Chapter 41
Chapter 41
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Dilemma - [2]
Hans wiped his dry face and let out a deep sigh. An unmistakable fatigue weighed heavily on his shoulders.
"Yo, Aiman."
Hans suddenly spoke up.
"Do you know what a witch is?"
"Witch?"
Out of nowhere.
"A woman who casts spells? Some old grandma flying on a broomstick, brewing herbs? Straight out of a fairy tale book."
Hans scratched his head vigorously at my response.
"That's the usual image. Fairy tales and folktales nail it exactly."
He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
"The witches I dug into on my own are a little different. The definition's off, I guess."
"How so?"
"They call witches the ones who twist the flow with sorcery or manipulate invisible luck to line their pockets."
Sounds like a massive scam just from the description. Manipulate luck, my ass.
"Did you meet one or something? Like falling for a witch who hands over a love potion?"
"That'd be ideal. I'd kill for one if it existed."
He stood up and slid one of the document stacks on the desk toward me.
"Take a look at this."
I skimmed the papers Hans handed over.
The title read: [Eastern Trade Route New Development Report].
Lists of exotic goods—porcelain, spices, silk—and their projected profit margins.
"Oh… damn, that's huge. How'd they pull this off? Killer stuff."
"New route from the East, fresh open. Top quality, super rare, flying off shelves. Even the Bellua Family cashed in lately."
"But there's a catch, right? From the way you're talking."
"The problem is…"
Hans furrowed his brow.
"The items give off a bad vibe, I guess…"
"These margins say the designs aren't trash. Bad design vibe? Nah."
"Spot on. Not that—they're gorgeous. The feeling… yeah. Kinda ominous."
Vague as hell.
"Heard vengeful spirits screaming from them or something? Obviously not, but."
Hans paused, then lowered his voice.
"The owners' luck takes a slight dive."
"Luck dives. Super vague."
"Little things, y'know? Tripping on a pebble on flat ground, spilling ink and wrecking papers, stubbing your toe on the doorframe."
Way too minor.
"Why spill this to me?"
"One-off? Everyday blunders. Happens to everyone."
Hans sighed.
"But stack 'em up, and the story shifts…"
"Hmm. Not sure I should even hear this, but keep going."
"One or two? Coincidence for sure…"
Hans pulled out another sheet.
Title: [Company Safety Accident Report]. He moved to hand it over.
I raised a hand to stop him.
"Company confidential, right? Better not."
"You're the only one I'd tell. Not spreading it around."
"Fair enough."
Hans grabbed paper and pen.
"I ran an experiment."
"Experiment, huh."
"Split the staff into two groups. They had no clue—just routine task reassignment."
Hans scribbled A and B on the paper.
"Group A handled Eastern goods. Looked like plain teacups or handkerchiefs, so no idea they're Eastern. Group B stuck to the usual stock."
"They had zero hint they were guinea pigs?"
"Watertight secret."
Hans tapped a graph.
"Results here. Minor incidents tallied over a week."
I peered at the graph. Two bars side by side—one a tad taller.
"My manual count, so error margin's decent… but…"
Hans jabbed the difference with his pen tip.
"Group A clocked 1.3 times the accidents of Group B."
"…1.3 times?"
"1.3 times."
Hans replied dead serious, and I mirrored it.
"This… no way it's evidence."
"Exactly. That's the issue."
Hans spoke like a weight lifted.
"Too trivial for proof, right? All piddly shit…. Sigh."
"No deaths or anything."
"Nope. Scraped knees from falls—that's the norm."
"Worst one?"
"Crushed under cargo mid-unload? Bounced back after treatment. Stuff like that happens."
Hans smacked his lips.
"Spread to nobles too?"
"Yeah. Biggest headache."
"We're fucked."
"Totally."
Hans drummed the desk.
"Owning 'em ain't catastrophic. But if it's a real curse or whatever? Rumor hits that Bellua knew and sold anyway?"
He sighed.
"Nobles sit still? Nah—they'll riot. 'Our spills and trips? Bellua's fault! Pay up!'"
I could picture it. Frame it as, 'Bellua Family peddled cursed crap, tanking our fortunes!'
Boom—Bellua buried.
Not some powerhouse. Just barons.
"I'd have reported to the young lady ASAP."
"Crossed my mind. But escalation? Disaster. Full recall, massive penalties, rep in the toilet."
By Hans's realization, goods were everywhere.
"Help?"
"How? What can you do?"
"Even offering, you bitch."
Worth aiding an ingrate? …For Lady Rozina, yeah.
"Can't prove it? Force 'em to prove they're clean."
"What're you planning?"
"Nothin' big."
I slipped a hand in my pocket, pulled the pendant, set it on the table.
"Blow the whole thing wide open."
"…The hell's that?"
Hans eyed the pendant, puzzled.
"What’s it look like?"
"Just… an antique?"
"Check the engraving."
Hans adjusted his glasses for a close look. No recognition, obviously.
"Knew it—no dice. Imperial Academy Dean's pendant. Badass, huh?"
"…!"
He jolted, nearly toppling backward.
"Oh shit… you snapped?"
"What dumbass talk."
"You forged it?"
"Think I'd stoop?"
"You could."
Tribal hate? Hans sucks.
"Shut it and listen."
I spun the pendant on my finger.
"Feels unremarkable to you, right?"
"Yeah… still does."
No way Hans senses what even Serika missed.
"Eastern traders clueless too. But screams 'real deal'? Old-school, noble crest."
"This next bit—I shouldn't hear."
"Roughly fake one, hawk it secret-like to them."
Hans sighed, getting it.
"Spin it as elite Imperial secret pass."
"Then leak rumors?"
"Yep. 'Some caravan forged the Dean's seal for shady deals.'"
Hans mulled, then spoke.
"…But forging cool? Caught, we're toast."
"Basic idea anyone's got. Stir a bit, fabricate—easy."
Forgery's low-hanging fruit. Nail it too good, can't tell fake from real.
"Scheme's clear. But flop? Family craters."
"What were we saying?"
Snapped to—here already. Blank memory. Am I getting young dementia?
Hans shook his head at my vibe.
"…Nah, not doing it. Insane."
"What'd we discuss?"
"Dunno… Aiman, why're you here?"
Ah. Right—Versha's type is this Hans!
"Hook you up with a girl. Versha—'bout 190cm, pink hair, sharp as knives."
"Oh… sounds legendary."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Soon after, word from Hans.
Eastern witch demands Academy prove her innocence… begged to see Hans!
I was floored! What'd Hans pull?
Nah—who's Hans? First I've heard!