Chapter 457: Ghost Story (2)
Edith mentioned that the traditional capitalist group and the nouveau riche group had hired Heimdall to make up for their inferior information network compared to Pinkman.
To Oliver, it seemed like a reasonable decision.
Heimdall was a well-known magic hacker collective renowned for their expertise in handling the World Tree, and their skills had recently improved even further. During the redevelopment of Zone X, Oliver had indirectly experienced their enhanced capabilities.
Without Heimdall, they wouldn’t have been able to deal with Enjoyment so quickly.
"...Well, that's our union's stance. It's a shame."
A gruff old man, dressed in a faded blue coat, fiddler cap, rubber boots, and with a pipe clamped in his mouth, sat roughly on a chair as he spoke brusquely.
He was the head of the Fishermen's Union here at First Step, commonly referred to as the Captain. He was also the one who could practically exercise shareholder rights in Prometheus Corporation on behalf of the union.
With deep wrinkles and a graying beard, he appeared older than Edith, yet his body, hardened by manual labor, still seemed strong.
The fact that the meeting took place near the union's yard, close to the fishing port, only amplified his imposing presence.
Edith and Oliver, however, were unfazed.
"Ha... What a pity. I didn’t think the Captain would side with them. Didn't you dislike nobles?"
"I do dislike nobles. They're the kind who wouldn't get their hands dirty for anything. Bah!"
The Captain spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the ground.
"But, while I dislike nobles, I like money. They offered to let us supply fish to the military if we voted in their favor. How could I refuse? Look, there’s a ridiculous amount of fish being caught!"
He pointed to the fishing port with his pipe just as a fishing boat pulled in and lowered its nets, revealing a massive pile of fish—a truly astounding catch.
‘Are they really dealing with the Fishmen?’
Oliver recalled the ghost story Edith had told him yesterday—some fishermen allegedly sacrificed children and young girls to catch such vast quantities of fish.
"Do you trust what the nobles say?" Edith asked, eating a shrimp with its shell still on.
The Captain merely shrugged his shoulders.
"Why wouldn't I? Anyway, the amount of stock our union owns is next to nothing. Just talking about deals like this with our small share is already a huge gain. Besides, I can’t stand you lot either. You sit around moving money instead of working hard. You’ve strayed from the path of the divine."
The Captain spoke with a tongue as coarse as his skin. Edith was not one to back down.
"God gave us arms and legs, but he also gave us a mind to think."
"And arms and legs add up to four."
"And the mind is located higher."
"...Damn it, you win."
The Captain spat out another wad of phlegm and stood up, indicating that the conversation was over.
He seemed frustrated and threw one more comment at Edith.
"Why don't you bring a proper bodyguard with you? This one's too scrawny."
"Don't judge by appearances. He may look like this, but he's far from ordinary. Want to test him? I can't guarantee the outcome."
Some of the burly sailors reacted aggressively, but the Captain didn’t dismiss Edith's words and backed off.
It was a very reasonable response.
If a person like Edith was keeping this man as a bodyguard, even if he appeared frail, he was likely dangerous.
In fact, the scrawnier he seemed, the more dangerous he might be—after all, he had survived looking like that.
Though the man in question didn't realize this himself.
"Are you all right?" Oliver asked, as if offering comfort to Edith.
After all, Edith was his employer, and they had been running around all morning without achieving much.
However, Edith's reaction was not as bad as he had expected.
"Why?"
"Well... it seems like nothing is going your way. Especially with everyone you’ve met this morning."
"I said I was reading the board, not trying to persuade them, didn’t I?" Edith replied nonchalantly as she ate another shrimp, shell and all.
"Weren't you trying to convince them?"
"Sure, it would’ve been nice if it worked, but it’s no big deal if it doesn’t. The union’s stock isn’t significant enough to have much impact, especially in a situation like this."
By "situation like this," he was referring to the recent terror attacks by the Red Man, which had left some shareholders of the traditional capitalist and nouveau riche groups in comas or dead, weakening their power.
With some shareholders in comas and others embroiled in inheritance disputes, there was nothing they could do.
Edith finished the remaining shrimp on his plate and said, "Besides, it’s not like we got nothing out of this."
"What do you mean?"
"Thanks to our morning efforts, we learned just how desperate the noble faction is to secure a new CEO. They’re offering military supply deals just to get the Captain’s meager shares… Whatever their reasons are, it’s clear they’re getting frantic. Like a dog in heat."
Listening to this, Oliver found it quite convincing.
Even the other shareholders they had visited before the Captain had received fairly generous offers considering the small amount of stock they held.
It was evident how serious the noble faction was about the upcoming shareholders' meeting.
Of course, Oliver didn’t know how they would use this information.
"The important thing is…"
"...?"
"Achieving the ultimate goal, not getting bogged down in small fights… If you’re going to do business, you should know that."
Edith gave this advice to Oliver.
It was sudden and seemed unprompted, but the words themselves were sincere. Oliver expressed his thanks.
"Thank you for your concern. But you don’t need to worry about me too much."
"Huh?"
