Chapter 118
Chapter 118
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 118
Chapter Title: Black Market (3)
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Not all black markets are tucked away in shadowy alleys.
Sometimes they blend seamlessly into bustling public markets, throwing investigations into chaos.
The Nameless Market is no different.
Straddling the edge of a legitimate market, it only takes a short step away to reveal ordinary streets.
From there, you find everyday families like Derek and his wife, selling mundane goods.
Cute little things like frog-flavored candy and sparklers.
"...Pouting?"
The girl had been puffing out her cheeks like a pufferfish ever since.
She stomped ahead of Conan with rough, aggressive steps.
As if staging a protest against walking side by side with me.
"That blood potion's way too expensive. And who knows what you'd do if you drank it and got your strength back?"
Franka came to an abrupt halt.
She shot me a quick glance over her shoulder, then stomped one foot and yelled.
"Are you really that much of an idiot?"
"What about?"
"Think about it. I feed you every day, change your sheets, even have the vice warden brush your hair. Why the hell would I smash all that myself?"
"... ."
She had a point, when I thought about it.
I did the laundry every day, and Clea had taken good care of her thanks to experience with a little sister.
"Glad you recognize our hard work."
Fine, maybe just one bottle.
She'd been on her best behavior lately, after all.
"Then go with darling and buy one. Exactly one."
I pulled out a single gold coin I'd borrowed from Conan.
A coin worth an entire horse.
"Do me a favor."
"Now you're treating your wife like a maid?"
"Kids always prefer their moms anyway."
"Like you've ever had kids..."
Franka had already latched onto Conan's pant leg, gripping it tight.
Her sparkling pink eyes wide and pleading.
"Urgh..."
The commander had a soft spot for cute things like coin purses and keychains.
"But I'm not asking for free."
"...!"
I handed her a key.
"Key to the tallest building in this market. Climb up, and you can sketch a map of the Nameless Market."
A hideout even the military hadn't pinpointed.
A chance to map it—any upright soldier would drool at the thought.
"Just this once."
"Knew I could count on you, darling—"
I gave Conan's head a gentle pat.
She stared up at me with a completely deadpan expression.
Intense mana radiating from her body clad in military pants and a sleeveless tee.
"Whoa, careful—you'll get caught by the black mages again."
"Sigh... Camillia definitely fell for your sleazy 'snake moves' too."
"Snake moves?"
"You have them. And quit calling me darling. You're way younger than me."
Conan clearly resented being treated like a younger bride by someone junior.
She wanted to set the hierarchy straight right then and there.
"It's only a three-year gap. Perfectly fine for a couple."
"Still looks weird to everyone else. A teenage daughter? Doesn't add up."
I gazed steadily at Conan's back as she whipped around.
Even from the side as she turned, her voluptuous curves were on full display.
'Makes perfect sense to me.'
Camillia was the same—what did these two eat to develop bodies like that?
Their faces screamed early twenties, but their figures evoked a goddess of abundance, utterly mesmerizing.
"No one would think otherwise."
"...Whatever. We'll head out—meet back here later."
The purple-haired woman readjusted her ponytail.
Her motion drew the eyes of every man around—except me, numbed by three regressions.
A few even took slaps to the back of the head from their wives.
Only Conan seemed oblivious to her own allure.
"Sounds good. Franka, take this ring. Flash it, and no one touches you."
"Understood."
I slipped the dark underworld emblem from the Bacar mafia onto her dainty finger.
The mark of the black market's top client—no one would dare harm her without a personal grudge.
"Come, prospective kin. The sweet melody of blood calls to me."
"Take it slow—don't drop that coin down a sewer grate."
Franka dashed off daintily, clutching the million-coin gold piece.
Conan hurried after her.
Watching them, she really did look like a young wife with a little daughter in tow.
"Living this long, I see it all."
I chuckled and stretched.
Finally alone—time to handle that postponed errand.
I headed to the blacksmith to reinforce the fine sword from Anje.
What, an hour tops? What's the worst that could happen?
This life, I'd kept a low profile as a remote warden—no real enemies.
