Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Capone
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Ian returned from the hospital, washed up, ate, and then flopped onto the bed like he was diving in.
Normally, he would have read a grimoire or browsed the community right up until he fell asleep, but today he was quite tired, so he didn't feel like doing anything else.
Forcing his brain to work or study in this state would be worse than just going to sleep. He needed to manage his condition for tomorrow, at least.
With that thought, Ian placed the Deep Sea Chronicles by his head, pulled the blanket over himself, and closed his eyes. Soon enough, his breathing became even.
[…….]
The Deep Sea Chronicles, which had been lying obediently, slithered over the moment Ian fell asleep and stuck itself flat against his chest. The Hand of Recreation on the desk stared at it pitifully, then burrowed into his side a few minutes later.
That night, he dreamed of two women he didn't know embracing him.
*
The next morning.
Ian sat up with sleepy eyes and peeled off the grimoires clinging to his chest and side. They resisted for a moment but soon backed off obediently.
“……I could've sworn I put them somewhere else. Why are they sticking to me?”
He stared blankly at the grimoires sprawled on the bed, then chugged the water by the bedside to chase away sleep and stretched as he got up.
Thanks to the good night's sleep, the drowsiness vanished quickly. Ian grabbed some clothes, showered, took ingredients from the fridge, and prepared a simple breakfast.
He used to hardly ever cook himself, but lately he'd been trying to get interested in it.
No particular reason—just to avoid anomalies showing up as delivery guys or getting kidnapped out of nowhere by spatial anomalies. Plus, it was a chance to balance his nutrition a bit.
A mage couldn't just spam spells from the back line. Since he was often right up front, building stamina when he could was the smart move.
Sizzle.
He grilled some frozen pork neck he didn't remember buying, set rice and bean sprouts in a bowl, and topped it with chopped pork once it was done.
Pork neck and bean sprout rice bowl, complete. Ian grabbed some random sauce from the fridge, mixed it in, and took a bite.
“Not bad.”
Tastier than expected. He ate enough to fill his stomach, did the dishes, and sat on the bed.
He considered heading to the gym, but decided to rest today instead.
His head felt cluttered, and his muscles were sore from yesterday's exertions, so taking it easy seemed best.
He was about to return to his main job anyway. Better to adjust his condition ahead of time.
With that in mind, Ian began maintaining the cover of the Hand of Recreation as promised.
He wiped off the dust with his finger, checked for stains, and brushed away impurities. The Hand of Recreation vibrated faintly as if enjoying his touch, burrowing deeper into his hand. The Deep Sea Chronicles poked at his thigh with its corner, as if demanding the same.
Bzzz.
Then his phone vibrated by the bed. Ian set the grimoire aside and checked the screen.
[010-……: It's Cecilia. Let's meet and talk.]
A message from someone he'd half-expected. He hadn't thought she'd text the very next day, but he had anticipated some kind of contact.
Ian pondered for a moment, then tapped out a reply.
[Me: How'd you get my number?]
[Cecilia: Asked the nun. Anyway, where should we meet?]
[Me: Haven't said yes yet.]
A few minutes after Ian sent his message, a reply came.
[Cecilia: You have questions for me too.]
[Cecilia: I'll tell you. Let's meet.]
Ian let out a small chuckle at the straightforward response and typed back.
[Me: Cafe. Sending address.]
*
Ding.
A small cafe not far from Ian's place.
As he opened the door, the part-timer greeted him warmly.
“Welcome!”
“Yeah.”
Ian gave a vague reply and scanned for Cecilia. He soon spotted her in the corner, sipping coffee alone.
‘No weapons……?’
Cecilia was dressed very ordinarily. Her coat was draped over the chair beside her, and there was no obvious place to hide a gun or knife. At most, maybe a switchblade in her pocket, but he could handle that.
He'd left the bloodstained coat but brought the reverse aimer. If she showed hostility, he could counter and subdue her instantly—no need to worry.
‘……Am I being too paranoid from the start?’
The thought crossed his mind, but prioritizing his safety wasn't weird for a mage. Ian schooled his expression and approached her.
“Ah.”
She noticed him and set down her coffee cup.
Espresso.
The classic Italian favorite. But Ian wrinkled his nose at the bitter scent wafting from it and worked the kiosk.
“How do you even drink that? Americano's way better.”
“Damn Korean. Don't insult coffee.”
“Crazy.”
Ian snorted and ordered an iced Americano.
