Chapter 493: The Burnt City (2)
“Hoo...”
On the First Step Road, where the fire had finally been extinguished, Oliver took a deep breath as he drove his car.
There were two reasons for this.
The first was the persistent pain in his burned right arm.
The second was that driving with Ptah’s Assistant, which he used as a prosthetic arm, was more difficult than he had expected.
Though it was magic designed for delicate work, using it in this manner was a first. It seemed like it would take some time to get used to.
“Ah, I’ve gotten used to it.”
As Oliver said this, he drove the custom-made vehicle, a gift from Philip, more smoothly than before.
It was an upgraded version of what he had received in the past at Lake Village—bulletproof, with two machine guns mounted, as well as a mortar, flashbangs, and even giant blades that could pop out of the tires.
A veritable weapon on the road. While it consumed three times as much fuel, that was a minor issue.
‘How generous of him. When I asked if he could give me one more car, he gifted it to me on the spot.’
Philip had asked Oliver if there was anything he needed after getting injured on the job, and Oliver had requested a car, preferably similar to the one he had received before. Philip had questioned him:
‘What happened to the one I gave you last time?’
‘I lost it and it got damaged.’
‘I can understand losing it, but damaged? That car is practically indestructible.’
‘I was driving through the air while firing the machine guns and then crashed to the ground.’
It was the truth without a shred of exaggeration, but for some reason, Philip didn’t believe him and ended the conversation. Even though it was true.
‘In any case, it’s quite impressive.’
As Oliver approached his destination, he slowed down and looked around.
Just as Philip had mentioned, the streets were filled with people who had lost their homes and become homeless.
The fire had started mainly in residential and industrial areas, and it was all too real now.
The city was in utter chaos, as the streets were packed with people who had lost not only their possessions but even a place to sleep overnight.
If not for the deployment of colonial troops and military mages, it would have been difficult for Oliver to drive through like this.
“What is that...?”
A man, whose face was still blackened with soot, looked at Oliver’s vehicle and spoke.
Though his voice wasn’t loud, the emotion in it made it clear.
Certainly... while he had become a vagrant in an instant due to the fire, it was understandable that seeing someone driving around in a car equipped with machine guns and a mortar would evoke negative feelings.
Apart from that, Oliver didn’t feel much else. Was it because of the dark side of the city that the demon had shown him? He wasn’t sure.
In any case, Oliver finally arrived at his destination.
The prison on the outskirts of First Step. Oliver had come here, with Philip's help, to meet a man who was locked up.
His name was Kenny Midas. He was the founder and former CEO of Prometheus Corporation and was accused of being the mastermind behind the great fire.
...
Tap, tap.
Click, click.
Oliver walked down the dimly lit corridor, guided by a guard.
The air was damp, likely due to the fact that the corridor was underground.
“Mr. Dave.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t grant you much time for this visit. Officially, personal visits like this are not even allowed, so I ask for your understanding.”
Oliver nodded in agreement, acknowledging the guard's words.
Kenny was widely known as a subversive element who had conspired with the Red-skinned warlock to regain his position as CEO by orchestrating large-scale fires in the city. If not for Philip's influence, he wouldn’t have been able to meet him at all.
Oliver was aware of this and decided to comply with the guard’s instructions.
Creak. The thick door of the visitation room opened.
The room, made of rough bricks and filled with a damp, musty smell, contained a man who looked utterly defeated.
His hair had receded to the crown of his head, his beard had grown out haphazardly, and his face and body bore the marks of torture.
He looked vastly different from the person Oliver had seen in newspapers.
He seemed to have aged twenty years. It wasn’t just his appearance; his emotions and vitality had also greatly diminished and withered.
The brazen gambler that Edith had spoken of was nowhere to be found.
Or perhaps Oliver was just unable to perceive it. In any case, Oliver greeted him politely. It was the proper thing to do.
“Hello, Mr. Kenny.”
Kenny, who was engulfed in despair, showed no response. He was like a broken doll, a living corpse without any spark.
Oliver took some food and a bottle of wine out of the sling bag he carried on his shoulder.
Having been advised that the prison meals were inadequate, he had brought them along, but Kenny didn’t react. Given his malnourished state, he must have been desperate for food.
Regardless, Oliver handed the food and wine bottle to Kenny.
It was a gift he had brought to facilitate the conversation. What happened next would be entirely up to the man himself.
Despite the pressing time, Oliver remained seated, and eventually, Kenny spoke.
“...Who are you?”
“Thank you for speaking. My name is Dave. I’m a fixer who participated in the recent extermination of the Red-skinned warlocks in the abandoned mine.”
“You...?!”
Kenny reacted. He tried to reach out and grab Oliver with his atrophied arm.
The chains that bound his hands clattered noisily.
“You...!! You’re the one who framed me, saying I colluded with the Red-skinned warlocks! That I committed terrorism using black magic!!”
He raged with hatred and anger, thrashing about like a madman. It was enough for the guard to open the door and step in.
Oliver raised his hand and politely assured the guard that it was fine, prompting the guard to close the door again and step back.