"Forest is the one managing the actual business."
"You're bound to get scammed sooner or later."
It was an interesting opinion. The thought of Forest tricking him sounded… amusing, somehow.
Why it seemed amusing, Oliver couldn’t say.
Edith, as if reading his thoughts, regarded Oliver with a mixture of familiarity and incomprehension.
"Hmm, are you going to meet other shareholders in the afternoon?"
"No, I’ve seen enough of the board for now. I won't meet anyone else. It’s more worthwhile to persuade the other side."
The "other side" Edith referred to was none other than Claude, a major shareholder whom Heimdall had mentioned. Claude owned a substantial portion of Prometheus Corporation’s shares but had never affiliated with any faction.
Edith had said that Claude had never attended any shareholders' meetings in person, always sending a female proxy instead.
"Why is he attending in person this time?"
"Well, it would be easy to say it’s because this meeting is that important, but I don’t think that’s the case."
"Then what’s the reason?"
"Just a feeling."
It was a rather irresponsible statement, but coming from Edith, it carried some weight.
"Hmm… Do you have a photo? It would be good for me to recognize him."
"I haven’t received one. In any case, Conquistador will be doing the searching, so you don’t need to worry about it. While Pinkman’s technology with the World Tree is superior, the classic intelligence network here is better. If Heimdall gets a photo, they’ll find him first."
Just as Edith finished speaking, two men approached.
"Edith, sir?"
"Are you messengers from Conquistador?"
Edith quickly discerned who they were, allowing the conversation to proceed more smoothly.
"Yes, I’m one of the messengers for Conquistador-"
"-I don’t care about that. Just get to the point. You didn’t come here to introduce yourself, did you?"
The messenger’s face reddened at Edith’s bluntness.
"Uh… Yes… I came to deliver a message from Mr. Brian."
"What is it?"
"Claude contacted us."
An unexpected development. Edith furrowed his brow.
It seemed like Claude might want to negotiate, realizing the situation wasn’t in his favor, but the next words made things even more confusing.
"He requested that you send your bodyguard if you wish to speak with him."
"What?"
"If you want to speak with him, send your bodyguard to the location specified here tonight."
The messenger handed Edith a note, and he frowned as he read it.
"Damn it, what kind of trick is this?"
...
Edith dismissed it as nonsense.
Frankly, even Oliver thought the condition was dubious. Wasn't it strange?
They were supposed to discuss matters concerning the shareholders' meeting, yet Claude wanted to converse through Oliver, who didn’t even own any shares.
Anyone could see this was suspicious.
However, there are times when one must proceed despite suspicions, and this was one of those times.
After all, they were in a difficult position. With even minor shareholders being bought off by the noble faction, the only way to shift the balance was to win over Claude, a major shareholder.
Thus, Edith reluctantly agreed.
‘Though he seemed quite displeased.’
Oliver arrived at the meeting location, a slum area known as the "Garbage Dump" in First Step.
As the name suggested, it was indeed a dump, with shacks haphazardly built, mainly inhabited by the Red Man and his mixed-blood descendants.
‘So that's why they said we wouldn’t draw much attention here. Is that why they chose this place?’
Oliver speculated, but somehow, it didn’t seem like the real reason. It was just a hunch.
‘I have a strange sense of déjà vu.’
Oliver murmured to himself as he looked around the dark slum, and the feeling grew stronger.
"Ah, you’ve arrived," a woman said, stepping out from the shadows.
She wore a stylish women’s suit featured in a recent fashion magazine—complete with a voluminous jacket, a tight dress shirt, wide-leg pants, a matching tie, and shoes.
It was a neat outfit that captured both a masculine and feminine charm.
‘Interesting. I saw Childs picking out clothes like these… and now, here they are. Fascinating.’
There was another interesting thing as well. He was finally starting to understand the source of the déjà vu.
"Hello. I’m Dave, representing Mr. Brian and Mr. Edith. Are you Claude?"
"Hello. I’m his representative."
"Ah, I see."
Oliver nodded, accepting the situation without showing any reaction to the fact that a representative had shown up.
The woman apologized.
"I apologize on behalf of my master for not coming in person. He is very shy and timid. I’m truly sorry."
"No, it’s fine. I’m only here to deliver a message."
Oliver took out a note and, following the instructions Edith had drilled into him, presented the proposal to bring Claude into the shareholders' meeting, doing his best to sound persuasive.
Despite his efforts, the woman didn’t show any particular reaction.
"What do you think of the terms? If you have any requests, please let me know."
After finishing his explanation, Oliver asked, and the woman appeared to consider it.
"...It’s not a bad offer. I’ll convey it to my master and get back to you as soon as possible."
"...You’re not Claude, are you?"
"...Pardon? Didn’t I say earlier that I was his representative?"
"I heard you, but then does that mean you’re not Claude?"
Oliver’s calm question made the woman—no, the female corpse puppet’s expression change.
It was an impressive technique, even managing to change its facial color. It went far beyond makeup.
"Just out of curiosity, are you perhaps a disciple of Puppet?"