoyment. He burst onto the fixer scene three years ago and became one of the top fixers in just a year. He's retired now, though."
Oliver eyed the man named Shaymus.
A greener aura emanated from him than from Scott, whom he'd faced while protecting Jane. The power of nature, they called it?
"Retired? What does he do now?"
"Hmm, why don't you give it a shot, Miss Jane?"
Oliver glanced at Jane with a puzzled "Huh?"
Surprisingly, she seemed to know a fair bit about this druid named Shaymus.
"He's currently affiliated with the Sisterhood and Crime Firm."
"Is that allowed?"
"No rule against it. He's skilled in spirit arts, nature communion, beast transformation—and he can even handle world trees. A real jack-of-all-trades."
"Exactly. In Randa, talent opens any door. That's why, despite his youth, he has three Sisterhood lovers, funds loan sharking with their money, all under Crime Firm's tacit approval. Lately, he's built up capital and started forming his own group of Enjoyment druids like himself."
Oliver took another look. Towering height, brimming confidence...
"Impressive man."
"He is. Terrifying for old folks like me, though."
"Pardon?"
Oliver turned to Gordon. The man meant every word.
"Randa was born from reckless politics and capital. Its very foundation rewards challenge and freedom, so we value those highly."
"Yes."
"That's drawn in superhumans stifled by old systems: mages, mana users, war mercenaries, druids, black mages—a flood of talent. That's why the city has grown like this."
"I see."
"But it's brought changes too. A new class of superhumans accumulating wealth has emerged."
Oliver had heard something similar before.
Mages amassing riches, threatening Randa's old city establishment and capitalists.
The back alleys were no different. Maybe worse.
Oliver shared his honest thoughts.
"Not a bad thing, is it? Proof they're striving to improve."
Gordon looked surprised, then smiled faintly.
"Quite right. That's why people like me focus on gathering top talent—to hold our ground."
"I think that's good too."
Oliver spoke from the heart again.
Striving to advance, to protect one's place—wouldn't that ultimately make things better?
He didn't mind that at all.
"I've lived in Randa a long time as an old man. I don't offer kindness lightly. In fact, I even put in a request with Dave for this auction."
Forest's warning about other clients flashed in his mind.
"Oh... My apologies. Please don't be too hard on Mr. Forest—it was my oversight."
"No anger here. Fixers pick jobs as they please; that's our perk. Just remember I extended some goodwill in my own way."
In other words, pay it back later.
Oliver nodded at once.
"Of course."
"Music to my ears. Shall we part ways here, then? Anyone who shows up can join the auction, so you're set. I've got my own business too."
"Ah, you mentioned meeting someone? May I ask who?"
"Know of Gift's Filterettes?"
Oliver flinched.
"Yes, I've heard of them."
"Heard a broker handling their goods is here to consign items for this auction. Black Market reopens soon, so I want to secure some."
"Gift's broker?"
"Yes. Any issue?"
"No, none... Thank you again for your kindness."
"If you need merchandise anytime, come to us. We'll prepare something suited to you."
Oliver nodded and bowed, and Gordon departed.
"You got help again."
After Gordon left, Jane approached and said.
"Pardon?"
"You got help again. I suspected, and sure enough—he brought us here for you, not me."
Her words sounded accusatory at first, but they weren't.
She felt grateful toward Oliver. Yet that brought disappointment in herself.
"You seem... really worn out. Care to talk?"
Jane stared at Oliver's face, then spoke.
"Sometimes I wonder what I'm even doing."
"With what?"
"All of it... I planned to live comfortably off the inheritance from Edith. Even after paying off the Sisterhood, it'd last a lifetime. But I got the itch to test my abilities with it."
"Impressive."
"Is it, really?"
"Pardon?"
"Feels like pointless bullshit sometimes."
"...???"
"Sure, I'm rich, but Randa's full of people as wealthy as me. Big city and all. Being rich didn't make me special."
"......"
"Remember when we first met?"
"Yes. At the hotel restaurant. You were there for the party."
