Whispers of Unrest
On the way back, with the captured assassin shoved into the trunk.
Muzark, with Cryptofetica still active, lightly tapped his head. The hair he had dyed black with a magical reagent instantly reverted to its original white.
Normally, he wouldn't bother dyeing it, but this situation was different. He couldn't exactly flaunt his distinctive white hair at a gathering of non-mages.
"Phew, you saved my life back there."
"Yes. It's my job."
"You're remarkably calm, unlike what the rumors say."
"What do the rumors say about me?"
Silveira glanced sideways at him before replying hesitantly.
"Well, that you're the... 'Crazy Dirt Mage'..."
"You must be mistaken. That's not me."
"Huh? But the name, and the hair..."
"If you keep making that mistake, I'll have no choice but to use magic."
"Ah, ah! Haha. I must have misremembered."
Muzark ground his teeth.
I don't know who coined it, but what a shitty nickname.
Even without the 'Crazy' part, it was just as offensive. It meant a dirt-poor dark mage from Redline. Having been born in Gyeongju and raised in Incheon, he didn't have a shred of good feelings toward Redline.
Besides, wasn't it an outright slur?
"By the way, who do you think ordered the hit?"
"I-is there really someone behind this?"
"You said you didn't recognize the guy in the trunk."
"Absolutely. It's the first time I've ever seen him."
"Then he was likely hired by someone."
"Ugh...! What on earth do they have against me...!"
Silveira wrapped his arms around himself and trembled. Now that the threats had escalated into an actual physical attack, he could barely control his terror.
Glancing at the frightened man, Muzark dismissed his remaining doubts. At least it wasn't a self-directed show. If this was acting, it was worthy of an academy award.
"Any suspects? Anyone who might hold a grudge?"
"Really, no one! It's exactly as I told the investigator."
"Right, just double-checking. How are things at your company?"
"That's impossible. Believe it or not, I'm a highly respected president."
Silveira shook his head in disbelief.
"A company needs a family-like atmosphere. That's how you build trust. Before the threat letters arrived, we had company dinners three times a week, and I attended every single one."
"Oh boy. Did they actually like that?"
"Of course they did! And I get along great with the younger crowd. To be honest, I wasn't very funny when I was young, but nowadays, they burst into laughter whenever I open my mouth. It's very heartwarming."
The absolute worst kind of boss.
He's the exact opposite of Mr. Bern.
As a side note, Muzark had never had a company dinner since coming to Orangeline. Aiden Bern was the type who, if they ran into each other at a restaurant or cafe, would just nod in greeting and quietly take the bill.
Silveira's reputation among his employees was as clear as day, but it was still a weak motive for a hit. Who in their right mind would hire a mage to assassinate their boss just because they hated company dinners?
From what he heard, Silveira treated his clients politely and had no personal enemies. He didn't seem like a bad person at a glance.
However, there was one nagging detail.
"Do you usually attend these kinds of gatherings?"
"Pardon? What kind of..."
"The theme of the party was quite unusual."
Non-mage rights advocacy.
It wasn't just a superficial slogan; the guests' conversations had been incredibly heated. While they weren't fabricating outright lies, they generally harbored a strong animosity toward mages.
It was a place that could only be unpleasant for a mage.
Silveira belatedly tried to read Muzark's expression.
"Uh, *cough*. Will this be a problem?"
"Of course not. It's not a crime, just people gathering to talk."
"Right? Haha."
This was one of the perks of being an investigator's assistant.
Unless someone was exceptionally foolish, they wouldn't look down on him as a mere errand boy. Even if his personal authority was minor, he was in a position to relay opinions directly to the investigator.
In other words, he was riding on Aiden's coattails.
I didn't mean to pressure him, though.
But people often overthought things on their own.
He wouldn't deny that it made things much easier.
"Actually, today was only my third time attending."
"Are you that interested in non-mage rights?"
"It's more that an important client of mine is very passionate about it. I was introduced to it through him. Once I visited, I realized it wasn't a radical group, so I thought it was fine."
"Was he there today as well?"
"I didn't see him today. He usually arrives midway through."
And then the attack had happened.
Muzark considered the "what if." What if Silveira hadn't commissioned Aiden? What if he had requested protection from the Security Bureau, but got assassinated due to some mistake?
And what if the scene of the crime was a "charity party for non-mage rights"?
This is starting to smell...
...really fishy.
"As expected, you're a thinking man."
"Did you already suspect this?"
"We're likely on the same page, though I wasn't entirely certain."
Aiden Bern nodded as he listened to Muzark's deduction.
"It's about time you learned the truth. That's why I assigned you to this escort mission. I didn't tell you beforehand because I wanted you to experience it firsthand."
"What do you mean?"
"I once compared Orangeline to a 'market.' Do you remember?"
Muzark replied with a "Yes," while trying to keep his eyes from drifting down. Aiden's child was held in his arms, pitter-pattering his cheek with tiny palms.
"This place runs on capitalism. Countless corporations in construction, medicine, food, and transport sustain the city. The role magic plays here... well, I can't say it's small."
The utility of magic engineering was infinite.
