Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: Crown Hall Hypnosis App Crackdown Operation -2
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"Huff... huff... huff..."
The boy ran until his lungs felt like they were about to burst. A piercing ring echoed in his ears, and his leg muscles screamed in pain beyond mere fatigue.
Stop. You have to stop running. You're exhausted enough.
His body wailed like that, but his mind ruthlessly commanded him to flee once more. After all, he was being pursued. He had to escape. He had to break free from the clutches of that wicked mage.
Everything had been fine just moments ago.
Today had been a bountiful haul. He hadn't gotten caught by any adventurers and beaten to a pulp, and tucked in the merchant's pouch he'd stolen was even a single silver coin. With that, he could pay his tribute and still scrape by for a week.
On the way, he'd spotted the pretty girl who worked at the food stall. Seeing her was a stroke of luck. She was frail and rarely left home, so he only crossed paths with her every once in a blue moon.
So.
Today was his lucky day. That's what the boy thought.
Just one more mark, then head home. If he could snag another silver, he might even buy a warm loaf of bread instead of that rank jerky. Or maybe cover the tribute for his buddies who came up short.
A hooded man caught his eye, as if drawn by fate. Hooded types could be mages, so caution was key, but this one didn't look like much of a powerhouse.
No fancy staff, not even a single gaudy accessory.
The faint red glow peeking from the hood's shadow was eerie, but the man was distracted by the women flanking him. One bump, and it'd be done. He wouldn't even notice his wallet was gone.
Pretending it was an accident, the boy collided with the man and slipped a pouch from his pocket.
"Ah, sorry! 'Scuse me!"
He bolted. A quick glance back showed no pursuit—the man was only now sluggishly checking his belongings. Perfect.
Slip into his hideout like this, and not even a mage's grandpa could track him down.
Then.
Snap.
A crisp finger snap rang out, clear as if right by his ear. The boy looked around, but couldn't pinpoint the source.
Probably nothing. That's what he figured.
That was the start of the nightmare.
Run down the alley, round the corner, right three times, left once... and his hideout should appear. The filthy, cramped den where the pickpockets crashed.
But at the end of the path, somehow, he was right back in front of the mage.
"...?!"
"Once."
The boy jolted in shock and fled. What the hell? Did I get too hyped and lose my way? Focus this time. Into the alley, round the corner, right three times, left once.
But at the end of the path, he met the mage again. The man casually raised a hand, showing two fingers.
"Twice."
He ran.
Cold sweat began to pour. Was it magic? But I swear... I ran the right way. It's the paths. They must've messed with the alleys.
Some big shot who prowls the backstreets must've rerouted everything for "urban renewal" or whatever, without the kid noticing.
Take another route. Over the wall, through the dog hole—a maze of twists. This had to work. He even checked his graffiti marks on the alley walls. Just like this, around the corner.
Around the corner...
The boy skidded to a halt. That made two. Twice already. If he went forward now, would he loop back to the mage again?
"...I'm not falling for it... not anymore...!"
I'm no idiot. Muttering that, he dragged his feet. He wouldn't fall for it a third time. He wouldn't turn the corner.
Forget the hideout. Wander the city till this curse or whatever wore off, then go back. Resolved.
The boy turned around.
And there stood the mage.
"Gaaahhh—!!"
"Three times."
The boy screamed and collapsed in place.
Red eyes gazed down at him silently from the darkness. No anger, no irritation—just pure curiosity swirling there.
Like an innocent child plucking the wings off a dragonfly...
Today wasn't a lucky day after all. It was a cruel one, luring him with fortune's bait only to drag him to ruin. Terror gripped the boy. Horrible tales from storytellers flooded his mind.
Witches boiling kids alive in cauldrons. Dark sorcerers ripping off limbs and grafting on beast paws.
Imagining what this mage might do to a pickpocket made his limbs shake and breath catch. He had to run. Had to escape. From here!
With trembling limbs that barely obeyed, he staggered to his feet and bolted wildly, not caring where—just away.
But the boy knew how this story ended.
Around the corner, once more.
"..."
"Four times."
No escape.
Shivering violently, the boy dropped to his knees before the mage, kowtowing and spilling the stolen pouch and all his earnings.
"Uh... ah..."
Apologize. Beg forgiveness. He opened his mouth, but only gasps escaped—no words. Lungs burning. Throat tightening.
He ground his forehead into the dirt, a desperate plea not to be harmed.
The mage watched impassively, then knelt on one knee, placing a hand on the boy's head...
"Why is an eagle's beak yellow?"
"?"
"It's not in any encyclopedia."
And spouted nonsense flatly.
The mad mage and the boy hunkered side by side on nearby stairs, chatting away.
"So, when picking marks, you judge by face first?"
