Chapter 256
Chapter 256
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 256
Chapter Title: Ongoing Observations (1)
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Yun-gi-flowing green long hair and a tall stature—Seamus made his entrance, draping an arm over Murphy's shoulder.
Oliver and Jane's gazes naturally shifted to him.
"Mr. Seamus?"
"Hello there. Jane. It was time for our appointment, but you weren't around, so I came looking myself. I was starting to worry something had happened."
Jane checked her wristwatch.
"Ah... You're right. Sorry about that."
"You ought to be. Time is money, after all. But if it's chatting with this fellow, I suppose I can let it slide. He's the rising Liquor King, after all."
Seamus patted Murphy's chest a couple times. Murphy masked his irritation and forced a smile.
"Thank you for understanding, Mr. Seamus."
Jane offered her thanks with an outward smile, and Seamus accepted them with one of his own.
Soon enough, his gaze drifted over to Oliver.
"...It's been a while."
"Yes, Mr. Seamus. Good to see you."
"I hope you mean that. I certainly do... Hey, Liquor King. Mind if I borrow these two for a bit? We had plans."
Murphy, standing there like a pillar, swallowed the displeasure bubbling up inside and said it was fine.
Seamus eyed Murphy's face for a moment, then smirked and disengaged his arm.
With that, he led Oliver and Jane off somewhere.
"Nice meeting you, Mr. Murphy."
Oliver gave Murphy a parting greeting before following. Murphy returned it with sincere politeness.
"Truly glad to meet you as well. I'll be in touch later."
After parting ways with Murphy, Oliver walked alongside Jane, trailing behind Seamus.
The party guests—decked out in fine clothes and jewels—cleared a path the moment they spotted Seamus striding forward.
Just as Jane had said, Seamus appeared to have hit it big. The way people wilted under his presence said it all.
"You keep surprising me every time I see you."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Had no idea you were buddies with the Liquor King. You've got some surprisingly wide connections."
"Ah... I took on a few commissions from him back in the day. But what's the Liquor King?"
"Oh, right. I butted in before you could answer properly. Should I apologize?"
"No, no need for that."
"Good kid. Good people deserve rewards... Like I mentioned earlier, it's the nickname he picked up after selling a ridiculous amount of booze and getting filthy rich. Fits the Liquor King title to a T."
"Oh, I see."
"Yeah. The product's solid. Magic liquor... And Murphy's got the chops for it too. Who would've thought he'd pivot from domestic to overseas markets? Thanks to that, he's locked down his spot inside Crime Firm without extra rivals, just scooping up cash. Word is, he's richer than your average executive."
Hoo... Seamus seemed utterly sincere.
Oliver glanced at Jane for confirmation. She nodded.
"That's impressive... But how do you know all that, Mr. Seamus?"
"In places like this, the chatter's either about who made bank or who stepped out. Dressed to the nines in jewels and pricey threads, but the talk's no different from a back-alley dive... Get used to it. As the boss of an organization, you gotta develop a taste for spots like these."
"Uh... Sorry, but I think there's some misunderstanding."
"Misunderstanding?"
"Yes, I—"
"—Ah, there you are!"
Just as Oliver opened his mouth to clear things up, a woman's voice rang out loud and clear.
They turned toward the sound. A voluptuous woman with orange hair and an orange dress came rushing over and threw her arms around Seamus.
"You got here fast!"
"Of course. Can't keep a lady waiting."
The woman radiated affection and dependence toward Seamus, while he directed annoyance and calculation right back at her.
The stark contrast in their emotions was striking, prompting Oliver to ask Jane,
"Who is she?"
"Murtle Benu. She's part of our Sisterhood's asset group and Seamus's girlfriend."
"Ah, got it... She really likes Mr. Seamus, doesn't she?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Long story, but she owes him big time."
"I see."
"Yep. To the point where he's handling most of her assets already."
Oliver was taken aback. Was that really okay?
"Hey, what are you two whispering about without me?"
While Oliver and Jane conferred, Seamus brought Murtle over.
Murtle sauntered up with her arm linked in Seamus's and greeted Oliver. Oliver, via Jane, greeted her in return.
