Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: Promise (2)
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Oliver visited P District after a long walk.
P District was a factory zone and worker residential area like T District, but because it bordered the middle-upper class residential zone, it seemed relatively safer than other worker neighborhoods.
However, that was only true for the central part of the district.
As he made his way to a small chapel on the outskirts, the area was utterly desolate.
It felt just like an abandoned place, with only beggars visible here and there.
Oliver handed one or two small bills to the beggars as he looked around.
Fortunately, nothing seemed particularly suspicious.
It was welcome news. It meant Joanna really intended to have a conversation with him.
Oliver entered the chapel through the entrance, where a weathered cross stood.
The rectangular interior of the chapel was crammed with uncomfortably long benches packed so tightly it was suffocating. Oliver wondered if that was why no one was inside.
Of course, it wasn't any of his business.
Oliver pulled a few bills from his pocket, placed them in the offering plate, and proceeded inside.
Then he sat down behind the lone woman with long blonde hair seated in the chapel.
Oliver clasped his hands together like her and quietly said,
"...Knight?"
"Shh. Just a moment."
Oliver obeyed and stayed silent.
Listening carefully, he could hear Joanna's prayer.
"...Father. Grant strength, courage, and wisdom to us who are weak, and please look upon us with favor so we may fulfill the glorious mission you bestowed. Thus, make me a child of whom you are proud. Your child prays.... Mahala."
A solemn silence blanketed the surroundings after the prayer ended. A moment later, Joanna slowly spoke.
Her voice was even calmer than before.
"...Oliver, right?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for coming."
"I'm the one who's grateful you called me. I learned just how honorable it is to converse with a holy knight. Thank you sincerely.... With that in mind, may I ask one question?"
"What is it?"
"How did you know it was me? As you can see, my face has changed."
Oliver touched the leather mask covering his face as he asked.
Was there something only a holy knight could recognize?
Joanna kept her characteristic silence before replying.
"...I just knew."
"...Pardon?"
"Your attitude and speech patterns make it obvious."
"........."
Oliver fell silent in shock.
He had put in effort to seem ordinary and sensible.... It stung to have those efforts denied.
"Ugh.... I should have tried harder."
"What happened?"
"Pardon? Ah, I was trying to pass as an ordinary person, but my efforts must have fallen short."
"No, that's not what I meant..... What are you doing here?"
"Pardon? Obviously because you called me here..... Ah, you're asking why I'm working as a fixer?"
Reaching the limit of her patience, Joanna—who had been staring straight ahead—turned around to answer.
"Yes, exactly. Why are you doing fixer work? You were.... the leader of a black magic organization."
There was no hostility in her expression.
Instead, it held confusion, doubt, and perhaps a hint of expectation. He couldn't quite grasp the reason for her feelings.
Oliver rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily as he replied.
"I simply followed your advice, knight."
"My advice?"
"Yes. You told me to step out into the world and mingle with people, didn't you? So that's what I did..... Of course, it's not the only reason, but it was a major one. Thank you. I wanted to say that, and now I have."
Joanna's face went slack with disbelief.
It was a familiar look. The expression of someone confronted with the incomprehensible. For some reason, everyone who spoke with Oliver ended up making that face at least once.
"........."
"........."
An awkward silence settled in, but Oliver broke it.
He had wanted to meet her—wasting time in silence felt like such a shame.
"How have you been?"
"Me?"
"Yes.... The pharmacist said you'd been well, but I was a little worried. Have you been okay?"
Joanna's porcelain-pale face flushed faintly.
Shame, embarrassment, and guilt flickered across it; she seemed to view that incident as shameful and sinful.
"...Did I err?"
After a brief silence, Joanna replied.
"...Embarrassingly, yes. I've been well."
"Oh, good."
"Yes. Despite failing my mission and failing to eradicate the wicked drug, I earned the title of a holy knight who successfully completed her duty and was formally assigned here.... Truly shameful and sinful."
Her words rang true.
"Then why didn't you tell the truth?"
Oliver asked without much thought, purely out of curiosity. She flinched regardless.
"......The many people who helped me told me to stay silent. They said seizing this chance to strive harder would benefit the world and everyone."
Oh.... Oliver found himself admiring the pharmacist.
He was right. Due to the Pater Church's tangled internal politics, Joanna's failure wouldn't come to light—and that would make Wineham even safer, just as he'd predicted.
What a clever man.
"...But you don't think it was right, do you, knight?"
Joanna answered with silence.
Her emotions churned in complexity; it wasn't solely due to others' counsel. Her choice seemed tied to something deeply precious.
Just as he opened his mouth to ask about it, Joanna spoke a half-beat faster.
"Now it's my turn."
"Pardon?"
"What happened after you left the black magic organization?"
Catching him off guard, Oliver stroked his chin.
Should he tell her?
Well.... It seemed fine. She was the one who'd given the advice, after all—she deserved to know.
Besides, her emotions held no hidden schemes or malice.
"Hmm, I don't mind sharing, but the story might get a bit long."
"Plenty of time, so don't worry."
Oliver nodded and began.
The tale itself was nothing special.
