Chapter 13
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Chapter 1.5 - A Dangerous Person in a Shabby Place
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It's a given that company life gets tough the moment your boss turns emotional.
From the lunatic who took out his frustrations from getting slapped by his wife on his subordinates and ended up on probation,
to the sergeant who vented about his own cryptocurrency crashing on his troops.
In this world overflowing with every kind of human oddity, it's no wonder they say human relationships are a recurring curse.
And one of those idiots doing something stupid was me.
"I'm sorry!"
As I slammed my head into the dirt floor, I felt the cold touch of the earth.
"…"
Gazes flew from the District Chiefs surrounding me.
A chilling atmosphere where my conscience screamed in agony. It felt like a nonexistent organ was aching.
'Damn black mage bastard.'
A guy who'd reached the 8th Circle should fight fair and square with black magic and curses, right? Not pull some cheap tooth-pulling stunt. And he still calls himself a black mage?
Unfortunately, I was the one in the wrong. Provoking each other until one snapped for real, and the loser got pummeled—pure logic.
My fist just got there before the judge's verdict. Beating him half to death didn't even prick my conscience.
"Deputy Director."
"Yes! 1st District Chief, sir! What can I do for you?"
"Water."
"Right away!"
I tumbled out of the tent in a backward roll and snatched the water like an acrobat.
If there were judges, they'd score it 9.3 out of 10.
At my antics, 2nd District Chief Rianna let out a snicker.
"I'll take coffee, please."
"…? You punk. We don't have that here."
"Who do you think dragged themselves here from the north without a wink of sleep?"
"My apologies!"
Yeah. I'm the sinner here, the sinner.
"So, are you alright?"
Unlike his blond delinquent looks, Alric asked in a heavy voice.
A wound I'd thought was healed still ached like this. Go figure.
"Eh, hanging in there."
"Good enough. But."
1st District Chief Alric continued.
"You're covering the after-party this time, right?"
...Hold on. Was this all buildup?
"What about a pig fattened on acorns from Gaust?"
"Nah, come on. Beef from the Gralto Plains would hit the spot."
"Then I'll have beef too…"
The flow got hijacked by 3rd District Chief, 1st, and 4th.
They synced perfectly even in the fight earlier, and now this too…?
"Fine! Beef? Pork? Stuff yourselves till you burst!"
I already knew the guys I raised weren't dogs—they were wolves. Otherwise, they wouldn't spout this life-risking nonsense while watching me fight.
...Or maybe it was dogshit, so dogs after all?
"It's been ages since we'll grease our throats and warm our bellies with booze."
"Then for the hard liquor—"
"Who just crossed the line?"
Just as the mood got lively, one always pushes it. I whipped my head around, and 1st District Chief was rolling his eyes evasively.
"Y-You're single, right? You never spend money anyway."
"…"
Sigh. Fine. My fault. Let it slide. Sliding is the way—
"Then I'll have Darian whiskey."
"…?"
"...Wasn't it in the duty room…?"
4th District Chief Ceres, sticking to her curt persona. But knowing she'd crossed a line, she avoided my eyes.
Hm. 50-year whiskey, huh.
Fine.
"Rianna, Vargas."
"Heading out now."
"I'll dig up a bit more intel then."
Just as they synced with each other, 2nd and 3rd District Chiefs synced perfectly with me too.
Those two bolted out of the tent without looking back.
"Deputy Director, you said you weren't mad—"
"I said sorry, not that I wouldn't get mad!"
The thud of two heads hitting the dirt echoed across the land.
The after-party menu for this emergency was settled on beef.
"Isn't it unfair if you hog all the good liquor?"
"I agree… No, I don't."
"Ceres? You dare betray me—."
Everyone except 1st District Chief got a happy ending, so by utilitarianism, it was a win. Alric? Never heard of him.
"Ugh? Uaa? Uuugh?"
"Why's this black mage acting up?"
"We scraped it all out. Inject more and he'll go back to normal. Wanna see?"
"…No."
Under 2nd District Chief Rianna's knife dance, info poured out like water as she grilled him spiritedly.
"I've told you everything I know! Please…"
"Uaa? Uuugh?"
"Anything but that! Have mercy, Mistress!"
We wrapped up the interrogation in a miraculous two days. That's why you need experts.
"Man, these tangled merchant guilds are more than a few, huh? Looks like more business trips across the continent."
"Execution Division 1 should handle this."
"…? Ceres? Hey, you—."
"When did I say you could speak?"
"…Woof."
Post-op cleanup perfectly assigned. No hostage casualties. All black mages captured. A textbook successful op.
But here's the thing.
"What do we do with this?"
"Beats me."
That hideous structure still loomed over the frozen field.
A 500-meter-tall black mage fortress—a massive souvenir left behind.
"If we leave it, who knows what complaints we'll get from the Lutvihi Marquisate."
"Can't just bury it back underground."
"True. Plus, this fortress has rare minerals packed in. Could fetch a good price."
3rd District Chief Vargas's assessment. While Alric specialized in admin, this guy was a money whiz.
He claimed growing up an orphan made him sensitive to cash. Sniffs out deals like a bloodhound.
