Off to Sell the Parts
The back alleys of the capital.
A stepped pit where neon signs stretched on without end, like a den of beasts buried inside the city itself.
Clank, clank— I was riding a rusted elevator down, swaying with every jolt.
Right, this is where the broker was.
How did I know about such a godforsaken place?
I simply knew it all along. Because this wasn't the first time I'd played this game.
Even back when I was running Gladiator Kargal and the heretic Behamit, I passed through this street all the time.
Still, this is my first time actually coming here.
Of course, seeing it with my own two eyes was another matter entirely.
Even after stepping off the elevator, I kept walking purely on memory.
Thick cigarette smoke hung in the air.
I could feel the eyes of the homeless lining the road and of tattooed brutes glancing my way.
For an ordinary girl to walk through an alley like this was practically the same as shouting rob me, please….
Not that I lacked insurance, of course.
If things go sideways, I can just flip the whole table.
I had pre-cast a subspace spell.
Before heading out, I'd stored a small Titan in subspace, so if it came to that, I could simply pull it out, climb aboard, and raise hell.
When you're doing something illegal, you always need a means of protecting yourself. That's just common sense.
Is this the place?
Jingle, jingle—
My destination, at last.
When I opened the door on the lowest level and stepped inside, I spotted a man in the distance with his feet propped up on the counter.
Wow, the facilities here are insane.
I marveled inwardly.
From outside it had looked like some neighborhood hardware shop, but the interior was decked out like a luxury hotel.
The walls were even covered in intricate patterns — top-grade soundproofing barriers and mana distortion fields, no less.
Not even the Queen herself would know a place like this existed beneath the capital's undercity.
It's on a whole different level from my shop.
The comparison to my shabby little repair shop was inevitable.
My place didn't even have a properly paved road, let alone foot traffic — just a building with dust swirling everywhere.
Commuting was impossible, so my situation had devolved into dragging a makeshift cot into a corner of the scrapyard and eating and sleeping there.
This should've been MY shop….
Comfortable temperature, perfect security, rock-solid infrastructure. I smacked my lips with envy.
Should I move?
Yes, I knew metropolitan rent was murderous.
But if I pulled off a decent haul from today's stolen goods? Monthly rent might just be within reach, no?
And if I set up shop near the Academy, my appointment book would fill up far faster.
"Get out of here, brat."
…! I'd been looking around aimlessly when my head snapped up.
My eyes met those of the man sitting slanted against the counter, legs crossed.
"This isn't a place for playing house."
A scarred face, tattoos peeking out above his collar.
Even in a suit, the man couldn't hide his gangster air, and he gave a lazy flick of his chin like I was an annoyance.
But.
"I… have a reservation…."
"Hm?"
A moment of silence.
The man's scarred eyebrow twitched, and then—
"It's under… FloodDamageFree…."
I added it in a voice crawling with shame, embarrassment be damned.
While digging up the dealer's contact info through the bulletin board, my usual handle had somehow ended up attached to the booking.
"I should… be on the reservation list… right?"
"……"
The man's gaze drifted to the bag slung over the girl's shoulder.
The intricate pattern painted on the bag was likely a lightening magic circle.
Only then, apparently grasping the situation, did he swallow his scolding.
Ha, honestly.
A hollow laugh escaped me.
True, this wasn't exactly a respectable establishment, so there were plenty of clients who sent proxies to hide their identities.
But however rotten this business might be, sending a kid that young as an errand runner was a first even for him.
"…Get in here."
A customer was a customer, after all.
Reluctantly, he jerked his head toward the back.
"Want some snacks?"
"N-no, thank you…."
"Suit yourself."
As I followed him down the corridor, a space invisible from outside revealed itself.
A massive workbench sat atop a red carpet, and the floor beneath it was inscribed with a precision magic circle for detecting even the faintest flows of mana.
"Now then, let's see the goods first."
At the man's urging, I set my bag down on the workbench and—
"Ungh… mmph…!"
—with much groaning and straining, pulled the items out one by one.
The lightening magic made carrying them easy enough, but lifting them onto the table was another story entirely.
"Hnnngh… there."
"……"
Whoosh—
The man exhaled a long stream of cigarette smoke. His insides were naturally churning.
What any grown man could have unloaded in ten seconds, this kid had spent all day trembling her way through.
He was itching to unload them himself, but the unwritten rule was firm: until the deal was done, you didn't touch a customer's merchandise.
So there's trash worse than me out there.
He flicked his ash and clicked his tongue.
Whoever the lunatic pulling the strings was, sending a brat like this to do their dirty work….
"That's… everything."
The work was finally done, it seemed.
He leaned forward to see what kind of treasure she'd hauled all this way—
…!
—and the look in the man's eyes as he stared down at the goods began, slowly, to change.
These parts are….
Even their reaction with the table's magic circle was anything but ordinary.
Mana alloy at 99% purity, compressed synchronization cores, and more.
Components you'd only find in the Titans of a wealthy noble house or the royal knights.
No wonder they sent a proxy.
Not one of these could be obtained through legitimate channels.
Whoever had torn them out of their original machines had clearly committed some serious crimes to get them.
