Chapter 118: Edith (3)
"Why do you ask?"
Edith, dressed in just a tank top and underwear, leaned back in her chair and asked.
"Hmm… I didn’t expect we’d be dining like this."
Oliver replied, watching as staff entered the room, spread out a crisp white tablecloth, and laid down all kinds of unknown dishes.
The table was filled with food he had never seen before. It looked quite expensive.
"I understand. When I was your age, I didn’t know this world existed either."
Edith casually pulled out her wallet and took out a thick wad of bills.
The staff silently took the money and left without a word.
Edith immediately grabbed a bowl of cream and chocolate and began shoveling it into her mouth with a spoon.
It was a truly bizarre sight.
At first glance, her behavior seemed out of place, but somehow, it felt perfectly fitting and natural.
Oliver decided to eat as well.
As Edith scooped up the cream, she suddenly looked at Oliver and said bluntly, "Interesting."
"...Did I do something wrong?"
"A mistake? No... Actually, you didn’t make any mistakes. Knife and fork. Did you learn table manners separately?"
"No, I just copied the way my master used to eat."
"That’s fascinating. I had to spend a lot of money on private lessons just to learn how to use these damned utensils, but a fixer who makes a living off people's flesh and blood does it so naturally. I’ve always thought this—God is disgustingly unfair."
Unfair... It was an absurd statement coming from one of the wealthy in this city.
Most people would find it hard to hide their displeasure even with great patience, but Oliver simply listened calmly.
Because he knew and accepted that he was a fixer who lived off the price of people’s flesh and blood.
There was no reason to get angry or upset.
Oddly enough, it was Edith who furrowed his brow.
Despite his provocations, Oliver didn’t react at all.
He enjoyed provoking people to draw out their true colors, using it to lead conversations and negotiations.
Conversely, if someone didn’t show their true self, he didn’t know how to deal with them.
It felt like talking to a puppet rather than a person.
So, Edith tried a different approach.
"...You must have a question. If it’s one worth giving up 200 million Randa for, it must be quite important."
"May I ask first?"
"Of course, feel free. It’s like a game. A truth game. I used to play this with women a lot in the old days. Exciting."
"Then, without holding back, I’ll ask first. Could you explain Duncan to me?"
Oliver asked, recalling the beautiful light he had carefully preserved in his mind.
He needed to gather any useful information he could.
"Duncan?"
"Yes."
"Huh... Why do you want to know?"
Oliver quickly thought of a plausible reason.
"...I’m not entirely sure, but Miss Jane seems to trust Duncan quite a bit. Duncan also appeared to care about her."
"Well, I did tell him to look after her, so they had time to get close."
"But for someone like that to try and kill her… I’m curious about his reasons. It seemed like he had something he wanted to achieve."
Oliver already knew Duncan wanted to establish something similar to the Pinkman Office and become a powerful figure, but he pretended not to know, hoping to extract more information.
Fortunately, that wasn’t a bad idea.
"He probably wanted revenge."
"Revenge?"
"Yes. On the wizards. Do you know Duncan comes from a wizard family?"
"No, I only knew he had magical overload."
"Magical overload… It means exactly what it sounds like—he has too much magical power and can’t use magic, a kind of condition. Because of it, he was kicked out not only from his Magic Tower department but also from his family."
"Duncan was?"
"Yes. Competition is fierce in that world, so they often discard those they consider defective. Most wizards are eugenics-obsessed lunatics, so... Ah, hold on."
Edith tore off a large turkey leg, dipped it in cream, and devoured it.
"Delicious... Anyway, Duncan was tough. Instead of falling into despair, he tried to gain power in another way and get revenge. He started working as a fixer, joined Pinkman, eventually mastered their methods, and went independent."
"Was there a particular reason for going independent?"
Oliver asked, genuinely curious. Wouldn’t a Pinkman executive already be a big shot?
But Edith flatly denied it.
"Of course there was. Fixers, Pinkman, employee of the month—ultimately, you’re still just someone else's servant, earning scraps. There’s no difference from slaves from 3,000 years ago. If you want to become powerful enough to take revenge on wizards, you need to run your own business."
"..."
Oliver remained silent. It didn’t seem like Edith was just saying this to be mean.
There was certainly malice in his words, but there was also a clear conviction.
It was quite interesting.
"...So, why was Duncan working for you?"
"Because he failed. I was watching and picked him up... That’s the interesting part. If you succeed in business, you escape slavery and become your own master. But if you fail, you fall lower than a salaried slave, becoming an untouchable. That’s why most people choose to remain slaves. It’s safer. Thanks to that, society runs efficiently. Isn’t it fascinating?"
"Yes, it’s intriguing... and quite strange."
"Strange how?"
"Duncan. He seemed quite capable to me."
"Killing people and running a business are completely different realms. Pinkman even got in his way... Naturally. They wouldn’t just sit back and let someone steal their know-how and go independent, would they? That would make them fools."