"Even so, how do we haul it off?"
The holy spell I hit it with on entry shut down its functions, but the stuff inside was prime black mage essence—cutting-edge data.
In other words, the Empire and Lutvihi Marquis were drooling over it. No way they'd watch us dismantle it right under their noses.
"Gotta negotiate first."
"Squeeze 'em for about 10% and they'll back off, I bet."
Fair point. Considering the donations from Lutvihi Marquisate, giving 10% as a courtesy fits business ethics.
So, pray the Lutvihi Marquis has brains and decency. If a gold-plated beast shows up, time for Plan B.
"We'd like to buy this fortress outright. Any chance?"
Lutvihi Marquis's words froze me solid.
'…? What?'
No noble's casual "thou" passive or looking down on me as a young punk.
Looked like your average potbellied middle-aged noble, but his demeanor screamed top 1%.
I'd prayed for a decent human, but not one who'd polite-talk me on sight.
"That's not something I can decide unilaterally."
"Fair enough."
Even backing off gracefully. Was I dreaming after that black mage beatdown?
'Maybe the land's fertile.'
Behavior befitting the owner of the Empire's second-best granary.
Barns stuffed with corn, potatoes, wheat—heart full too, no doubt.
"Mind if I ask the purpose?"
"Not the planner, so details are fuzzy. The planner's arriving soon—shall we discuss then?"
Unfortunately, Lutvihi Marquis dropped a ominous word.
'The planner?'
Marquis used honorifics. One of the Empire's thirteen marquises.
Even if Lutvihi was decent, it wouldn't help. Not a gold-plated one, I hope?
'Please, not imperial family.'
Praying twice a day felt off, but a gold-plated arrival voids the first wish anyway.
Just spare me one decent human. If imperial says "let's co-research," I'm stuck here weeks.
"…Pleased to meet you."
"…"
Silence. Even affable Lutvihi Marquis and listening Vargas froze.
'Why grant half my wish?'
Inevitable. Marquis honorifics but not imperial? Few options left.
"First time, but let's get along."
Grayish-white hair, blue eyes. Features I'd seen recently, all too familiar.
"Prospective son-in-law."
Baltar de Astria. Head of the Astria Dukedom had descended.
Lutvihi Marquisate ranked top 1-2 in Empire granaries.
Astria Dukedom led the military as sword and shield, so close ties were natural.
One fed well, the other brought a de facto knight order.
Flip side: big trouble in one meant the other rushed in.
"I'm Baltar, current head of House Astria. Been a while since I chatted with a young one."
"Deputy Director of the Holy Empire Execution Bureau—"
"No need. Informal visit, so relax."
Damn it.
Stating status then calling it informal? Means he'll screw me informally.
And I knew why.
What else but the fake engagement?
"Lutvihi Marquis, sorry, but mind giving us a moment? Handle the rest."
"Yes, Lord Baltar."
Even a solo kill threat piled on. Can I survive?
'…Why am I scared?'
Thinking it over, I hadn't sinned.
Just watched opera with Astria's youngest, dated, drank.
...Sounds sinful.
"This'll do."
Kidnapped by Duke Baltar to an empty field. Whatever happens here stays between us.
"Prospective son-in-law. One question."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Terrifying. No clue what question's coming. If he swings for overstepping—
"Which are you really? The low priest Daniel Dia Tristan?"
Or.
"Or Execution Bureau's current Deputy Director, Chin Nicanor?"
...Goddamn. How'd Counterintelligence's wash leak this?
"Your Grace, it's complicated—"
"I know. No fiends viler than those treading black mage paths."
"…"
"Can't ignore their habits of targeting weaknesses. Worrying over family or loved ones is natural."
Baltar de Astria spoke calmly.
"Heard plenty about you from my eldest. I'm not suspicious—quite trusting, even."
But.
"As a father, I wonder: 'Can I entrust my daughter to this man?'"
With that, a sword slid from Duke Baltar's waist. A replica holy sword gleaming radiant blue.
Fake, sure, but a holy sword replica. Translation: I'm fucked.
"One who wields the sword speaks with it."
"…I'm no knight or swordsman."
"Eldest says you're stronger than him."
Hold up. Mikhail, what the hell did you blab?
"Your Grace, sorry, but there's a huge misunderstanding—"
"Got work piled up, so short and sweet."
Blue aura on the blade amplified.
Replica couldn't muster half—no, 10%—of the original, but wielded by a Swordmaster at the pinnacle? Trifling chains meant nothing.
Duke Baltar raised his sword to the sky.
Downward slash. Basic form every swordsman learns first.
A warrior's perfected downward slash leaves sword scars on the world.
!@#—!#$—%!
Air screamed, splitting. Winds swirled to mend the rift, twisting the sky like a serpent.
Fierce gales with it—a dull blade from heaven's edge. Slowly. Yet swiftly. Bearing down on me—
"Prospective son-in-law, sorry, but I botched the power control."
"…?"
『Great Severing - Human』
"First time a guy's seriously after my pretty youngest. Slipped up."
'No way that's a slip—.'
A world-shaking strike plummeted from above.