Chapter 96
Chapter 96
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 96
Chapter Title: Transportation Company (1)
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Murphy led Oliver to a warehouse near the industrial district.
It was pretty far in, but there were plenty of other warehouses around, so it didn't stand out.
Like hiding a tree in a forest, you could say.
Murphy added an explanation about it.
"It's a pretty quiet spot, isn't it, Black Magician?"
"Yes."
"It really is quiet here. Some of these warehouses belong to the gang, and a few of us, including me, pool money to pay off the cops regularly, so they don't come snooping around much. Of course, if there's trouble, that's a different story."
"I see."
"Yeah. They don't bother us otherwise. Sure, that can attract petty thieves, but you don't need to worry about that either. Security around here is tight, so even the small-timers stay away."
It made sense. They weren't always visible, but every now and then, you'd spot rough-looking guards and warehouse workers who didn't seem like ordinary laborers.
They deliberately looked away from others, instinctively avoiding drawing attention to each other.
It was perfect for Oliver.
Isolated from the outside, and even the neighbors minded their own business. Ideal for black magic research.
"Here we are."
Murphy stopped in front of a building.
It was a rundown two-story structure in the corner, not very noticeable. The first floor had been crudely smashed open and converted into a warehouse.
Oliver went inside and looked around.
It was crude and cramped, but he didn't think it was bad.
In fact, for a first place to crash, it looked decent enough.
'Should be workable as an experiment space.'
As he mentally planned how to turn it into a lab, Murphy spoke up.
"Black Magician?"
"Hm? Yes?"
"Oh, sorry. Did I interrupt you?"
"No, I was just thinking about how to use this space."
"Here? This is just a decoy. Come this way."
Oliver didn't get it at first, but he soon understood.
Off a narrow side path midway up the stairs to the second floor, there was a secret entrance leading down. Below it lay a refreshingly spacious basement.
"This is...?"
"This is the real warehouse. The entrance is narrow and hard to spot, but that's why I think it's perfect for you, Black Magician."
Oliver nodded.
It was wide open, with three large tables suitable for experiments and shelves for storing stuff.
"These should still be usable."
"You like it?"
"Yes. I really do."
Oliver said honestly. The environment was comfortable enough, and the location wasn't bad.
He didn't know real estate prices yet, but from what he'd overheard, they seemed sky-high.
Retired soldiers had called this damn city's property prices murderous.
He wanted this warehouse.
"...Mind if I ask a few questions?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"If you have a request for me, you could just go through Forrest. Why come to me directly?"
"Please don't misunderstand. I'm not trying any tricks or anything. I just wanted your help so badly that I had to ask in person."
"...?"
"We haven't known each other long since reuniting, but your reputation has only grown in that time, Black Magician. Not that I doubt it—I saw your skills firsthand... Anyway, higher fame means higher-class clients, right? So my requests might get turned down. That's why I'm asking you directly. It might sound shameless, but I really need your help."
"I don't get it... Strictly speaking, the transportation company stuff is another family's business, not yours. Why beg like this?"
"Because helping with this will benefit my business a ton."
"Really?"
"Yes. Right now, besides selling my magic liquor at our tavern, I sell it elsewhere too."
"I see."
"For sales in this district, I handle them myself. But for other districts or cities, I go through Crime Firm because I don't have my own distribution network."
"......"
"Going through a middleman cuts profits, and some tamper with the goods in transit, lowering quality. It doesn't fit my business principles. So I'm trying to build my own network."
"That's why you want to help the transportation company?"
"Exactly. If I build it alone, others will push back. But with a mid-tier group like the Hoffman Family involved, it's much safer."
"Mid-tier group?"
"They're right under the directors who manage the districts, above low-level outfits like mine. In short, they have real say in Sector T."
Murphy's voice gained strength as he spoke.
"What goes through Crime Firm now is just 'bootleg hooch,' not my 'product.' I'll distribute my 'product' through Hoffman. Production's ramping up, so if things go as planned, I might establish the Kimbel brand in a few years. To do that, I need to get past this hurdle—with your help, Black Magician."
It sounded like a far-off dream, but Murphy was sincere.
He'd gotten richer since last time, and his ambition burned brighter.
Not bad at all.
The glow was a bit different, but it reminded him of early days with Marie, Peter, and the innhand Rossburn— that pretty spark.
'Plus, he seems to have other ideas.'
Murphy asked with a hint of nervousness.
"Black Magician?"
"Well, sounds good."
