Chapter 75
Chapter 75
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 75
Chapter Title: Rest (1)
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Tap, tap, tap.
The warehouse, damaged in the mage attack, had begun repairs the very next morning.
The repair crew's skills must have been top-notch, because just a few days later, they were already in the final stages. Thanks to blending in with the crowd of workers, the magic brew workshop was on the verge of completion as well.
"Whoa... fuck, you really called down lightning?!"
"Yes... you don't have to believe me."
"No, I do! The other guys said lightning struck too! Kyaa... seven times, right? Boom here! Boom there! ... Tell me again! How'd you take down that mage?!"
A boy approached Oliver, who was standing off to the side so as not to get in the way of the repairs, bubbling over with excitement.
The boy's name was Milo Kimball, Murphy Kimball's youngest brother.
He had gone home with his aunt Maggie before the mage attack happened, but after it was over and a few days passed, he came back with her and heard about Oliver's exploits late.
Ever since, he'd been hovering around Oliver for days, peppering him with questions.
"So you dodged the lightning, blocked the magic missile up close, disrupted the bolts, and closed in."
Oliver explained what he'd done in a flat tone.
It was so dry and encyclopedic it could put you to sleep just listening, but Milo's eyes sparkled brighter than ever.
"Ah, fuuuck... that's insane... I should've seen it."
The boy radiated pure rapture, admiration, envy, and thrill—innocent in its own way.
He took Oliver's words at face value; if Oliver said potatoes grew on trees right now, he'd believe it without question.
Then again, maybe that was only natural.
He'd seen the mage tower wizards out cold from Deep Sleep with his own eyes, after all.
Oh, and for reference, they were currently in the custody of an upper-level family backing the Kimball Family.
To negotiate with the mages' affiliated houses and mage tower about the incident and demand compensation, help from Crime Firm's upper echelons was essential.
Some Kimball Family members grumbled about handing over the big fish they'd barely caught, but Oliver himself—the one who'd caught them—didn't mind at all.
Sure, losing the chance to talk to the mages was a bit regrettable, but given their emotional state, they were more likely to charge again. Better to let it go. Another opportunity would come.
"Black Magician sir!"
Oliver turned at the loud voice.
Milo, unable to contain his excitement, whined.
"Tell me more! What was it like fighting those mages?!"
"Ah... um, a little scary and shaky."
"Huh? For real?"
"Yes."
"You took down four of them all by yourself?"
"Luck played a big part. They all let their guard down and ignored me. If they'd ganged up from the start, even I don't know what would've happened."
Oliver shared his honest feelings.
He had won, but if the mages had come at him seriously from the beginning, it might've gone differently.
Take the lightning mage's Electronic Shock—it left almost no room for resistance once it hit. If luck hadn't been on his side, Oliver would've been the one defeated.
He watched Milo, expecting disappointment, but the boy's eyes shone even brighter with respect.
"Fuuuuck... that's so cool. Is this what a real powerhouse acts like? Acknowledging the enemy?"
"...Pardon?"
Milo playfully tapped Oliver's arm like a kid begging for a toy.
"Black Magician sir! Think I could learn that too? Black magic! My brothers would pay if it's about money!"
The boy's emotions gleamed with pure curiosity and eagerness.
As Oliver opened his mouth to reply, a hand appeared and yanked Milo's ear.
A familiar face. Maggie.
"Ow! Aaaagh! Aunt! Aunt! My ear! My eaaar!"
"Stop bothering the Black Magician and get lost."
Maggie spoke to her nephew while holding a tray in one hand.
On the tray sat a hot dog topped with diced onions and pickles, french fries, and a cup of juice.
She released his ear with a firm twist, and Milo rubbed it painfully as he retreated. True to his lively nature, though, he didn't go quietly.
"H-hey, Black Magician sir. I'll come find you again later!"
As Maggie reached for his ear again, Milo bolted.
The area fell silent in an instant. Only then did she set the tray on a small table and offer Oliver his meal.
