Chapter 210
Chapter 210
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 210
Chapter Title: A Place to Crash (2)
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Oliver handed over the bag, and the real estate agent in L District flashed a businesslike smile as he took it and opened it.
Click!
The lock sprang open with a cheerful snap.
Inside the bag were stacks of high-denomination bills.
It covered a full year's advance rent for the house, the deposit, the agent's fee, and various extra charges for confidentiality and the like. All in all, a hefty sum.
But Oliver didn't mind.
Sure, it was a lot of money, but between starting up with the Kell Free Independence Army, partnering with Arthur, direct commissions from the city, guarding the auction house, recovering auction items, and a bunch of other gigs, his pockets had gotten pretty flush without him even realizing it.
If he exaggerated a bit, he could just stick it all in the bank and live off the interest without lifting a finger for food, clothing, or shelter.
So as long as he got proper service in return, the cash he'd just handed over was no big loss.
Thud.
The L District agent inspected the money, then closed the case.
Used to dealing in large cash transactions, he confirmed everything with just a few glances.
"All good, sir. Thank you."
"No, thank you... Ah, here's the signed paperwork."
Oliver gathered his documents and passed the rest to the agent.
The man reviewed them and filed them away.
"As per your advance orders, we've furnished the place, cleared out and disinfected the basement spotless."
"Yeah, I checked earlier. It was impeccable. Must've been a hassle—thanks."
"No trouble at all. Just earning our keep. Here's your keys."
The agent handed over two keyrings. Faint traces of mana shimmered on them.
"One for the front door, one for the basement. The second's a spare—keep track of it. Security's magical, so reissuing costs a fee. Heads-up."
"Got it."
"Appreciate it. I'll be off then. Have a good one."
The agent bowed politely.
Oliver saw him out, then gave the rented house a once-over inside and out.
Like any two-story home in central Landa, it had a sharp gabled roof.
Built after the fire codes went in, it wasn't butted right up against the neighbors—there was decent space, respecting privacy.
And the surroundings felt downright peaceful.
At the very least, no drunken rants or gunshots from revelers in the dead of night.
Oliver stepped inside and checked the living room and kitchen.
As agreed, all the basics were stocked, and the upstairs bedroom and study were set up exactly to his specs.
"Oh, even a radio."
Oliver spotted the one on the nightstand by the bed.
A rare sight in the factory and worker-heavy P, Q, R, S, T, and U Districts—pricey item, too.
He'd never felt the need to buy one before, but opportunity knocked, so he'd added it on a whim.
Click!
Oliver flicked it on.
A quick whine, then a news channel crackled through.
Landa local news. He twiddled the dial—now economics and investments.
[-...so the odds of a new magic stone mine opening in the New World are looking very high. Opportunity! Opportunity! Prometheus Corp., first on the scene, is expected to monopolize development. It's a lifeline for the company, which was drowning in bad news—not just breathing room, but a whole new launchpad. Shares are rebounding...]
The radio blared on in an upbeat voice, but since it wasn't his wheelhouse yet, Oliver struggled to focus.
His mind wandered after just a moment, but he kept trying to tune in.
The reason? These econ and current events channels were the real value of radio.
Landa's investment-savvy middle class got their tips this way, which meant worker slums and poor zones had abysmal radio penetration—while affluent areas were loaded with them.
Quite the phenomenon.
'Hmm... But if certain folks only get info through radio, couldn't someone manipulate it by feeding selective intel on purpose?'
The thought crossed Oliver's mind as he eyed the radio, but he shook it off.
Surely there are safeguards. No way it'd be that sloppy...
Satisfied with the basics, Oliver nodded and headed straight to the basement.
The main reason he'd picked this house: a massive, impeccably finished basement below.
The second he checked it out, he drew Big Mouth from his belt.
Reacting to his will, it swelled up like rising dough, burping contentedly.
Thrilled to wake in a basement after so long—and no emergency, either.
"Big Mouth, mind helping out?"
Big Mouth nodded and regurgitated four zombie dolls from its maw.
Ptooey!
Ptooeeey!
Ptooeeeey!
Ptooeeeeey!
They splatted onto the floor: Helper 1, Duncan, Sniper, Black Mage.
