Chapter 312
Chapter 312
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 312
Chapter Title: Temporary Reconciliation (2)
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"Please sign here."
A female real estate agent from O District pointed to the signature line on the documents.
Rare even in Landa as a woman in a professional role, she exuded kindness and charm without a single vulnerability—proof she hadn't survived in this cutthroat world by luck alone.
A strength unlike raw power.
Oliver finished sizing her up, signed where she indicated, and slid the cash-filled briefcase toward her.
Click!
The agent opened the case, and crisp high-denomination bills gleamed under the light with a satisfying rustle.
It covered a full year's advance rent on the house, the deposit, her brokerage fee, and extra for confidentiality and other special arrangements.
Like everyone in Landa, she flashed a pleased smile at the hefty sum.
"Thank you, sir. This place is yours for the next year. Pleasure doing business with you—clean and straightforward, as always."
"The pleasure's mine."
Oliver, now seasoned in Landa's ways, handled the paperwork with far more finesse than when he'd first rented his own place.
Thrilled by the smooth transaction, the agent completed the handover and bowed politely to Oliver and Unner's group behind him before stepping out.
Thud.
"Here are the keys."
As the agent left, Oliver handed the mansion's keyring to Unner.
"Standard keys, so you can duplicate them easily for everyone."
Unner hesitated, still struggling to process it all, but took the keys.
She wondered if she was truly doing the right thing.
Oblivious to her doubts, Oliver pressed on.
"O District is borderline, but it's solid middle-upper class housing in Landa. Good security, amenities. And excellent for privacy."
All true.
This house had been one of the options he'd eyed when securing his own residence.
Spacious, with a basement, soundproofing, and enough distance from neighbors to guard secrets.
Unner nodded in agreement on that point.
"...Ah."
Finishing his rundown of the house, Oliver paused, then pulled a red notebook and a wallet-sized ink pouch from his pocket as if remembering something.
"Isn't this... Mother's?"
"Sharp eye. Lady Bathory's notebook. Looks like a client list."
At the sight of what could be Bathory's relic, Unner and the other disciples' emotions surged.
But Oliver's overwhelming power, his eerie pressure, and the absurd reality of aid from their enemy kept them rooted.
Maybe it was that promise from the sewers.
'Could you set aside our grudge, just for a little while...? At least a year.'
Unner had agreed.
The outcome had been too clear-cut.
Death was an option, of course—but was it right for Bathory's Family to fade away pathetically in a foreign sewer?
Death was final. Truly final.
So she'd accepted a year of reconciliation. A truce so bizarre it bordered on grotesque.
"I've put some money in this ink pouch. Enough for a year's living expenses. Any questions?"
Unner turned to her sisters, ignoring his polite tone as if nothing had happened.
"You girls, head up to the bedrooms for now."
"Huh? But Unner..."
"I said go."
At their current leader's firm command, the sisters complied, anxious but unquestioning.
Oliver watched them go.
"They really trust you, huh."
"Problem?"
Unner's eyes flashed with hostility and wariness.
Fair enough. He was the enemy, after all.
A year-long truce was one thing; erasing hatred was another.
"No... Just impressive. Black mage families often look harmonious on the surface but aren't underneath. Yours actually is. Kinda fascinating."
Unner eyed him warily, silent.
The quiet grew awkward. Oliver figured it was time to leave—then Unner spoke slowly.
"We're sisters. Same mother."
"Ah... Lady Bathory?"
She nodded. She truly saw Bathory as her mother.
Oliver debated telling her Bathory viewed them as mere tools.
He was intensely curious about their take. But maybe it was kinder not to.
"...Something on your mind?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah... How'd you know?"
"Black mage here too... Your emotions are faint, but I can tell."
"Ah... You're right, there is something. But it might be rude. Probably."
She hesitated, then urged him on—testing him, probing.
