Newman (6)
"So you're saying Jackal doesn't like me?"
Having put in exactly zero effort and finding it far too wasteful to just throw the necklace away, I'd gone looking for answers — and Arthur was the obvious person to ask. Of everyone who'd actually give me a straight answer when I approached, he was the only one who knew Jackal at all.
"He himself doesn't seem to know what the man is thinking. They haven't exchanged so much as a word since that trip into the dungeon. And when someone avoids you that transparently, it's rather difficult to go and speak with them, isn't it."
All my carefully hopeful question earned me was a shrug of those broad shoulders. Ever since my duel with Arthur, it seemed, Jackal had been avoiding him too.
"The others will be much the same, I'd wager. That fellow. He gives the impression of burrowing deeper into his room by the day."
What?
He wasn't this bad before we went into the dungeon, though. Did nearly dying there traumatize him?
But then why would he hate me? I'm the one who saved his life. What exactly is his problem?
Haaah. Honestly, I have no clue. What on earth could have poked Jackal's inferiority complex awake?
Me? Is it me? Until now, Arthur was the only person more talented than him — did a second irregular showing up and snapping something in him? There's no other variable I can find. But if that's it, then why won't he take the necklace? Even in the game, even when he was green with envy over the protagonist's achievements, he still accepted the thing!
All this did was give me a headache. I couldn't deduce a single thing.
Hoping that maybe time would soften him, I tried talking to Jackal one more time anyway. Same result. He hated me — and hated even more the mere mention of Zeil's necklace. In the end, no matter what I said to him, he answered with flat, unwavering silence.
So I went and secured the necklace, and now I can't even use it and have to toss it aside. This thing is genuinely meaningless to anyone who isn't of the Burrow family. Or, to be more precise, I suppose it's meaningless unless the one holding it is Jackal himself.
To get my hands on this one item, I struck a bargain with Alsaetin, trading away precious information — and never in my wildest imaginings did I expect the necklace to turn into garbage.
The one silver lining? Alsaetin committed the blunder, which means I get to bill him for it.
I settled into the seat where Alsaetin usually perched, crossed my legs, and looked up at the ceiling. And there he was, head bowed so low it nearly touched his chest.
'Alsaetin. You know why I'm here, don't you?'
"Pathetic info broker. You know what I came to say, don't you? Ah~ right. My bad. An idiot who can't manage a single job properly probably wouldn't."
Alsaetin's shoulders shook, but he raised not a single word of protest. This whole mess was, unambiguously, his fault.
Let's be brutally honest here — what exactly did Alsaetin contribute to me obtaining the necklace? The sum total of his accomplishment was getting hunted down by House Newman and having the thing stolen. Crediting the necklace to my name was one hundred percent my own achievement.
'Honestly, I'd be perfectly content to end our relationship right here.'
"I don't feel like talking business with a pathetic info broker like you anymore. You're just far too incompetent."
Our original deal had been simple: I provide information, Alsaetin retrieves the necklace. But if his credit for securing it vanishes entirely, then what reason do I have to hand him anything at all?
If the information I held weren't something he desperately wanted, he never would have clung to me in the first place. He'd have simply written it off as payment already rendered.
But the information in my possession is, to Alsaetin, more precious than anything else in the world.
How could he possibly let that go?
Left to his own devices, he'd probably want to threaten me and take it by force. If I weren't the daughter of a Margrave's house, he might very well have tried something ugly already.
But alas — how unfortunate for him.
I'm someone he can't afford to touch.
'So let me ask you, then. What exactly can you offer me?'
"So go on, explain it to me. Why I should make a deal with a useless moron like you. You're an info broker in name at least — you can manage that much, can't you? Hmm?"
Make an Offer / First-Price — the dreaded words that had tormented countless players back in my RPG days. For the buyer, it makes the hands tremble, the breath catch, the blood rush to the head. But for the seller? Completely different story. If the deal interests you, trade. If it doesn't, you simply stand up and walk away. That's all there is to it.
Granted, doing business this way tends to sour relationships. But the current me couldn't care less.
Before long, I'll be receiving the Seal of the Crow anyway.
And once I have it, House Newman can cover every single thing Alsaetin does for me.
Whether he likes me or hates me is none of my concern anymore. I've lost all interest in this guy. He's a nice-to-have at best. Who cares?
"Is... is there something you desire, my lady?"
'Why don't you ask yourself that, hm?'
"Why are you asking me? Do I look like your mother, that I have to spell everything out one item at a time? Hm. Actually, you know what? Call me Mama~ and bawl your eyes out, and maybe I'll consider it. Go on. Hm? I think it'd be pretty entertaining, honestly."
"...No. I... I will think of something."
Phew. Thank goodness he didn't actually try calling me Mama.
Still, if I just told him to bring back something nice, he might haul in something utterly useless to me right now — so I suppose I should set the scope for him. Practically anything can be sourced through House Newman anyway, so the right call is to ask for something Newman can't get.
