An Uninvited Guest
It was an ordinary day. The pub master was wiping dishes as usual. Enoch sat at the counter and ordered a late lunch. Just as he finished eating and began wondering what to do next, his communicator suddenly rang.
— Trrri-ring.
— Click.
"…Who is this?"
— …Ah, hello? Is this Mr. Enoch? Is this you?
"Yes, it is. Who am I speaking with?"
The caller was a woman. For some reason, she let out a sigh of relief over the line.
— This is Claraena. I'm Pelton's disciple. Do you remember me?
"Ah, of course I do. I decided to invest in you, after all."
The woman on the other end was Claraena, Pelton's disciple—the NPC in charge of medical facilities back in Eoin.
— I'm honored you remember. I contacted you today because of that matter. Do you have time right now?
"No problem on my end. I'll send you my location, so come here."
Enoch added while chewing on his sandwich, "Or do you have a preferred place?"
— No, that's not necessary. The problem isn't the location in the first place.
"What do you mean the location isn't the problem?" Enoch tilted his head. Something about her words felt off. Claraena let out a small sigh.
— Have you not received any contact yet?
"About what?"
— Right now, Orban's subordinate is forcibly dragging me away. He said he was going to meet you in person.
Enoch's eyes widened slightly. At that exact moment, the closed pub door creaked open. Both Enoch and the master turned toward the entrance.
— Creak.
"…Hmph."
The man who appeared was blond, draped in an expensive robe and covered in dangling jewels—a flashy rich man with a somewhat vulgar impression. He was none other than the young owner of Dimaira Corporation, the man who held fifteen percent of the continent's gold power. The Golden Mage, Orban Barkus.
"I heard you were staying in one place, so I wondered what kind of spot it was."
Orban glanced around the pub, then frowned as he gave his assessment.
"An old, shabby place. Both the ingredients and the interior are cheap junk."
"…"
"Still, the atmosphere isn't bad. There's a subtle romance to it, like an ant's droppings. Inspiration should come easily."
Orban dragged his finger along the pub window. Dust clung to his fingertip. After flicking it away, he tilted his chin and asked, "Are you that Enoch guy?"
"And if I am?"
"As expected, you look arrogant. Your appearance perfectly matches your lack of manners."
The sarcastic remark came back. Enoch didn't bother replying. The man wasn't worth the effort. Instead, he simply took a sip of his whiskey. Seeing this, Orban waved his hand dismissively.
"Come outside. Let's change locations."
"You want to fight?"
"Ha! You've been hanging around Tower Lords and lost all sense of fear, haven't you? Do I look that idle to you?"
Orban snorted. His attitude of casually mentioning Tower Lords was absurd. Enoch wondered where this man got his confidence.
'Still, this isn't a bad situation. No reason to refuse.'
Enoch organized his thoughts. He had planned to meet him soon anyway. Now the man had come to him directly. Judging by the atmosphere, he wouldn't leave until he said what he came to say. It was mutual. No need to avoid it.
Enoch deliberately shook his glass.
"Fine. I'll finish this and come out."
"I'll give you five minutes. Come to the car at the entrance."
Orban scowled and stepped outside. Curses echoed from beyond the door. Silence once again filled the pub. The communicator was still connected. Claraena spoke in a flustered tone.
— …It seems he's just arrived.
"Looks that way. How long until you get here?"
— Five minutes. I called as soon as I landed at the airport.
"Understood. I'll see you soon."
Enoch ended the call, downed the rest of his drink, and stepped outside.
@
A short while later, Enoch came face to face with Claraena. She bowed her head the moment she saw him.
"It's nice to meet you. I'm Claraena, Pelton's disciple."
"I'm Enoch. A mage, for now."
"I've heard a lot about you from my teacher. I should have come earlier, but my schedule got tangled."
"No need to worry about it."
"Still… I didn't want to meet you like this, being chased by someone like him."
Claraena glanced sideways. Orban, who had been standing quietly, let out a dry laugh.
"Hah. Are you saying that for me to hear?"
"Of course. I already told you I was rejecting your proposal. Why are you clinging so pathetically?"
"Why? Because I'm Orban Barkus, obviously. Once I set my sights on something, I never let it go."
Orban chuckled as he said this. Despite his flashy appearance, his laugh was vulgar. He then opened the car door and gestured to the two standing there.
