Chapter 31: The Guest (2)
When he stepped outside, sure enough, James was there.
The employee A of the apothecary who had ridden in the same truck during the battle with the wizard and on the way to Landa.
He had been waiting for Oliver outside the factory, and with his distinctive angular jaw, slicked-back brown hair, and broad shoulders, he stood out unmistakably.
As soon as he saw Oliver, he cheerfully extended his hand and approached.
"Ah, you came out."
Oliver reflexively took James' hand.
"Hello."
"Yeah, nice to see you. It's the first time since we parted in Landa, right? I worked there for a while, and when I came back, I heard some interesting stories. Is it true?"
"I'm not sure what you find interesting, but it's probably true."
James laughed heartily.
"Amazing... I didn't expect this. Really impressive. Should I start calling you Black Magician?"
"No, not really... More importantly, what brings you here?"
Oliver asked, thinking of Filgaret.
"Huh? Oh, nothing special. I came to check if the production is going well. The boss has been a bit worried, given that the orders have been piling up lately. I know it’s rude, but is everything going smoothly?"
"Oh, you don't need to worry about that. We're preparing properly."
Oliver looked at Peter, who nodded as if to say everything was under control.
"That's good... That's a relief."
James nodded mechanically while scratching his chin, as if he had more to say.
"Is there... another reason you came?"
James’ emotions deepened in discomfort, but soon he seemed to make up his mind and opened his mouth.
"Do you remember the conversation we had when I took you to Landa?"
"What conversation?"
"Ah, come on..."
"No, I really don’t remember."
"...You said if I taught you about wizards, you'd teach me black magic?"
Peter, who was standing nearby, and several disciples who were around them were startled by James’ words. Even Mari, who had been watching Oliver from afar, was surprised.
Only Oliver, the one directly involved, remained calm.
"...Yes, I remember now."
He nodded slowly, acknowledging it.
James folded his arms and spoke.
"I came to keep that promise... What about you?"
Just as Oliver was about to answer, Peter interrupted.
"Master? What is this...?"
"It's as you heard. This employee-"
"-James. I told you before, right? Call me James. No need to be so formal."
"James here said he knows a lot about wizards, and I promised to teach him black magic in exchange for that knowledge."
Peter and the disciples were all in shock. To think that black magic would be taught for something as trivial as that.
"Master... That’s an absurd deal. How can black magic, of all things, be exchanged for something like that? Besides, that person isn't even a real wizard..."
Peter's reaction was understandable.
While the barrier to learning magic was high, the opportunity to learn black magic was even more extraordinary. Most of them had clung to Joseph despite living like slaves because merely being chosen by a black magician was a miracle in itself.
To learn black magic often required spending a large part of one's life as a slave or servant.
Yet, here was James, trying to grasp that noble knowledge with nothing but some street-learned nonsense.
Knowing this, James hurriedly spoke up.
"Look, I may not seem like much, but I've been through a lot. I know plenty of interesting things about wizards... If that's not enough, I have more stories to share."
"No, that’s ridiculous—"
"What stories?" Oliver cut Peter off and asked.
"Well... things about being a fixer, life on the streets, and the back alleys of Landa... I know those things pretty well..."
James gave an awkward laugh, knowing his words were nothing more than nonsense.
However, Oliver responded in an unexpected way.
"...Yes, fine."
"Master?!"
Peter, flustered, spoke in a hurry.
"That’s absurd. He’s tricking you."
"Well... A promise is a promise."
"..."
Peter said nothing more, realizing that his way of thinking was completely different from Oliver’s.
Ignoring Peter, Oliver spoke to James.
"So, when do you want to start learning?"
"I'm ready right now."
"Hmm... All right. Follow me."
...
Oliver led James down to the basement classroom.
As they walked, everyone around them stared at the scene curiously, but no one dared to ask any questions.
When they arrived at the classroom, Oliver took out some emotional samples from the shelf used for training.
"First, let’s see what you can do."
"Nothing."
"...Sorry?"
"I said I can't do anything... No, no. Don’t. Don’t gather emotion in your fingertips. I can’t even see that."
Caught off guard by the unexpected situation, they both just stared at each other.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Should I be honest with you?"
"Yes, please."
"I don't have any talent for black magic."
"Sorry?"
"There was a time when I had the opportunity to learn it... I just didn't have the talent."
"Ah... Then why?"
"Well, I still want to learn somehow. Even though I’m getting older, my heart still burns with passion... Is there no way? You’re the one who defeated Joseph, after all."
Ah, now Oliver understood what James meant.
He had come here with the faint hope that Oliver, of all people, might have a way to teach him.
Honestly, it was a tricky situation.
Oliver had tried looking for educational books in Joseph's library, but he hadn't found anything particularly helpful.
All he could do was point out mistakes and occasionally give indirect help.
That had been fine until now. Everyone at least managed to reach a certain level of eye-opening, and they could awkwardly extract emotions.
But he had no idea how to teach someone who couldn’t even do that.
James, sensing Oliver's hesitation, asked with a hint of disappointment.
"Is there really no way?"
Without saying anything, Oliver reached out and covered James’ eyes with his hands.
"What are you—"
"Just wait a moment."
Oliver brushed off James' feeble resistance and covered his eyes again.
He focused on his eyes, trying to see James' emotions more clearly. He took a small sample of emotion from a test tube and pressed his hands to James' eyes once more.
"What the hell...?"
"Just wait."
With that, Oliver gathered all his focus and then, just as his black magic vision intensified, he forcibly pushed the emotion into James' eyes.
"Arrrgh!"