Simply linking arms with Seamus had Murtle's confidence and self-esteem gushing out like an endless fountain.
Just as Jane said, her faith and reliance on him ran incredibly deep.
'Not sure if that's a good thing...'
She turned to Oliver.
"First black magician I've laid eyes on, and you're nothing like I pictured. Thought it'd be some creepy weirdo running shady experiments in a basement... You're actually pretty decent."
"Thanks for the compliment. I was holed up in a gloomy lab before, but Miss Jane brought me here today."
"Oh? You talk so charmingly. Jane didn't say much, so I figured you might be bad news, but I should've met you sooner."
As Oliver started to reply, Jane cut in.
She casually glanced around before speaking up.
"Murtle. Any idea where the others went? No sign of them. Did I show up too late?"
"Huh? Oh, no, no... They were waiting, but headed that way for a sec. Magicians showed up."
"Magicians?"
"Yeah. Mage Tower ones. Students, to be exact. Here pitching for investments—they went to check 'em out... Wanna go see?"
Oliver had heard magicians had crashed the Randa asset holders' party, but it didn't faze him much.
He'd already gotten the scoop from Forrest.
Plus, he'd read similar accounts in the diary of the plundered 'Lightning Magician' and Aidri's research journal.
Magicians were indeed amassing fortunes these days, but plenty in the Mage Tower still scraped for cash.
Classic cases: folks like the Lightning Magician or Aidri—decent talent, zilch for backing.
Living as a Mage Tower student took real money, usually bankrolled by sponsors. Hit your talent ceiling and sponsorships dried up? Time to hustle solo.
Three main paths:
Sneak Mage Tower resources and know-how for 'backroom deals', hit the streets as a 'street magician', or court Randa's rich for 'investments'.
Just like this.
"So, this breeding method guarantees stable purebred pups?"
"Yes, in droves. Adorable snouts, sassy-yet-cute muzzles, stubby tails—the works."
"Oh my, that's fantastic!"
"Fantastic? Pure perfection... This'll skyrocket your clout in the pet association. Deal?"
A blond, blue-eyed young man was deep in conversation with an old lady cradling a dog.
She showed keen interest; he poured on the persuasion, desperation leaking through.
To Oliver—used to Mage Tower students brimming with pride and poise—this was downright alien.
Yet it felt oddly natural too. Everything had its duality.
Black magicians settling debts with emotions as collateral.
Bootleggers hiring retired vets.
Sisterhoods exploiting their own.
Pater Church tangled in worldly politics.
So maybe the Mage Tower's underbelly wasn't so shocking.
Oliver scanned the room, continuing to observe magicians mingling with the city's elite.
Besides the breeding pitch, a woman touted potions refined into cosmetics for eternal youth. Another hyped a new steel-forging technique.
Mostly students, but a few full-fledged magicians too.
Prime entertainment for Oliver on a normal day—but today, meh.
Some pitches he'd read in libraries, papers, books. Slim prospects.
Yet here they dazzled as breakthroughs, hooking the crowd's curiosity.
The disconnect nagged at him, so he asked Jane,
"Do guests here pour a lot into magic ventures?"
"Hmm... Depends, but solid items get big bucks. One jackpot means massive returns."
"But flops wipe out the principal, no?"
"Sure."
"Then it's fine dumping cash into unknowns?"
"Unknowns?"
Someone cut in mid-chat. Voice like ice.
Oliver wondered if he'd phrased it wrong and turned to apologize.
"Ah, sorry. First time in a place like this. If I offended—"
"—Nah. Just sharing thoughts? Speak freely."
An old lady stood there.
Intellectual bob of gray-white hair, draped in pricey magic baubles.
Every piece hummed with defensive spells and emotion-veiling security charms.
'Top-shelf stuff. Emotions barely peek through.'
Oliver sized up the concealing item's quality.
But that wasn't all that pinged his radar.
Age-worn face, yet skin freakishly smooth. Faint black magic aura wafted from her.
Echoed what he'd sensed from Edith long ago.
'Artificial skin and black magic traces—what's the link?'
As he mulled it over, Jane stepped up and greeted first.