"Here, have some food."
"Thank you."
Oliver dug in right away. The other workers and Kimball Family staff were eating too.
Halfway through his hot dog, Maggie cautiously spoke up.
"Sorry if the kid was a bother, Black Magician sir. If he upset you, I apologize."
"Pardon? Oh, Milo... it's fine. It's not weird for him to be curious."
"You're very kind."
"Am I?"
"Yes... everyone says black magicians are scary, but you seem different."
Black magicians are scary... Oliver thought of his master Joseph and the others.
Marie, Peter, Dominic, Anthony, and more.
"Hm... I'm not sure. Anyway, no need to scold Milo. I'm not doing much anyway."
That was true.
After beating the mages, the gangs and fixers who'd occasionally barge in had stopped coming.
When he asked Murphy about it, the man said rumors of the victory had spread.
Of course, plenty dismissed it as nonsense, but in a world where folks flinched at the mere shadow of a gun, no more intruders showed up.
Thanks to that, Oliver was just sitting around, eating whatever was offered and earning pay.
"Mind if I ask you something?"
"A question?"
"Yes. Murphy said you'd hand the mages to a higher organization for negotiations—what does that mean exactly? Something about the mage tower and mage houses... I don't quite get it."
"Ah, it's exactly that. We'll talk to their mage tower department and affiliated houses about the incident and negotiate."
"Negotiate? You mean ransom?"
"Yes, that's part of it. Also hush money for the incident and compensation for damages."
"Hush money?"
"Simply put, it's about face. Mind if I speak frankly?"
"...? Sure."
"Mages were always prestigious, but now they're at the peak of social status and fame. Back in early Randa, they relied on capitalists, but today they're fighting those same capitalists for dominance. The mage tower especially holds a unique position among them, and most there hail from prestigious houses. Imagine if word got out that they lost to a street fixer. What then?"
"Ah... a pride issue?"
"More than pride—practical fallout. Exposure means not just embarrassment, but damaged reputation and trust. Their department might lose funding and sponsorships; a competitive mage house could fall behind internally. Attacking the warehouse isn't the real problem. Losing is."
Oliver nodded.
He didn't particularly relate, but he got the gist.
"That's why we handed them to Crime Firm's upper levels, who can negotiate with the mage tower and houses. They'll inflate the hush money and compensation into a mountain... Most goes to them as fees, but we'll still profit big. Enough to ease our tight finances from aggressive expansion. In that sense, we sincerely thank you, Black Magician sir. I'll tell Murphy to thank you properly too."
"No need. Just doing my job."
Oliver waved it off. He planned to earn as much as he could while he could, but only what he worked for.
Kant had said nothing's more dangerous than free money... but what about something else?
"Instead, could I ask for one thing in another form?"
"What might that be?"
Maggie responded warmly to Oliver's request—warm with calculation, of course.
"I think the workshop will finish safely. Murphy said he'd pay an extra 30 million Randa by next fall."
"Yes, seems fair."
"Right. But could I take something other than money?"
"Not money? What exactly?"
"Like an ID."
Oliver said. He had no immediate plans for it, but since things had gone this way, why not prepare ahead?
Forest had said fake IDs weren't cheap even for junk, and good ones cost a fortune.
Average 30-50 million Randa.
So Oliver brought it up now, after proving his worth.
Luckily, it worked—Maggie smiled and replied.
"An ID? Yes, that should be fine. I'll talk to Murphy and get back to you ASAP."
"Thank you."
A brief silence. Then Maggie spoke again.
"Black Magician sir?"
"Yes?"
"...Please take care of the remaining time."
"Ah, yes. Got it."
With the contract period over, the warehouse repairs and magic brew factory were complete.
Led by Herbert in chains, the production facilities finally hummed to life, red steam from the process rising through massive pipes into the sky.
Maggie asked her nephew Murphy.
"That smoke won't give us away, right?"
"Don't worry, Aunt. We installed steam filters in the ceiling—no one'll notice. Expensive gear, but worth every penny."
