Chapter 251
Chapter 251
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 251
Chapter Title: Fixer Dave (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“Hoo...”
T District 27th Street... no, correction, 30th Street. Oliver let out a sigh of admiration upon arriving.
Forest's newly acquired restaurant was larger and more stylish than he had imagined.
Unlike the old restaurant on 27th Street, which only used part of a building, this new one on 30th Street occupied an entire structure.
Even in T District, where real estate prices were relatively low, it was easy to guess that this had cost a fortune given Randa's murderous property rates.
“They must have stretched a bit... ah, no, not really.”
Oliver muttered to himself as he peered through the restaurant window at the packed establishment.
Inside, several people were dining.
It was quite surprising that a place like this was thriving in T District, where low-income laborers made up the bulk of the population.
But his admiration was short-lived. Oliver followed the other customers inside.
Clack- clack- clack-
With each step Oliver took, his quarterstaff tapped rhythmically against the floor, and along with it, the restaurant's clean yet atmospheric interior came into view.
Like the old spot on 27th Street, the new one on 30th prioritized neat interiors over flashy decor.
At least on the first-floor hall.
'But for some reason, it feels like everyone's staring at me.'
Oliver didn't show it outwardly, but he thought to himself as he sensed sharp gazes directed his way upon entering.
A man and woman who looked like fixers by the window, an elderly gentleman with glasses in the corner, a young man in relatively casual clothes that didn't quite fit the restaurant vibe, and so on.
All of them eyed Oliver in their own ways.
Some stared openly and whispered, others glanced indifferently, and some watched with subtle interest.
He'd received looks like this after big missions before, but this time they felt much more intense.
'Why is everyone acting like this? I haven't done anything for a while... well, at least no one seems malicious, so maybe it's fine?'
Oliver brushed off the stares and looked for a server.
The staff seemed to be mostly new faces.
“Mr. Dave?”
A familiar voice called out as he scanned the place.
He turned to see Al, a server from Forest's restaurant.
“Ah... Mr. Al. Hello.”
“Yes, Mr. Dave. Hello. It's been so long. Thank you for coming by.”
Just as Al said, he greeted Oliver warmly and politely.
The uniforms had changed a bit with the new restaurant, and these looked even sharper.
“The new place looks great. Business seems booming too. Impressive.”
“Not at all. It's all thanks to you, Mr. Dave.”
Oliver tilted his head. Al's words weren't flattery—they were sincere.
“Me?”
“Yes. I'd love to explain, but... are you here to see the boss, by any chance?”
“Ah, yes. That's right. I'm here to meet Mr. Forest. Is that possible?”
“Of course. If it's alright with you, could you follow me for a moment?”
Oliver nodded, and Al guided him with his usual polite, refined movements.
They headed to the second-floor hall above the first-floor space. Though it was the same restaurant, the second floor was a touch more lavish, and the patrons seemed different—wealthier types, not fixers, informants, or brokers.
Clack- clack- clack-
Oliver ascended, tapping his quarterstaff on each step, and just like when he'd first entered the restaurant, the people on the second floor fixed their gazes on him.
No malice, but a flash of curiosity, scrutiny, greed, and various other emotions burned briefly and intensely.
“Please wait a moment.”
Al spoke to Oliver before approaching Forest, who was chatting with some elderly gentlemen in the corner.
Forest was the only one who hadn't changed a bit.
'Feels like it's been ages...'
Oliver thought as he looked at Forest.
It made sense— this was the first time seeing him since sealing the Crime Firm and Fighter Crew contracts.
The Mage Tower business had taken more time than expected.
'No regrets, though. I gained a lot of fun stuff out of it.'
Forest, having received a whisper from Al, politely excused himself from the elderly gentlemen and stood.
They didn't seem displeased at all. If anything, they were accommodating him.
“It's really been a while.”
Forest approached. Oliver replied.
“Yes, I was thinking the same. Good to see you again.”
“Funny how our minds are in sync sometimes. Care to talk in my office, if that's alright?”
Forest led the way happily as Oliver nodded.
“The office is just like the one on 27th Street.”
Oliver remarked upon entering the back office, guided by Forest.
It was a bit larger, but the atmosphere, interior, even the furniture was identical.
The well-worn desk, old cabinet, piles of documents, and so on.
“I like the office familiar. I have a separate reception room for guests, so no issues there.”
“You mean the folks on the second-floor hall?”
Forest grinned at Oliver's question.
“You've really gotten the hang of this scene, huh? Spot on. Clients from both the city's shadows and the light. Crime Firm directors and execs, brokers, corporate officers, factory owners, tycoons, etc.”
All the power players moving Randa. Oliver glanced back at the office door, recalling the crowd on the second floor.
There had been quite a few.
“Impressive. Business must be thriving.”
“Normally I'd play humble and deny it, but honestly, you're right. Crime Firm keeps requesting Fighter Crew. Thanks to that, I'm raking in referral fees nonstop.”