"Get in already. Are you planning to keep arguing in the street?"
"…"
Claraena wore a displeased expression. Still, standing around was awkward. The moment she had been forcibly dragged here, she had lost any control over the situation. She had no choice but to obey for now.
— Creak.
"Good. One of you got in. What are you doing? You too, hurry up—"
"Don't order me. The guest will do as he pleases."
— Creak.
Enoch cut him off and climbed into the car. Orban stood there dumbfounded, mouth agape.
"…You insolent bastard."
— Slam!
@
Orban's vehicle carried the three of them somewhere. There was no particular destination. It was simply to buy time for conversation.
"For now, I'll treat you as guests. If you want anything, speak up."
Orban leaned back in his seat and opened a bottle of champagne. He then took out three glasses from a drawer.
"Care for a light drink first?"
"I'm fine. I'm not the type to drink with people I dislike."
"I don't mind. Pour me one."
Enoch waved his hand casually. Claraena gave him a look that asked if he was serious. Enoch didn't bother answering. Orban, however, felt his pride wounded. He rolled a glass across the table toward Enoch.
— Roll, roll.
— Clink!
"It broke. Give me another."
"…"
Crazy bastard. Orban swallowed the curse rising in his throat and took out a new glass, pushing it toward Enoch instead of rolling it.
— Clink.
It fell again. Enoch hadn't even tried to catch it.
"Again."
"……You son of a bitch. Are you messing with me right now?"
Orban finally spat out a curse, visibly angry. Claraena instinctively shrank back. She couldn't understand why this man was acting this way. Yet Enoch, the one involved, remained perfectly calm. He simply wiggled his fingers as if to say, "Stop talking nonsense and hand over the glass."
— Wiggle.
"What are you doing?"
"……"
"Didn't you just say you'd treat me as a guest?"
"……"
"Does the Golden Mage not know how to entertain others?"
Enoch spoke mockingly. Orban frowned in disbelief. He wanted to tell him to drink it himself, but the closest person to the drawer was himself. With no choice, he took out a new glass and handed it to Enoch. This time, he didn't roll it. It would only hurt himself.
— Thud.
"You're doing it right this time."
"…"
"You should have done that earlier."
Orban forced down the curse rising in his throat. Enoch was supposed to be someone with nothing but connections. But those connections were far too dangerous. Even the Golden Mage couldn't afford to make enemies of Tower Lords. Maybe later, but there was no need to create unnecessary trouble now.
— Haa…
"……No need for introductions. Let's get straight to the point."
Orban controlled his emotions, suppressing his rising anger, and pulled out the prepared documents.
"I'll say this upfront—I came with a proposal that benefits everyone."
— Rustle.
"It won't harm you either, so take a look and decide for yourselves."
Orban pushed the documents forward as he spoke. At the same time, he placed a small paper envelope in front of them.
"What's this?"
"Open it."
"You do it."
"……"
Orban inwardly regretted not bringing a servant. Enoch was even more deranged than he had heard. Eventually, Orban opened the folded envelope himself. Inside was an unknown white powder.
— Srrrk.
"What is this?"
"This is—"
Orban was about to explain the powder when Claraena, who had been watching, dipped her finger into it and tasted it.
— Tap.
— Smack, smack.
"…This is a drug. A high-grade one made from ground starweed."
"?"
"…?"
Claraena spoke matter-of-factly. Enoch and Orban's eyes widened slightly. The two men unconsciously met each other's gaze in the air, both flustered.
"…Why are you looking at me like that?"
"…Miss Claraena. I know this is rude, but I have to ask."
"What is it?"
Claraena tilted her head. Unable to hold back, Orban asked, "Hey, how the hell do you know this is a drug?"
"…"
"You even got the type right? Hah, did I bring a researcher or a drug addict?"
Orban shuddered in disgust. He wasn't fond of drugs either. Claraena quickly tried to explain.
"I know what you're thinking, but it's all a misunderstanding."
"…Misunderstanding?"
"Yes, a misunderstanding. Just listen. How do you know so much about drug varieties?"
"It's nothing special. I just encounter drugs often because of my job."
"……"
"……"
The explanation was useless. Enoch quietly distanced himself from Claraena. Orban signaled the driver with his finger.
"Stop the car."
— Screech.
"Get out right now. There's no room in my car for a drug addict."