Chapter 265
Chapter 265
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 265
Chapter Title: Daily Life (1)
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After wrapping up the deal, Ewan shoved the meat hammer into his cloak and rose from his seat, heading out of the warehouse.
"No idea when, but I'll get in touch later."
He said it with such cheer that it was hard to believe he'd just been shackled and locked up moments ago.
Joe, who had been standing guard outside the warehouse, shot Oliver a puzzled look. Oliver nodded to indicate everything was fine.
Seeing that, Joe didn't try to stop Ewan.
"Great meeting you too. Thanks for the free drinks."
Ewan patted Joe's chest a couple of times as he left.
Joe watched him go with a dissatisfied glare.
Once Ewan was gone, Joe approached cautiously.
"...Did everything go well?"
Forest glanced at Oliver instead of answering, and Oliver picked up on it.
"Yeah, seems like it did."
"If you don't mind me asking, what did you talk about?"
Joe asked with genuine politeness, not just surface-level courtesy.
As Oliver hesitated over where to start, Forest stepped in.
"He showed us an intriguing black magic item, and we agreed he'd process it into the form Dave wants."
Oliver nodded in agreement.
"Ah, I see... But isn't that dangerous? He just left."
"He said it can't be done here—we'd have to go to Z District."
"Z District?"
Joe furrowed his brow in confusion.
It was a perfectly natural reaction.
X District was one of the roughest spots in Randa, but still within the bounds of common sense.
Y District was uncharted territory, and Z District was treated like some kind of demonic realm.
And not without reason—mutants of all kinds lurked there, along with criminals and dangerous organizations. The Development Opposition Committee was one of the prime examples.
It was an incredibly hazardous place.
The kind no outsider would dream of visiting.
When Joe pointed this out, Forest shook his head.
"No need to worry. He said he does business with the Development Opposition Committee in Z District, so he won't end up as a guest of honor."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I didn't see the actual deal, but I did see they have connections."
"But isn't that even worse? What if he runs off with the item? We can't even put our guys on him in Z District."
"...? Sorry, Joe, but I'm the one who just got help here, so maybe it's not my place... but why would Fighter Crew watch Ewan? This is my job, my deal."
Joe was at a loss for words in the face of Oliver's question.
His face flickered with bewilderment, hesitation, fear.
Oliver couldn't figure out why.
"...Anyway, I'm grateful for the help. But he did say we'd have to go to Z District to process the item—that much is true. And he won't just bolt with it."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. He was sincere about the deal. Doesn't strike me as the type to break a promise lightly."
"Ah, okay... Got it."
Joe nodded without further argument.
He seemed much more agreeable compared to before.
Oliver stood and gave Joe a proper bow of thanks.
"Thank you for your help. Thanks to you, I got to meet Ewan sooner than expected. I was worried things might drag on—really appreciate it."
"No, no. Just doing what I should."
Oliver was the one who'd been helped, yet Joe bowed even deeper.
Something felt off.
"Um... If it's okay, could I ask one question?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"You said you all got your suits made in the same style, right?"
"Ah, yeah... We came up with the style ourselves, and Crime Firm tailored them."
"Hmm... Must've cost a pretty penny."
Oliver glanced at Forest as he asked.
"Well, with our numbers, it's not exactly pocket change."
Oliver nodded.
"Guess there's no helping it then. I'll have to change mine."
Joe looked flustered.
"Pardon? What do you...?"
"Oh, nothing big. Just the suit style. If we all keep wearing the same thing, people might get the wrong idea... So I'm switching mine up."
"...Why?"
"It's more economical that way? Cheaper than changing 288 people's outfits—just mine."
Joe closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face as he grasped Oliver's firm resolve against misunderstandings.
He looked disappointed, saddened.
But only for a moment. Joe opened his eyes, steeling himself.
"Could I... ask one thing? No, make it a request?"
"A request?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"Could Dave become the leader of our Fighter Crew?"
"So I asked why. Why ask me to lead Fighter Crew. If something tough was going on."
"......."
"Thankfully, no troubles. Training's making them stronger bit by bit, jobs going smoothly. Win rates and survival rates up, steady work, good income."
"......."
