Genius Warlock-Novel

"Hmm…"

Arriving at the 30th street in District T, Oliver expressed his admiration. Or rather, it was the 27th street of District T. The newly acquired restaurant of Forrest was larger and more impressive than he had expected.

While the old restaurant on the 27th street used only a part of the building, the newly opened one on the 30th street used the entire building.

Even considering the relatively low real estate prices in District T, it was easy to predict that a significant amount of money had been spent considering the murderous real estate prices of Landa.

"It seems a bit excessive… Ah, no."

Oliver muttered, looking at the crowded store through the restaurant window.

Inside the restaurant, several people were dining.

It was quite surprising that such a restaurant was doing well in District T, where the main population was low-income workers.

However, his admiration was short-lived. Oliver followed the other customers into the restaurant.

Tak- Tak- Tak-

Each time Oliver walked, his quarterstaff hit the floor, making a regular sound, and the neat yet atmospheric interior of the restaurant caught his eye.

Just like the restaurant at the 27th street, the new restaurant on the 30th street was more focused on a neat interior than on being flashy.

At least on the first floor.

Although they didn't show it externally, Oliver felt sharp eyes on him as soon as he entered.

A man and woman who looked like Solvers sitting by the window, an old man with glasses sitting in a corner, a young man in relatively casual attire that didn't fit the restaurant atmosphere, and so on.

Everyone was looking at Oliver in their own way.

Some were staring at him and murmuring, others were pretending not to be interested and glanced at him, and some looked at him with subtle interest.

He had received such attention occasionally after completing big tasks, but this time it was much more intense.

With that thought, Oliver looked for the staff, ignoring the surrounding gazes.

Somehow, there seemed to be many new faces among the staff as well.

"Mr. Dave?"

An familiar voice interrupted his observation.

Turning his head, he saw Al, an employee of Forrest Restaurant.

"Ah… Mr. Al. Hello, how are you?"

"Yes, Mr. Dave. Hello. It's been a long time. Thank you for visiting."

Al greeted Oliver sincerely, as his words suggested.

The uniforms of the staff had also changed slightly like the restaurant, and the current ones looked a bit better.

"The new restaurant looks great. It seems to be doing well too. Impressive."

"Don't mention it. It's all thanks to you, Mr. Dave."

Oliver shook his head at Al's words. Al's words were not mere flattery, but sincere.

"Me?"

"Yes, I would like to explain… But, are you here to see the boss?"

"Ah, yes. That's right. I came to see Mr. Forrest. Is it possible?"

"Of course, it's more than possible. If you don't mind, could you follow me?"

Oliver nodded, and Al guided him with his characteristic polite and refined gestures.

The place he led him to was the second-floor hall above the first-floor hall. Although it was the same restaurant, the second floor was a bit more luxurious than the first floor, and the nature of the customers was slightly different.

They appeared to be wealthy person, not Solvers, information merchants, or brokers.

Tak Tak Tak Tak.

As Oliver went up, tapping the ground with his quarterstaff, just as when he first entered the restaurant, the people gathered in the second floor hall fixed their gaze on him.

There was no one with ill intentions, but just as much, interest, observation, greed, and various emotions shone briefly but intensely.

"Please wait a moment.”

Al spoke to Oliver, then went over to Forrest, who was chatting with a group of old men in the corner.

Only Forrest seemed unchanged.

Oliver thought as he looked at Forrest.

It was understandable, as this was the first time he had seen him since finalizing the contract between the Crime Firm and the Fighter Crew.

It seemed like he had spent more time on the Magic Tower job than he thought.

Forrest, who heard a whisper from Al.

He politely excused himself from the old men he was chatting with and rose from his seat.

From the emotional states and appearances of the old men, there was no sign of discomfort.

Rather, they seemed to be considerate of Forrest.

"It's really been a long time.”

Forrest, who approached, Oliver answered.

"Yes, I thought the same. It feels like it's been a long time since we've met.”

"It's strange that we have a day when we understand each other. If it's okay with you, can we talk in the office?”

When Oliver nodded, Forrest was pleased and led Oliver.

⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩

“The office is similar to when it was on 27th street,” said Oliver, who entered the back office of the store guided by Forrest.

Except for being a bit wider, the atmosphere, interior, and even the furniture were the same.

It was an old desk with fingerprints, an old cabinet, and a pile of documents.

"I like the office to be familiar. I have a separate meeting room for welcoming guests, so there's no problem."

"If you're talking about guests, are you referring to the guests who were sitting in the hall on the second floor?”

At Oliver's question, Forrest smiled slightly.

"You seem to be quite familiar with this field now. Right. They are the clients of the shadows and lights of this city. The directors or executives of Crime Firm, brokers, corporate executives or factory owners, and capitalists, etc.”

They were all the mainstream class that moved Landa. Oliver looked at the office door he had entered and recalled the people who had gathered in the second-floor hall.

There seemed to be quite a number of them.

"That's impressive. Your business seems to be thriving."

"Normally, I should be modest and deny it at this point, but honestly, you're right. The Crime Firm keeps requesting the Fighter Crew. Thanks to that, I keep earning commissions."

Forrest spoke as if he was getting passive income, but Oliver knew that was not the case.

Every time a Solver took on a mission, the broker had to collect a lot of information from behind the scenes to find out the details of the mission, its risks, and the inside story, and calculate the appropriate people and compensation.

In a way, brokers also wage their own war, just in a different form.

Of course, there were exceptions, but at least Forrest did not seem to be one of them.

