Chapter 33
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: Merchant (7)
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Even on a night when the full moon shone brightly, the lights of the Golden District never faded.
Luxurious street lamps stood in a row along the main avenue.
Laughter from the upper crust echoed from the terraces of late-night restaurants.
"Haha, working at the Steel Tower is no joke either. Fixing a broken elevator is a nightmare."
"I hear Sir Silien's making a big announcement this month. Any guesses?"
"Who knows. Word is it's something tied directly to the capital..."
The key facilities were the Steel Tower and the Magic Golem Research Institute.
The smallest district by area, yet its mobile assets rivaled those of the Steel District—this bizarre neighborhood always boasted a serene, leisurely vibe.
"That damn old fart. Where the hell did he hide it?!"
That was why passersby shot sidelong glances at the middle-aged woman grumbling irritably, like she was some exotic beast.
Especially since most knew who she was.
The woman's name was Chloe Gibitz.
Current executive director of the White Silvergrass Merchant Guild—and the mastermind behind Leodorn's kidnapping.
A suit-clad manager was seeing her off.
"Hehe, Director Chloe. How was our hotel's service?"
"The worst. Better start packing your desk—you'll be out of a job soon."
"Th-that...! Have mercy, please!"
The manager dropped to his knees, but Chloe ignored him.
Worn out from interrogating Leodorn, she was just leaving a luxury hotel in the Golden District for some rest.
Her private carriage waited out front.
"Directooor Chloe!"
"Ugh, shut up."
No matter how much she rested, the fatigue wouldn't lift.
Mental fatigue, not physical.
Leodorn hadn't cracked on Numerite's location, and despite hiring hundreds for the search, they had nothing.
His two companions and the team sent to the Iron Song Workshop hadn't returned either.
"The board meeting's tomorrow..."
She couldn't wait any longer.
With the Ironblood Twins on payroll, Leodorn would talk.
It was a hefty sum even for White Silvergrass's executive director, but finding that carriage-load of Numerite would more than cover it.
The next guild leader spot was as good as hers.
"Gonna have to carve him up until he spills."
A chilling smile curled Chloe's lips.
Time to ramp up the torture... er, interrogation.
Where to start? Arm? Leg? No harm in lopping them all off since he'd die anyway.
Lost in such thoughts as she walked—
Plop.
A hot droplet splashed her cheek.
"Rain?"
Chloe frowned.
The sky was clear—where was this coming from?
She irritably pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her face, then froze in horror.
"Wh-what?!"
The cloth was stained red.
It didn't take a genius to realize it was blood.
The moment Chloe jerked her head up—
Shwaaaaaaaa!!!
A shower of blood rained down under the full moon.
"Kyaaaaah!"
A bloodcurdling scream ripped from Chloe's throat.
Her white blouse soaked through in seconds.
The blood splatter turned the peaceful Golden District into a hellscape.
As she scrambled for the carriage—
KABOOOOM!!!
A massive shadow crushed it flat upon impact.
The reinforced roof crumpled like tin foil.
Fortunately, the horse and driver escaped unscathed.
"Aaaagh!"
"Neighhh!"
The shadow was a colossal wolf corpse too huge to take in at a glance.
Its head was missing—blown clean off.
Blood gushed from the exposed white bone.
"Ah... aaaah..."
Chloe collapsed.
Before her frozen form could even call for help—
BOOM! Crash! Thud!
Three more shadows crashed down amid thunderous roars.
One behind her, two atop the wolf.
Chloe whipped around—and froze solid.
"Hic."
A bull-devouring maw of a wolf head lay there.
Its lifeless eyes stared right at her.
"Grrrrr."
She couldn't take it.
Chloe foamed at the mouth and passed out.
The shadow that landed on Jerban shouted.
"Bran! You okay?!"
It was Ilrak.
Bran's face was utterly buried in her chest—bigger than his head.
He frantically tapped.
"C-can't... breathe..."
"Oops."
Ilrak set him down.
Bran wobbled like a newborn fawn before steadying himself.
"Gah! Hack! Whew, thought I was done for."
"S-sorry. Hurt much?"
"Nah. I'm good."
Bran shook his head.
No burns or anything—might've even cushioned the fall.
Without Ilrak snatching him midair, he'd be a pancake now.
"Thanks. Owe you my life."
"Haa... scared me half to death."
Ilrak flopped down exhausted.
The adrenaline crash hit hard.
Bran glanced around and asked her.
"No casualties, right?"
"Probably not. Didn't expect to land in the Golden District."
Ilrak shrugged.
Their landing spot: Valkeros's ritzy northern Golden District.
