A Reluctant Partnership
The next day.
Muzark contacted Yirang separately using the contact information he had been given. Since Muzark was still unfamiliar with the city and the job, Yirang had chosen the meeting place—a relatively quiet street away from the bustling downtown center.
"How's the coffee? Does it taste like muddy water here too?"
"It's decent enough to drink. I've never been particularly picky about taste anyway."
"Oh, please. You wouldn't even touch it before, even if someone offered it to you."
"I'm just saying I don't mind it as long as it isn't catastrophically terrible."
Today, the tiny familiar was perched on his shoulder once again. Remembering what Latina had said yesterday, Muzark had briefly debated leaving Yen behind, but she had quickly talked him out of it.
"You already stand out like a sore thumb anyway, so what's the big deal?"
Though the Empire was a melting pot of all sorts of races, there were still standard demographics. Unless one was an elderly man, pure white hair like Muzark's was an incredibly rare sight.
If I wanted to hide it, I could, but is there really any need to right now?
In fact, having a distinct feature had its advantages. It helped establish an easily recognizable image. "The white-haired mage who travels with a demon" was a perfectly striking moniker.
As he carried out his duties, a certain reputation would naturally spread: "Muzark Bespard is a man under the protection of the Investigator." It was the perfect deterrent to keep annoying pests at bay.
Though it'll become a shackle whenever I need to do something under the table.
Aiden wouldn't give him any reckless, dangerous orders right off the bat. He might have played fast and loose back in the Redline, but here in the city where his family lived, he wouldn't carelessly do anything that might damage his own reputation.
At the very least, Muzark was not the type of person suited to be used as a mere "cleaner."
If it were me, I'd rather use him instead.
Without Muzark even noticing his approach, Yirang had already closed the distance to within five meters.
He had chestnut-brown hair and ivory irises, both common features in the Empire. With his unremarkable facial structure and a stained, stretched-out t-shirt, he was the kind of person who seemed to vanish the moment you took your eyes off him.
"Mr. Yirang? It's only been a day."
"You can speak comfortably with me. You're my senior, after all."
"Ah, well... I'll think about it."
Yirang scratched his neck, offering a polite but indirect refusal.
"Besides, it's a bit funny to talk about seniors and juniors. Our situations are completely different."
"Pardon? What do you mean by that?"
"It seems the Instructor favors you quite a bit."
He lowered his voice, his demeanor exceedingly cautious.
"I mean, he went out of his way to bring you here directly from the Redline. And unlike me, you're a proper mage. Plus, he's not the type to force people to work, so seeing how he paired us up like this..."
Muzark was about to correct him, but after giving it some thought, he had to admit Yirang was right. Looking at the facts, everything held up. Aiden had even officially declared that he would guide Muzark as his patron.
"Ah, please don't misunderstand."
"Misunderstand what?"
"It's not like I'm jealous or anything."
Yirang offered an awkward smile.
"Personally, as long as I can make ends meet, I'd love nothing more than to just lounge around at home for the rest of my life. You know how people say being a rich slacker is the best, or that it's dangerous outside? Though sometimes, like yesterday, trouble still finds its way right to my doorstep."
He let out a deep sigh and looked down at the table. Condensation was forming on the coffee cup Muzark had ordered in advance for him.
"I ordered an Americano for you. Please, have some if you'd like."
"Ah! You really didn't have to... but thank you, I'll enjoy it."
While his face brightened at the free drink, his polite, slightly stiff grip on the cup betrayed his lingering discomfort. Muzark and Yen, who had been watching him closely, reached their own conclusions.
"His personality is pretty interesting, isn't it?" Yen remarked. "There are plenty of mages who hate going outside, but most of them are shut-in weirdos. This guy is introverted, but he seems genuinely gentle."
Unlike the skeptical Yen, Muzark's conclusion was simple.
He's a total INFP.
Muzark didn't mind it.
"Anyway, what exactly happened yesterday?"
The moment the conversation shifted to work, Yirang instantly straightened his posture.
"Like I said, it happens from time to time. I live in a relatively decent house for that neighborhood. And though it's a bit embarrassing to say it myself, I'm somewhat famous there, in more ways than one..."
"Is that so?"
"It's just that my name is known around the area. Some people end up in the slums after losing their livelihoods, and every now and then, they hear about me and show up to start trouble."
Considering the skill Yirang had displayed yesterday, it wasn't hard to understand. However, as his "in more ways than one" comment suggested, Muzark doubted it was entirely positive fame.
