Chapter 199
Chapter 199
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 199
Chapter Title: Hassan's Business #2
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The underground market, which I'd visited once before, had been a bustling, noisy place.
Just like how people flock to banks to escape the scorching summer sun, swarms of lowlifes had gathered there, chattering noisily.
But after news spread that the thief guild Hydra had been wiped out.
And with the officials and bureaucrats who had protected this underground market under the law—those connected to them—starting to get arrested on various charges.
Now, the place was as deserted as an old electronics market clinging to past glory.
Of course, it wasn't completely empty of people, but there were more armed soldiers patrolling the underground than customers, so the old illegal vibe from way back was completely gone.
Even so, could they really uproot something so deeply entrenched in just a month?
Even now, in the depths of this underground market, there were still informants selling info, fences peddling stolen goods, and thieves hunkered down in dark corners, dressed in black.
"You lot in that corner—don't even think about stirring up trouble."
The city guards seemed to be turning a blind eye to some extent. Were they thinking that forcing them out would just breed resentment and cause problems inside the city?
They must have decided to gradually phase out the underground market through compromise. Whatever.
Truth be told, whether these alley rat thieves lost their jobs or not wasn't my concern.
"Hey, Samaritan! What's your business underground? State your identity!"
As I walked the cool underground waterway streets lost in those thoughts, I spotted three armed guards approaching with torches raised toward me.
A random identity check?
I was a bit flustered, but since I hadn't done anything wrong, I needed to act confidently.
Panicking and babbling now could lead to "This guy's suspicious—haul him in!" and I'd waste the day making excuses.
With every day precious for building my reputation, wasting time bickering with some guards was the last thing I wanted.
"Show us your ID!"
As the guards surrounded me and pressed in, I rummaged through my pockets.
Should I show them the bronze-tier tag around my neck? Then I remembered something even better in my possession that would serve as clear proof of identity.
With a smooth motion and a metallic clink.
What I pulled from my pocket was the Continental Traveler's Proof I'd received as a reward for my service and merits in the war.
A thin hexagonal plate made of blue sapphire, embossed with the kingdom's crest: an eagle in flight.
As far as I knew, this acted like a visa, certifying my identity. After receiving it by mail, I'd never had occasion to use it and had just kept it in my pocket—first time pulling it out.
I furrowed my brow, wondering if it would really work as ID.
"Isn't that a Traveler's Pass?"
"First time seeing one in person."
"A Traveler's Pass on a Samaritan—you wouldn't happen to be that Lion Butcher Hassan from Mars Guild, would you?"
The three guards who'd been eyeing it started firing questions at me.
"If you're referring to Hassan of Samaria, that's me."
My curt reply had all three grinning under their helmets, letting out exclamations.
"Ho, that massive build and fierce eyes! I can see how you fought a lion."
"Thanks to you taking down the thief guild, the underground's this cleaned up."
"What brings you to the underground market? After-action inspection? More diligent than I heard."
The way they treated me felt like fans meeting a celebrity, making the tip of my nose and the backs of my knees tingle—I was honestly a bit dazed.
Me, a celebrity. Seeing it like this, yeah, I could feel it.
Back then, I'd have been mortified, but with my itch to build fame, I actually welcomed the situation.
Hiding the mix of joy and embarrassment, I put on a grave face, furrowing my brow sternly. That's what a great warrior would do.
Then, in what I hoped was a calm tone, I said,
"Patrolling. Something like that. So, any issues in the underground market?"
"Problems? Always plenty. But now the guard handles patrols and crackdowns internally. Thanks to you, our workload's piled up."
"Anyway, it was an honor meeting you."
With that, the guards and I parted ways.
Glancing back at their retreating figures as they gossiped, "He's even bigger than I thought," "Looks strong," I figured tonight's tavern talk would spread all sorts of rumors about today's encounter.
Getting on good terms with officials had its perks. Maybe they'd even request regular weekly patrols in the future.
Official requests paid less than others, but the stability and consistency were huge advantages.
That's why most adventurers itch to cozy up to government offices or guards.
Adventuring income is great for big scores, but could I keep doing this into my 40s or 50s?
So they aim for scouting into high guard positions or guild staff roles—career shifts like that.
Same in any world: steady gigs are king.
* * *
Finding an informant in the underground market wasn't hard.
But they all waved me off, saying they couldn't share any info with Hassan of Samaria, the one who crushed the thief guild.
Fair enough—from their perspective, I'd wrecked their livelihoods. Natural to hold a grudge.
Sure enough, quite a few shady types were slinking after me. They were making it obvious they had clubs and daggers hidden, waiting for me to let my guard down for a sucker punch.
"Scram, you idiots."
I growled at them pretty viciously, and they flinched back like they'd seen a ghost, slinking out of sight.
"Fucking pricks."
I'd figured an info-saturated place like the underground market would have easy dirt on the goblin king. At this rate, I'd wasted half the day.
As I wandered the chilly, dim underground streets for a while, my eyes caught a stall piled high with bizarre junk.
On it, I spotted crumpled, dented steel plates.
The sight jogged my memory, giving me some hope.
"Shopkeep around?"
I called out to the junk shop, and from behind a pile of goods came rustling sounds in response.
"Who's there?"
Soon, the one-eyed bandit with the bandana I'd seen before peeked out.
He clocked my face and widened his one good eye.
"Whoa, and here I thought it was just a customer—turns out it's Sodomora's little hero!"
Sarcasm or genuine praise? Hard to tell.