The northern central market buzzed with throngs of people.
Atop one of its tallest buildings stood figures in black cloaks.
"... ."
They weren't ordinary folk at a glance.
The solid mana each possessed marked them as upper-tier Sword Experts, mostly.
The one with the most overwhelming power lowered his hood.
Revealing snow-white hair and flashing red eyes.
"That's Derek Minster?"
"Yes, Alter. We must retrieve those two absolute boxes from him at any cost."
The hooded man replied in a remarkably polite tone.
Like something out of a corporate boardroom.
"Just as he stole Walter Group's precious assets, we'll take something precious from him."
Alter Sowchek.
A legendary fixer who'd reached Swordmaster realm.
Exclusive contractor for Walter Group, a true heavyweight.
Master of assassinations, kidnappings, and intimidation—and most impressively...
He'd blackmailed countless VIPs yet remained largely unknown.
"Looks like he brought his wife and daughter. Perfect—they're split up."
Alter drew a steel chain from his black sleeve.
His red eyes narrowed, exuding the aura of a grizzled mercenary.
"So we kidnap the daughter and wife, trade for the boxes."
"We leave it to you. The boss has high hopes."
The black-cloaked man stepped back and elegantly gestured to his accompanying black mages.
"The daughter falls to our black mages. A little girl? We'll snatch her in a blink."
The lead black mage raised his hand, four subordinates in tow.
"Agreed. My men and I will handle the wife."
One Swordmaster and four upper Sword Experts.
One lead black mage and four disciples.
A total of ten moved out in secrecy.
To avenge the man who'd dared steal the empire's largest conglomerate's treasure.
"... ."
As dark schemes brewed from the skies above...
Conan arrived at the market's oldest clocktower and perched alone on the railing.
Paper and pencil in hand for sketching the map.
"Prime spot."
From above, the black market's hidden alleys came into full view.
Even the secret passages leading in.
"Derek Minster... how does he know this place so intimately?"
Conan no longer saw him as a mere patriotic youth.
His competence and aversion to high office intrigued her more than she'd expected.
"Hm? What's this?"
Mid-sketch of the layout, she spotted graffiti on the railing.
Faint, mostly erased scribbles.
"Someone wrote and wiped it. Let's restore it."
True to her intelligence division roots, Conan excelled in espionage magic.
She snapped her fingers, and the faded text began regenerating on its own.
「Empire's malignancies to eliminate.」
「Serial human trafficker Kaiki, eliminated.」
「Woman abductor Tomoi, eliminated.」
"Kaiki and Tomoi... those names..."
Conan furrowed her brow, dredging up old memories.
Dishonorably discharged soldiers turned criminals after deserting.
"Come to think of it, they all vanished months ago. Derek's handiwork?"
She'd known of his assassin family background.
But executing empire's undesirables personally...
"... ."
She suddenly regretted ever doubting his patriotism.
Dangerous vibe or not, she'd been too swayed by first impressions.
"Time I reflected. Intel work's golden rule: never judge by looks."
Conan smirked and gripped her pencil again.
As she traced the map...
「What are you drawing so diligently?」
A black shadow fell across the pristine white paper.
"... ."
This abandoned rooftop had held only her moments ago.
"Who the hell are you?"
The Northern Commander spoke calmly without looking up.
Lifting her head to check meant instant ambush risk.
"... ."
The silent black shadows gave no reply.
Conan clocked their flapping cloaks—five in total.
'Five. One's a Swordmaster.'
"If we must answer, folks with a grudge against your 'husband.'"
"My husband. You mean Derek?"
The Northern Commander slowly raised her head.
"That's right. Derek's got high standards. Wife's a real looker."
His underlings chuckled along with Alter.
But they weren't letting their guard down.
"Sleeveless since early summer? Kinda provocative, no? Figures Derek the playboy has bold tastes."
Pretending at crude banter to gauge her level.
Conan saw through the sly probe and set her face in icy neutrality.
"Cut the bullshit. State your business."
Alter's brow twitched.
A normal wife should be quaking just from their killing intent.