Because he's a non-mage.
A **non-mage** who was stronger than most mages.
In the Empire's society, such a person was highly likely to be looked upon with disdain. Aiden had probably stepped in to resolve any conflicts that were too much for Yirang to handle on his own.
On the flip side, to other non-mages, he must be some kind of icon of success.
A non-mage who was incredibly strong and even had the backing of an Investigator. Since he was the most respected figure in the neighborhood, outsiders would naturally flock to him, and every time he defeated them, his reputation would only grow. It was a continuous cycle.
He was, for all intents and purposes, the shadow ruler of the slums.
Though he probably found the whole thing incredibly exhausting.
"You certainly have it rough."
"I really don't get why they do that when we all live in the same neighborhood. Seriously."
It seemed Yirang viewed it as a form of collective harassment. But considering how the locals probably threw his name around like he was the guardian deity of the slums whenever outsiders caused trouble, it was an understandable misunderstanding.
"Phew. Sorry for getting sidetracked."
"No, it's fine. Did you receive the information?"
"You mean that company, Healthy Cash? Yes, I've familiarized myself with the details."
As Yirang answered, a sudden doubt crossed his mind.
Wait. Wasn't I supposed to be the one leading this?
He felt deeply embarrassed by how naturally he was being swept along. Even if Muzark was a mage, he had barely spent a few days in the city. Yirang's pride as an Eastorange native was taking a serious beating.
He felt he needed to step up his game.
"Well, hem! Shall we head out first? Sometimes it's faster to just investigate on the ground."
His attitude had suddenly shifted to become much more proactive.
It was a welcome change as far as Muzark was concerned.
I guess he takes his work seriously.
He was highly capable and didn't try to pull rank.
He was a senior colleague Muzark could follow without any complaints.
...Or so Muzark had thought.
"M-Maybe we should just go back?"
"After loitering around here for nearly two hours?"
"That's just how investigations are! They don't finish overnight, you know."
Peering out from the fourth floor of a commercial building, Yirang whined. After taking a severe beating in the slums, Healthy Cash had occupied a defunct underground karaoke bar to use as their temporary hideout.
Several of their members had gone out of their way to climb up to the entrance to keep watch. Dressed like typical thugs, they glared menacingly at passersby, making absolute nuisances of themselves.
"Look at them. They're practically foaming at the mouth."
"It's only natural."
"If we go in now, blood will definitely be spilled. Are you really completely unfazed by this, Mr. Muzark?"
"We already saw blood yesterday. You're the one who sliced off a guy's fingers, so what are you talking about?"
"No! That was because the Instructor was there..."
"So you were just acting tough in front of your boss?"
Perhaps having run out of excuses, Yirang began to gently rub his stomach.
"Um, I'm really sorry, but I have irritable bowel syndrome..."
"And I seem to have a condition where I hit people when I get frustrated."
"What do you mean, 'seem to'?"
"I just realized it myself. My hands are practically itching."
Catching sight of Muzark's hands clenching and unclenching in a blatant display, Yirang squeezed his eyes shut.
"...Fine, I get it. We'll do it, okay?"
"I'm glad it didn't take three hours to convince you."
"Sigh. What a terrifying junior I've ended up with."
Trudging down the stairs, Yirang suddenly spun around.
"Um, wouldn't it be better if you took the lead, since you're a mage..."
"Just go already."
Healthy Cash.
According to Aiden's information, they were a private lending firm that operated right on the edge of the law.
The interest rates they charged didn't exceed the legal limit. They didn't engage in illegal, violent debt collection practices either, but they frequently cornered debtors under the guise of "coincidence" to apply psychological pressure.
Ninety-nine percent of those whose social standing was low enough to rely on small-scale private lenders were non-mages. If a mage was brought along for the collection, the intimidation was bound to work.
The reason the Investigators had left Healthy Cash alone was multifaceted.
Where there was demand, there would always be supply. As long as the debtors fulfilled their contracts properly, there was no real issue. In the first place, Investigators tended to show leniency to small organizations as long as they didn't cross the line.
Furthermore, they acted as a deterrent to keep overtly illegal syndicates from moving into the territory. It was far better to deal with weeds than cancer cells eating away at the streets.
Though they had survived as a sort of necessary evil,
"Those Investigator mutts! Kill them both!"
They had now reached a state where they were completely blind with rage. It was only natural, considering Yirang—whom they had fought just yesterday—had barged into their hideout only a day later.