Oliver pulled four vials from Child's pouch in his pocket and uncorked them.
As if pre-rehearsed, the Children slipped into their respective dolls, stood, and lined up.
"Home... New home."
"Nice. Feels good."
"Kyahaha!"
"........."
They seemed pleased with the new basement. No wonder—nearly twice the size of the old digs, no mold, perfect conditions.
Just like Big Mouth favored pricey eats, the Children preferred spacious, comfy spots. Not surprising.
Clap! Clap!
Oliver clapped to grab their attention.
Big Mouth and the dolls focused on him.
He handed Big Mouth a fat stack of 10,000-Landa bills.
"Gulp?!!"
"Dig in. You've earned it."
Big Mouth savored each bill like fine cuisine before swallowing.
Oliver prepped gifts for the Children next: globs of fused emotion and life force.
"Go ahead."
They gaped wide, extracting and slurping it straight from the dolls.
Shwoooosh!
Shwoooosh!
Shwoooosh!
Shwoooosh!
They vacuumed it up in seconds. Their appetites had only improved.
Good call not mass-producing Children willy-nilly. Feed costs would've been brutal.
"Bellies full?"
"Nope."
"Grrr."
"No."
"Bad."
"More."
They all shook their heads. But that was fine—just politeness.
"As you can see, we've all moved. Better place than before. Now we can set up a proper lab."
The Children cheered; Big Mouth joined in knowingly.
"Grrruuuu..."
"Thanks for the enthusiasm... No firing salutes, Second."
The Child in Sniper—Second—halted her eight-handed barrage mid-draw, holstering with clear disappointment.
"Kyaaa..."
"We're relocating here. Basement's our lab and workshop. Lend a hand? Big Mouth?"
"Gulp?"
"Can you spit out those Black Market buys from a few days ago, in order? And First?"
"Kyuh..."
"Got diagrams and notes here. Mind arranging as Big Mouth regurgitates? Lots to do—could use the help."
First nodded; the others and Big Mouth followed suit.
"Perfect. Thanks. Extra cash, emotions, mana, and life force after we're done."
"Hahaha!!!"
"Kyahaha!!!"
"Clack! Clack! Clack!"
"Grrruuuk-!!"
Rewards promised, they sprang into action with their signature cries.
Great chemistry—no orders needed. They took positions, hauling Big Mouth's output to spots, First thumping its back for more.
Oliver watched approvingly, then stepped out. He extracted stored mana, applying security spells to doors and windows—ones he'd picked up in advance—and soundproofing to the interior walls.
Intruders unlikely, privacy solid, but better safe.
Mid-spellwork, a beep-beep-beep signaled an incoming call.
Forest's direct line.
Click.
Oliver answered.
"Yes, Mr. Forest? Isn't X District a ways off—takes time? ...Not that? Then what? ...Understood. ...Yes, yes. ...Got it. Heading to the restaurant now."
He wrapped up and prepped to head out.
At Forest's summons, Oliver paused his tasks, rounded up the zombie dolls and Big Mouth, and headed to the restaurant on 27th Street in T District.
Still open, but a sign hinted at an impending move.
"Yeah, time to call in a favor. Guild's gotta step up for this... Huh? You're here?"
Forest, uncharacteristically on a street call outside the restaurant, greeted him.
"Yes, just arrived. You okay?"
"Don't wanna be prickly, but no, not great. Honestly, thrown off and pissed."
Forest reined in his boiling frustration.
The trigger? The Holy Knights summoning black mages. Some sudden "light investigation."
Oliver asked,
"This ever happen before?"
"Rarely, a few times. But always after some incident... Never out of the blue like this. That's why it grates."
Forest meant it—like dealing with a rude kid.
"Some top fixers already got hauled in. Friends of mine among 'em. Black mages, sure, but decent folks."
He nearly snapped, held back, composing himself for a smart response.
"Can't fight Holy Knights, though. Best play is comply. Sorry, but can you cooperate?"
Forest requested; Oliver nodded readily.
Moving day timing sucked, but unavoidable.
"Let's roll then."
"You're coming too, Mr. Forest?"
"Obviously. It's your gig."
"Oh... Thank you."
"If you go down, all our work's wasted. Who cleans up?"
"........."
"Why the look? Get ready already."