Oliver couldn’t fully agree, but he nodded anyway.
In any case, it was quite fascinating.
The world of beautiful light, demons, black magic—while not as captivating as those, this side of the world had its own interesting stories.
What could one say? The interactions of various people caused a wide array of phenomena.
"Now, it’s my turn. Why are you looking for books on demons? It seemed like you took on this whole job for that reason. I’m curious."
"May I ask why you’re curious?"
"What a stupid question. A black magician who took down dozens of Pinkman members, two skilled fixers, and even Duncan is after books on demons. Of course, I’m curious... What’s your goal? Are you a pervert who wants to destroy the world?"
A goal...
"I just want to meet one."
"...You want to meet a demon? Just that?"
"Yes. Is that strange?"
"Hmm... You want to meet a demon, who seeks to destroy the human world, wipes out villages, sometimes entire cities, or in extreme cases, wrecks the whole world... And you're asking if that’s strange? No, of course, it’s not strange."
"...Sorry, but are you being sarcastic?"
"Of course! What the hell are you confirming?"
"Oh, thank you. I was confused. But I’m serious."
"Why do you want to meet a demon? Do you have a wish to ask for?"
"A wish? Is that necessary?"
"Usually, yes. Make me rich. Make her love me. Cure my illness. Make me young again. Let me live longer—no, forever. If it’s none of that, then why take the risk to meet a demon?"
Indeed... Joseph had sacrificed his apprentice Andrew to a demon for that reason and then tried to kill Oliver as well.
That made him wonder.
"Have you ever done something like that, Edith?"
"What?"
"You have a book on demons... do you have a wish?"
"...No. I just happened to get it through business."
Edith lied. At the same time, a necklace around his neck emitted some kind of magical power.
It seemed to have a blocking effect that hindered emotion reading, but it was no use against Oliver.
He considered pointing it out but decided not to. It was already interesting enough as it was.
So, he continued the conversation.
"...Business, you say?"
"There are some people like me who collect strange items out of sheer vanity or curiosity. To naturally connect with them, I picked up the hobby as well."
That part was true. And it was intriguing.
Collecting books on demons not for knowledge, but for the sake of vanity... How peculiar.
"Of course, among those collectors, there are probably people who are genuinely obsessed with the subject, but I wouldn’t know for sure... So, you really want to meet a demon without any other motive?"
"...Not entirely without a motive."
"Ha! I knew it. What is it?"
"I plan to look into it myself, but if I can’t figure it out, I have something I’d like to ask."
"What do you want to ask?"
"About the beautiful light."
Edith furrowed his brow.
"Beautiful what?"
"Beautiful light. Some people radiate this light from within. It’s one of the reasons I came into the world."
Oliver spoke quite honestly.
"That’s insane... I’ve heard that black magicians are often crazy, but I didn’t realize they could be crazy in this way."
"Is it strange?"
"Insanely strange... Well, go on then. What exactly is this 'beautiful light'?"
At Edith’s question, Oliver pulled a vial from his pocket.
It contained Duncan’s beautiful light.
It looked like an ordinary object, but Oliver could perceive its subtle beauty.
However, Edith didn’t seem to notice anything.
He glanced at the contents of the vial, quickly lost interest, and handed it back to Oliver.
"I don’t see what’s so beautiful about it. Ask a more practical question next time. By the way, what’s your name? Your real name, I mean."
"...It’s Oliver. How did you know?"
"How many people in this line of work use their real name? Still, I didn’t expect you to answer so easily."
"I made a promise, didn’t I?"
"Oh, so you’re someone who keeps promises?"
Edith sneered, shrugging his shoulders. Oliver responded calmly.
"It wasn’t anything grand. I kept it because it was easy to keep."
"Ha! Honest, aren't you? Alright, another question. Did you really live in a basement your whole life?"
"Half of it. Until a year ago, I lived in a mine. Later, my master took me in and taught me black magic."
"...Did I hear that right? You’ve only been learning black magic for a year? No, considering the time you’ve spent working as a fixer, it must be closer to half a year?"
Oliver’s silence confirmed it. In truth, it had been even shorter, but there was no need to explain further.
Edith had lied once himself. A small omission should be fine.
"Where did you learn?"
"In Wineham. Do you know of it?"
"Only that it’s one of those insignificant small towns being swallowed up by Landa. Recently, one of the local bigwigs there has been making major investments in the city... Wineham, huh?"
"Yes."
"Alright, another question. Why did you come here?"
"I came to Landa to pay my respects to my master."
"That doesn’t add up. Your master is here?"
"To be precise, his corpse. He’s in X-District."
"...That’s sad. Who killed him?"
"I did. He tried to kill me first."
Edith showed a moment of shock and then fell silent.
"...I see. Your master tried to kill you, so you killed him. My condolences. That must have been quite a betrayal."
"Not really. I’m sure he had his reasons. I understand. And I believe he would understand me as well."
