Coltech's Request
Generally speaking, the mornings of modern society run rather early.
“Ahem.”
“…….”
And the residents of the slums, who lived one step above mere livelihood by staking their very survival, held such a peculiar standard for morning that one might wonder if they possessed any concept of time at all.
“Please sit and rest comfortably for now.”
“Understood.”
“Yes.”
Vita, having already experienced what sort of man I was, obeyed without complaint. The man who had arrived on Benjamin’s introduction, however, was cooperative without any fuss—perhaps he had received a separate word of warning.
I instructed Jamie to keep an eye on the two of them, then returned first to the bedroom and began a light shower in the bathroom.
Had the sun been properly up it might have been different, but outside the window the sky was only just beginning to lighten, dyed a deep blue. In short, it was closer to dawn than morning.
Thanks to the hybrid of magic and science left behind by the previous homeowner, unlimited hot water was available even in the midwinter slums.
Without it, my attitude toward the guests waiting in the living room would have been considerably less pleasant.
After letting the warm water wash away the mild irritation of rising earlier than planned, I stepped out of the bathroom, changed clothes, and returned to the living room.
“Have both of you already eaten breakfast?”
“I had something simple.”
“Same here.”
The residents of the slums were this diligent.
“Jamie. Sandwich or cereal—what would you like?”
“I will eat once these people have all left.”
“As you wish.”
Having no intention of interfering with someone determined to perform her duties faithfully, I took out the cereal I had purchased through the Benefit Shop and filled a bowl to a reasonable level.
For toppings, of course, fresh blueberries and a dollop of Greek yogurt—also from the Benefit Shop.
I finished by pouring in a suitable amount of milk, then returned to the living room with the spoon already resting in the bowl.
“Jamie, a chair.”
“Yes.”
Jamie pulled a chair over. I sat and exchanged a brief glance each with Vita and the still-nameless man, who occupied separate sofas and were watching me.
“Vita, wait a little.”
“Then I’ll step outside for a moment.”
When I nodded, she tucked our limp Bark boy—hanging like a frog that had been knocked out by a rock—under her arm like a piece of luggage and quietly left.
With Vita tactfully clearing the room, I used the brief interval to stir the cereal that had soaked just enough in the milk and took a spoonful together with the blueberries.
Unlike modern cereals heavy with artificial sweetness, this one offered the mild sweetness of thinly sprinkled and hardened honey, the nutty depth of the grains, and the bright tartness of the blueberries. The last traces of irritation I had failed to wash away in the bathroom vanished cleanly.
“Ms. Secretary mentioned only yesterday that you would be coming soon. I didn’t expect it would be today.”
“Once I set my mind to something, my execution tends to be a little fast.”
As expected of an acquaintance of Benjamin’s—the man who demonstrated action.
“What sort of request have you come to entrust?”
“My wife has lost consciousness. She has not woken for a week.”
I made no reply, simply keeping my ears open while I continued eating cereal.
“I investigated thoroughly, but it was not poison. Nor was there any external injury. When I returned from going out, my wife was lying quietly on the bed. And she has not woken to this day.”
“I am not a detective.”
“Of course I know that. I did not come to ask the priest to find a culprit, so rest easy.”
Sending him a look that said then hurry up and tell me why you are here, I lightly scooped a bit of the thick Greek yogurt. My mood improved further.
“Before the request itself, there is something I wish to ask the priest. Is it possible to interfere with the dream of a person who is unconscious?”
“Surprisingly.”
I said it that way, yet considering who the subject truly was, the man’s question was the sort that would have provoked considerable displeasure in any genuine priest.
In this dimension’s setting, gods not only existed but intervened directly to satisfy their own desires. And priests were the eyes and ears, hands and feet of those gods—proxies who carried out their will in their stead.
Though their flesh remained bound within a human frame, priests could wield a portion of the powers belonging to the god with whom they had contracted, as if proving why they were called divine proxies.
And those powers were forces that far surpassed every logic, theory, and common sense humans could conceive—forces that made the impossible possible. In short, miracles.
In other words, the man’s earlier question amounted to doubting the omnipotent beings who performed miracles. Had any true priest who served those beings heard it, it would not have been strange in the least for the entire meeting to be overturned before the main topic was even reached.
“Then please arrange for me to meet my wife. If that is difficult, simply having the priest meet her in my place and convey my words would be sufficient.”
“One moment.”
I cleanly finished the last of the cereal. Jamie, standing behind me, stepped forward and naturally took the empty bowl.
“Yes. Both are possible. However, the former requires your wife’s consent.”
“Doesn’t that also ultimately require contact within the dream?”
“That’s right.”
“Then that settles it. Since merely conveying my words is enough, I have no desire to complicate matters unnecessarily.”
What he wished to say to his wife could be heard from this point on. Yet one thing was clear: even while speaking of his wife, the man before me displayed none of the emotion Benjamin had shown when gazing at a portrait.
