Chapter 97
Chapter 97
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 97
Chapter Title: Transport Company (2)
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Having finished his preparations, Oliver headed straight to the place Forrest had mentioned.
It was Hoffman Transport Company on 35th Street, handling a portion of Crime Firm's logistics. But it felt oddly modest for such a role.
A low wooden fence surrounded the empty lot, with a dozen or so apparently unused trucks visible.
They were quite rundown, but compared to the building at the far end of the lot, they seemed in decent shape.
That building looked hideous, its finish peeled off like a mangy rat, making it hard to tell when it had even been built.
And right in front of it, a group of people were noisily arguing.
"Let go of me, you bastards! I'll take this chance to smash those fucking guys! A bullet to the head might teach them a lesson!!!"
A man shouted.
He was in his mid-to-late twenties, younger than those around him trying to hold him back.
He brimmed with fury, impatience, inferiority complex—all sorts of intense emotions—leaving him in a highly agitated state.
Completely swept up in his feelings.
In contrast, the others were suppressing their own irritation, disappointment, gloom, and awkwardness as they tried to calm him down.
"I get it, I understand. Boss. But just wait a little longer? Murphy said someone’s coming soon—"
"—You think I can’t take out that driver’s head by myself?"
"No, no, of course not. But you know how things are in the city these days. It’s tense out there. Getting noticed at a sensitive time like this isn’t good... Let’s educate them properly when the moment’s right. Timing’s just bad now."
The older men took turns persuading the young one.
Fortunately, it seemed to be working; he looked conflicted. To Oliver, who was watching, it was quite striking.
They exchanged words closely, but with hardly any real emotional connection—just their own private thoughts. Yet none showed it on the surface.
"Ah."
Oliver spotted Murphy standing off at a distance, quietly observing the scuffle.
He stroked his chin, staring intently with a sly glint in his eye.
"Mr. Murphy."
Oliver approached with steady footsteps and spoke.
Murphy, who had been frowning, instantly smoothed his expression and greeted Oliver politely.
"Ah, Black Magician. You’ve come. I’ve been waiting."
All eyes turned to Oliver.
At first, they looked pleased to see him, but soon that shifted to doubt and suspicion.
An awkward silence fell, until a portly middle-aged man spoke up.
"H-Hey, Murphy... This is the fixer you mentioned?"
The chubby man’s face held contempt, but Murphy responded with firm conviction.
"Yes. His name is Dave—the Black Magician I told you about. We owe him big time."
Thanks to Murphy’s solid endorsement, no one dared speak rashly. Still, Oliver could tell they didn’t trust him one bit.
They were just hiding it well. Then, someone spoke.
"I knew it would come to this. I’ve been saying it all along."
All eyes turned. A neatly dressed man in his forties stood there.
He looked mid-thirties at first glance, with an attractive slicked-back haircut and tidy beard that stood out—probably from an expensive barber.
"Who are you?"
"...Hilton, the Black Magician under exclusive contract with Hoffman Family. I’ve been around since the old boss."
As Murphy answered Oliver’s question, Hilton pointed at him and said,
"You’re not seriously thinking of facing those guys with just this kid who looks barely out of his twenties, are you? The drivers will laugh us off even more. They’re already cocky after hiring fixers through the union... This is just pouring fuel on the fire."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.
Oliver caught snippets like ‘kid’, ‘yeah, kinda...’, ‘they’ll look down on us.’
But it didn’t anger or bother him.
He’d just met these people today.
Not knowing each other meant no trust—it was natural.
All he had to do was prove himself through action. Nothing serious.
Yet Murphy, glancing at Oliver’s expression, urgently interjected.
"Everyone. Let me say it again: I vouch for the Black Magician’s skills. I’ve seen them myself. I stake my name on it—his abilities are the real deal. So please don’t insult the man we’ve gone to such lengths to bring here. He came at my personal request."
Murphy kept his courtesy but didn’t hide his displeasure.
The others coughed awkwardly and looked away, embarrassed. Hoffman Family might be higher up, but apparently not by much.
‘Or is there some backstory I don’t know?’
It wasn’t a big deal, but he was a tad curious. Would they tell him if he asked?
"...Cheeky bastard. A newbie barely settled in, daring to talk big to our Family. This never would’ve happened under Mr. James."
Hilton spat with clear malice. He seemed to be doing it on purpose, souring the mood further.
The plump, kindly-faced man stepped in.
"Hey, hey. Let’s all calm down... Murphy went out of his way to bring this guy, and we’ve been a bit rude, haven’t we?"
"Dragging a kid Black Magician into a serious situation, and you want me to shut up?"
"Sorry, Magician Hilton. This man’s been making a name for himself in the area lately. Haven’t I mentioned him several times?"
"Fixer reputations are half hype. Real talent always joins a faction... Boss. Just go with my proposal. Give me some funds, and I’ll bring my old contacts to deal with those arrogant drivers—and the bandits threatening our business."
