Shadows at the Black Market's Threshold
“...Therefore, it is estimated that this particular item will be sold at the auction house inside the black market.”
“So it’s that side after all…”
In the principal’s office—the highest point within the Academy—Elina Lunespear, the Academy’s one and only headmistress, scratched her throbbing temple with a troubled expression and let out a heavy sigh. Soft lamplight from the study gently illuminated her serious face. Spread across her desk were the documents her secretary had compiled, the flyers circulating through the black market, and photographs of the auction house that only the highest-ranking individuals were permitted to enter.
“Recently, a large quantity of exceptionally valuable goods has flowed into the black market. Among them, the unsold items of decent quality all appear to have been routed to the auction house.”
“...The circumstances certainly point that way. Haah…”
“Should we reach out to the security team for cooperation?”
When the secretary saw Elina’s pained expression and asked cautiously, Elina offered a small smile and shook her head.
“No. This doesn’t seem like a matter that serious. Far more dangerous items have entered before. Thank you for your work. You may head home for the day.”
“Please call on me anytime if there is anything you need!”
Elina smiled at her secretary’s confident reply, nodded, and sent her on her way.
“Hmm… The black market, is it.”
Elina was, of course, well aware of the black market operating within the Academy. In fact, it would be more accurate to say she had deliberately allowed it to remain. She had lived a long life and devoted no small part of it to the Academy. The black market had already existed long before she took the position of principal. Moreover, she knew it was not used solely by students—professors conducting lectures and research frequented it as well. That alone made it impossible for her to rashly dismantle the place on her own.
Besides, even if the black market were completely eradicated, something similar would inevitably spring up again in time. For that reason, she had chosen to manage it unofficially from the very beginning. So long as its operators did not cross a certain line, she would not interfere first. The black market’s trade in high-value goods had also proven rather useful in helping her uphold her family’s ironclad rule.
Most members of the Lunespear family lived by the clan’s principle of managing and protecting artifacts. Any artifact judged too dangerous had to be destroyed or sealed, a rule that remained strictly in effect, and one that Elina herself continued to observe. As a result, dangerous items worthy of her personal attention frequently appeared in the black market and went up for sale. Since Elina possessed ample funds, she could simply slip in as a customer and purchase them. Compared to the life-risking raids on churches and cults that other members of her house undertook—places that demanded human sacrifice—this was a simple, low-risk task.
Thus, rather than eradicating the black market, Elina had decided to manage and make use of it in moderation.
“Hmm. It has been a while since I last infiltrated anywhere.”
She donned the robe hanging on the coat rack and pulled the hood low so that not even a strand of hair remained visible. After rummaging through a drawer, she found the golden plaque she sought. The intricately carved token could only be possessed by VIPs of the black market; very few people within its confines owned one. Having spent a considerable sum over the years, Elina had acquired hers, along with a dedicated teleportation point reserved exclusively for her use. Of course, since she intended to move quietly this time, she had no plans to use it.
“Well, I can use the plaque if necessary… but today is an infiltration.”
After adjusting her robe once more, Elina summoned her staff into her fingertips and began to chant. Soon a sparkling light appeared, and geometric patterns swirled around her. Several entrances to the black market flickered through her mind. She selected the one with the fewest signs of life, and in the next instant she was there.
“Hey, you. Those clothes look pretty expensive. Why don’t we have a little talk?”
“Khehehe. Even with the mask on, it’s obvious you’ve got a body worth drooling over. You’d fetch a good price as a slave, wouldn’t you?”
“What? If you drop everything you’re carrying and walk away, we might just let you go.”
She saw men who looked like trouble at first glance—and the woman who had become their prey.
When Eloise had first worried about me, I had not told her not to worry without reason. Of course my confidence stemmed from my hypnosis ability, but that was not the only factor.
LV. 6
Hypnotizable Targets per Day: 2
Daily Hypnosis Limit: 3
Condition: Mutual eye contact
Compulsion Strength: Weak
System Real-time Update in Progress…
The level had risen after I slept with Eloise, unlocking an increase in the number of people I could hypnotize each day. It felt as though the previous level-up had only just occurred, yet this time the system had advanced with only Eloise. Perhaps the leveling criterion was not simply the number of times hypnosis was used. Still, I had not discovered any clear pattern. In the end, the only way to raise the level was to keep using it until it rose again.
Regardless, with the number of daily targets increasing from one to two, my confidence had grown naturally. I had also operated on the reasonable assumption that if I avoided picking fights and simply moved about quietly, nothing would happen. Unfortunately, in this damned yagame world, my existence apparently looked like such delicious prey that common sense no longer applied.
Hmm… exactly three people. That’s awkwardly inconvenient…
I had not even stepped inside the black market yet, and already I faced this problem right at the entrance. I had deliberately chosen a deserted spot, only to run straight into these thug-like bastards. It was absurd, but there was nothing to be done.
Using hypnosis here feels wasteful, but if I cast it on two of them and attack the last one…
Just as I was forming such a ruthless plan, geometric patterns sparkled in the narrow space between the delinquents and me. It was unmistakably the trace of a spell.
“W-what the hell! She’s a mage!”
“Damn it, boss, what do we do?”
“Hold on! It doesn’t look like that bitch cast it!”
While the thugs floundered and shouted at one another, I stared blankly at the light. Moments later, a human silhouette appeared within it.
Tap—
The light sound of footsteps gently touching the ground plunged the back alley into silence. The figure who emerged from the light seemed equally startled by the unexpected scene, glancing back and forth between the thugs and me.
Of course, she wore a mask, and so did I; neither of us could identify the other. The masked individual was also completely covered from head to toe by a long robe. The only hint of her gender was the slight swell at her chest.
As the uncomfortable silence stretched on, the masked woman finally spoke.
“Who are you people?”
Her voice carried a rasping, throat-scraping quality. Whether through magic or an artifact, it did not sound like anything that should emerge from a human throat. She was clearly using some form of voice modulation.
Even someone like me, who could barely use magic, understood how advanced a teleportation spell capable of moving a person intact truly was. The thugs who preyed on those entering and exiting the black market entrance apparently knew it too.
“N-nothing at all! We’ll be on our way!”
“B-boss…!”
“Let’s go together!”
The thugs, who seemed exceptionally skilled only at fleeing, kicked up a cloud of dust and vanished into the black market in the blink of an eye. All that remained were me and the mysterious woman radiating an aura of secrecy.
“Uh, um… Thank you. You saved me.”
Before the awkward atmosphere could settle over the alley, I quickly expressed my gratitude and stole a glance at her. All I could discern was that she was a woman with dark blonde hair.
“...Are you an Academy student?”
She broke the silence with the question. I wondered if it was that obvious, yet nothing in my appearance should have revealed my status. So I decided to brazen it out.
“Is that important?”
“Ha. I suppose not.”
With that answer, the masked woman turned on her heel and began walking toward the black market entrance. Having been watching her for no particular reason, I left my spot and followed after her without thinking. In a yagame world, a woman who concealed her body so thoroughly was almost always a beauty—and usually an important character.