Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: Fixer (2)
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Time passed, and snow began to fall.
Oliver had learned a great deal from Cant.
He'd been taught what the fixer profession entailed, how the underground world operated, the types of people involved, points to watch out for, and basic knowledge.
And more besides...
Thwack! Thwack!
Cant swung his quarterstaff as he spoke.
"But it's been ten, twenty years since I retired... Honestly, I have no idea how things have changed."
Thwack! Thwack!
Oliver swung his quarterstaff in response.
"Is that so?"
Thwack! Thwack!
The two swung their quarterstaffs in unison.
"Yeah, it's a skill-based market, and Landa's developed a lot, so the scene's probably changed big time. I don't know how useful what I've taught you will be. Especially since you're not just scraping by in the middling gigs like I did—you're aiming higher."
Cant's words rang true.
A fixer who wasn't tied to any organization and could use the Black Market.
Even Cant couldn't quite grasp what kind of reputation or connections he'd need to build for that.
He'd heard of such figures, but they were all legends.
Yet, amusingly, looking at the fifteen- or sixteen-year-old boy sweating before him, Cant felt it wasn't impossible.
He couldn't say why. His exceptional black magic skills? Or his surprisingly high aptitude for learning?
No, there was a more fundamental reason before that.
He couldn't explain it precisely, but this kid who stood out from the crowd gave him a baseless certainty that if he wanted something, he'd seize it.
It was the first time Cant had ever felt that way about someone, so he couldn't elaborate further.
"Ha... Alright, let's call it here."
Cant lowered his quarterstaff and stepped back. Oliver mirrored him exactly.
Just three months ago, this scrawny kid who couldn't even hold a staff properly had transformed, now mastering the basics.
Well enough to match Cant's rhythm, at least.
Of course, Cant had held back some, but the learning speed was still frightening.
"How was that, Mr. Cant?"
"...Not the kind of level where you'd get jumped by random thugs. But don't get cocky—keep practicing exactly as I showed you. Watch what you eat, and don't skip workouts."
It was like nagging from a parent. Oliver nodded.
"Yes, got it."
With that, Oliver toweled off, then started dressing.
Brown pants and a khaki coat—secondhand clothes he'd bought specially for today.
"Heading out now?"
"Yes, like I said."
Oliver slung his duffel bag over his shoulder as he replied.
"Good... You've got some strength in your voice. That's key for the job—it builds trust... If only you could do something about that expression."
"Sorry. Faces aren't my strong suit."
"Well, nobody's good at everything... Mind standing in front of me for a sec?"
At Cant's request, Oliver stepped right up.
He wasn't too stiff or slouched—natural, with a relaxed confidence.
"Why do you want to use the Black Market?"
"To get books on black magic."
"Not books on demons, by any chance?"
"Not interested in that yet."
"Good. Excellent... Even in that world, anyone eyeing demons is suspect. Stick to answers like that. But don't deny it too strongly—it'll seem more suspicious. Just a moderate denial."
"Mm, yes. Got it."
"And don't ask too many questions. No matter how curious, hold back unless it's the right moment. That world's full of unexpected pitfalls with loose lips. Too many questions expose you, and folks will try to exploit it. Hold out until the situation's right for you to ask. Opportunity will come—for a black magician of your caliber, it definitely will."
"Understood... But what counts as the right moment?"
"When they fear you, or desperately need you. Then, you'll naturally get the answers you want, easier than ever."
"Yes, I'll keep that in mind."
Satisfied with the response, Cant handed Oliver a letter.
"What's this?"
"Letter of introduction. For the broker I mentioned. It's sealed—don't open it. If it's tampered with, they'll suspect forgery. He's a stickler, but not a bad first client. Strong professional ethic."
Cant meant every word.
Oliver nodded and tucked it away. Then he headed out of the beggar den.
"Before seeing the broker, what're you gonna do?"
"Put on the leather mask."
"Smart. Even if he's decent, hide your identity. Less risk, freer movement."
"Yes... Well then, time to part ways."
As Oliver emerged from the beggar den against a sky shedding snow, he spoke.
"Yeah... Here, take this."
"This is...?"
Oliver eyed the quarterstaff Cant offered.
"A gift. You've taken so much from me already—sending you off empty-handed doesn't sit right."
"A gift?"
"Yeah. It's a beat-up old quarterstaff, but it's the most precious thing I own. Please, accept it."
"........."
Oliver silently stared at the quarterstaff.
It gleamed from years of handling, the bandage wrapped around the middle frayed from age.
Above all, having spent a lifetime together, it faintly carried Cant's emotions.
"...Not keen on it?"
"You're really giving it to me? It's precious to you."
"Exactly. That's why."
Oliver took it with his usual blanker-than-usual expression.
Then Cant added one last thing.
"Just remember one thing. You're not weird or broken... You're different. Never forget that."
"...Yes, I will."
Oliver replied and left the beggar den for good. Cant waved until he was out of sight.
Screeech!
A dingy gray taxi pulled up roughly to the roadside.
Up close, rust spots marred the exterior, dust caked everywhere—the thing was a wreck.
"T District, 27th Street. Here you are, sir."