"Are the Fighter Crew doing their jobs well?”

"Of course. Didn't you teach them?”

Forrest radiated emotions such as admiration, joy, faith, and pride.

"Most of them are successfully carrying out their assigned tasks. More than I thought. So the Crime Firm is very satisfied, and they're raising their stock in the underworld again. Those backstreet thugs who used to fight a bit have become real warlocks… Thanks to that, customers are flocking to trade with me, and skilled Solvers are also coming to trade with me. It's kind of a virtuous cycle."

"That's impressive."

"Thank you. From your reaction, it seems like you haven't heard the news at all, have you been out of town?”

“Um…”

Oliver was amazed. He was indeed sharp. He could tell that Oliver had left Landa and returned with just a few words.

"Ah, I'm sorry. If I've asked a difficult question, I apologize. I'm just happy to see you after a long time."

"No, I'm sorry for not telling you. However, it's a personal matter, so it's difficult for me to tell you the details. I ask for your understanding.”

Forrest said nothing and just nodded.

He was curious about what Oliver had been doing, but he was restraining himself for the sake of a proper distance between a Solver and a broker.

Instead, he asked another question.

"So, I suppose I should ask why you came. Did you come to work?”

Oliver didn't answer immediately, but thought for a moment.

Working as a Solver might not be a bad idea…

Living expenses were sufficient with the salary from the Magic Tower, but considering research and work costs, it seemed like a good idea to slowly resume his work as a Solver.

Especially since his savings had significantly diminished after taking a break from work since being hired by Pinkman.

Oliver shook his head, reminding himself of the priority of the work.

"Not now. I came today because I have something to ask.”

"I had a feeling it would be something like that… Still, it's a shame. I had prepared a few fun things for you."

"Fun things?"

"Yes, do you want to hear about them?"

Oliver was interested, but he shook his head immediately.

Somehow, he felt that the conversation would veer off track if he listened.

"I would like to hear, but can I ask my question first?"

"Smart choice. Go ahead."

"Do you happen to know where Mr. Ewan is?"

Ewan, the master of Smith, and the one who made the Meat Hammer used by the disciples of Human-meat Chef.

They had parted ways at the Angels' house, and Forrest had said he would take care of him.

"Um… He's probably in District X. He's like a rubber ball, always moving around, so it's hard to pin down his exact location."

Forrest, who usually did not show any signs of struggle, sighed.

"However, if you want to know if he is in District X, I can check for you."

"Then, can I ask you to do that?"

"Of course. After all, I promised to do so. But can I ask why you're looking for him?"

Upon hearing the question, Oliver immediately stood up from his seat and took out Bigmouth from the leather case behind his waist.

Bigmouth materialized, swelling like bread dough and sprouting limbs.

"Gruuuu?"

"That's… your Bigmouth.”

Forrest looked at Bigmouth with a mix of surprise and admiration.

"I'm sorry. I thought it would be faster to show you directly.”

Forrest gestured for him to continue, and Oliver asked Bigmouth to take out the object he mentioned earlier.

Upon hearing Oliver's request, Bigmouth's mouth around its head wriggled, and it threw up something.

It was the Meat Hammer.

The Meat Hammer that had consumed a large amount of Bathori's blood.

"It seems to have changed from what I saw before. The feeling too…"

Despite the bandage, the Meat Hammer, yearning for blood, could not hide its altered appearance and atmosphere.

"I had some issues. I wanted to ask Mr. Ewan about this and ask him for a favor.”

"Hmm… I'm not an expert in this field, but I have a feeling he might be interested. I'll try to find him as soon as possible.”

"Thank you."

"Thank you is always my part."

"Pardon?"

Oliver asked back. Even earlier Al said something similar. It seemed like everyone was talking in a way that was hard to understand.

"I'll explain in detail later… Do you have any other questions? It doesn't seem like you came just for this."

"Ah… Yes, I do. Could you perhaps help me meet Mr. Edith?”

“Edith?"

Forrest furrowed his brow, asking back as if the name was unexpected. Well, Oliver somewhat agreed with that too.

"I'm sorry, just to clarify, are you referring to Edith Rock who owns a large amount of real estate in District R and became a big shot by investing in Prometheus Corp? The one with the nice figure?"

A nice figure meant that he was plump.

"Yes, that's right, Mr. Edith Rock. Miss Jane's Father.”

Even though Forrest got the correct answer, he didn't relax his brow. Instead, he furrowed it even more.

"I don't know what to say, it's so sudden. Why do you want to meet him?"

"I have some business with him?"

Oliver answered vaguely, but Forrest didn't pry further. He was indeed a very considerate person.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I can't help you right away. I've never had any dealings with him, and as far as I know, he has recently been unwell again and is not active. …Oh, you don't know? After his request last time, he suddenly got better, but now he's unwell again."

"I expected that."

"You expected?"

Forrest looked suspicious again, but shook his head. It wasn't the first time Oliver had been like this.

Even though he seemed to know nothing, he sometimes knew a lot and succeeded in surprising things.

"Well, anyway, I can't help you meet Edith right away. I don't have a direct line to him. If you want, I can try to find out, but it might take some time."

Oliver recalled Edith’s name that was written in Bathory’s notebook.

It was a bit tricky. There wasn't much time left.

"Is it urgent?"

"Probably?"

"How about asking her? I don't know the details, but among the people I know, she seems to have the highest possibility."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Who else? Jane."

(To be Continued)

OR

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