Kenny, seeing the guard, managed to calm his agitation, though his breathing remained heavy as if he still struggled to control his emotions.
It was understandable.
He, too, was a victim of the great fire, but the Pater Church had accused him of collaborating with the Red-skinned warlocks to incite the fire, leading to his arrest.
‘They’re clever. They skillfully mixed the phenomenon of the water turning red and the swarm of frogs, framing Kenny and the Red-skinned warlocks as the culprits.’
It was a rather far-fetched method, yet everyone seemed to believe it.
Ordinary people were unaware of omens, so it was plausible enough to associate it with black magic, especially for those who needed something to blame after losing everything in the fire.
Although Oliver wasn’t well-versed in this kind of thing, it seemed like a rather adept maneuver.
Incidentally, Kenny’s entire fortune was seized, allegedly to fund the city’s reconstruction and compensate the victims.
Being the founder of Prometheus Corporation, his wealth was astronomical, nearly enough to cover the damages.
In stark contrast to the agitated Kenny, Oliver spoke calmly.
“I don’t know much about that.”
“What?”
“I was unconscious for three days.”
“Is that supposed to be an excuse—”
“But, I am aware that you made a deal with a demon.”
Oliver leaned in slightly and whispered in a low voice. A sharp pain flared up from his burned arm.
Kenny, who had been raging like a fire, froze, a bead of cold sweat dripping down his temple.
“...What?”
“Red-skinned, the crusher, the wine.”
Oliver used euphemistic terms instead of directly mentioning the demon, so only those in the know would understand.
Unfortunately for Kenny, he understood it all too well. Far too well, in fact. He had wondered if this could be the case, and it turned out to be true.
Kenny’s face grew pale, his legs trembling like his pupils, and eventually, he collapsed to the ground, mumbling.
“H-How...?”
“I can’t tell you that. I’m just here to confirm if it’s true. It seems it is.”
Oliver, having half-solved his doubts, responded in a voice that sounded almost indifferent.
Kenny continued to sweat profusely. Feeling parched from all the sweating, he reached for the wine bottle that Oliver had brought and opened the cap. Inside was red wine.
“Gah...!”
It was genuine wine, yet the taste made Kenny choke, causing him to spit it onto the floor.
It wasn’t a matter of the wine’s flavor but of his state of mind.
Having been engulfed in what felt like the world’s end, he now found himself overcome by a new kind of fear and terror, far worse than death itself.
Kenny, his emotions heightened, panted and spoke.
“What...do you want from me...?”
Oliver shrugged.
“Who knows? I just wanted to confirm if it was true and ask why you did it.”
For someone who had uncovered a horrific truth, Oliver’s voice remained calm. So calm, it felt as if the person sitting before Kenny was not a human, but an inanimate object.
Even Kenny, who had used countless Red-skinned warlocks as sacrifices to achieve his success, felt a chill run down his spine. The despair, anger, hatred, and resentment he harbored seemed to waver…
It was then that Kenny was able to see the man known as Dave, the black magician before him, in a slightly more objective light. Perhaps... just perhaps…
“I know your name…”
“Pardon?”
“You're the fixer from District T, aren't you? The one who made a name for yourself almost instantly in that city of wealth and violence.”
Oliver didn’t react. He wasn’t sure what kind of response would be appropriate, nor was he particularly interested.
Kenny continued.
“Edith mentioned you once in the past.”
“...”
“You’re not surprised?”
“I know that Mr. Kenny is acquainted with Ms. Edith. In fact, the reason I came to this city was to assist her.”
Oliver offered a half-truth. Officially, that was the case.
Kenny seemed taken aback, apparently unaware of this.
“Well, anyway, I know that you’re a skilled black magician, and that you're interested in demonic literature. Most talented black magicians tend to be.”
His words seemed to come from experience. It wasn’t surprising.
If he had conducted rituals to make deals with demons despite being an ordinary person, it must have taken considerable effort.
Even amid his dire circumstances and the crushing pressure weighing on him, Kenny desperately tried to think of a way out and spoke.
“I’d like to make a deal with you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said I want to make a deal with you. Formally, with you as a fixer.”
Kenny took another sip of the red wine he had earlier spat out. Given his emotional state, it seemed genuine.
“I—”
“—I’ll give you all the knowledge I have about demons, along with secrets related to Prometheus Corporation! You won’t regret it.”
He was speaking the truth, not bluffing. It seemed he truly had a card he believed in.
But strangely enough, Oliver wasn’t particularly interested. While the knowledge about demons was tempting, he couldn’t muster enough curiosity to pursue it. What piqued his interest more was why Kenny, who had already lost everything, was still so desperate. His assets had been completely confiscated, and he was soon to be publicly executed.
Was he seriously asking to be saved?
“No! Even though I’m in this miserable state, I’m not that foolish! Don’t insult me…!”
Kenny shouted, as if clinging to his last shred of dignity.
“Hah... Hah... I’m not stupid enough to make such a ridiculous request.”
“Then?”