"Well... You all seem to cherish Lady Bathory, but she doesn't see you that way. She calls you daughters, but treats you like other black mages do."
As property. Or tools.
But Unner barely reacted.
Not confusion—she knew.
"You know."
"We've served at her side for years."
Calmer than expected.
"Then why...?"
"...follow her?"
Oliver nodded.
Her rage at Bathory's corpse-puppet had been real. Raw emotion devouring reason.
Yet she knew this truth.
Intriguing.
"...My sisters and I were mostly abandoned. Poor, lowborn girls."
Oliver nodded.
He could imagine the hardship. Orphanage life had shown him.
"Most of us nearly died... No, did die. Miserably, like trash. Mother was the only one who helped."
"Lady Bathory?"
"Yes... She gave us unstable second lives, teachings, a better existence, sisters. Even if she sees us as tools, that doesn't erase what she did."
Ah... Oliver got it.
Bathory's motives aside, her aid was undeniable fact.
Their bond was false yet true.
Oliver nodded and apologized again, more sincerely.
"About Lady Bathory... I'm truly sorry."
Unner said nothing. Proof she hadn't forgiven, despite their mad year-long truce born of necessity.
He didn't mind. He'd proposed it.
Then she spoke.
"Can I ask something?"
"Go ahead."
"Why help us like this? Must've cost a fortune."
Spot on. Rent, living expenses—sums unimaginable to him two or three years ago.
"Well... I like you all."
"What?"
Unner, who'd held her composure, scowled in disgust.
"You get along so well... Rare for a black mage family. It's interesting. Appealing, even."
She focused her senses on his eyes, gauging sincerity or mockery. He clarified earnestly.
"Sure, it's a lot of money, but business is good lately—I can afford it. Plus, I have questions for you. Hard to get overseas news beyond papers."
"So you want us as informants. No choice but to answer, after this help..."
"No. I'd appreciate answers, but no pressure. This is my thanks for the truce—and partial atonement. I did kill Lady Bathory, after all."
Unner's face tensed, muscles and veins twitching faintly.
"...So we don't have to answer?"
"How about mutual aid? You help with my questions, I help you in return."
Oliver spoke this insanity with utter sincerity, oblivious to its chaos.
Unner was speechless. He stood.
"...I'll head out for today. I'll visit sometimes—let me know if you need anything. Oh, and please honor our deal."
The deal: no attacks on him, no harm to Landa, for at least a year—in exchange for aid. Breach it, and he'd kill them all. She'd agreed.
"One more thing."
"...What?"
"Do you think you can subdue us? Make us kneel?"
She'd pondered long before asking.
Some black mages bent others with power, wealth, charisma.
Oliver answered with full honesty.
"No. Absolutely not... And I hope it stays that way. Truly."
"Good vacation?"
Back at the Magic Tower after his legal three-day break, Kevin asked Oliver point-blank.
"Yes... It was fine. Anything up?"
"Nah. Just checking—end-of-term parties mean trouble. Figured you might've gotten dragged in."
"Ah... No worries. Wasn't invited anywhere."
"Bandits target clueless tower folk, plus pickpockets, scammers. And you? You'd wander in out of curiosity."
Kevin nailed him.
Different circumstances, but Oliver had met a bandit once before.
"I'll be careful."
"Good. Seasonal semester starts soon."
"Got it. Anything for me?"
"Perfect timing. Sort these by lunch."
Kevin gestured to the stack on his desk.
Student records, a hefty pile.
"Sort like at the start of term?"
"Yep. By faction, sub-faction, traits. Need to know them to tailor classes."
Made sense, but...
"Didn't seasonal terms have fewer students?"
"Yes."
"But this stack looks huge."
"Also yes. Your last-term students all re-enrolled, plus extras jumped in."
"Ah..."
"Rumors, maybe, but I'll run it my way. No rush—take till lunch. Afternoon, follow me."
"Mind if I ask what for?"
"Picking a vacation research assistant. Come help."