"I-I knew this would happen! What do we do?!"
"What do you mean, 'what do we do'? We beat them until they calm down."
"Are you sure we'll be okay? The Instructor isn't even here."
"As long as we don't kill them, we'll manage somehow."
Muzark and Yirang split up, heading left and right.
There were three opponents on each side. Having anticipated an intrusion, they showed no hesitation. Among them, the two rushing forward with weapons in hand were presumably non-mages.
"The guy sitting in the back is the mage," Yen warned. "Ignore everyone else but him."
Unless they were an anomaly like Yirang, there was no need to be wary of non-mages. The enemies seemed to realize this as well, their movements suggesting they were acting as meat shields for the mage.
"Alright, out of the way!"
The moment the mage shouted, the burly men scrambled to either side.
Whoosh!
Chairs, round tables, and even cartons of cigarettes—all sorts of objects flew through the air, surrounding Muzark on all sides. It was basic telekinesis. On its own, it lacked the power to pierce a **Shield**.
Its true purpose was to rob him of any room to dodge.
"Die!"
The mage's index finger pointed through a gap in the debris, aiming directly at Muzark.
He was casting **Bullet**, a spell that fired projectiles of condensed mana. Among easily learned spells, it was highly effective at penetrating a **Shield**. It manifested rapidly and was particularly lethal to humans, making it the most common offensive magic.
Their level is definitely different.
It was a simple but powerful combination.
Without the raw power to smash through the obstacles held in place by telekinesis, dealing with this would have been incredibly difficult. A mere loan shark was executing magic far superior to the mages who had ruled the Redline.
Still...
It wasn't enough to make him hit a wall.
The moment he manifested **Cryptofetica**, the flying clutter crashed to the ground in heaps. It was the result of combining his physical strength to push through the debris with the magic that tore apart the spell formula itself.
"He's going to get a shot off. Brace yourself."
Muzark had been thinking the same thing, but receiving confirmation from a veteran mage was incredibly helpful. It felt like a reassuring nudge, confirming his judgment was correct.
Hunching his upper body forward as he sprinted, he raised his right arm to shield his head.
Thud!
A heavy impact reverberated through the gauntlet encasing his right hand.
That was one shot. Even without physical ammunition, **Bullet** required a form of "reloading." The time needed to condense the mana projectile varied wildly depending on the mage's skill and proficiency.
This guy didn't seem nearly as fast as the bomber.
Before the mage could prepare his next shot, Muzark pulled a bundle of black threads from his fingertips. The moment they wrapped around the mage's wrist, Muzark yanked them back violently, as if trying to tear the limb right off.
"Urgh!"
Dragged clean out of his chair, the mage slammed chin-first onto the floor.
"Boss!"
"B-Block him!"
Muzark shoved aside the non-mages throwing themselves in his path and closed in on the mage. Stepping heavily onto the man's exposed back, he planted his palm firmly on the crown of his head.
"You did well, but you really fight like a brute..."
Muzark ignored Hater's nonsense.
"Are you guys insane? Shooting a **Bullet** straight at my vitals?"
"Y-You're the ones who came to kill us..."
"What kind of bullshit is that? Just stay still."
With the mage subdued, the battle was over. Muzark turned his head to check on Yirang, only to find all three of his opponents already sprawling on the ground, completely neutralized.
"Whew. I thought I was going to die."
Contrary to his dramatic tone, he didn't have a single scratch on him.
"I honestly can't tell if that guy is amazing or just weird," Yen muttered.
"I know, right? He's actually good when he gets down to it."
Muzark let out a soft chuckle.
Somehow, things had drifted far from his original intention of learning the ropes from Yirang. However, the skirmish had given him the confidence that his skills were more than enough to get by in the Orangeline.
"We were a bit aggressive, but let's just call it self-defense."
"Self-defense, my ass! You did that to us yesterday and then barged in here today, of course we'd—!"
"Shut up. Do you want to go to prison?"
When Muzark glared at him, the mage quickly shut his mouth. Looking closely, his left hand was wrapped thick in bandages. He must have been the guy who had his fingers sliced off by Yirang yesterday.
Not my problem.
They were the ones who started it, yet they were acting like the victims.
If it weren't for the job, Muzark wouldn't have associated with them in the first place.
"Enough. Just start talking. How did you get kicked out of your territory?"
It was time to dig into the "deeper matters" Aiden had mentioned.