Forest spoke like it was effortless income, but Oliver knew better.
Every time a fixer took a job, brokers gathered tons of intel behind the scenes—details, risks, hidden catches—then matched people, rewards, and more.
It was war in its own way, just differently shaped.
Though not always, Forest didn't strike him as the type to slack.
“How are the Fighter Crew folks doing? Good at their jobs?”
“Of course. You trained them, didn't you?”
Forest's face lit up with admiration, joy, trust, and pride.
“Most of them are nailing their missions. Better than expected. Crime Firm's thrilled, and their rep in the underworld's climbing back up. Back-alley thugs who could throw punches turned real black mages... Now clients are flocking to deal with me, and top fixers are seeking me out too. It's a virtuous cycle.”
“That's amazing.”
“Thanks. From your reaction, seems you haven't heard a thing. Been out of the city?”
Hoo... Oliver was impressed. As sharp as ever. Figuring out he'd left Randa from just a few words.
“Ah, sorry. If that's prying, I apologize. Just excited to see you after so long.”
“No, my apologies for not mentioning it. Personal business, so details are tough to share. Thanks for understanding.”
Forest nodded without a word.
He was curious what Oliver had been up to, but held back to respect the fixer-broker distance.
Instead, he asked something else.
“So, what's the visit for? Here for work?”
Oliver paused without answering right away.
Fixer work wasn't a bad idea...
The Mage Tower salary covered living expenses fine, but factoring in research and crafting costs, restarting fixer gigs made sense.
His savings had dwindled since taking a break after Pinkman.
'But priorities first. No time to waste.'
Oliver shook his head, recalling his to-do list.
“Not today. I came with some questions.”
“Figured as much... Still disappointing. Had some fun jobs lined up for you.”
“Fun jobs?”
“Yeah, wanna hear 'em?”
Oliver was tempted but shook his head.
He had a feeling it'd derail things.
“I'd love to, but can I ask mine first?”
“Smart choice. Go ahead.”
“Do you know where Mr. Iwan is?”
Iwan. Smith's master who made Big Mouth, and the black mage artisan behind the meat hammers used by those cannibal disciples.
They'd parted at the House of Angels, and Forest had said he'd handle him.
“Hm... Probably X District. Guy's like a rubber ball, bouncing everywhere—hard to pin down exactly.”
Forest sighed, a rare sign of strain despite hiding it well.
“But if you need him in X District, I can track him down.”
“Could you? I'd appreciate it.”
“Of course. I volunteered in the first place. Mind if I ask why you're looking?”
Oliver stood at the question, pulling Big Mouth from the leather case at his waist.
The dough-like Big Mouth swelled, sprouting limbs.
“Gulp?”
“That's your Big Mouth, huh.”
Forest stared, eyes wide with shock and awe.
“Sorry. Figured showing you was fastest.”
Forest gestured to continue, so Oliver asked Big Mouth to fetch the item from before.
Big Mouth's mouth twitched near its head, then spat something out cleanly.
The meat hammer. One that had guzzled Bartoli's blood in bulk.
“Looks different from the one I saw before. The vibe too...”
Even wrapped in bandages, the hammer's altered form and aura couldn't be hidden as it wriggled, craving blood.
“Some stuff happened. Wanted to consult Mr. Iwan on it and ask a favor.”
“Hm... Not my expertise, but I bet he'd be interested. I'll hurry and find him.”
“Thank you.”
“Thanks are always my department.”
“Pardon?”
Oliver blinked. Al had said something odd earlier too. Everyone was talking in riddles.
“I'll explain later... Any other questions? Doesn't feel like you came just for this.”
“Ah... Yes. Could you help me meet Mr. Edith?”
“Edith?”
Forest furrowed his brow in disbelief. Totally out of left field. Oliver agreed, to a point.
“Sorry, just to confirm—Edith Rock? The hefty guy in R District with tons of real estate, invested in Prometheus Corp and became a big shot?”
“Hefty” meant fat.
“Yes, that's him. Jane's father.”
Forest didn't relax his brow even after the right answer. If anything, it tightened.
“Well... It's so sudden, not sure what to say. Why meet him?”
“Got business.”
Oliver's vague reply didn't prompt Forest to pry. What a considerate guy.
“Sorry to disappoint, but I can't help right now. Not someone I deal with, and word is his health's tanked again—no outside activity. ...Ah, you wouldn't know. After Jane's job, he was on death's door, then suddenly better. Now bad again.”
“I figured.”
“Figured?”
Forest eyed him skeptically but shook it off. Oliver had pulled this before.
Seemed clueless sometimes, but knew plenty others didn't, and pulled off miracles.
“Anyway, can't hook you up with Edith immediately. No direct line. I can inquire, but it'll take time.”
Oliver recalled the Edith note in his memo pad.
Tricky. Time was short.
“Is it urgent?”
“Probably.”
“How about asking her? Don't know details, but of anyone I know, she's got the best shot.”
“Who?”
“Who else? Miss Jane.”