"Hello, Ms. Miranda."
"Good to see you, Jane. Fashionably late."
Miranda arrived, escorting women in lavish dresses and suits.
Jane explained the delay to her.
"With Murphy?"
"Yes."
Once briefed, Miranda pivoted to Oliver and extended a hand.
Mild on the surface, but her emotions screamed formality over fondness.
"Impressive. Rumors don't do you justice... Whoops, casual with a stranger. Casual okay? I'm the elder here."
"Of course. Please, make yourself comfortable."
"Polite as they say. You know who I am?"
"Yes, Mr. Forrest mentioned you. Pleasure, Ms. Miranda."
"Forrest?"
"Yes, my broker."
"Heard the name recently. Lucky fixer hookup, bounced back strong... Dealing with him from day one?"
"Yes."
"Wild. Still dealing with him, though. Friendship guy?"
"...?? Sorry, not following."
"Nobody climbing Randa sticks with first contacts. Either starry-eyed romantics or those with dirt on 'em."
"Ah... Really? I stick with Forrest 'cause he nails every job. Top-notch skills. My good fortune."
Oliver laid out his honest take, no filter.
Orphan roots or not, he counted himself lucky—Forrest included.
Miranda's face twitched ever so slightly.
"...You're cut from different cloth than most fixers I've met. Smart move having Jane invite you."
"Just your average fixer. Appreciate the kind words."
Miranda eyed Jane.
"You've snagged a gem."
"My luck."
"Sure seems that way. And luck's a must-have in this city... Dave okay?"
"Yes, please."
"Welcome to the party, Dave. On that note, I'll field your earlier question."
"Investing blind?"
"Yep. Sounded worried for us."
"Ah, not worried. Just didn't click. Sorry if it rubbed wrong."
"No sweat. You're not off-base. We barely know the field ourselves. High-and-mighty magicians hoard their secrets. But options exist."
"Yeah?"
"Yup. World stays balanced. Hire an advisor, no knowledge needed."
Miranda flicked her hand lightly.
A suited woman from her group dipped her head.
Every one brimmed with serious mana.
"Magicians."
"Mmm... Good fortune these days—top talent's hireable. Some even specialize."
Hoo... Oliver blinked in surprise. Made sense.
Washed-out Mage Tower types flooded the streets.
This gig? Totally viable.
Rational, even. Leverage expertise, dodge fixer risks, chase fat paychecks.
"That's something... Any fields catching your eye, Ms. Miranda?"
"Not many pop... Agni school's new thermal power tech stood out a tad."
"I'd skip it."
"What?"
"Better to pass."
Oliver delivered it steady, no waver.
Against the other magicians' flashy rhetoric and slick phrasing, Oliver rang truer.
Pure facts, no agenda.
Miranda leaned in, intrigued.
"Why? Not hot air, I assume."
"Efficiency caps out. Thermal power? Burn coal or magic stones with fire magic for energy. Improvements? Still hard limits."
Unlike his usual wide-open optimism, Oliver was cut-and-dry.
Not baseless, though.
Drawn from books and papers skimmed in the Elemental school's library.
Consensus: thermal power's capped, bar minor Agni tweaks. Even Kevin from Agni agreed.
Sure, some unseen prodigy could flip it—but odds low.
Oliver had clocked the limits himself in the docs.
Still, he hedged.
"Just my take, mind. A real genius could shift it."
"If no genius? What's got better prospects than thermal?"
Miranda fired back. Pure curiosity—no ire, no doubt.
Not just her.
Her entourage, Jane, Seamus, nearby guests—all zeroed in on Oliver.
Felt like a blunder.
"Hmm... Mere black magician here. Hate to steer you wrong and cause losses."
"Why fret? Your call on investments. Bad tip, bad bet? On you for lousy judgment. No idiots here. Right?"
Miranda polled her women. Nods all around.
Cornered now. Oliver spoke.
"Pure Mana school seems solid."
"Why?"
"Tweaks mana inside stones—no burning, cuts waste. Personally? Harness energy from mana stone compression—"
"—Armageddon. A black magician holding forth on magic!"
Someone barged in mid-sentence.
Derek Redhill.