James screamed in pain, clutching at his eyes as if they were burning. But Oliver didn’t let go.
"It hurts! Damn it, it hurts!"
"Yes, yes. It’ll be fine. Just wait a moment."
James writhed for a long time, but finally, Oliver released his hands.
"Ugh..."
James fell to the floor, groaning in agony, clutching his eyes as though he had been blinded by a flashbang.
"My eyes...! Damn it, what did you do to me?!"
Gradually, the pain subsided, and James’ vision began to recover.
"What do you see?"
Oliver raised his fingers and asked.
James, still dazed, replied.
"...A circle?"
...
"So, Landa was built by wizards?"
"That's right... To be more precise, by capitalists and wizards. But most people say it was built by wizards. Well, it's not entirely false. The capitalists just provided the money, but the actual reconstruction was done by the wizards' skills. Even a three-year-old knows that."
"Ah... I didn’t know."
"It’s just an expression, you know? Like a metaphor or simile?"
"..."
"You really don’t get it, huh... Anyway, the point is, wizards hold immense power in Landa. They're respected everywhere, but in Landa, it's on another level."
"I see. But how do you know so much about wizards, Mr. James?"
"Huh? Oh... Well, wizard stories are common in taverns and on the streets, and I’ve worked for wizards a few times when I was doing fixer jobs."
"Oh, really? Like what?"
"Setting fire to a rival wizard's business or beating up their employees."
"...Do wizards fight a lot among themselves?"
"Yeah. Smart people hate other smart people. It's kind of like self-loathing. Anyway, now it's my turn to ask a question."
"Yes?"
"How long do I have to keep doing this?"
James was trying to form a crude circle by gathering emotion at his fingertips. But calling it a circle was generous—it was barely even recognizable.
"Until you can make a perfect circle."
"Sigh... Can’t you just teach me some powerful black magic instead? Something that explodes. Boom, boom. Right?"
"If you can't make a proper circle, I won’t be able to help you."
At Oliver’s words, James made no effort to hide his disappointment.
He had become overly excited after taking his first step into black magic, but Oliver calmly offered him some advice each time.
"...And true power in black magic doesn’t come from brute strength."
"What?"
"If you look through the master's notes in the library, they say that the true strength of black magic lies in seeing through your opponent and using that insight to strike precisely. I believe that as well. If you only think about using powerful black magic, it won’t be of much use."
The gravity in Oliver’s words was striking, especially for someone who appeared to be no older than fifteen. James, who normally would have cracked a joke, simply stared at him in silence.
"Well then..."
"—James! We’ve loaded all the boxes of Filgaret onto the truck!" someone from the sausage factory shouted from afar.
"Got it! Just wait a minute!"
Suddenly back to being employee A of the apothecary, James put a cigarette in his mouth and sighed.
"Hoo... Okay, that’s it for today. No more nonsense. I’ll just keep practicing circles."
"Good. Once you can make a circle, start practicing making squares."
"Got it... A square... By the way, is there any chance you could increase production? We’ll handle securing the emotions."
"?... Aren’t we already producing a lot?"
"Yes, you are. But we need even more."
Even more? Oliver paused to think.
The Filgaret production had gradually increased—doubling, tripling, and now even quadrupling.
That meant more work for Oliver.
For someone who wanted to focus on studying black magic, this wasn’t exactly welcome news.
It wasn’t too much of a problem, though, as he had nearly finished reading all the books in the library. Still...
"Could you give me some time to think about it? We’re already nearing the limits of the current workshop."
"Sure. I’ll let the boss know. But if possible, consider expanding. Your product is in high demand right now. It’s the perfect time to strike while the iron’s hot."
Oliver wasn’t particularly interested in money, so this argument felt hollow. However, there was something that piqued his curiosity.
"In high demand?"
"Yeah. You didn’t know?"
"No."
"Why do you think production has increased? It’s because there’s more demand. Supply and demand, basic market principles. Your product is incredibly popular right now. Some other clients are even trying to buy from us. Honestly, if things keep going like this, it might threaten Black Smoke."
"...What’s Black Smoke?"
"...You don’t know what Black Smoke is? You’re kidding, right?"
When Oliver silently shook his head, James was incredulous.
"How can you not know Black Smoke when you're selling Filgaret? It’s only the most popular Filgaret brand... Top-quality Filgaret is differentiated by branding. Anyway, it means your stuff is just that good."
"...I see."
"Your reactions are always so indifferent. What would it take to impress you? Anyway, I’ll pass the message to the boss. See you next time."
As James turned to leave, he suddenly stopped and, with a more serious expression, asked Oliver a question.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"It’s funny that I’m even asking this now, but... why are you so willing to teach me black magic? You could’ve just ignored me."
Oliver thought for a moment before answering.
"Is there any reason not to?"
James stood there for a moment, then chuckled.
"Haha... You’re really an odd one."
"Am I?"
"Yeah, you are. See you next time."
...
Several vehicles were racing toward the decayed city of Wineham.
These F-series vehicles, made for large-scale distribution, wouldn’t seem out of place anywhere.
As a result, they were popular among the struggling middle class and those carrying out covert operations.
Screeech—
The vehicles stopped simultaneously at the top of a hill overlooking the city.
After a brief moment, a woman stepped out of the lead vehicle.
With porcelain-like skin, sharp features, and radiant blonde hair, she was beautiful, almost sacred in appearance.
No, not just sacred in appearance—she truly was holy.
"Is this the source of that wicked product?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The woman, addressed as 'ma'am,' touched the cross hanging from her neck and spoke.
"Then, let’s go. It’s time to destroy the evil that spreads this vile drug."