Maggie nodded at her nephew's words and eyed the alcohol, potatoes, and corn piled in one corner of the workshop.
But the most striking was the crate in the warehouse corner.
It held potions straight from the mage tower.
Miracle drugs that healed most wounds in seconds. The price matched the miracle, though.
"That much would fetch a tidy sum even sold straight on the Black Market."
"Process it into magic brew, and it's not tidy—it's a fortune. There are only a handful of proper magic brew outfits..."
"How long will that last us?"
"Months. We dilute the potions heavily even for magic brew. Upper levels promised regular shipments. Scraps left over after they use it, sure."
Indeed. In return for safely releasing the attacking mages, Crime Firm had hit the jackpot.
Huge ransoms and hush money for the captives, plus a promise of secret, regular potion access from mage tower management.
Mage tower potions were near-impossible to obtain otherwise—just selling them was profitable, reprocessing into magic brew or drugs even more so. Murphy had even scored rights to their leftovers.
He followed orders but wasn't fully convinced.
Maggie consoled him.
"Scraps are scraps, but some are better than others. This makes us safer, right? That amount covers our production and then some."
"Yes, enough for three months. But my goal is to burn through it in weeks."
Maggie chuckled lightly. That scale would supply magic brew across all of Seland.
Only Crime Firm directors operated at that level.
A wildly risky ambition, but Maggie didn't hate her nephew's drive.
'To become a director, though, you need not just money, but matching firepower.'
In that sense, it was a shame.
She'd originally planned to recruit a black magician named Dave as their family-exclusive.
Sure, someone of that skill wouldn't touch a bad deal for her,
but he seemed a bit naive, ignorant of the world—persuadable with the right pitch.
Like offering shares for a cut of the magic brew factory's pure profits.
But when it came time to act, Maggie inexplicably backed off.
Was it fear of the black magician who'd felled mages? No, something else—an inexplicable dread beforehand.
A alien vibe hidden under that naive facade?
It screamed "don't touch."
Ignore it and reach clumsily, and it'd slip away forever.
So she dropped it. An uncertain risk, but too ominous... and too valuable a connection to lose that way.
Noticing, Murphy asked.
"Did you talk to the Black Magician sir? About becoming our exclusive?"
"...No. I was going to, but I let it go."
"Good call. Folks gawk at bribing cops, but he's no mere pushover."
"...You always make that face when talking about mages."
Murphy had once described a mage he'd seen fresh from the army.
His expressions were limited by cyborg surgery, but Maggie could still sense the kid's terror, fear, and despair.
Human, yet not quite. The indescribable sense of deprivation and inferiority when facing such a being.
"Well... yeah. He took down four mages, not one."
"...But did he really? I didn't see it, so I believe him, but he doesn't seem the fighting type. Milo bugged him for hours, and he never snapped."
"Right? I can barely believe it. But I saw it—how he fights. Even facing death, not a blink. Like he was from another world. Gave me chills."
Murphy lit a cigarette.
"...Whatever. Black magicians or mages, hard to grasp from our view. Just keep decent ties and get his help when it counts. He wants an ID, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then prep a first-grade one. Pricey, but our gains outweigh it. His value's only going up."
"Because he beat mages?"
"Yes. Rumors spread no matter how you hide 'em here. Some up top are already sniffing around. Makes sense—a black magician who beat mages."
"He'll have it rough."
Maggie said sincerely.
She didn't know that world intimately, but as Kimball Family treasurer from back alleys,
her street smarts matched anyone's.
Fixers grew in value with strength, but so did the chaos they attracted.
Unreasonable demands beyond ability, dirty jobs even the city shunned.
If useful, politicians, capitalists, other orgs dangled cash, political, economic power to claim or exploit them—plenty of dark horses vanished pointlessly in the process.
Not unfair, that world being what it was. Still, she wondered.
If that black magician named Dave overcame even that and survived... what would he become? She was very curious.