Chapter 31
Chapter 31
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Guest (2)
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Outside, James was indeed there.
The Pharmacist's employee A, who had ridden the same truck with him during the decisive battle against the magician and on the trip to Randa.
He was waiting for Oliver at the factory. His distinctive angular jaw, brown hair slicked back, and sturdy shoulders made him stand out sharply.
The moment he spotted Oliver, he approached with a friendly outstretched hand.
"Ah, you came out."
Oliver reflexively grasped James's hand.
"Hello."
"Yeah, good to see you. First time since we parted in Randa? I worked there for a bit, and when I got back, I heard some wild stories. For real?"
"I don't know if they're wild, but yeah."
James let out a hearty laugh.
"Impressive... Didn't think it'd be to this extent. Truly impressive. Should I start calling you Black Magician, sir?"
"No, not really... More importantly, what brings you here?"
Oliver asked, Filterette coming to mind.
"Hm? Oh... Nothing big. Just checking if production's on track. Boss is fretting. Makes sense, orders are stacking up these days. I know it's rude, but everything okay?"
"Ah, no issues there. We're fully set."
Oliver glanced at Peter. Peter nodded firmly, signaling no problems.
"I see... That's a relief."
James nodded mechanically, scratching his chin. He looked like a man with something on his mind.
"By any chance... anything else?"
James's troubled expression deepened further, until he finally seemed resolved and spoke up.
"Remember that talk we had when I dropped you off in Randa?"
"What talk?"
"Sheesh..."
"No, I really don't remember."
"...... I said I'd teach you about magicians, and you'd teach me black magic."
Peter, standing nearby, and some of the surrounding disciples were stunned by James's words. Even Marie, watching Oliver from a distance.
Oliver himself, however, remained composed.
"...... Yeah, that's right. It comes back now."
He nodded slowly in affirmation.
James crossed his arms and said,
"I'm here to uphold my end... You?"
Just as Oliver opened his mouth to reply, Peter cut in.
"Master? What's going on...?"
"Just as you heard. The employee—"
"—James. Name's James. Told you last time, right? Call me James. No need to be so distant."
"James here said he knew plenty about magicians. So if he shared what he knew, I'd teach him black magic in return."
The disciples, Peter included, were aghast. Teaching black magic for scraps like that?
"M-Master... That's an insane trade. Black magic for that? And this guy's not even a proper magician who knows real stuff...!"
Peter's reaction was perfectly understandable.
The barrier to black magic might be lower than regular magic, but the chance to learn it was still monumental.
Back under Joseph, most had lived like slaves, yet they'd endured because being taken under a black magician's wing was a miracle in itself.
Black magic was something you could scarcely learn after spending most of your life as a slave or servant.
And here was James, trying to lay hands on that sacred knowledge with his half-baked street wisdom.
Aware of it himself, he spoke up urgently.
"Hey, I might not look it, but I've got experience. I know tons of juicy magician tales... If that's not enough, I've got other stories."
"No, what kind of nonsense—"
"—What stories?"
Oliver interrupted Peter and asked.
"Well? Fixer gigs, street life, Randa's back alleys... I'm pretty clued in on that stuff..."
James gave an awkward smile, knowing full well it was flimsy.
Yet Oliver's response was unexpected.
"...... Yeah, sounds good."
"Master?!"
Peter blurted out in panic.
"That's ridiculous. That guy's running a scam."
"Well... a promise is a promise."
"......"
Peter fell silent. He seemed to grasp just how differently he and Oliver thought.
Ignoring Peter, Oliver turned to James.
"So, when do you want to start?"
"Right now works for me."
"Hm...... Alright. Follow me."
Oliver led James down to the classroom in the basement.
Everyone they passed stared oddly at the sight, but no one dared question it.
Once in the classroom, Oliver pulled an emotion sample from the shelf, used for training.
"First off, let's see what you can do."
"Nothing."
"...... Pardon?"
"Nothing, I said... No, wait. Don't. Don't gather emotion at your fingertip. Can't even see that."
C caught off guard, they stared at each other in silence.
"......"
"......"
"......"
"......"
"......"
"Hoo... Mind if I'm straight with you?"
"Please do."
"I've got no talent for black magic."
"Pardon?"
"Didn't mention this before, but it wasn't like I never had a shot at learning it. Had one once, ages ago. Just zero talent."
"Ah...... Then why?"
"Dunno? Still wanna give it a go somehow? Age might've crept up, but the heart's still burning... Any way around it? You took down Joseph with black magic, right?"
Ah. Now Oliver got it.
James had come clinging to faint hope that Oliver might have a trick to teach him.
Frankly, it was awkward.
He'd scoured Joseph's study for teaching books to instruct others, but found nothing solid.
All he could manage was pointing out flaws in others and offering indirect nudges now and then.
That much was fine so far. Everyone could at least manage Eye Opening, crudely extract emotions.
But someone who couldn't even do that? Uncharted territory.
James asked, deflated.
"Why? No method?"
Oliver stared silently, then abruptly reached out, covering James's eyes with his palm.
"Huh? What're you—"
"Hold still a sec."
Oliver brushed aside James's feeble resistance and covered his eyes again.
Oliver focused intently on the eyes.
Gradually, James's emotions sharpened into view. Oliver extracted a bit from a test tube, then pressed his hand back to James's eyes.