And what springs to mind is, of course—
'Information connected to the Church of the Main God. That's what I want.'
"Nope. I don't trust a useless info broker, so I'll define the range for you. I want information related to the Church of the Main God."
"As for precisely what kind of information—"
'Something valuable enough to make my mouth open would be nice, please.'
"For the sake of one pathetic, useless, oblivious info broker, I'll tell you something spec~ial. Bring me information worth opening my mouth for. Whether a useless broker can actually manage that, well — who knows."
House Newman can barely scrape together any intelligence connected to the Church of the Main God. They walked the underworld clashing with the Church countless times — natural-born enemies, the lot of them. I only figured out I'd lifted the Curse of Agra by seeing my own necklace with my own eyes. Did anyone really expect that crowd to have a network for it?
But Alsaetin is different. He's unquestionably a man of the underworld too — he just isn't one of the Church's feuding enemies.
"That's... no. Understood. I will do my best."
Alsaetin opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. I suppose he knows by now that whatever comes out of it, he won't be getting a proper answer from me.
Don't worry, though. If you throw your whole miserable self into digging through the Church of the Main God, you'll naturally figure out exactly what information I'm after.
I don't believe Phoebe will ever actually break — but she could waver along the way, couldn't she? When that moment comes, I want to be there to help her.
And while I'm at it, naturally raise her favorability toward me a little. And if, at the end of it all, I can slot Phoebe into our party as the healer — honestly, what plan could be more perfect than that?
Our front-line tank and backline damage dealer are already secured. Get the healer, and the last party slot can go to literally anyone.
I was smiling down with satisfaction at the bowing Alsaetin when a knock sounded at the door.
"Lady Aln. Lord Alsaetin. Might I trouble you for a moment?"
At the question, Alsaetin flicked his eyes toward me — a silent inquiry. May we let them in? I gave a lazy nod meaning do as you like, and he called his subordinate inside.
"Enter."
Alsaetin's subordinate took in the sight before him — me seated in the middle of the room, and Alsaetin standing before me with his head bowed like a penitent before an altar — and his eyes trembled violently before he bent at the waist.
"My apologies for the intrusion."
'What is it?'
"What is it, pathetic little runt?"
"A message from House Newman. They have obtained the cure."
Already? That was fast. I'd assumed it would take at least several more days.
Cuz Newman must have thrown a considerable amount of weight around to treat his son. Which means that before long, he'll be handing me the Seal of the Crow to fulfill the Binding Vow.
Mmm. Once I have it, what should I ask for first? There are so many things I want that I was deep in the most delightful of dilemmas when Alsaetin's subordinate quietly added:
"House Newman requests that — if not for their own sake, then for the sake of their son's treatment — you pay a visit to the family estate."
'I see.'
"Is that so?"
The moment those words reached my ears, I understood everything. They'd deliberately slipped that clause in — so that I would come in person to lift the Curse of Agra.
«I never imagined they would summon you of their own accord.»
'Tell me about it.'
Would anything actually change if I went to House Newman?
I doubt it. Cuz Newman wouldn't dare lay a finger on me just because I set foot on his estate, and my lifting one more Curse of Agra hardly alters the equation.
Ah — well, sure, that petty little bastard Agra will hate me even more for it. But that's not a problem.
I've been the object of Agra's burning hatred ever since the moment I became Armadi's apostle. Have you seen what happens every single time I set foot in a dungeon? He's not going to throw this much of a tantrum over one lifted curse. If he wanted to complain at this frequency, I'd have to strip away every last Curse of Agra on the continent first.
If this happened in Soul Academy the game, I'd have filed a bug report on the spot.
The penalties for all this are practically nonexistent, while the gains are enormous. Report a lifted Curse of Agra to the Church of the Main God, and my reputation climbs. It becomes that much easier to win favor with the Church's people. The necklace's functions grow even stronger.
And who knows — maybe our pathetic, useless Chief God might even hand me a little gift. Every experience so far says that whenever I make Agra eat dirt, the heojeop Chief God applauds and drops something in my lap.
The only cost of heading to the Newman estate is a bit of wasted time — and even that vanishes the moment I use a Teleportation Circle.
I have no idea what they're plotting over there, but so what? Even if they hadn't summoned me, I was planning to pay them a visit anyway. All they've done is hand me a convenient pretext.
If anything, they deserve my thanks.
'By when am I expected?'
"So when does that gutter-tier family want me there?"
"They ask that you come at your earliest possible convenience."
Hmmm. Is that so, now?
Let's see. It's still midday on the weekend, so even with a trip to the Newman estate, I'll have hours to spare.
'I'll go now.'
"I'll head over now. Get ready, pathetic info broker."
Well then. Time to go throw one more taunt in Agra's face, shall we?