Chapter 69
Chapter 69
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 69
Chapter Title: Direct Request (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Oliver followed Al's guidance. But for some reason, today he was led not to the boss's office, but to a small side door next to the pantry.
"Here?"
"The boss is waiting below."
A different location from usual...
"...Earlier, you said Mr. Forrest was waiting for me. Could I ask why?"
"I'm sorry, Dave. I don't have the authority to answer that. I truly apologize."
Al's words were sincere. He wanted to answer but simply couldn't.
Normally, Oliver would have let it slide, but recalling the haggling he'd seen at the traditional market, he spoke up again.
"I see."
"Yes, he'll explain once you go down. My apologies again."
"Hm... Well, in exchange—though it's not much—could you answer a different question later?"
"A different question?"
"Yes. Could you tell me what the restaurant waiters do?"
Al tilted his head, puzzled.
"Of course, that's no problem... but may I ask why?"
"Oh, I just got curious all of a sudden."
Oliver said, thinking of the old man at the bookstore.
Al seemed a bit suspicious but didn't press further.
"Sure. I'll tell you early in the morning or after the evening rush."
"Thanks."
Oliver thanked him sincerely for the favor.
Al returned the gesture, pulling a key from his pocket to unlock the side door next to the pantry.
A sign reading "No Entry Except for Authorized Personnel" hung on the door. As it opened, an endless downward staircase came into view.
Oliver descended the dimly lit staircase all the way down.
It was deeper than it had appeared from above, and this was clearly no ordinary place.
The depth was unnaturally excessive compared to the building above.
Still, it did have an end. He finally reached the bottom floor.
Letting out a small sigh of relief, Oliver stepped off the stairs and proceeded down the narrow corridor that stretched straight ahead.
It reminded him of the time he'd lived in the basement of Joseph's sausage factory. The only difference was that the walls and floor here were properly finished.
Before long, he arrived at the end of the corridor.
At the end was just a small side door—very ordinary compared to the path he'd taken to get here.
Knock-knock.
Oliver rapped on the door.
"Come in."
With permission granted, he opened the door right away.
Oliver immediately realized this basement was not Restaurant Owner Forrest's office, but Broker Forrest's.
A desk and chair in one corner, a massive counter, and cabinets stuffed with files behind it.
He'd always wondered how the broker handled business from that tiny office upstairs. Today, that mystery was solved.
"Sorry for calling you to such a gloomy spot."
Forrest said as he sorted documents he'd just pulled from a cabinet.
"No, it's fine. What are you up to, though?"
"Something came up suddenly. It's got nothing to do with you, so don't worry about it."
"I see?"
"Yeah, nothing major."
It didn't seem like nothing major, but Oliver didn't pry.
In this line of work, prying too much into personal matters could make you the one eyed with suspicion... Or had Oliver already crossed that line? Anyway...
"You said you were waiting for me. Could I ask what this is about?"
Forrest nodded at the question, finishing up his paperwork and pulling money from a drawer.
It was two hundred 100,000-Randa bills bundled together.
"What's this?"
"Yours."
"I already got paid for the last job."
"This is extra. The client was quite pleased with the ledger, documents, and potion essence you brought. Care to sit and talk?"
Oliver nodded politely and took the seat across from Forrest.
As usual, Forrest poured a glass of liquor and offered it. Oliver took a whiff and downed it.
"To your liking? I picked something strong since you seem to handle your booze well."
With his dulled sense of taste, Oliver just nodded without much thought.
"Good... Thanks to that ledger and those documents, the client got some indirect help with their business."
"Really?"
"Of course. From the clients and prices listed, they got more info on where and at what price to supply the magic liquor. Stuff like that fetches a good price on the Black Market."
Oh... Oliver nodded again at the new info.
"I was planning to sell it high myself, but the client offered cash first. As you see, twenty million Randa."
"What about your commission, Mr. Forrest?"
"Skipping it this time. I didn't do much, and they offered it upfront."
Oliver wouldn't have minded a cut taken, but since Forrest said it was fine, he let it be.
The money was piling up steadily. Good thing. He didn't know when he'd need it, but he had to earn as much as he could while he could.
A sudden question popped into his mind.
"Do they normally pay this well?"
"Sharp observation. Now, onto the main point. That money is absolutely your fair pay for your work. But at the same time, it's a bribe."
"A bribe?"
"Yes. To reiterate: that money is your rightful earnings. Accepting it doesn't put you in anyone's debt."
"Yes... I understand."
"Separately, though, the client wants to meet you in person."
"Me? Why?"
"To give you direct thanks. But their real motive is to get on good terms with a capable black mage. Can't hurt to know that."
"A capable black mage?"
"Yeah, you. What, not satisfied with that?"
"No, not at all. But they offered this much just for that?"
It was a spot-on point. From the last job details, the client had barely met the minimum pay.
That meant either a cheapskate trying to get work done on the cheap, or someone strapped for cash.
Yet that same person had freely offered an amount equal to the skimpy pay? Just for thanks and face-time?