"What the—"
"One moment."
Oliver tensed again.
Normal sight faded; the black magician's vision surged. At the threshold, he jammed the held emotion straight into James's eyes.
"Gahhhhhhh—!"
James convulsed, eyeballs screaming in agony.
Oliver held firm.
"Hurts! Damn it, hurts!!"
"Yes, yes. It'll be fine. Just a bit longer."
James hit pain's breaking point, thrashing wildly. After a prolonged struggle, Oliver finally released.
"Guh......!"
James clutched his eyes, crumpling to the floor.
Groaning, he crawled blindly, eyes sealed shut like after a flashbang.
"Eyes...! My eyes......! What the hell did you do?!"
Gripping his searing eyes, James bellowed.
But time's the great healer; pain ebbed, vision cleared.
"What does this look like?"
Oliver held up a finger before James's barely opened eyes.
James blinked blankly and replied,
"...... A circle?"
"...... So, Randa was built by magicians?"
"Yup...... More precisely, capitalists and magicians. But word on the street is magicians did it. Not total lie. Capitalists just footed the bill. Magicians rebuilt it with their tech. Even kids know that."
"Ah...... I didn't."
"It's a figure of speech... No clue on metaphors, similes?"
"......"
"Sigh, figures...... Point is, magicians hold massive sway in Randa. Big deal elsewhere, bigger there."
"Got it. How do you know so much about magicians, James?"
"Oh? Well... Plenty of tales floating in bars and streets. Got hired by a few as a fixer back in the day."
"Oh? For what?"
"Torching rival magician outfits, roughing up their staff."
"...... Magicians fight a lot?"
"Yeah. Brains hate other brains. Intraspecies rivalry. Anyway, my turn."
"Sure."
"How long at this crap?"
James asked, pooling emotion at his fingertip into a lopsided blob he called a circle.
It was laughable to even dub it a circle.
"Until it's a perfect circle."
"Sigh...... Can't skip to real black magic? Something mega powerful. Boom-boom kind. C'mon?"
"Can't help if you can't nail a basic circle."
James's disappointment was blatant.
First steps into black magic had him overly hyped; Oliver calmly guided him each time.
"...... True power of black magic isn't raw might."
"Huh?"
"Master's study notes say it's eyes that pierce the foe's core, precise strikes at blind spots. I agree. Obsessing over brute force spells won't cut it."
The words from a boy who looked all of fifteen carried real gravitas. James watched silently, jokes forgotten.
"Then......"
"—James! Goods all loaded!"
Workers from the sausage factory hollered from afar, Filterette crates stacked on the truck.
"Got it! Hang tight!"
James slipped back into Pharmacist lackey mode, lighting a cigarette as he spoke.
"Whew...... Okay. That's enough for today. Cutting the chit-chat, back to circle drills."
"Good. Once circles click, move to squares."
"Fine... Squares...... Oh, can you ramp up production? We'll source the emotions."
"?...... Aren't we already maxed out?"
"Yeah, pumping plenty. Need even more though."
Even more? Oliver mulled it over.
Filterette output had crept up gradually, then doubled, tripled—now quadruple.
That meant more workload for Oliver.
Not pure joy for someone itching to study black magic.
Well, he was nearly done with the study books anyway, so no huge deal. Still...
"...... Can I mull it over? Factory's at capacity now."
"Sure. I'll pass it along to the boss. But lean toward yes if you can. Your stuff's hot—ride the wave."
Oliver cared little for money, so it rang hollow. Yet intriguing bits lingered.
"It's popular?"
"Yeah. No idea?"
"No."
"Why'd you think production spiked? Demand's through the roof. Supply, demand—market basics. Yours is blowing up. Other buyers circling already. Pinch of hype, and it's gunning for Black Smoke."
"...... What's Black Smoke?"
"...... No clue on Black Smoke? You're kidding."
Oliver shook his head wordlessly; James gaped in disbelief.
"Filterette-making black magician, and you don't know Black Smoke?"
"Never came up."
"Black Smoke's the top Filterette brand... Premium ones brand up for edge. Point is, yours is killer."
"...... Got it."
"Love the deadpan vibe. What'll it take to crack a smile... Anyway, I'll smooth it with the boss. Catch you later."
Oliver nodded as James departed, but James paused abruptly, face turning serious.
"One thing I can ask?"
"Shoot."
"Kinda silly saying this now, but... why teach me black magic so freely? Coulda blown me off."
Oliver pondered, then replied,
"Any reason not to?"
James stared blankly, then chuckled softly.
"Haha...... You're one weird kid."
"Am I?"
"Yeah. Later."
Several vehicles were barreling toward the rundown city of Wineham.
F-series mass-supply trucks—utterly unremarkable models.
Hence their appeal to cash-strapped middle class or those on discreet ops.
Screech—
The convoy halted in unison on a hill overlooking the city.
Moments later, a woman stepped from the lead vehicle.
Porcelain-smooth skin, striking features, radiant golden hair.
Beauty straight from a painting—so exquisite she seemed saintly.
Or not seemed—actually holy?
"This the source of that filth?"
"Yes, ma'am. Knight."
The knight touched the cross at her throat and said,
"Then let's make haste. Time to eradicate the evil peddling its wicked poison."