"Right. And I ducked into the restaurant saying I was tired. Lie."
"......"
"Tried joining that world, but it's tough sledding—even for a sudden rich kid from bastard stock. Hid in the restaurant, and there you were. How nice that felt."
Oliver recalled it.
"Uh... Did I mess up back then?"
"Yeah, you ignored me along with your steak and left. Not a glance."
"Ah..."
"And here I get help through you again. Without Edith's money, I'm nothing. It's exhausting. Feels like a waste."
Sincerity. Oliver didn't reply right away, gazing ahead for a moment.
After deep thought, he finally spoke.
"Mind if I say something?"
"...Sure."
"You're not pathetic or anything to be ashamed of."
"...Thanks for the comfort."
"No, I mean it. Some might look down on you, but plenty worry about you too. Coco, the folks at the House of Angels."
"...They get crumbs if I profit."
"You're lying."
Jane flinched at Oliver's words.
"Not pure altruism, sure, but not all calculation either. It's tangled up. You know that. I think that's impressive."
"...Grew up with them since kids; bound to feel something."
"Not me."
"...?"
"Orphanage, mines. Young enough for bonds, but they shunned me. Bad luck, they said... So you're better off there than me."
Jane, comforted, looked at Oliver.
"Weird. Not helpful words, but they soothe. Read a book or something?"
"No, haven't read those yet. Just sharing what I feel."
"......"
"And personally, I think you're prettier now. Don't know why, but trying instead of coasting on the plan... Whatever you choose, not my place to judge, but this you seems prettier. Like when we met."
"Me trying to cozy up to Dad for inheritance?"
"No. Striving to be better. Keep smiling, being kind... Beautiful."
Oliver's heartfelt words stirred Jane's emotions—joy, sorrow, gratitude, resentment, satisfaction, dissatisfaction. Conflicting feelings.
Human emotions could be so complex.
Oliver finished his piece.
"...And sorry about the hotel. No intent to ignore, but if it felt that way, my bad. Won't happen again."
"...Saying no intent sounds like an excuse. Not thrilled."
"Ah... Sorry about that too."
Jane smiled faintly.
"Forgiven... Truth is, I owe you an apology too."
"For what?"
"First meeting, I tried casting magic on you. With a magic item."
Oliver rummaged through memories. It clicked.
"Ah, the accessory? The one I ditched before the sewers?"
"Yeah. Boosts affinity on contact. Sorry for the cheap trick."
Her speech thickened again. But it didn't feel off.
He'd heard her cuss plenty when mooching off poor siblings.
"No harm done."
"Yeah, weirdly didn't work on Dave. Thinking of buying another now—what do you think?"
"Hmm, probably don't need it."
"...Okay. I'll trust you."
Her tangled emotions cleared, replaced by satisfaction.
With that, the room lights dimmed, spotlights gathering on the auction stage.
Murmurs rose. Everyone sat or retreated to the back.
"Too bad Coco couldn't come."
Before entering, Coco had split off to buy the book Oliver ordered.
"She promised to buy my book first day."
"Nitpicker. Unpredictable guy."
Moments later, a man who looked like the auctioneer appeared, wheeling a cart with an exotic antique atop it.
Guests adjusted glasses or peered through small telescopes, scrutinizing the item.
Oliver did the same. Difference: they eyed the goods; he eyed the handler.
'...Something off about that guy. Like a sewer snake... Crime Firm hosting?'
As the auction began, excitement built. Finally, the stage announcer spoke.
"Good evening, esteemed guests. Thank you for visiting our auction house. Skipping the tedious formalities, let's get straight to the auc... auc... auction?"
His speech stuttered like a broken doll.
As everyone frowned at the oddity, one side of his head ballooned out! Like a swelling balloon.
Then shoulders, chest, flanks—bulging! Bulging! His whole body inflated, on the verge of bursting.
His body was about to explode.
Panicked guests, bodyguards rushing to protect.
In the chaos, Oliver extracted an emotion.