He recounted secretly leaving Joseph's Family without anyone knowing and heading to X District, where he encountered Kant.
He described Kant's actions and the beggar gang following him in detail but without excess; deep down, Oliver might have hoped for something.
Perhaps Joanna could put words to the vague, indescribable feeling he'd sensed from Kant....
But against his hopes, she merely nodded without comment.
Afterward, Oliver shared how he'd parted from Kant and become a fixer.
He skipped anything that might harm others but told of the retired soldier who found it intriguing and the brave boy who'd asked to learn letters. Midway through, Oliver realized he'd met quite a few people.
It felt satisfying in a way he couldn't quite articulate.
Noticing, Joanna remarked,
"...You seem to be enjoying yourself."
"Hmm..... Yes, it's enjoyable. The world turns out to be... a pretty interesting place."
"I'm glad to hear that..... Any special reason you chose fixer work?"
"Well, I got an offer, and among things I can do, it pays decently?"
Oliver gave a vague reply. He couldn't exactly say it was to buy books on black magic and demons from a holy knight.
"....So you're throwing punches for money?"
"Yes. Even busting my hump at a restaurant barely covers one book..... Well, I stick to jobs that don't hurt ordinary folk, so it should be okay? Fixers clean up contaminated zones too, so we're somewhat helpful."
At a loss for words, Joanna lapsed into silence once more.
She gazed at Oliver with profound complexity.
"One question."
"Yes, ask away."
"Really, nothing happened with Puppet?"
"Yes.... What exactly do you mean?"
"......They say black magicians serve anyone stronger as their master."
Oliver recalled his days in Joseph's Family.
"Yeah, seems that way."
"Did you perhaps buy your life by becoming Puppet's slave?"
"Hmm, no. Not at all..... Just curious, but what if I had?"
"I couldn't leave you alone anymore."
Joanna's eyes burned with intensity as she spoke firmly. She meant it.
"Oh, I see."
"Yes. Puppet is.... a heinous criminal who's committed countless atrocities over centuries. On top of that, he trains hordes of black magicians, builds crime syndicates sowing chaos across the world, and worst of all, he's an executive of the Black Hand plotting humanity's downfall. I can't tolerate such a being."
"......The Black Hand wants to destroy the human world?"
"Yes.... Why?"
"Ah..... I thought the Black Hand was just a crime syndicate of black magicians. You know, a big, powerful outfit. Didn't realize they aimed to end the human realm."
"......They periodically try striking deals with demons. That's per the church's investigations."
"Does the church know much about the Black Hand, then?"
"To some degree."
"Could you tell me what kind of group it is?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Just curious. Like I said before, I had a shot at joining once. Turned it down over the conditions, but I'm still wondering what it's like."
Joanna stared hard at Oliver again.
Deep suspicion mingled with faint trust—an odd, clashing brew.
In a sense, that might be emotions' charm.
Erratic, contradictory, paradoxical. All the more beautiful and delightful for it.
"The Black Hand is a loose confederation of powerful black magicians."
Oliver's ears perked up.
A group awash in rumors—even Kant knew little in detail. To glean precious intel from such an unlikely source was a surprise.
"Church investigations show it's not ruled by one head but like fingers, each going their own way. Hard to call it a proper organization."
"Fingers?"
"Yes, that's what they call the Black Hand's executives. Like Puppet."
A basic question suddenly struck Oliver.
"Why? Why call it the Black Hand?"
He hadn't expected an answer, but surprisingly, Joanna provided one.
"The Black Hand symbolizes death. Usually. And it lurks everywhere, like a shadow."
A hand of death present everywhere....
"Is that really the case?"
"...Sadly, yes. Fingers like Puppet have spun webs spanning the globe. Even linked to corrupt elites in every nation. We monitor and investigate them."
Fascinating. As Kant had implied, it was mighty and perilous—but her account lent vivid shape to it.
He regretted it all the more.
Maybe he should've taken the puppeteer's offer.
Perhaps he'd have met Puppet as neither foe nor friend, chatting freely.
But the conditions soured the thought.
Had he never met Kant, he might've jumped at it.
How to describe it? His thoughts tangled slightly.
As Oliver slipped into reverie, lost in what-ifs, a sharp beep- beep- pierced the air.
Wondering what it was, he glanced ahead. Joanna had paused mid-sentence, staring at some device. A communicator of sorts.
She checked it, tapped a button to silence it, and rose.
"Sorry, but I have to go.... Something urgent came up."
"Ah..... Shame. I had more questions."
"No worries..... I'll drop by to keep tabs on you now and then."
The words carried a warning edge, but Oliver felt only joy.
Didn't that mean more meetings—and talks?
"Wonderful news. Thank you from the heart."
"You're glad?"
"Yes. I like you, knight. You're beautiful."
Joanna flinched, her face reddening as if irked.
"...Don't say strange things."
"...I'm serious? That beautiful light back then.... It was stunning."
"......"
Joanna scowled and rummaged in her pocket.
Oliver watched without tension, and soon she produced a slim booklet.
"What's this...?"
"The Pater Scripture. You seem to like books—give it a read."