The plainclothes driver said, swigging from a paper-bagged bottle.
"Here you go. Thanks, driver."
Oliver handed over the bill, greeting as practiced.
Luckily, it landed naturally—he grinned and waved.
"My pleasure. Have a good one."
The taxi peeled away as soon as Oliver stepped out.
A solid start.
Oliver ducked into a quiet alley first, pulling the leather mask from his bag and flipping it over his face.
Trophy from the puppeteer Glyph. Moments later, confirming his hands had changed too, he pulled out the map and scanned the surroundings.
T District, worker housing in Landa.
Definitely better than X or W Districts—behind the core, but streets bustled, most buildings occupied.
No weird graffiti or totems in sight.
Oliver followed the sketched map, starting at the 27th Street entrance and walking the main drag.
Soon, a three-way intersection appeared.
"Right... there."
Oliver's gaze locked on one spot.
A restaurant with a "Forest" sign.
Ding-a-ling.
He pushed the door open, and a simply dressed employee approached. Notably red-skinned, with an "Al" name tag on his chest.
"Hello, sir. Dining alone?"
"I heard you're hiring. Came for that."
"Ah, sorry, sir. Positions are filled."
"I was referred."
"Referred?"
"Yes. Here."
Oliver pulled Cant's letter from his pocket and offered it.
The employee took it with a soft smile, checking the envelope.
"...Sorry, could you wait a moment?"
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you. I'll be quick."
The waiter bowed and headed off.
He returned promptly, guiding Oliver.
"If it's alright, would you follow me, sir?"
Oliver nodded and trailed him.
Through the dining area and bar, into the staff corridor, stopping at a door.
Knock knock.
"Boss, I brought him."
"Send him in, Al."
The waiter gestured inside.
Oliver gave a light bow and entered. A graying old gentleman sat within.
Suit vest, pants, gloves—dressed sharp, and quite sturdy-looking.
At minimum, the burliest old man Oliver had met.
"Hello... Name's Dave."
"Dave?"
"Yes."
"Pleased to meet you, Dave. I'm Forest. Sorry to be forward on first meeting, but could I see that staff?"
Oliver glanced at his quarterstaff.
"This?"
"Yes, that. If you don't mind, Dave."
"...Here."
Oliver handed over the quarterstaff Cant had gifted him.
"Well now... Cant's quarterstaff for real. Didn't think the old bastard was still kicking. But sending a letter? That's the real shocker."
The old man lifted the letter slightly.
"I hate wasting time, so straight to it: you want to be a fixer?"
"Yes."
"A black magician? And a skilled one?"
Oliver recalled his talk with Cant.
"I think I've got the basics down."
"Fair enough... No point in self-praise. Mind a test?"
"A test?"
Oliver echoed.
Cant had said the letter would get him in right away.
Sensing the doubt, Forest explained kindly.
"No offense meant. Not probing or planning to use you for free—we'll pay. But things have changed since Cant's day."
"Have they?"
"Yeah. Magic Tower competition spilled over here—magicians are muscling in, plus enhanced humans with beefed-up bodies. Retired soldiers from the colonial wars too... Supply outstrips demand. So now they pick and choose."
Forest was sincere.
Oliver nodded.
"Yes, I understand."
"Thanks for getting it. Some folks don't."
"What exactly would the test be?"
"Polite one, eh? I like that. Let's start simple—no penalty if you fail. Nothing like catching bounties or recovering stolen goods... Or wait, scratch that. Really confident in your skills?"
Oliver echoed Cant's advice in his reply.
"Yes."
"Then fetch me an animal."
"An animal?"
"Yeah... More like a beast or monster, really."
With that, Forest pulled a file from a cabinet and handed it over.
Oliver opened it: tiny print and a black-and-white photo.
"Quite the creature."
"...? Of course it is. It's a chimera... You really just trained underground your whole life, huh."
Oliver skipped responding, eyeing the photo.
A massive dog base stitched with all sorts of beasts—chicken wings on its back, raptor talons on front paws.
But the side spines stood out most.
"Chimera from Matel magic lab. Escaped into the sewers during experiments. They've put a quiet bounty on it."
"Just catch this?"
"Yep. But no killing or injuring—vital sample. They'll hold you accountable if harmed."
"Got it."
"Current bounty: 42 million Landa. High for a reason. Two weeks loose, and no one's nabbed it—bio-weapon smarts, strong, tricky with those side spines. Four fixers dead already, now it's tasting civilian meat too. Rampaging in V District slums, but it'll draw cops soon. They're desperate... Up for it?"
"......"
"...I can point you elsewhere."
"No. I'll give it a shot."
"For real?"
"Yes. One question, though."
"Shoot."
"Do I have to drag it here after capture?"
"Forgot to mention: no need. Lab folks are waiting near its turf. Find them, drop my name—they'll give you fur samples for tracking and details."
Oliver nodded. Forest was sincere.
"Last check: you sure? Not underestimating you, but it could go bad. Only saying this 'cause you're Cant's contact."
"Mm... Don't wanna die, but I think I can manage. Plus, I've always wanted to see a chimera up close."