"But you're a busy man these days—what brings you all the way here?"
"Came to buy some info."
"Info, huh. Yeah, I deal in that. Looks like the others turned you down flat?"
He smirked knowingly, lips curling in that unmistakable sleazy grin.
Sharp as expected from someone scraping by slyly underground.
The one-eyed man continued.
"Can't blame 'em. Plenty down here resent you— all those hangers-on sucking up to that giant snake's tail."
His remaining eye flicked to the crumpled steel plate.
"But that's none of my business. So, what do you wanna know? I'll tell what I know. We're both busy—no point dragging it out."
Quick on the uptake, just like you'd expect from someone with enough experience to dismiss other informants as nobodies. I liked that.
"I want info on goblins."
"Goblins? You'd know more about those than me, rolling on the surface as an adventurer."
"The goblin king—ever heard of that?"
"..."
The man's nonchalant demeanor shifted in an instant. He scanned the surroundings with his one eye, then spoke.
"Not the kinda talk for out here. How about inside?"
He turned and headed into the junk piles, and I followed into the cramped space formed by stacked crates.
For a second, I tensed, wondering if hidden goons with nets and clubs would jump me, but thankfully, no signs of life around.
He plopped on a random box and asked,
"Where'd you hear about that?"
"Just, y'know—"
"Fair enough, adventurers pick up monster tales everywhere. Goblin king, huh. I do have one story I heard."
Oh, shit.
So my half-day legwork underground hadn't been for nothing.
I'd felt like wandering the desert blind, but this was like spotting a buried milestone.
"But I wanna trade info for info. That cool?"
"Info for payment?"
"Yeah, got a couple questions for you. Nothing tough. Take it or leave it."
"If it's just that, sure."
I'd been fretting over info prices without market rates.
No cash needed? No complaints here.
At my agreement, the one-eyed man chuckled, his eye gleaming.
"I heard a tale too."
He stressed it was hearsay, probably to cover his ass—believe it or not, he'd warned you.
"Underground market tanks, lotsa folks get nabbed. But some thieves cut ties with the past and went adventurer. Heard it from one of 'em."
The setup hooked me, and I leaned in. He asked,
"You know the ruined temple beyond Sodomora's west gate?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Word is, a new ruin turned up nearby no one's found before. And it's crawling with a shitload of green monsters."
"Goblins—"
"Yep, goblins. Those hellspawn devil brats. Anyway, while scouting the ruin against 'em, he spots this massive green bulk on a deep throne. Not an orc, not an ogre—something freaky...."
I was convinced that bulk was the goblin king. So the rumors weren't baseless.
"Where's this ruin?"
"Dunno that far. But one guy does know the spot."
"Who's that?"
At my question, the one-eyed man narrowed his eye slyly.
"Before that, I got a question for you, Hassan of Samaria."
"Shoot."
"If you really took down Hydra's boss, did you find the skull key he had? Skeleton Key. The dream prize all thieves chase."
Skeleton Key?
My mind raced to recall what he meant.
Then it hit me: I'd snagged a small key from the thief leader's pocket.
Pretty sure I stashed it in Luna's cabin drawer. It had a tiny skull ornament on the end.
But I played dumb and asked back.
"What's that?"
"You don't know? Supposed to unlock the thieves' hoarded treasure. Guess you really don't—must just be rumors."
"Interesting rumor. Dig more on that key. If it's useful, I'll buy."
"Sure thing. Anyway, that's all I got. Rest from Half-Finger Kerold."
Kerold.
Kerold, huh.
Sounds like Kerold's the ex-thief turned adventurer who found that goblin-infested dungeon.
"You know where he is?"
"Probably holed up in the west slums somewhere. But that prick Kerold's in bad shape—dunno if he'll even talk sense."
"Why's he in bad shape?"
"After bolting from that goblin hellhole, he lost it. Kept yelling something like 'Hell's descending, hell's coming' nonstop."
"Hell's descending? Got more on that?"
"This ain't even proper info—just ravings. You into that?"
"Spit it out."
"Well he was an interesting person. He kept ranting about how 'hell is descending' or whatever, with a totally unhinged voice. Said he met a god in that deep ruin or some shit."
"A god—?"
"Us underground rats seeing gods? Bullshit. Unless it's Death God Moros right before croaking."
A god, huh.
Hippolyte's words rang true again: this goblin mess might tie to a hellish demigod offspring or gods.
"Come again sometime."
With that, I left the underground for the surface. Per the one-eye, Kerold was at an inn west gate-side.
Not even noon yet, so I figured I could wrap today. I sought out the inn Nymph's Pupil, where he supposedly was.
The first floor lobby felt like any other inn but oppressively gloomy, almost eerie.
Scrape, scrape—
In one corner, a man was wiping cups with a dry rag. Innkeeper? I asked him.
"Know a guy named Kerold?"
"Kerold? Hung himself from the doorknob last night."
"Fuck."
The unexpected answer had me cursing involuntarily. The innkeeper scowled.
"Fuckin' hell, trying to off himself in my inn. Lucky we found him in time. Worst kinda nuisance. Rotten bastard."
"He didn't die?"
"Can't die on me. Customers would bail. Fuck, trying to tank my business, that prick."
After grumbling, he glared at me.
"You his buddy? If so, clear out his crap upstairs? Too jinxed to touch it myself."
"His stuff?"
"Whacked-out statues everywhere—couldn't just poke around. Fuck, even feels culty—"
Cult...
Hiding my eerie deja vu, I said coolly,
"Lead the way."