Pathfinder in the Darkness (1)
This city is said to have three restaurants that stand above the rest.
Each earns high praise from gourmets for its own cuisine, ranking among the finest in both price and flavor.
Firendis, located in District 3, was one of those restaurants.
A fine dining establishment that served exquisite cuisine — and one that wouldn't let you through the door without a proper dress code.
"Today's dish is truffle doenjang soup."
At a table in Firendis, Wilson and I sat facing each other.
As I'd promised him before asking for the favor, this was my way of treating him to a meal in return for repairing the Sword Saint's blade.
Sinel, also dressed in a suit, sat beside me under the pretense of being my escort, sharing the meal.
Of course, the suit she was wearing was one I'd bought for her.
Having polished off yet another plate the waiter brought in record time, Sinel glanced at mine and said,
"The food's delicious."
"…It's a high-end restaurant."
"I suppose so."
Leaving Sinel to stare wistfully at her empty plate, I turned my attention to Wilson across from me.
Like Sinel, Wilson was in a suit, and he kept adjusting his glasses as if self-conscious.
When our eyes met mid-adjustment, he offered me a warm smile and his thanks.
"I'd heard you were treating me to a meal, but I never expected an invitation to a place this fine."
"It's a small repayment compared to the help I received. If anything, I worry it might not be enough."
"Not at all. It's more than I deserve."
"Though the menu is a bit… disappointing, isn't it?"
Wilson shook his head at my question. He denied it immediately, as if the very idea were absurd.
"Not in the least. I'm thoroughly satisfied."
"It's tasty enough, sure, but…"
Both Wilson and Sinel were clearly content. Still, I found it hard to share their opinion.
If the question was simply whether the food tasted good, then yes — it was perfectly edible. That is, if you set aside the fact that this was supposed to be a high-end restaurant.
"You don't care for it?"
"Something feels off."
Maybe it was because I'd come into this world from a novel. For a fine dining menu, the combinations felt incredibly strange. It was like catching a glimpse of the playful settings the author of War City had cooked up for fun.
"The world's been rather grim lately. Perhaps a few good meals will lift your spirits."
"Maybe. I recall you were in danger last time because of company business. Is the job still worth staying for?"
"I consider it a good place. Plenty of people look after me. Still, every now and then I feel… stifled."
Wilson took a sip of wine after answering. As he'd said, this city had no shortage of dark underbellies.
It wasn't just the crimes that happened in the outer districts. Setting aside who Wilson Eldeer himself was, Lesert Industries alone had more than enough skeletons in its closet.
"The money-dead are everywhere."
Even the errand Wilson had run was proof of that. Sending a researcher alone into a place where danger was likely — that wasn't the kind of assignment you'd ever want made public.
Wilson took another sip of wine and quietly set down his glass.
"That's a thought that cuts many ways."
"Because it could happen to anyone."
"As an information broker, I'm sure all sorts of people have flocked to you to buy information."
"I…"
"You must have wrestled with a great deal of difficult decisions along the way."
"…At the very least, I've learned not to sell information to just anyone."
"An admirable principle."
People flocking to buy information? Far from it. Aside from a select few, most people didn't even know where my office was. If anything, the clerk at the restaurant I ordered from most often probably knew my address better than anyone.
And selling information selectively hadn't exactly been a deliberate choice either. Still, it wasn't a complete lie — which was how I'd somehow become a figure worthy of Wilson's respect. A situation too awkward to simply deny.
"You're too kind."
"You're welcome to hear a little more. From me, at least."
"Let's drop the flattery. I'd rather hear about interesting rumors circulating around the city."
"Interesting rumors… Come to think of it, I heard the Black Market is in a state of emergency these days."
Wilson shifted the topic at my words. And the subject he brought up was genuinely interesting, even to me.
The Black Market was a massive multi-business enterprise that had carved out a considerable foothold even in the city's outer districts. Hearing that such a place was facing an emergency, I couldn't help but take interest.
"An emergency?"
"Apparently several of the weapons technicians with offices there have been killed, or had their classified materials stolen."
"…"
"Do you have anyone in mind, Mr. Percival?"
Plenty of people dealt in weapons at the Black Market. It wasn't just fencing arms that had slipped through the cracks — illegal modifications and homemade weapons manufacturing were common too.
And now there was a mysterious attacker hitting those Black Market technicians one by one, making off with their secrets. Black Market security was nothing to scoff at. Whoever this was likely specialized in covert operations, including close-quarters combat.
"I'll give it some thought."
Among those who fit the criteria, there was one person who came to mind. And if that person was the culprit, Lesert Industries would be on their target list as well.
Lesert Industries was riddled with dangerous technologies. Stopping a tech leak would be ideal if possible, but in this case, I didn't see any need to get involved myself.
"If you sold the information to the Black Market, or tipped off the security forces, the bounty would be quite—"
"No. That won't be necessary."
This was a criminal that Usher's group was already hunting. Eventually, he'd end up in Usher or Ney's hands. Unless the security forces asked for help first, there was no reason for me to make a move. And they weren't the type to ask for help lightly anyway.
"I've misspoken. You did say you don't sell information to just anyone."
"No need to apologize. You've been plenty helpful."
"I'm glad to hear it was of use."
Saying it had been helpful wasn't empty politeness. Even while I took my eyes off Usher, large and small incidents kept unfolding. Time wouldn't wait for me to act. I had to constantly check where I stood and stay vigilant.
If possible, paying Brian a regular fee to subscribe to major intel updates wouldn't be a bad idea either.
"Sinel."
"Yes."
I turned back to Sinel. Waiting with an empty plate must have been hard on her. She'd been fidgeting with her fingers, watching my conversation with Wilson.
Leaving her like this any longer wouldn't do, so I held out the menu and said,
"If there's anything else you can order, go ahead."
"Anything at all?"
"Anything."
"I'd like the shark fin ramen, please."
I nodded calmly at Sinel's order and closed my eyes. Just hearing the menu names was enough to give me a headache. I had no intention of coming back here of my own free will.
The evening at the restaurant.
After the meal with Wilson, I'd concluded I wouldn't need to get involved in the weapons dealer attack case. There would be some rough patches, sure, but I'd figured Usher and Ney would catch the guy without fail.
But as if to mock that prediction, two visitors showed up at my office the very next day.
"It's been a while, Dark Merchant."
One was Ney Terdos, a supervisor with the security forces. The other was Usher Hayes of the 7th Special Mobile Unit.
Feeling rather deflated, I greeted Ney sitting across from me.
"The security forces' little tomboy. Didn't think you'd come back here."
"…Tomboy? Isn't that a bit harsh?"
"Coming here even after hearing that means you've got some headache on your hands."
Ney let out a short sigh. Even so, she didn't deny what I'd said. I was starting to get a pretty good idea of what she was about to ask.
"Yeah. You're right."
"What do you need?"
"There's a criminal who's been targeting combat equipment technicians lately. Heard of them?"
"You're talking about the Black Market problem."
I'd heard about it from Wilson the day before. So they really had come to talk about the weapons dealer attacks.
"It's not limited to just that side. And with people dying, we can't exactly look the other way."
"So?"
"If you have any information, I'd like you to share it."
Who was the culprit Ney was chasing? I already knew the answer, of course.
Pathfinder Yuglerus.
A 5th Circle mage who used Path Wall.
He was a direct subordinate of the Ghost Army — a top-priority wanted syndicate — and one of those who belonged to the Cabal.