Moments later, he sat across from her with his drink. She stared at her light brown coffee with eyes full of loathing.
“Devil's sludge…….”
“……Not something a holy woman should say.”
Ian took a sip of his Americano and cut to the chase.
“So, what'd you want to talk about?”
“…….”
Instead of answering right away, Cecilia took a sip like Ian had. The hot, bitter liquid writhed on her tongue before sliding down her throat. It chased away the winter chill a bit.
“……The reason I came to Korea is to find the mage who picked up an Outer God's grimoire.”
She stated her purpose bluntly, no beating around the bush.
“The Vatican's prophets told me to find the owner of the grimoire in Korea and handle it as I see fit. No more details.”
“……Handle it.”
“Befriend or kill. Judgment's up to me.”
Clink.
Cecilia set down her espresso cup. Then she fixed Ian with a serious look.
“So I set my own standard. Befriend if the grimoire's owner is sane, kill if they're mad. But luckily…… no need to kill.”
Her gaze flicked to the bag Ian had brought, then back to his eyes.
“Let's be friends. Build some rapport.”
Rapport. Friends.
The words themselves were a bit deflating, but the intent behind them wasn't.
“…….”
Rather than reply immediately, Ian tapped the table while staring into her purple eyes.
Vatican. Papal Curia. Catholicism's holy see.
Called by many names, but scant contact with mages and little known info. So why would they want to befriend a mage chosen by an Outer God, practically a heretic?
‘Since killing was an option, it's not about securing the grimoire or me. Most likely, creating a connection.’
Ian couldn't know exactly what gain the Vatican saw in befriending the grimoire's owner. But there must be some prophecy deeming it more profitable than leaving it alone—hence the personal involvement.
Honestly, it wasn't a bad deal for Ian either.
The major groups tied to anomalies in this world were, as far as he knew, the Management Bureau, Cartel, Papal Curia, and Clock Tower. There were minor ones if you split hairs, but those were the main ones mentioned.
Building friendly ties with some of them offered zero downside for Ian.
If they'd proposed friendship with contracts or conditions, he'd negotiate for his benefit. But “let's be friends” didn't need overanalyzing or selfishness.
The Papal Curia didn't want to antagonize the owner of an Outer God's grimoire.
Ian didn't want friction with the Papal Curia either.
Interests aligned, no reason to refuse Cecilia's offer.
Of course, that didn't mean full trust. Just as interests matched now, they could sour anytime in this line of work, knife in the back.
‘Always assume betrayal when building relations. At least until trust forms.’
Sorting his thoughts, Ian took a sip of coffee and nodded.
But instead of accepting outright, he casually asked a personal question that came to mind.
“How'd you know my grimoire's from an Outer God?”
“Hard for most to tell, but I serve God. Recognizing otherworldly beings isn't tough.”
Otherworldly beings.
Watchers. Apparently, Vatican clergy could roughly tell where creatures like the Deep Sea Chronicles came from. Not the exact environment, but that they weren't of this world.
Recalling she said nothing during his regular spells, though, she probably couldn't detect those.
‘One thing learned.’
Not huge info, but better than nothing. Ian smiled faintly and set down his cup.
“Alright. Let's be friends. Call me if you need anything.”
“……Need?”
“Better to move together than solo on Cartel requests or whatever.”
“……Using me as a tank?”
“Game terms, yeah.”
Ian replied with a faint smile.
Cecilia's regeneration was top-tier for the front line. Good way: sturdy shield. Bad way: meat shield.
Either way, a fine ally for Ian.
“Won't call every time. Respect your choice. No forcing with threats.”
“……As long as no forcing. And…… dealing with anomalies is my job anyway. I'll join when I can.”
Cecilia replied with a soft sigh, then mumbled face-down on the table.
“But sometimes just hang out like friends. No one close here in Korea, it's tough…….”
“Pretty lonely type?”
“……A bit?”
Ian chuckled softly at her honesty. He left his half-finished Americano and stood.
“Let's eat. My treat for our new friendship. What do you want?”
“……Pizza.”
“Alright, let's go.”
Ian grabbed his bag and looked down at Cecilia. She downed the rest of her espresso, shrugged on her coat, and followed him out.
At the pizza place,
Cecilia devoured all 30 pizzas there. She handed Ian only the complimentary Hawaiian one from the owner, smiling happily.
“Delicious. You eat too.”
“…….”
That day.
Ian vowed never to bring Cecilia to any restaurant except buffets again.