Chapter 221
Chapter 221
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 221
Chapter Title: Business Proposal (2)
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Shortly after Oliver sat down across from Seamus, two plates of thick T-bone steaks arrived.
One was Oliver's, perfectly seared on the outside, and the other was Seamus's.
"How's the steak? To your taste?"
Oliver slowly swallowed the bite of T-bone steak he'd put in his mouth and replied.
"...Yes, it's delicious."
"Good to hear. It's the signature dish here. That's why I'm on my twentieth plate."
Seamus pointed to the tower of plates stacked up beside him. Then he chomped down on the T-bone steak, bone and all.
Crunch crunch.
His jaw strength was no joke; the tough bone shattered like candy.
"Do Druids generally have hearty appetites?"
"On average? We train our minds and bodies to the extreme, so we need a lot of nutrients. Plus, most of us grew up starving, so we have a bit of a complex about food."
"You grew up starving?"
"You didn't know? Most Druids were sold into it because they were poor. The training's brutal, and you have to cut ties with the secular world—who'd want that?"
"I just learned that today."
"You've got a lot to learn."
Seamus ended it there, but it felt like he had something in mind. Like he was baiting more questions... Oliver obliged.
"What about you, Mr. Seamus?"
"Me? Of course. I don't even remember my parents' faces, but I sure remember being sold."
Seamus tapped his temple with his characteristic exaggerated flair. At the same time, he gauged Oliver's expression.
"Well... I don't blame them. Greenland's barren and poor despite the name, so offering kids to Druids is common. Thanks to that, I got rich—no hard feelings."
"So everyone who gets sold off becomes a Druid?"
"Eh... Ask it the other way. If you train, do you all become black magicians?"
"Um... No."
"Exactly. Becoming a Druid is tough. Only a few with talent make it. Some years, not even one."
"I see..."
"You know nothing about Druids. Not surprising, but odd. You'd think you'd run into one doing fixer work. Guys like me are everywhere these days."
"I've met one. But the timing wasn't right to ask."
"Oh? Who? If he's in Randa, maybe from Enjoyment? Name Ana?"
"Mr. Scott."
"Hmm... Don't know him. What’s he up to now? I'd like to see a Druid sometime."
"He's dead."
"Ah... really? Who got him? Takes someone decent to kill a Druid."
"Me."
"......"
"It's complicated to explain, but we clashed while working together... Does that bother you?"
"Bother me? Not at all. The weak get killed—that's how it is. Diving into this world without that resolve is the real problem, right?"
Seamus lied. He'd hidden his emotions with a magic item, but Oliver could see through it.
"Thanks for understanding. Anyway, what did you want to talk business about?"
"Huh? Already? They said you appreciated good conversation, but you're jumping to business already? Am I that boring?"
Seamus made no secret of his disappointment.
Honestly, he wasn't wrong.
Oliver enjoyed conversations. Sincerely.
He loved learning new facts from others, confirming differing viewpoints, exchanging ideas—the whole process thrilled him.
But with Seamus, it was different.
He seemed to converse with Oliver, but really, it was the opposite.
He just mixed lies and fake sincerity to probe Oliver, without truly engaging.
So Oliver cut to the chase. There'd be sincerity there, at least.
"Sorry. I'm just curious what kind of business you want to do with me... I know nothing about business."
"Spirits preserve us... You've got talent but no clue. Could anything be sadder? You're already doing it."
"Pardon?"
"The black magician training business."
"Black magician training...? Oh, you mean the Fighter Crew guys?"
"Yeah, I saw you fight yesterday. Impressive as hell. Sincerely. And I don't bullshit about this stuff."
It was sincere.
"Thank you. But how did you see it? Were you nearby...? Ah, through the World Tree."
Oliver recalled what Gordon had told him before.
Gordon said Seamus could handle spirit arts, nature communion, beast transformation, and even the World Tree.
And that was spot on.
"Oh...! Sharp where it counts, for someone so green. Guessing World Tree right away. Impressive."
"I heard you could use it last time. Thanks for the praise."
"Not praise. Just facts. Regular folks don't even know what a World Tree is, and most fixers barely do. Only those who grasp the big picture."
"Really?"
"Yep. Only thinkers know the World Tree's power... Curious—how'd you learn about it? Do black magicians teach it now?"
"Read it by chance in a book."
"A book? By chance?"
"Yes, I bought a few from a used bookstore."
"Weird. A used bookstore with World Tree books... But you're not lying, so whatever."
"Thank you."
"Anyway, point is, I confirmed your skills. You turned those Fighter Crew mutts into decent fighting dogs... Impressive."
"They worked hard to learn."
"But a crap teacher ruins it all. First off, my apologies."
"Pardon? For what?"
"At the auction, I offered you a spot under me? Sorry about that. I underestimated you."
"No, I wasn't offended at all."
"Good. I believe capable people deserve proper treatment—especially you."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Sounds weird, but you remind me of myself."
"Do I?"
"Came to Randa alone, made a fixer name in a year? Got a rich girlfriend like me."
"?? Sorry, I don't follow."
"Jane... that old man's daughter. Jane, right? Your girl?"
"Not at all."
"Ah... okay then. Anyway, you remind me of me. Black magician, but as capable as me. Probably had a shitty childhood too. Objectively and emotionally, you're full of charm... So I want to partner up."
"...What kind?"
"Like a mercenary business. Train black magicians and sell 'em."
Oliver pondered briefly before asking.
"...Is that possible?"
"If you've got the skills... Third-rate black magicians begging for training and jobs? Buyers wanting muscle? Plenty. In the city, outside too... You don't think Randa's overflowing mercs and supers work only here, right?"