Yet this woman stared up with piercing eyes—hardly normal.
"...Fair enough. Our demand's simple: come with us somewhere."
"Kidnapping?"
"Spare the tacky term. Derek stole my employer's goods first."
"Ah, so Walter Group's orders."
Conan smirked, brushing back her windswept hair behind her ear.
"... ."
Sunlight poured onto the rooftop.
Alter's face hardened at the commander's leisurely smile amid it all.
"Should've kept that knowledge to yourself. Now I can't let you walk away."
"And what'll you do about it?"
Conan tilted her head slightly.
The instant she did...
"This."
One of Alter's men lunged with an imported Eastern dagger gripped tight.
Its poison-smeared blade slashed toward Conan's throat in a flash.
But.
One ironclad rule in the military:
"Karambit, huh. Using gear that flunked our standard issue."
Beware the clean ones.
"...!!"
Conan leaned back to dodge, then seized his wrist with newfound fluidity.
"Gonna have to punish that supply officer dumping rejects on the street."
She twisted—lightly.
"Arrrgh...!!"
The upper Sword Expert let out a piercing scream.
Alter and the remaining three drew their weapons.
"Watch it. She's no ordinary woman. Hiding real power."
The fellow Swordmaster grew grave.
But he was ready for curveballs like this.
Else he wouldn't be Walter Group's go-to fixer.
"Plan change. Battle formation."
His three underlings fanned out to the rooftop corners like an array.
The four mercenaries boxed Conan in at the center.
"Deploy the net!"
Alter thrust both hands forward—steel chains unfurled like a spiderweb.
Wreathed in ominous energy.
'Artifact?'
Conan released the wrist she'd snapped.
Then smashed his face with a fist brimming deep blue mana.
"... ."
The mercenary crumpled without a peep.
But in that span, Alter and the others fully encircled her with chains.
"Realm means nothing against an artifact."
Sea God's Net.
Legendary artifact activated by four channeling mana together.
No escape for anyone short of Grandmaster tier.
"Thrash all you want!!"
Alter sneered wickedly and thrust a hand at Conan.
Chains whipped out, binding her arm in an instant.
"Ngh...!!"
Conan grimaced for a split second, then swung her bound arm with all her might.
"Whoaaa—!!"
"Boss, this woman's strength is off!!"
The force yanked the cornered underlings into a frenzy.
One already dragged flat to the ground.
"Steady! Just hold till the chains absorb her power!"
'Absorb power?'
Sure enough, an alien energy crept from the metal coiled around her arm.
Draining her strength like a leech.
'Got myself a headache. Might have to drop the disguise.'
Conan clicked her tongue and rolled her stiff neck.
Rumors might fly that the veiled Northern Commander was Derek Minster's wife.
But she no longer cared about such gossip.
Not after realizing he'd served the empire even more covertly than she had.
Trifles like that she could laugh off now.
"Fine. Let's play for real."
Primal mana born of rigorous training surged in Conan's golden eyes.
The moment she prepared to shed every disguise and unleash her body fully...
She froze at a new aura prickling the air.
"... ."
Alter and his men too.
They all halted the fight.
「Cease.」
From the sky...
A frigid, clammy aura like nothing they'd felt crashed down.
「What are you vermin?」
The once balmy sky turned winter-bleak.
Soon, a woman in black cheongsam descended gracefully.
Like a fairy from the moon.
「Daring to eye my prey?」
Eastern Sword Sage, Myoran.
Having absorbed the moon's full power, she alighted on the abandoned rooftop.
Flutter—whoosh!!
A massive eagle plunged from the sky above her landing spot.
A woman perched atop its eerily snow-white corpse.
A being transcending all mortal bounds.
「What trash is this.」
The beautiful silver-haired saintess in red dress, Anje.
She too had descended upon the northern market in person.
"Uh... we..."
Alter, who'd navigated every contingency in his life with ease.
Stared blankly at the women before him.
No one could foresee a scene like this, no matter their experience.
In the end, even he muttered dumbly through his battered face.
"What are we?"
Reveal their affiliation here...
And Walter Group would vanish from the map.