Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: The Black Market Fence
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The moment our eyes met with the woman of unknown identity was fleeting. She soon turned away and spoke to the knight mounting his horse.
“Mary, just follow the rules.”
“Ugh... Got it, La...”
“...Mary.”
“Ah! Y-Yes.”
Turning away from them, I moved along with my group. There were urgent matters that needed swift resolution, so free time would likely come only after handling some of them.
“Those kids are hiding their true identities just like us.”
“Whatever their real identities are, Amon... none could be more shocking than yours.”
“Well... can't argue with that. More importantly, where do you plan to look first? For reference, what catches this one's interest is...”
“First things first. We start there.”
“Hmm...”
The priority was obvious.
Money.
That's right, money.
The only funds we had were those accumulated in the mountain stronghold we'd seized, and even then, the usable amount was just the leftovers after operational expenses.
In other words, we'd arrived at the black market essentially broke, so we needed to offload whatever we could.
“This the place?”
“Yes, Master Faust. This is the one the fence told us about.”
The sinister tent loomed much larger than the others. Even in the black market, few trading tents were this massive—not meant for lodging, but for deals. That raised the odds that whoever was inside wasn't ordinary.
‘Indeed... a chance to test how much freedom my intelligence operations really have.’
My previous intel gathering had been limited to the vicinity of the Rotten Root dungeon, confined to the nearby village of Riudira. At best, it involved collecting info and taking over local groups.
So, what if I operated here, in this black market far from there?
Would the system restrict me somehow? Were there unimplemented gaps?
The answers might lie beyond that tent flap.
“...Hm?”
A man with a visibly thuggish face guarded the entrance.
“How'd you find this place?”
Smooth...
Bill handed over the letter of introduction he'd been holding.
This was the one the fence in Riudira had given him before we left.
“Hmm... Guests from Riudira. Not exactly thrilling. Wait here. Talks inside are dragging on...”
- This is all you're offering?
- A moron who pays full price for trash...
Tseeeeng—
...Pssshhh—!
Some commotion erupted inside. A chilling sound followed, and something like the stench of blood wafted out from the tent.
No, it was definitely the smell of blood.
At the scent, the pupils of the two demons beside me dilated wide. Less from surprise, perhaps, and more because they just loved the smell of blood.
“Hey—! Let 'em in. We're done talking.”
A raspy, aged man's voice called from within.
“...Yes.”
The guard outside nodded curtly.
Meaning we could enter.
An ordinary person might have been overwhelmed by the blood stench and frozen in place, but we were different.
Step...
Step...
“......”
As expected, the interior was a scene of devastation.
A prior guest sat in the seat meant for us—but headless. That head was probably the one on the table where they’d been negotiating.
Sizzle...
Sizzle...
Fwoosh...
The man across from us pulled out a massive cigar and lit it. A murky, cloying scent clung to it, likely laced with some mild narcotic.
‘Not my concern.’
With a decapitated body right there, who cared about that?
“Sit.”
“Filthy.”
“Figures, huh? Hey! Clean this up. The smell's getting to me.”
“Yes.”
Only then was the headless corpse dragged out. Probably dumped somewhere shallow.
Sss...
Mori and Bill stood behind me as I sat, flanking the two demons on either side.
“Lemme see... From Riudira?”
“Yeah.”
A woman who’d been fondling a dagger near the scruffy old man bristled at my tone and sidled closer.
“Your mouth's pissing me off...”
She acted like that would scare me. Or maybe it was just her default move.
“How many bosses run this place? Gotta come back after a cleanup?”
“What? Ha... This...”
As I sat unfazed, the man waved her off.
“Don't butt in. Stay quiet. We need to make progress.”
“......Yes.”
His glare shut down his subordinate instantly.
“Now, let's see the goods.”
The large crates were loaded on the cart. Bill and Mori quickly fetched and opened them.
Inside were the belongings of the dead adventurers.
Beasts die and leave hides; adventurers die and leave stolen loot. We'd pocketed just one Repentance Stone and a magic stone—the rest was all in these crates.
“Hmm... Appraise 'em.”
A dapper old man in a monocle took the crates to appraise them.
“Appraisal takes time, so let's chat.”
“No need to twist my arm.”
Answering that, I subtly scanned the tent.
Killing intent poured from all directions.
Dozens of presences, at least.
Zzzt...
Even under the floorboards where I stood, and from nearby tents. Like shoving your hand into a wasp nest.
“You heard I’ve been in the fencing game a long time?”
“Nope.”
“It pays, sure, but there's one fun fact about this business.”
Smooth...
The bearded man grinned.
“Know where all this loot flows to?”
“...Adventurers, I guess.”
“Half right. It does go to adventurers. Just with a new label.”
I mulled his words before replying.
“Stolen goods tag gets scrubbed.”