"So I asked again. Why me? Joe said all the Fighter Crew members respect and like me. Realized how well I taught them, no strings attached—grateful for it. Begged me to be their leader. Not just Joe—the others with him too."
"......."
"Honestly, doesn't feel bad. Worked hard teaching them, seeing results... Nice. But separately, I turned down the leader offer."
"......."
"Weird, right? I taught, but they put in the effort to learn. Me, who's done nothing else, sitting in the leader's seat? And I'm not even from X, Y, or Z Districts... So I refused."
"......"
"I'm not from here, not leader material. My curiosity comes first... Plus, they're already running the group fine—me stepping in as leader just feels off, no matter how I think about it. Joe tried convincing me it was okay, but I still said no. Didn't like the idea of inserting myself next to people standing on their own."
"......."
"Didn't fully get it, but Joe accepted. Instead, they're planning to expand Fighter Crew—asked for my help with training. That, I agreed to. They're working hard; wanted to lend a hand."
"......."
"Oh, and funny story about Marie."
"......."
"After I left, she took over Joseph's Family. Some bumps along the way, but still."
"......."
"Renamed it 'The Chosen People,' expanding too. Not how I would've done it, but impressive. Don't know more—kept my distance. But maybe time to check in once. Master."
Oliver finished speaking and stood.
Across from him, slumped against the altar, was Joseph's skeletonized remains.
Dead well over a year now, nearing two—down to bones and scraps of skin.
Clink, clink.
Oliver poured liquor into a cup he'd brought, arranging food from Forest's restaurant on a plate.
The rich aroma filled the dim space.
"Thanks for listening, Master. Not sure when, but I'll visit again when I have time."
Oliver bowed politely and left.
Using glowing mana orbs, he retraced his steps, emerging from the abandoned hospital.
Business done, Oliver headed straight for the fence to go home.
"Wonder if I can hail a taxi here? Didn't think about getting back."
"How do you usually get home?"
"Ask the cab to return in a few hours. Today, rode with someone else on personal business—no reservation."
"Sent them ahead since they were busy. My mistake, though."
"Tricky spot. Taxis are rare in X District... Want me to call one?"
"That'd be great. Thanks, Kent."
Oliver spoke to the hulking figure in the alley shadows.
Kent wore a tattered longcoat, gripping a quarterstaff disguised as a cane.
Looking down at him, Oliver asked,
"Were you waiting for me?"
"Lying would sound fake, huh?"
"Yeah... How'd you know?"
"Heard how us poor brothers make ends meet last time. Figuring you'd come here? Not hard."
"Ah... Impressive."
"Heh. Isn't it? Figured if you came here, you'd hit this spot... Anyway, good to see you."
"Likewise—sincerely. Been ages."
"It has. Actually, came with a request."
"Ah......."
Oliver gasped in mild surprise but quickly composed himself.
In this busy city, folks didn't visit without reason. This was normal.
"Tell me. If I can help, gladly will."
Kent smirked, pulling a bottle from his longcoat.
"Care to share a drink with a lonely old man?"
And that was it.
Kent just wanted company for drinks and chit-chat.
Said this was his only shot to catch busy Oliver.
Oliver felt an odd joy from it, sharing tales of his fixer Dave gigs.
Including that high-society party.
Kent was blown away.
No one just waltzes into those—need overwhelming skill, credit, presence.
Then Kent asked if the rumors were true.
That Oliver took the girl he brought last time as a girlfriend-slash-wallet, crushed Fighter Crew by force, became leader.
Oliver denied the nonsense, calmly explaining.
Kent just chuckled.
'Yeah... Knew it was something like that—you'd do it right.'
'How about you, Kent?'
'Same as always.'
Kent was growing the poor brothers' network, building new intel lines.
Linked with taxi unions, allied loosely with beggars from other districts, expanded beyond gangs to factories, companies.
No pretense, no bluff.
Truly admirable.
Once the bottle was empty, they parted. Kent invited him over sometime—sincere.
Oliver promised to visit when free, headed home, back to routine.
Routine meaning early mornings to the magic tower, late afternoons off, nights as fixer.
Like right now.
"You monster...!"
Shouted the fixer with golem prosthetics for limbs. Oliver zipped right up to him in reply.
"Sorry. It's work."