“...Save my daughter.”
“Your daughter?”
“Yes, my daughter… She’s currently studying in the capital. I have a photo—”
Kenny instinctively reached for his neck as if searching for a necklace, but there was none there. It had been confiscated when he was arrested.
Realizing this, Kenny fell back into despair and rage. Nevertheless, he kept his composure, clinging desperately to any chance.
“My daughter’s name is Sara Midas! She’s studying at a university in the capital...”
Oliver observed Kenny’s emotions as he spoke of his daughter and found them remarkable. They were beautiful sentiments, but because of that, they struck him as peculiar.
“What is…?”
“It’s just... I find it odd that someone who sacrificed their wife for a magic stone would care so much about their daughter.”
The fixed expression on Kenny’s face began to crack. He had exposed a weakness that no one should know about, one that he had never wanted to be revealed.
“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not mocking you; I genuinely find it fascinating that you love your daughter so much. You traded your wife for a magic stone... Why?”
Oliver asked with genuine curiosity, as if observing a crow using a tool.
Kenny, sensing Oliver’s attitude, trembled and slammed his fists onto the table.
It was a reaction stemming from the clash of his indignation, frustration, and the fear of losing his one last opportunity.
“What do you know about it?!” Kenny shouted, trying to suppress an erupting bomb within him.
“What do you know about poverty?! About hunger, or cold...?!”
Oliver remained silent. He hadn’t expected such a question, and he debated whether to correct Kenny, but decided to listen for the time being.
“I’ve heard rumors about you! That you came to Landa with nothing and rose to fame! People line up to hire you, carrying bags of money! In just a few months, you bought a house in Landa and even have a wealthy lover!”
“Well—”
“—It must be because of your talent!”
Kenny’s voice trembled, and tears welled up in his bloodshot eyes as he vented his bitterness and regrets.
“Talents that you obtained effortlessly! That’s why you succeeded so easily!”
“...”
“But not me! No, I didn’t! I was born to insignificant parents, without any talent, and lived my life as an unwanted miner!”
“...”
“Do you know how miserable it is to be a poor and useless husband and father? It’s not even human... It’s like being a bug pretending to be a person!”
The intensity of Kenny’s emotions and his sincerity left a strong impression, but due to the painkillers, Oliver didn’t feel particularly moved. They seemed to numb his mind while failing to alleviate the pain in his right arm.
“So that’s why you sacrificed your wife?”
“If I hadn’t, I would have lost my daughter, too!!”
Kenny eventually burst out in anger. Oliver quickly cast a soundproofing spell to prevent his voice from leaking out.
“If I hadn’t succeeded, I would have lost my only child, too!”
Kenny spoke with venomous eyes.
“But then the royal family found my weakness and threatened my daughter as well! They said if I didn’t cooperate, she wouldn’t be safe...! So I gave up everything I had built over my lifetime…”
Kenny clutched his balding head, sobbing. It seemed he truly loved his daughter.
“But now, here I am... If I die, who knows what will happen to her. She’ll be left without any protection... Please, I’m begging you. Save my daughter. And give her my hidden assets, my inheritance—”
“—Ah, I’m sorry.”
Oliver raised his hand, interrupting him.
“I’m just here to understand why you did what you did and sacrificed your wife... To be honest, I’ve already satisfied my curiosity and I won’t be able to take your request. Besides...”
“...?”
“Except for special cases, I only take jobs through intermediaries. I’m sorry.”
Oliver stood up from his seat, proving his words with action, showing no hesitation.
Kenny cried out in disbelief.
“You don’t care about my knowledge?! Or the secrets of Prometheus Corporation?!”
“I am curious. But not curious enough. Also...”
Oliver trailed off, then shrugged.
“...Your request is a bit difficult to accept.”
With those words, Oliver left. Kenny, left alone in the visitation room, cried out like a wounded beast.
...
“They put a gag on him?”
Oliver asked while changing clothes in the hotel dressing room. The stiff tailcoat, if exaggerated a little, felt almost like armor.
“Yes, after you left, he began to have seizures. I ordered them to gag him.”
“That’s quite bold... But do you even have that kind of authority, Lieutenant General?”
Oliver asked curiously. He knew Philip held a high rank and position, and had even dabbled in central politics recently, but he wasn’t sure if he had the power to issue orders to a colonial prison.
“Not through normal command structures, but every system ultimately operates through people. And some people are the system itself, like me... By the way, are you done changing? It’s almost time.”
“I’m done.”
Oliver pulled back the dressing room curtain.
He was dressed impeccably in the outfit Philip had provided, and his hair was neatly styled, looking almost like a young aristocrat in a magazine advertisement.
Philip whistled.
“I hired a stylist to do your hair, but it seems that wasn’t necessary. How did you manage?”
“I’ve had some good teachers. May I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Who exactly is it that wants to meet me?”
“Follow me and you’ll find out.”
Philip led Oliver up to the upper floors of the hotel. Soon, the reason behind his words became clear.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Albert, the second prince of the United Kingdom, spoke.