“Jamie.”
When I lightly extended my left hand, Jamie drew a contract from her coat.
Having no way of knowing when the tenfold exchange event would end, I had prepared several contracts sorted by grade.
According to that woman of unknown existence, the rate would eventually fall to a one-to-one ratio with the passage of time. Therefore, if there was money to spend, spending as much as possible now was the profitable course.
Of course the highest efficiency would be converting every last coin into Mora, depositing it in the Golden Wood Bank or whatever it was called, and withdrawing as needed. But there was one major problem with that approach.
The Benefit Bank let me withdraw any required amount whenever I wished, yet once the money was deposited in an ordinary bank I would have to go fetch it every single time.
Because the slums, of course—and our god Bishua as well—dealt only in cash.
Even so, even if the exchange rate normalized, there would still be no issue with financial power.
At the point where one Mora held roughly the value of one hundred Korean won, two billion Mora equaled approximately two hundred billion won.
I was not diving into the Labyrinth Dungeon to hunt monsters; I was living as an ordinary low-ranking priest. With two billion—twenty billion Mora—even if I spent freely, there was a high probability I would never exhaust it before this world reached its predetermined end.
“Wait.”
I took out a fountain pen and filled in the basic terms on the standard contract Jamie had handed me.
“Please dictate the message I am to deliver to your wife.”
“My beloved Fiona. The doctor says he does not know for what reason you lost consciousness. Nor when you will wake. Therefore I shall follow your choice.”
The choices the man offered his wife were two.
“I do not know when it will be, but until you awaken I shall nurse you.”
One was to care for a wife who might or might not ever wake, for the rest of his life.
“I shall allow you to preserve your present beauty.”
The second was that he would end her breathing before she wasted away and her beauty was ruined.
“Is that all?”
“I shall love only you for as long as I live.”
Having spoken that far, the man nodded.
“How will you handle the compensation?”
When I asked, he drew a bundle of bills from his coat.
“One million Mora. And—”
He produced an identical bundle and set it beside the first.
“If you will also draft a contract stating that neither the priest nor the Doberman lady behind him will speak of the conversation held in this place to anyone, I will add another one million Mora.”
When I turned my head, Jamie gently closed her eyes.
“I only follow the priest’s instructions.”
“In that case, let us settle on two million Mora.”
“Good.”
I drafted another contract on the spot.
“Come to think of it, I never heard your name.”
“Hah, my apologies. Being hasty by nature, I completely forgot to introduce myself.”
The man extended his hand.
“I am Coltech.”
“Mr. Coltech. Priest Baek Jinhyuk.”
We exchanged a light handshake, and I finished writing the contract.
3. Party A and Party B (Jamie) shall not speak to any third party of all matters discussed and heard in connection with Contract A commissioned by Coltech.
“Will this suffice?”
Coltech carefully examined both contracts.
“Good. Here—I only need to sign Contract A?”
“That is correct.”
When I handed him the fountain pen, he took it and signed the Contract A concerning his wife. The contract immediately burned away and vanished.
It was a visual effect that directly demonstrated the subject of this contract was Bishua, not Verdia.
“These now belong to Priest Baek Jinhyuk.”
Coltech left the two bundles of bills on the table and rose from the sofa.
“It seems you have other guests, so I shall take my leave first. My residence is known to the Doberman lady behind you; as long as you arrive by tomorrow at the latest, that will be fine.”
“Wait.”
I stopped him as he turned to go.
“You need to see this before you leave.”
He signed the second contract that would serve as a kind of secrecy oath, and Jamie, standing behind, signed it as well.
Fwoosh!
“Good that it is certain. Then I shall go first.”
Coltech left. I picked up the two bundles of bills from the table and leaned my head back against the chair.
Jamie, still standing behind me, slightly lowered her head and met my gaze.
I smiled and waved the bill bundles at her as she stared down at me.
“Care to make a small bet?”
“…I will not.”
“At least hear the terms.”
“I. Abso. Lutely. Will. Not.”
“You’ve become a boring woman.”
“I was originally a boring woman.”
Faced with that utterly firm gaze, I nodded and lifted the corner of my mouth—this time with a touch of genuine feeling, unlike the empty smile of a moment before.
“That is why I like Jamie.”
“…Ahem.”
Whether my sincerity had reached her, Jamie rarely showed a flicker of embarrassment and averted her eyes.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Someone rapped on the closed door.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and of course it was Vita, who had briefly stepped outside.
“Ms. Vita.”
“What is it.”
I smiled and waved the same bill bundles I had just shown Jamie toward the thoroughly wary woman.
“Would you care to make a simple bet with me—”
“I won’t.”
“Just hear me out once—”
“Absolutely. Not.”
There was no forcing someone who refused so firmly.
I erased the smile and tossed the bills back onto the table. Crossing my legs, I shifted my gaze to our Bark boy, who still lay unconscious.
“Let’s hear the report on the shepherd boy.”