There were numerous fields where magic was essential, and even in areas that seemed completely unrelated, magic was often integrated into the manufacturing process. It was an indispensable pillar of society.
"But does management require magic?"
A soft gasp escaped Muzark's lips.
"Ninety percent of the business owners in this city are non-mages. Frankly, it's surprising that mages even make up ten percent. Regardless, it's undeniable that they are an overwhelming minority."
"So the upper class is mostly composed of non-mages."
"Yes. But despite that, they are still non-mages."
Muzark understood the meaning instantly.
No matter how high their social standing or how much they contributed to the city's development, they were still non-mages. A third-rate mage lounging at home was legally superior under Imperial law.
"It's a miracle the city has functioned normally until now."
"Because whenever a major disaster struck, it was always the mages who stood on the front lines. Above all, the Empire demands the supremacy of mages, and a mere city cannot defy the supreme law of the land."
However, the conflict had long been brewing beneath the surface.
In Redline, where strength was everything, people simply envied and resented mages. In Orangeline, the word "unreasonable" was mixed into the sentiment.
"In truth, as long as the foundation of the Empire is magic supremacy, the conclusion of this debate is already set. I also believe we must follow the state's will, but I am not blind to the deprivation the non-mages feel."
Many mages held deep-seated discrimination. Even when Muzark first met Yirang, the boy was being insulted as a 'monkey' by a mage.
"So this incident is part of that conflict."
"Even if it isn't, it has all the ingredients to spark a massive fire. A non-mage gathering, a mage, an assassination. Just looking at the surface elements, it's highly sensational."
Muzark scratched his head in frustration.
"I'll keep an eye on things for another two weeks."
"Do so. I'll let you know about the captured mage as soon as we verify his identity."
As Muzark was about to stand up, Aiden added,
"Ah, now that I think about it, they've identified him."
"The assassin? But I just brought him in."
"No. A completely different matter."
Aiden added in his usual nonchalant tone,
"The bomber's identity has been revealed."
Muzark accompanied Aiden to a house in the city. When Aiden rang the bell, a couple in their thirties warmly welcomed them inside.
"You're here. Is this the new team member you mentioned?"
"I'm Muzark. Lower 2nd Class."
"My, quite polite."
The man grinned as they shook hands.
"I'm Second-Class Investigator Alexei Murphy."
Muzark's eyes gleamed.
On the same level as Mr. Bern.
These were high-level experts Muzark couldn't easily match yet. Even if he didn't know Aiden's full strength, he could instinctively feel the gap.
Moreover, both were people he wouldn't want as enemies, regardless of their magical prowess. They didn't get to be Second-Class Investigators just by flexing muscles.
"I heard rumors that you're absolutely ruthless to criminals."
"Me? I think I treat them quite humanely."
"They say you start by breaking their limbs?"
"Well, if the opponent is a mage, there's really no other choice, is there?"
Mages were notoriously difficult to neutralize. Even with magic-disrupting handcuffs, how many criminals actually surrendered quietly?
It was a perfectly logical answer, and Alexei burst out laughing.
"Haha! Bold and fiery, unlike kids these days! I like you."
"Thank you for the kind words."
"Sure, sure. Call me whenever you need help."
Alexei patted Muzark's back and looked at Aiden.
"Anyway, did you really have to come all this way? I told you I could just send the data."
"I wanted to see it with my own eyes. No need to leave a record."
Aiden wanted to keep the bomber's investigation as secret as possible to avoid any noise related to Harmensales.
Normally, Alexei would print out the identity info or Aiden would check the archives, leaving a trace. But with magic, it was different.
Alexei led them to a room and placed a blank sheet of paper on the floor. He dropped three primary color magic reagents onto it and chanted the spell.
⟨ Lu Kula ⟩
The reagents soaked into the paper, drawing a face.
It was the face of the bomber Muzark remembered.
"Is this him?"
"What do you think?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Glad we didn't bark up the wrong tree."
Alexei let out a deep sigh and read the details.
"His name is Draco Pence, Middle 5th Class. I found out he was affiliated with the Erenos Tower in West Yellowline until four years ago, but I don't know much beyond that."
"A magic tower?"
Alexei nodded at Aiden's question.
"Yeah. I don't know how he got mixed up in this, but he's a mage from Yellowline. Officially, he still is. There's no record of him being demoted. If he had been, we would've found him in the archives long ago."
Even investigators couldn't freely look up mages from higher regions. With information and authority restricted, it was entirely thanks to Alexei's resourcefulness that they had uncovered this much.
"Tsk. Sorry it's not much."
"No. It's more than enough. Thank you."
It was indeed significant information.
Yellowline?
He shouldn't just be surprised that Draco Pence was a skilled mage. The key points were that he wasn't a mage from Redline, and there was no record of him being demoted.
How did he end up down in Redline?
Did he sneak across the gate?
Draco Pence was still shrouded in mystery. Who ordered him, and why did he want Harmensales? There was no way to find out here.
For now, this is as far as we go.
The trail had gone cold, and it was in the past anyway. He had no leisure to dwell on it.
The next day, he received a call from Silveira.
Muzark reflexively slapped his forehead.
The headache of the impending fallout was already setting in.
It's going to be a complete shitshow.