The city's top neighborhood—close call, but lucky break.
"Still. We actually won."
Felt like a long dream.
Hard to believe even standing on Jerban's corpse.
Ilrak met Bran's eyes and grinned.
"Your cute face is a mess. What now?"
"Gonna wash up. And you look like you just clocked out of the torture chamber."
Both were a sight.
Blood-caked faces like escaped convicts from hell.
As they chuckled at each other—
"Ilrak. Don't obsess over dragon blood too much."
"Huh?"
"You don't need wings to fly. You're plenty amazing as you are. Not some failure."
"H-how do you know abou—?!"
Ilrak flushed beet red.
Bran casually pointed at his ears.
"Overheard Bellan. Good hearing."
Of course, he'd known before.
Approval hunger and inferiority from her stellar family.
He knew more about Ilrak than she did herself.
"Eyes are sharp too. Bet you'll outshine your dad and bro."
"Me? You know who my old man is?"
"Obviously. Fire Dragon Zarheim. Scorched five nations."
"Six."
"Not the point. Seven or twenty, doesn't change a thing."
Not empty comfort—grounded in facts.
He knew her optimized build's potential.
Among stellar PCs, only she fit "Destroyer."
Ilrak Zarheim, and no other.
"So have confidence. I hired you, not Zarheim's daughter."
"...Ha. Never thought I'd take advice from a human."
Ilrak barked a hollow laugh.
Normally, she'd smash his face.
Her least favorite topic, and clichéd advice to boot.
But today? Felt good.
You're amazing as you are.
"Maybe you're right."
Ilrak smirked.
She slung an arm over Bran's shoulder as she stood.
"Hey. Think weapons would really make me stronger?"
"Stake my fortune on it."
"Bold. But your fortune ain't that big, is it?"
"I'll pay in installments."
"Hahaha, what?"
Ilrak burst out laughing.
Her massive dragon tail swished happily.
About then, the blood rain tapered off.
"Wh-what is that?"
"Hey, isn't that Ilrak?"
"My god. That monster...?!"
Crowds gathered.
Late hour, but holiday crowds were thick.
No more blending in as Nameless Hero in Valkeros.
Bran and Ilrak exchanged looks.
"Time to head back? Kael's probably worried."
"Sure."
Ilrak nodded.
She hoisted Jerban's corpse effortlessly—gasps all around.
Had to grab it.
The whole body was hidden loot, after all.
"My god. Director Chloe!"
"She's out cold. Call a healer!"
Then—
Urgent shouts nearby as they turned to leave.
A foaming, fainted middle-aged woman.
Hotel manager and passersby buzzed around her.
Her coat—pricier than Bran's yearly groceries—bore a White Silvergrass badge.
"Chloe, huh?"
Bran's eyes narrowed.
Familiar name.
The merchant who kidnapped Leodorn.
Guess the black幕 hunt just got skipped.
The long night passed, dawn breaking.
The Golden District's sky—site of last night's blood rain—shone crisp azure, cloudless.
"How's the body?"
"Fine. Always in your debt, lads."
Leodorn smiled at Bran's question.
Swollen face pitiful, left arm in cast, right on cane—but his voice brimmed with life.
"Really okay? Not even a day since."
"Y-yeah, don't push too hard."
Ilrak fretted.
Kael nodded beside her.
They were seeing Leodorn off at White Silvergrass HQ in the Golden District.
"Lie if I said no strain, but duty calls. Without you, I wouldn't be standing. Truly grateful."
Leodorn bowed thanks.
Sincerest yet.
Severe injuries needing months bedrest, yet Valkeros's top medics had him walking and talking in hours.
Nice work. Maybe get Kael proper healing lessons.
All courtesy of White Silvergrass.
News Chloe was the culprit flipped the guild upside down.
"Money talks, huh? Thought you'd be down two months."
"Heh, their mess, their bill. Decent outfit minus Chloe and cronies."
Chloe confessed upon waking in custody.
Bellan-found Ironblood Twins contract was ironclad proof.
Targeting civilians beyond Leodorn, hiring notorious killers—life sentence minimum. Execution possible.
Leodorn checked his watch, deep breath.
"Time. Be seeing you."
"Break a leg. I'll wrap up too."
Ilrak supported him.
Escort till board meeting end.
Numerite-packed wooden crates slung over both shoulders.
"So, where'd you stash the Numerite?"
"Heh, trade secret. Guess when you have time."
"Hmph... no clue."
A few spots guessed—all wrong.
Even game vets hit walls sometimes.
Keeps it fun.
Bran waved.