That didn't add up.
"Of course not. It's all for show. They have business with you right now. Something to ask and a favor to request."
"Something to ask and a favor?"
"Yeah. Don't get too annoyed. When a capable fixer shows up in this business, every gang and broker gets clingy."
Oliver nodded silently. He seemed to be gaining recognition as a fixer. Made sense—he hadn't failed yet.
"What do they want to ask?"
"Nothing big. Since you toured the magic liquor workshop, they want a rough description of the layout."
"Didn't you bring Professor Herbert? Wouldn't it be faster to ask him?"
"True. Problem is, after getting backstabbed once, trust in him is rock bottom. They need something to cross-check. Even an illegal moonshine op costs a pretty penny."
It made sense.
"That much seems fine."
"Good. But the second part? You won't like it."
"The second part being the favor?"
"Yeah, more precisely, a commission."
"What kind?"
"Watch over the workshop until it starts full operations. About a month."
"Why meet me in person for that? For a formal commission, you could just pass it through, right?"
"I turned it down."
"You did?"
"Yeah. By my standards, the terms were unacceptable."
Oliver's interest piqued.
What terms would even Forrest reject? And why bring it to him anyway?
"Are the terms that bad?"
"For someone who took down three Fighter Crew members? Word spread while you were out—your name's getting around. Dark horse of the year level, but eyes are on you now."
Forrest spoke with no exaggeration or downplay, straight from the heart.
Well, Knuckle Joe's crew, Nico, and Big Jaw had been tough opponents. Not surprising.
"The client's offer: guard the workshop for a month, fifteen million Randa upfront. Same amount more on success. So thirty million if you pull it off safe, fifteen million even on failure."
"Sounds pretty good to me."
"Sure, in normal cases. Remember, though? The client belongs to Crime Firm. A subsidiary of massive organizations."
"Yes, I heard."
"As you know, being under Crime Firm is decent. You get protection and support from sister orgs. But sometimes you get dragged into internal rivalries."
Oliver nodded. Cant had told him: orgs under Crime Firm compete among themselves, so you have to navigate carefully.
"Magic liquor is profitable. Demand always outstrips supply. That's why the money's good, and where there's money, fights follow."
"So the workshop could get hit by another Crime Firm org?"
"High probability, if not guaranteed. Lots of people want to check the client. And that's not even the end of it."
"Not the end?"
Forrest pulled a round glass vial from his pocket. It had an embossed seal—something Oliver had handed over before.
"Isn't this the potion I gave you last time?"
"Right. Let me ask again: you found this at Assistant Professor Herbert's workshop?"
"Yes."
"This is Magic Tower property."
"Magic Tower?"
"Yeah, that seal proves it. It's stamped on items under Tower management, specially treated so you can tell. I checked."
Oliver thought it over carefully before asking.
"...Why was Magic Tower stuff there?"
"Two possibilities. Either Herbert shockingly raided a Tower shipment and looted it, or he was secretly dealing with insiders."
"The latter, right?"
"Bingo. If it'd been a raid, word would be all over this scene. No buzz at all, so it was siphoned off. Not rare, either."
"Really?"
"Yeah. The Magic Tower handles tons of magical knowledge and resources, as the name suggests. A little crooked intent, and diverting warehouse stock or fudging paperwork is easy. That's why they periodically bust bold professors and students for this stuff. Surprisingly, the Tower—pride of the nation and Randa's elite—is a major player in back-alley deals."
Forrest looked almost amused.
"So not just rival gangs, but Magic Tower insiders could strike too?"
"Low odds, but possible. From Herbert's ledger, a good chunk went to mystery parties—probably lurking Tower folks."
Oliver nodded, recalling the potions at the workshop.
"Sure, no reckless Tower guy would touch it now, but nothing's certain here. Herbert's brew was popular; they made bank. Plus, mages act unpredictable thanks to pride and such."
"So even if unlikely, you can't rule out an attack on the client."
"Exactly. That's why I refused. Fighting Tower mages is risky enough—thirty million for that? Nah. Big money, but you could earn safer with a bit more effort. So I passed."
Oliver nodded. Forrest meant every word. Cant had said he sizes up fixers and assigns the safest, most efficient jobs. Seemed true.
Still, one thing bugged him.
"Then why tell me?"
Forrest leaned forward slightly.
"The client begged for a chance to convince you himself. So I'm asking your thoughts. Plus, you're a guy I'm personally keeping an eye on."
Sincere.
"Also, something tells me you'd want to meet a Crime Firm guy. All my guess, of course. If it's a hassle, I can shut it down myself. Just curious what you think."
Oliver pondered. What to do?
The follow-up commission, Crime Firm, rival gangs, Magic Tower ties... A bit intriguing.
He glanced toward the next room before answering.
"Could I just meet them first?"
"Of course. You can refuse after. Hey, come in."
With that, a hidden door in the office wall slid open, and a man entered.
He spoke.
"Hello. Black Mage. Name's Murphy Kimball."