"Yeah. If they look dim, they usually are. But skip the cloudy-eyed dim ones—they pull a knife nine times outta ten..."
"Anything else?"
"How tough they are, mostly. One wrong move, and you're sliced before you even pick the pocket. Check for weapons first. And..."
Violet Magic Tower Master Yuna and imperial agent Yuri Lanster watched the pair from a short distance away. Yuna stood hugging her staff, while Yuri leaned against a wall, arms crossed.
Yuri asked casually.
"Has the mad mage always been like this?"
"...What do you mean?"
"Kinda offbeat... Twisting the mood to drag everyone into his pace."
"Oh, yeah. Since way back."
His my-way-or-the-highway vibe had shaken up the dreary Violet Magic Tower atmosphere big time. Tense and serious one moment, flipped on its head the next before you knew it.
Without resolve, you'd get swept away.
The Tower Master reminisced fondly. How he'd ensnared those around him.
"Feels like he switches genres."
"Genres?"
"Thought it was romance, then thriller, then coming-of-age, but nope—romance after all..."
"Hard to picture."
"So, what happened was...!"
The Tower Master chattered on. People light up when talking about what they love. Yuri watched her unload tales about the mad mage and thought.
She really likes the mad mage.
Then, what about me?
Hanging out was fun. Hard to find someone with such firm views on eros, so real debates were possible.
They clicked well. Felt like him and her alone could infiltrate an enemy stronghold without scripts or plans.
Maybe her first real friend.
Even if she'd chosen a life unbound by race, she couldn't escape her essence. Not at the fable stage, anyway. Succubi absorbed energy to sustain themselves—like humans eating.
Sharing a hot night in bed? Just "grab a bite."
Succubi couldn't truly distinguish love from friendship.
Which was I? To know for sure, she'd need ascension, free from racial limits. For now, vague guesses...
Didn't matter either way.
"So, how'd it end...? You listening?"
"Heard half."
"...Half means you zoned out the other half!"
Yuri turned away innocently. She'd talked plenty—hopefully the mad mage and pickpocket kid were wrapping up.
"Hm."
They definitely were.
The pickpocket boy drew a dagger and aimed it at his own throat. Trying to off himself after being spared? Harsh punishment, but efficient...
"That's not me doing it—stop him!"
Nope.
Yuri and the Tower Master rushed over. Trouble brewing.
I'd stepped on a hidden landmine because one thing bugged me. The kid was a seasoned pickpocket with solid instincts. So why this oddity?
"There was a pink-haired suit gal next to me, and a small, precious, cute girl."
"There... was?"
"A mage strolling with two stunners like that? Means he's got money or power—or both."
"Yeah..."
"Why pick me?"
A smart pickpocket skips anyone with two eye-catching beauties. And I wasn't even in cheap commoner rags.
The Tower Master's case made sense—she had perception-block magic up to hide her unsanctioned trip to the capital, so no surprise if overlooked. But Pink Suitress was full formal wear. No way she passed for ordinary.
Doubt clouded the boy's face. He racked his brain, piecing together why he'd targeted me.
"Well, no jewelry or staff..."
"Pink Suitress was in flashy threads, and the Tower... er, the girl next to her had a staff?"
"...?"
The boy stammered—uh, um, er—then his pupils dilated wide.
Bad sign. Sensing the blowup, I gathered mana, bracing for the next move. Ambush? Or suicide bomb?
Shing!
The boy yanked a hidden short dagger from his pant leg and lunged it at his throat. Suicide it was. I reached out.
"Mind Link."
I whipped up a spell on the fly, stabbing a mana thread into the pickpocket's forehead. Connected. I hijacked his brain, commanding full stop.
The blade tip nicked his throat shallowly and froze. His implanted illusion magic clashed with mine.
You know the type—for secrecy, triggers self-destruction on certain conditions.
His wasn't top-tier. Infiltrate with mana, isolate the corruption, slowly dismantle the mental wedge. Easy—if I had three seconds.
But no time now.
This improvised spell was shaky. Like tug-of-war with a pinky. Even a genius like me struggled.
What to do? Kid dies, but pry info first?
Then Pink Suitress's hand shot out, grabbing the blade—mana-wrapped skin unscathed.
"Stopped it."
"Phew."
I dropped control of his body, focusing on nuking the brain implant. Exploit the vuln, sever—done. 2.7 seconds.
The boy passed out and flopped sideways. The Tower Master, who'd been clamping her mouth to not distract me, sprang up as it ended.
"...What happened?!"
"Felt like someone tested me through the kid. But more importantly..."
"Yeah?"
"The spell on him? Looks like Violet Magic Tower work."
"...Eek?!"
Suspicion billowed. I recalled Father's words from my hometown visit: the Violet Tower mages who regularly bought kids.
This wasn't ending here. I resolved to dig deeper.