“Exactly. I'm probably the only weirdo who likes owning dead men's stuff. All this gets cleaned up—some reborn as masterwork crafts, others as dungeon finds, back into the world.”
...Dungeon finds?
“Dungeon relics?”
“Yeah. Some of those 'relics' on the market? Straight from here.”
That was unexpected.
“The Association won't like that.”
“Nah, they'll love it.”
“...What?”
“You know dungeons popping up in Solaria are drying up?”
“I see. So...”
“Means the Adventurers' Association's reason to exist is fading. Think they want that?”
They'd keep planting dreams and illusions to hold onto their worker ants. That must be the Association's goal.
“Appraisal complete. No fakes.”
“Anything noteworthy?”
“The scrolls are quite valuable.”
“Oh...”
Scrolls—like the disposables Carl Kurso burned through like water. Insane performance; must cost a fortune.
“These'll fetch more than the gear.”
...That much?
“Haha... Nice. Before we haggle prices...”
Slither...
His snakelike eyes locked with mine.
“Curious about these goods' history. Where'd they come from?”
Oh.
Mind games.
‘Hmm...’
Did every fencing deal involve this? Or just to lowball the price? Hard to tell yet.
This loot came from my dungeon. The intruders...
‘All dead.’
What to do with this guy.
‘Kill him?’
Kill the man I just met?
And the dozens of thugs watching me here?
‘Maybe...’
Such thoughts proved I'd blended into this world. As a demon always under threat.
‘But blades aren't for constant use.’
A drawn sword picks up flesh, grease, blood—its edge dulls over time.
Violence works best at the decisive, necessary moment.
Plus, this black market had its share of local heavyweights—guys whose mere cough turned heads. Drawing steel rashly could tangle things up bad.
“Stuff from missing adventurers in Riudira, right?”
Here, straight talk.
“Curious type. Doesn't fit the fencing biz.”
“Hear that a lot. Wanna change, but can't. Suspicion's survival in this game.”
A quick glance showed everyone tensed, arms ready. One wrong move, and heads would fly amid sprays of blood.
What now, Faust?
Here for blood?
No.
‘Here to make money.’
Smooth...
“Yeah, theirs.”
“Oh? How'd you get 'em?”
“Sweet-talked 'em.”
“Joking?”
“Of course.”
Goooo...
I unleashed mana for intimidation.
The lord's power of Faust.
They felt only the mana—the crushing majesty bearing down.
“Killed 'em.”
“...No blowback?”
“Not if you're my first.”
“Hmm... Planning to keep this up?”
“If needed.”
He stroked his beard, smirking.
Probably puzzling over my identity in his head.
Bandit? Brigand chief?
Unlikely he'd guess demon lord with a dungeon.
“Think the Association won't move? On this many missings?”
“Not yet.”
“Why so sure?”
“Backwater. Disappearances in Great Forest are common as dirt. Plus... what you said earlier helps.”
“What? Oh, the Association's position... Fair point. Gotta have some danger to justify their power.”
Tch.
“But if adventurers keep vanishing from Riudira alone, they'll send an investigative team eventually.”
“......”
“How's this.”
His expression shifted.
The playfulness vanished in an instant.
“I'll handle all your fencing from now on. Plus... I'll use my pull to delay any investigative team to Riudira as long as possible. Deal?”
Irresistible—drool-worthy. One perk of intel ops.
Delaying the team.
They're like firefighters come to stamp out the wasp nest.
My first dungeon, Rotten Root, hugged human settlements too close—frequent vanishings would summon them inevitably. This guy offered to push back that doom.
Such a sweet deal.
Of course, strings attached.
What's the catch?
I'll bite—spill it.
“Terms?”
“Some pests in the area keep messing with my business.”
“Want them handled?”
“Yeah. Do that, and we'll get along fine.”
“Urgent?”
“Not life-or-death. Need time to set traps—they're no pushovers.”
“Timeline?”
“Three months to half a year.”
“Accepted.”
His eyes bulged at my reply.
“Without knowing who?”
“You're telling me now.”
“Khuk... Khuk... Kuhahahahaha!”
He threw his head back laughing.
“Fun guy. Good eye on my part. They're the Unpleasant Trio. Heard of 'em? Famous around here.”
“...Yeah.”
Unpleasant Trio—Episode 2's boss.
‘A wall I'd hit anyway.’
No downside to this deal. Just gained a solid ally.
“I'll assign the fence who set up your intro as our go-between. Name?”
His crew's eyes sharpened at the name question—like it was rare for him.
“Faust.”
“Romwell.”
Right, Romwell.
...Wait, Romwell?
As in Tanner Romwell?
No way—that guy's...
‘Episode 3's boss?’
My head spun.
“Now, shall we settle up for the loot?”