"So… here you go."
"Hmm."
After a round of silent deliberation, the man snuffed out his cigarette and a smile crept across his lips — the contempt he'd shown for a mere child mere moments ago vanished without a trace.
"And what price did you have in mind?"
His manner was now scrupulously polite.
Yet even as he bowed toward the girl, his gaze slid slyly into the empty air.
"Ah… well, you see…."
"Is this your first time with us, by any chance?"
That's right — these words were meant for the real owner.
Nine times out of ten, whoever had sent this brat as a proxy was eavesdropping on this conversation through a hidden communication stone somewhere.
"Then let's start with an appraisal, shall we? Normally I charge quite a hefty fee for it… but you're such a cute customer, so this one time, it's on the house."
Slipping on white gloves, the man began inspecting the parts on the workbench, turning them this way and that.
"Hmm, the core's purity isn't bad… but the wiring is a completely obsolete standard. They don't use this in modern synchronization models, you see. Getting it to match compatibility will cost you extra in labor."
"I'm… sorry? But…."
"Same goes for this amplifier. Knockoffs have flooded the market lately, and prices have crashed fifty percent in the last month alone."
"That's… the first I've heard of…."
"Even being generous, fifteen hundred lib per part is my absolute ceiling."
A completely clueless mark.
Slashing prices to less than a quarter of market value, the man was quietly rejoicing inside.
Stolen goods were stolen goods, but seriously — where else did she think she'd sell at that price?
"Hold on… jusht a…."
"Yes, go ahead."
The man answered with an easy, condescending smile.
The little brat had one eyebrow trembling violently, her face scrunched up tight.
Was she scared? About to cry? Or getting chewed out by her owner?
"P-puh… pluh…"
Ah, so she wants me to go a little higher, does she?
Not a chance. If she'd wanted a fair price, she should've come herself instead of sending a brat.
He fully intended to refuse whatever request came out of that mouth.
"Wou… would you take a deal…?"
In that instant, what slid into his ear was a girl's voice — entirely unexpected.
"Pardon?"
Silence fell.
For a moment he thought he'd misheard.
Or was it a threat, relayed through the communication device by the owner borrowing the brat's mouth?
…?
Before the man could make sense of it, the air in the room warped grotesquely.
A massive vortex of blue mana.
Vvvvmmm— With a spine-chilling hum, something of overwhelming mass began slowly tearing its way into existence, forcing the space apart.
Wh… what is that…?
CRUNCH! KRAKK!
The floor, unable to bear the weight, screamed.
The ornate chandelier overhead slammed into a metal skull and shattered into worthless fragments.
Only then was the man able to look up and properly behold the shape before him.
A Ti… Titan?
Three meters tall.
A small model, granted — but a hunk of steel more than big enough to fill the room to bursting!
What is happening….
He stared up at the ceiling, mouth hanging open in a daze.
The thought that a Titan had appeared through subspace magic was beyond imagining.
Weapons or bags, sure. But extracting an entire Titan from subspace? He'd never even heard of such a thing.
"The market price… doesn't agree with you…."
A voice gone ice-cold.
Where her trembling gaze landed, there was the girl, still wearing that teary expression as she glared daggers at him.
"I did my research… before coming here…."
And with that, the girl began climbing the Titan on shaking, trembling limbs.
Her hands reached for the cockpit.
No way.
Step by step.
With every strained grunt of her climb, the cockpit hatch began to open, slowly.
Only then did one truth slam into the man's skull.
There's no one on the other end of that communicator.
She's not some clueless brat sent here by someone else!
The owner of this Titan — it was the little brat standing right in front of him.
A pilot…!
The man thrust both arms forward, palms flailing.
Even as he did, his brain was spinning like mad in the name of survival.
"Waaait just one mo—ment!"
The instant a flash of inspiration crossed his mind, the man's expression transformed.
His eyes convulsed with terror, but his mouth fought desperately to smile.
"Y-you're an Academy cadet, aren't you…!"
Sheer survival instinct had sparked the epiphany.
The half-erased trace of the Royal Academy emblem on the Titan's chest had caught his eye in that moment.
Why someone would botch the job and leave it half-erased, he had no idea — but that was the last thing that mattered right now.
"C-congratulations! You've won the Cadet Special Evvvvent—!"
The girl's footsteps — which had been climbing, threat-like, toward the cockpit — stopped.
That she had actually been hauling herself up there with every ounce of her strength was, of course, a fact the man had no way of knowing.
"What… event?"
"Yes! It's, uh… an event where if the customer names their desired price… we hand everything over without a single question asked! A wildly generous promotion!"
"Really…?"
The girl's hand, reaching for the cockpit hatch, froze.
She tilted her head and peered down at him.
"Then if I said one million lib… you'd give me everything?"
"Ha, w-well, that's a bit…."
"N-no, no! We do our very best to accommodate you! Within the limits of available funds, that is!"
Cold sweat trickled down his spine.
Dammit, she's a certified lunatic. Who kept a million lib in a shop like this?
But if he wanted to keep breathing, he had no choice but to say whatever it took!