"Honestly, first time hearing that too."
"So much to learn... But it's fine. Work with me, I'll teach you. How the world turns, how to gather money and power, how to live with it... Promising biz—you could buy a high-rise in a year or two."
Seamus spoke with some sincerity.
"Hm... Can I be honest?"
"Sure. But that sounds like a rejection line."
"I appreciate the high regard and offer, but... honestly, I must decline."
"Hmm... Mind sharing why?"
"I don't like joining organizations."
"Not joining me—partnering."
"But I'd still be under your organization."
Oliver nailed it, leaving Seamus speechless for a moment.
Seemed naive yet sharp, weak yet firm.
"...Doesn't make sense. Most fixers grab stable gigs the second they're known."
"Well, people think differently? You turned down better than Crime Firm and picked them, right?"
Kuhaha! Seamus burst out laughing.
"Oh, you heard that too?"
"Yes."
"But it's bullshit. Think I'd join Crime Firm on a whim? I planned it with a goal—no spending life running errands."
"Goal to start a business?"
"Precisely, wealth and power. Fixer work and business are means. Unless you're a freak, who likes errands for peanuts? You?"
Seamus asked, and Oliver seriously pondered if he was a freak.
Come to think of it, Oliver reflected deeply on why he did fixer work.
Lately, it was to meet people and broaden horizons. Before, for the Black Market.
But why the Black Market?
Recalling not-so-old memories, he quickly found the root reason.
Why he'd left Joseph's Family to become a fixer.
"To learn about Beautiful Light."
"Beautiful Light? What's that?"
"An emotion. A special one."
"Emotion? Ah... yeah, black magicians use them as fuel. Special from you? Not common stuff."
"Right. Thought Black Market might have it, but no."
"Rarer then. All the more reason to build power."
Seamus tried swaying him again. Oliver played along.
"Should I?"
"Yeah. You don't know the world yet—rare things go to the powerful. Good cars, houses, booze, women. Same deal."
"Ah... I see."
"Quit fixing, build power seriously—finding it'll be easy. Money, strength, minions to send... I could help too."
Seamus spoke glowingly sincere, letting Oliver read his true intent.
The business itself wasn't the point.
He wanted Oliver under his influence.
"Hm... Makes sense, but I'll still politely decline. No rush."
"Ho... Not that desperate?"
"No, I am... But the world's full of other fun stuff just as good. Want to take it slow."
Seamus rubbed his chin, decided.
"Alright... Guess that's that. Can't push. If you're done, go ahead."
Oliver stood. On his way out, he stared at one corner of the restaurant.
"Great meal. Thanks for inviting me, Mr. Seamus."
"My pleasure you came. Shame about the deal, but hope we get along. Maybe help me out later."
"I'll mention it to Mr. Forest."
"Forest? Hey, friendly advice?"
"Advice?"
"Yeah. Don't trust brokers too much. They call fixers friends, partners, profit-sharers—but they backstab. Especially Forest."
After the black magician Dave left, Seamus was alone on the second floor of the restaurant .
Or so it seemed.
"Boss. You okay?"
Something rippled in one corner, and a person appeared.
A Druid who'd hidden with camouflage magic—one of Seamus's men.
Crunch! Crunch!
Seamus chewed his T-bone steak as he replied.
He always ate a lot, but more when irritated or deep in thought.
"Honestly? Not great... Been ages since I got stonewalled."
Seamus chuckled, but his subordinate knew his rage.
He always played the carefree slacker, but it was like a predator crouching before the hunt.
How else did he climb this high?
"Chase him now and take him out?"
The subordinate asked. Indeed, Seamus's men were planted around—ready to snap necks if needed.
All known in Randa, subdued by his wealth or power.
"Hm... Nah. Not that easy a mark."
"Really?"
"Yeah. That cute bastard knew you were there. His eyes froze for a second."
"No way? Camouflage was perfect. Plus emotion-hiding item."
"But he clocked it. Dunno how. Could grab him, but not openly during a Crime Firm job. Bad manners, right?"
Seamus half-joked, but it'd been calculated across scenarios.
Crime Firm ties were strained, even watched—but too soon to act.
He still needed their influence.
Until Enjoyment rooted in the secular world.
"Anyway, how were the Fighter Crew mutts downstairs?"
"Tried provoking like you said—no reaction."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Thought alley trash with no rep would bite easy. They just ate quietly and left. Disciplined."
"Ha... Hate that."
Seamus's most sincere words today.
First seeing Dave, he'd pegged him as another Randa dark horse.
Wrong. Far more complex.
Negotiated with Crime Firm solo, turned Fighter Crew scraps into that—disciplined even.
Not just raw power. Needed more. Leadership.
"You taking him too seriously, boss? He walked away with nothing this time."
"That's why it bugs me."
"Huh?"
"Reconciled Fighter Crew and Crime Firm, built ties—and took zilch? Doesn't add up. Could've grabbed plenty just talking."
"So...?"
"One or the other. Clever bastard plotting behind, or greedy fool... Hope it's the first."
"Not a fool?"
"Yeah. Smart ones are predictable—have motives. Fools aren't. No goals. Chaos."
The subordinate groaned, shook his head.
"Hm... Too deep for a peon like me. Either way, shouldn't we take him out ASAP? Trained force like that under Crime Firm'll be hard to shake later."
Seamus didn't deny it.
He'd profited most from Crime Firm's seemingly efficient but fragile structure.
"Oh, can't have that. Long way to go... That pipeline from last time still good?"
"Y District?"
"Yeah. Contact the development opposition committee through them."
"What message?"
"Dare let a black magician wreck Y District and walk? Bribe 'em right—they'll bite."