"Pardon?"
"The terms seem fine. Help out and get the warehouse."
"Oh, thank you."
"But can I add some conditions?"
"Conditions? ...Sure, what are they?"
"First, set a fair fee and commission it officially through Forrest. Then I'll accept... Nothing big, just scared."
Scared? Murphy didn't buy it, but he nodded.
"And I don't want to deal with civilians. Meeting city officials and holy knights freaked me out."
Murphy started to say something but stopped. Instead, he asked,
"...Fine. But if they get violent during negotiations, can you at least provide some protection?"
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you. I'll tell them that... If it's an official request through Forrest, it'll take some time."
True. Forrest did full background checks on commissions.
Kant said some brokers skipped it for convenience, but Forrest didn't.
Made things inefficient but safer.
"Even rushing, it'll take two or three days. That okay?"
"...Honestly, it's time I could use, but not wasted."
"Then, one favor?"
"Favor?"
"Yes. Could I use this warehouse starting now? There's something I've wanted to try, but circumstances never lined up. Might even help with the job... Please?"
Four days after the talk with Murphy, Oliver was sweating it out in the basement warehouse.
Shirtless, in jeans from a thrift shop and work gloves, he wrestled with the straw doll on the table.
The first day, he'd lost, but skipping sleep to read and practice had given him the knack.
Oliver rubbed his sleepy eyes, thinking,
'Sorry, Kant. You said not to skip meals or sleep, but it was too fun to stop. Forgive me.'
He looked at the repaired straw dolls: 'Black Magician' and 'Sniper.' And the half-modified 'Rags' and 'Swordsman.'
All Puppet's straw dolls, ones Oliver had picked up.
He had a few more, but most got dismantled for parts to fix those four. No regrets.
He had his own clumsy straw dolls now.
'And some fun experiments too.'
Oliver eyed the test tube nearby.
Inside floated a black orb— a minion.
Correction: not just any minion, but one infused with life force and emotions, with extra care.
Oliver took out a flask of emotions and life force, feeding it to the minion in the tube.
It glowed faintly with joy, slurping them up greedily.
'Interesting. Just mimicking Puppet's artificial life... Anyway, should I name it? Calling it minion gets confusing. Not disposable, so needs a proper name... Child, maybe.'
Two seconds of thought, decision made.
Then, a beep-beep from his ear.
Oliver grabbed the direct line communicator from Forrest on the workbench.
First time using it?
He pressed the button and held it to his ear.
"Hello."
"It's me. Can you hear me clear?"
"Yes, loud and clear... How have you been?"
"Not great. Thanks to you, work piled up suddenly. If it wasn't Contamination Zone stuff, I'd have ignored it."
"Sorry. And you don't need to say that. The Zone wasn't your fault. You just kindly helped me. I'm clueless sometimes, but I know that. Truly grateful."
"........."
Forrest went quiet.
Couldn't see his face over comms, but somehow, he seemed pleased. Or not.
His voice returned.
"Investigation's done. What Murphy said checks out, mostly."
Oliver didn't react much. He'd sensed the sincerity in their talk. Mostly.
"Why go direct to me? For a warehouse, I'd have accepted through you."
"Checked that too. Not entirely a lie he feared rejection, but more like showmanship."
"Showmanship?"
"Hiring you through me vs. him personally... Makes him look closer to you."
"...? Doesn't make sense."
"Simple: 'I know this amazing Black Magician and can call him personally.' Murphy's using the help for Hoffman to etch his presence into upper orgs, beyond just distribution. Armed groups get respect anywhere... Cheap trick, but it works, so not bad... Offended?"
"No."
Oliver meant it. After orphanage and mines, this was nothing.
Plus, he got warehouse use.
No complaints.
Forrest asked again.
"For real?"
"Yes, could be."
"Sometimes I can't tell if you're kind, dumb, or scary. Your call anyway... So, accept officially? No issue if you decline now."
"No, I'll take it. Already benefited some."
"Alright then... Move now. Murphy wants you ASAP. Says Jimmy Hoffman's patience is shot."
"Who's Jimmy Hoffman?"
"Young boss of Hoffman Family running the transport company. Murphy's begging you hurry—fights might break out with staff. Fixers with the workers too; mess up, blood spills."
Oliver wiped his sweat and threw on clothes hurriedly.
"Know who the fixers with the truckers are?"
"Found out. Not hard. Arthur from N Sector and other retired soldier fixers... Oh, you two met, right?"