"Is that how it works?... So, who suggested you become a fixer? I’m damn curious."
"A friend who helped me recommended it. After trying it out, I found it wasn’t bad."
"Really?"
"Yes. Among the things I can do, it’s a good source of income, and it’s also convenient for accessing the Black Market."
"The Black Market? Ah... Yeah, if you're looking for certain materials, going through the Black Market is your best bet."
"Yes... Ah!"
Oliver suddenly let out a small exclamation, as if realizing a mistake.
"What is it?"
"I forgot to ask Nina something."
"Nina?"
"Nina from the Pinkman Office. She was hired to protect Miss Jane."
"I know who she is. That damn bitch who was in cahoots with Duncan."
"Oh... you know? I didn’t think you’d care."
Edith seemed momentarily taken aback, as if his weak spot had been accidentally struck.
"...What nonsense. I was keeping an eye on Duncan, so of course, I know."
"...I see."
Edith lied again, but Oliver let it pass. It was more fun that way.
"...So, what did you want to ask?"
"Oh, it’s nothing big. I wanted to ask where she got the Filgaret she was smoking. But I killed her before I could ask."
To most, this would sound incredibly chilling, but Edith simply laughed and asked, "Why are you curious about Filgaret? You don’t seem like a junkie."
"I just want to look into something."
"Look into something, huh? I’m curious, but I’ll save that for later... Anyway, let me make a proposal."
"A proposal?"
"Yes. How about you join me?"
"Now that you’ve killed Duncan, there’s an open spot on my side. What do you think? It seems only fitting that the one who killed him takes his place. I’ll give you any treatment you want."
Oliver was a little surprised by the unexpected offer. But that was all.
"Hmm... I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested in working for anyone or being employed."
"Oh, so someone like me isn’t good enough for you?"
"No, that’s not it. I just don’t intend to belong anywhere."
Edith narrowed his eyes and looked sharply at Oliver.
Though no special power was behind it, his gaze had the intensity of someone capable of reading his opponent.
"...Why not? If you joined me, you'd make plenty of money, and you’d have easy access to the Black Market, which you’re so keen on."
It was true. One of the main reasons Oliver became a fixer was to establish connections with influential figures and use the Black Market.
But being someone’s subordinate wasn’t part of the plan.
"...That’s a fair point, but I still don’t want to. If I belong somewhere, I’d have to spend a lot of time on things I don’t want to do. I don’t like that."
"Hoo... How interesting. You’d rather be the master than the slave?"
"Sorry?"
"No, never mind. Forget it. Don’t pretend to be modest. I hate that. Deception is really fucking annoying."
Edith said sharply, his voice and emotions filled with genuine seriousness, leaving no room for further argument.
The tension between them tightened. Then, Edith relaxed again, slumping in his chair.
"...Anyway. If that’s how you feel, I won’t push it. I don’t like clinging to anyone."
"Thank you for understanding."
"But you’ll need to be careful."
"Pardon?"
"This city is as dangerous as it is wealthy. From what I gather, you’re a rare case who can extract magical power, so be cautious. People obsessed with research love someone like you."
"By people obsessed with research, who exactly do you mean?"
"Who knows? Figure that out yourself. Those without imagination are the first to die. And you’ll need it even more. A lone wolf who doesn’t belong to a group becomes a target, no matter how strong they are."
Edith’s words were sincere. He was genuinely giving advice.
"Thank you for the warning. You’re very kind."
"Ha. Ha. Ha... Kind? Me?"
"Yes, you’ve respected my opinion, given me advice, and even treated me to a meal. I’d say that’s kind."
"...I can’t tell if you’re an idiot or just crazy."
"Is that so?... By the way, may I ask you a question now?"
"Oh, right. Go ahead. What’s your question?"
"What do you think of Miss Jane?"
Oliver asked abruptly.
A question that completely shifted the tone of the conversation.
Edith didn’t like it.
"Of course, she’s just my bastard-"
"Edith. You promised to be honest. You said you’d answer truthfully."
For the first time, Oliver cut off Edith’s words.
Edith flinched as if he’d been stabbed and his expression hardened quickly.
"...Why do you ask?"
"...Just curious."
"Goddamn. You’re curious about everything."
"If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to."
"Ha... Are you making fun of me?"
"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just think this type of answer should be given voluntarily. It’s best if it comes from you."
Edith was displeased, but at the same time, somewhat relieved.
Jane was clearly a sensitive topic for him.
"...Damn. I feel like I owe you something now. Like I’ve lost."
"It’s really no big deal."
"It is to me. I haven’t felt like this in a long time, and it’s really fucking annoying... Fine, I’ll make it up to you."
"Make it up to me?"
"Yeah, I know a few places in the Black Market. Some of them deal in drugs. I’ll introduce you and vouch for your identity. Let’s call it even for this stupid game."
"Oh... Thank you."