The others huddled close, whispering. Something about lack of funds—and factional infighting.
Oliver had questions for Murphy, but decided to handle his own business first.
Things had an order, and he needed to deliver before making demands.
"Excuse me?"
"Sorry to interrupt while you’re busy. You all seem to doubt my skills, so why not test me? That way, no one has to fight among themselves."
Everyone gave Oliver odd looks, as if he’d said something bizarre.
Like spotting something out of place.
Then, the sharply dressed Hilton spoke, hostility in his voice—clearly misunderstanding.
"Ha... Young blood’s got spirit. How do you plan to prove it?"
"No idea. How would you suggest?"
"Ha! Just a dumbass. There’s a simple way."
With that, Hilton extracted emotions from a vial in one go.
A black magic circle formed in the air, loading a Hate Bullet infused with killing intent.
He was using the circle as a focal point instead of his finger—condensing power there. An interesting idea.
Less efficient, but it could catch someone off guard if done right.
"Let’s see what you’ve got—"
Shrrrrrk!
Boomboomboom———!
Oliver’s shadow tentacles erupted from beneath Hilton’s feet in an instant, shattering the preparing Hate Bullet.
It took less than a second, and everyone who saw it was speechless.
Hilton, the Hoffman Family members, Murphy—all of them.
"........."
"........."
"........."
"...Ah. Sorry. Did I misunderstand? I thought you meant a light spar to test my skills?"
Oliver spoke gently, but the atmosphere didn’t improve.
In the end, he whispered to Murphy.
"Should I just go?"
"No! No! Please don’t."
The interrupter was the young man who’d been arguing with the shotgun-toting older men. He introduced himself as Jimmy Hoffman, boss of Hoffman Family.
"I took over after my father, James Hoffman. Nice to meet you... Murphy, you brought the real deal. Thanks."
Interest in Hilton had vanished; now everyone crowded around Oliver.
Like finding a boat while drowning.
"You’ll help us?"
"Yes. I have a contract with Mr. Murphy."
"Perfect... Absolutely perfect! Murphy, once this is sorted, anything you want—it’s yours. I swear on my father’s name."
"Thank you, Jimmy."
"Then help us right away. Start with those cocky truck drivers and their fixer lackeys."
"...?"
Oliver silently looked at Murphy. That wasn’t in the contract.
Murphy wore a troubled look—like he’d expected this—and apologized to Oliver before pulling Jimmy aside to talk.
The quiet exchange quickly turned to shouts.
Jimmy yelled neurotically, just like at first sight.
Unstable emotions, for sure. Yet Murphy persuaded him patiently and politely.
He’d take responsibility. Trust him, for now. Soon, Murphy returned alone.
"Jimmy said I can negotiate in his place. Will you help me?"
Oliver followed Murphy to the parking lot where Hoffman Transport’s drivers were striking.
It wasn’t far, and en route, Murphy gave a brief rundown on Hoffman Family.
Jimmy, quick to anger, had become boss a few months ago after his father. The old man had been skilled and well-regarded, but Jimmy seemed a bit hasty.
"Exactly. That’s why he lost it earlier. Please understand. It’s that youthful impatience, you know."
The kindly, wrinkled plump man chimed in agreeably.
His name was Frank—the one who’d intervened during Hilton’s provocation.
Jimmy had assigned him for help and oversight, but he seemed very close to Murphy.
"By the way. Impressive, Murphy... Bringing someone like this! I believed from your stories, but seeing it firsthand? Even better. Truly grateful. You sorted our cash crunch too... And so young."
"No need to overpraise. I needed Hoffman Transport’s distribution network too."
They clicked well, but their emotional states hinted at something stickier than words.
An unspoken bond, almost clammy. Oliver had a guess what it was.
‘But not the time to ask yet.’
"By the way, Black Magician. You said you know one of the fixers on the drivers’ side?"
"Yes, according to Mr. Forrest. A guy named Arthur."
"Ah, I think so. The weirdo with the stone arm? What was it...?"
"Golem prosthetic?"
"Ah! Yes, that’s it. He beat up some of our guys with it. Solid rock... Punched a truck and sent it rolling several times. My god... We tucked tail after that, but it bruised Jimmy’s pride. Hilton’s been fanning the flames. He was meek under Mr. James, but the moment he passed, Hilton acts like the big boss."
Frank’s words mixed complaint with subtle implications.
Murphy pretended not to notice, but this underworld seemed entertaining.
"Still, lucky break. Arthur seems to be their leader now. Since you know him, Black Magician, starting a talk should be easy."
"Not sure he likes me. We’ve never really talked... Plus, I’m no good at persuading."
Oliver recalled his innkeeper negotiations—just got yelled at.
"I’ll handle the persuading. You just open the door for dialogue, Black Magician. And back me up if things go south."
Murphy spoke with concealed excitement and ambition.
His goal seemed bigger than just helping Hoffman Family secure a distribution network.
Oliver was personally curious what it was.