"Good luck, Leodorn. You'll nail it."
"Won't let you down."
Leodorn limped in on cane.
Small, lame, but his back loomed giant.
Peddler vs. titan.
The Golden Merchant Delpha is greatly satisfied with your actions.
A faint Golden Blessing descends. Wealth luck rises until the blessing fades!
Outcome? Obvious.
Next morning.
"Ha, knew it'd go this way."
Ilrak chuckled heartily.
She lounged on the bed, Valkeros paper in hand.
Front page screamed before unfolding.
[Leodorn Bellmayer Returns Home After Decade Away. Back as White Silvergrass Executive Director!]
Awkward-smiling Leodorn photo plastered above.
Ilrak elbowed Bran's ribs.
"See, Bran? Told ya he'd make it!"
"Yep."
Bran shrugged.
Expected—no shock.
Numerite aside, scandals debunked meant reinstatement inevitable.
"Man keeps his word. Never thought we'd crash here."
Bran muttered, glancing around.
Leodorn repaid before the article even dropped.
Space over 100 pyeong, decked in luxury furnishings.
Never stayed anywhere this nice IRL.
They relaxed in a Golden District hotel suite.
Panoramic views through floor-to-ceiling glass.
Leodorn reclaimed seized assets upon reinstatement—said use freely.
Wait, this hotel was his?
"Anyway, Ilrak. Getting hot—scoot over?"
"Five more minutes. Feels nice."
Ilrak draped an arm over him.
Like a heated blanket.
Her tail—the heat source—coiled snug around his waist.
Kael, praying in the living room, furrowed his brow.
"Uuum..."
Hard to focus.
Post-Ironblood brawl, they seemed... closer.
Separated fighting Jerban, but did something happen?
"Haha... nah."
Kael shook it off.
No way Ilrak caught feelings for Bran.
Build aside, different species.
Harmony matters.
Dragons with dragons. Humans with humans. Perfect.
Ilrak spoke.
"So, what do you need from me?"
"Need?"
"Yeah. You said help once Leodorn's done."
"Oh."
Right, that deal.
Rare for proactive offers—solid friend.
Bran nodded.
"Waiting on Villmorris first. Rest easy till then."
"Ah, the blind smith. Think he can handle ancient beast parts?"
"No one else in this city can."
Confident.
Best way to cash in new hidden loot.
Plus commissioned gear incoming.
Specced up big. What do they call this? Silver lining.
Rescue netted plenty: gear, stats, Ironblood experience, Leodorn backer.
Jerban kill scored future-proof hidden item.
Good times.
Valkeros teetered on doom anytime.
Bonus: wealth luck nudged up.
Ilrak flipped a page, frowning.
"Wait, for real?"
"What?"
"Look. That woman from the other night, right?"
Ilrak shoved the paper.
Right after Leodorn article.
[Ex-White Silvergrass Exec Chloe Gibitz Dies Mysteriously En Route to City Prison!]
Familiar face below the headline.
No cause listed.
Bran's eyes narrowed.
"...Dead?"
Deserved it, but off vibe.
Too clean.
Whose work?
Uneasy, Bran stood.
"Ten minutes up. Bathroom—move."
"Five more."
"Piss right here?"
"Kinky."
Ilrak grinned mischievously.
Her expectant look snapped Kael's patience.
He bolted up to chew out the shady dragon—
Knock knock knock!
Cheery rapping at the door.
"Who is it?"
"Bran, sir? Valkeros Post. Mind opening up?"
Silence fell.
Bran and Kael locked eyes.
Exact same line as Villmorris ambush.
Only "sir" instead of plain, and polite.
No reply—postman continued.
"If not Bran, Kael or Ilrak works. Anyone of you three, come sign."
"...All of us?"
Their eyes widened.
Curiosity won; Bran opened up.
A boy in fancier-than-usual uniform stood outside.
"Ah, Bran, sir?"
"Yes."
Unlike last time, letter at ready.
Envelope screamed subtle luxury, matching the boy.
"First off, my sincere congratulations."
"For what?"
"Well deserved."
Wax seal bore a familiar crest.
Shlick! Letter fanned out into three.
"The lord wishes to meet the trio who served Valkeros. Invitation to the Steel Tower!"
The boy beamed.
Kael and Ilrak, eavesdropping, gaped.
"Th-the Steel Tower?!"
"No way. For real?"
Steel Tower invite.
Valkeros adventurers' and mercs' pinnacle honor.
But Bran's face stayed grim.
Abyss exec Silien's words echoed.
Soon, the Tower will summon you all.
Then we'll talk leisurely.
It'd come after all.