Chapter 17
Side Job Commencement (2)
* * *
If I couldn’t prove that this stained glass Cecilia handed me was worth more than this, there would be no point in killing Sarah.
No… to be more precise.
“If I killed you, the boss would just charge me the price as a debt.”
Losing talent, after all. From my perspective, Cecilia was fully capable of doing exactly that.
“Alright. That’s enough. Shall we stop here?”
Along with her voice, I felt as if my neck had fallen off and was rolling across the floor.
I hadn’t really died.
But the sheer pressure was so tremendous it pierced through my entire body, enough to make me believe I truly had died.
“...”
The sword I had swung with all my might was wedged between the tines of the fork held in Cecilia’s hand.
What kind of monster was this? I thought to myself but remained motionless.
In that short moment, my mind calculated that this monstrous woman could easily destroy me in at least thirty different ways using only that fork.
In truth, there were probably even more methods, but since my own skills were still immature, I had only managed to think of about thirty.
“In this position, I can’t put the sword away.”
At my words, Cecilia calmly moved the fork aside and spoke to Sarah.
“You’ve worked hard, Sarah.”
At Cecilia’s words, Sarah lowered her head in greeting.
“No, not at all. Thanks to you, I finally got out from under that pile of books and got some exercise. It felt good.”
“If things aren’t going well, it helps to get out sometimes and get some fresh air. What was the title of the paper you were working on?”
At Cecilia’s question, Sarah scratched her head and answered right away.
“An Analysis of the Permanent Income Hypothesis Using Microdata.”
Listening to them, I felt a headache coming on.
She said she already had a doctorate, and it seemed she still hadn’t given up her passion for scholarship and research. If she kept this up and actually became a professor someday, that would be shocking in its own way.
Just imagine a professor with iron muscles, standing at the lectern giving lectures and presenting at conferences with a warhammer the size of a battering ram propped up beside her. That overwhelming charisma would make everyone tremble. She’d be nothing less than the Iron Dictator of Academia.
After exchanging a few more words with Sarah, Cecilia turned to me.
“If combat ability alone were the criterion, I’d have watched you a little longer.”
But Cecilia hadn’t done so. That meant she hadn’t only evaluated my swordsmanship in the fight just now, but something else as well.
“Among those who are good at fighting, many are also rather dull-witted. Single-minded, you might say?”
Cecilia shrugged her shoulders, then leaned her back against the wall and continued.
“People who devote their whole lives to fighting, pouring all their time and energy into becoming better at it, to the point they sell off all their sense and courtesy at a discount.”
Kairus was at least not that far gone. Hearing Cecilia’s answer, I replied in a quiet tone.
“Is it because I said if you killed Sarah while she was dealing with me, the debt would end up being charged to me?”
At my words, Cecilia gave a small nod.
“The amount on your price tag keeps going up bit by bit.”
Cecilia lightly added one more comment.
“You might be disappointed to hear this… but you don’t look to me like you’re worth the price of a fortress.”
“I see. That’s unfortunate.”
But she was accurate. Having only barely completed the Swift Blade, I was still lacking in many ways to call myself a swordsman of the House Featherwing.
“I try to be precise. The shorter the evaluation time, the less accurate the assessment inevitably becomes.”
“Setting the fortress comparison aside, how do you think I compare to this battle gear?”
At my question, Cecilia answered with a relaxed expression.
“Nothing has happened to you yet, has it? The fact that you’re still standing means I judged you more valuable than that sword. I’m sure Ms. Spring Parsley here thinks the same. Isn’t that right?”
At Cecilia’s words, Spring Parsley immediately answered.
“That’s correct. For someone not even affiliated with the Operations Committee to have this level of skill… I believe you could easily handle a 3rd Class Medal Knight.”
“Can I take that as an offer of employment?”
At my words, Spring Parsley responded with a serious expression.
“Not just for this job if you ever consider working together again in the future, let me know how I can reach you.”
“That sounds good. But I can’t be away too long. I already promised the restaurant owner I’d make restaurant work my top priority.”
Spring Parsley nodded and handed me a card made of stiff paper.
A single dried flower was attached to the white card as decoration.
“Even after this job is over, keep in touch sometimes. Freelance experts like you are rare in this world.”
“I heard there were plenty of skilled people in Bennett City. Aren’t there quite a few like me?”
At my question, Spring Parsley let out a small sound of realization and added an explanation.
“I mean, it’s extremely rare to find capable people who are willing to engage in even the minimal exchange of words resembling a conversation.”
Those with both skill and the ability to hold a conversation were already receiving excellent treatment in well-known, sizable organizations.
After a brief pause to think, Spring Parsley listed a few examples.
“Like the guy who insists on checking his opponent’s underwear and immediately surrenders if he confirms it’s red. Or the lunatic who, whenever it rains, roams the streets and has to kill exactly one person.”
These types made up the vast majority of freelance experts. I got a general sense of what she was talking about.
“Among them, the ones who go way over the line sometimes get issued a Red Ticket by the Grand Canal Operations Committee.”
“Red Ticket?”
At my question, Cecilia answered instead of Spring Parsley.
“When someone receives a Red Ticket, they die.”
It was effectively a death sentence. The Grand Canal Operations Committee could only carry it out with unanimous agreement.
“No one cares what you did before you came into this city.”
After all, there were hardly any people who arrived here without committing some crime elsewhere.
Even the priests who claimed to serve their god often committed crimes and, instead of confinement or excommunication, chose to be sent here to Bennett City as refuse.
So no one concerned themselves with your past deeds.
“But if you cause serious trouble after entering Bennett City, that’s when we start to pay attention.”
Cecilia continued with a faint smile.
“When a Red Ticket is issued, every organization affiliated with the Operations Committee lights up their eyes and starts hunting that person down.”
“What’s the longest anyone has managed to last?”
At my words, Cecilia burst into laughter.
“Lasted? You’re funny. The record is someone who received the Red Ticket at dawn and was dead by lunchtime.”
Once you received it, you wouldn’t survive half a day.
“The value of the Red Ticket relies on its authority. And that authority is preserved through the fear that, once you get it, you will absolutely die.”
That was why every leader of all the organizations under the Operations Committee would drop whatever they were doing and focus solely on eliminating whoever had received the Red Ticket.
“The opposite system would be the Blue Ticket.”
At Spring Parsley’s words, I looked at him. Again, Cecilia provided the explanation.
“It’s when the Committee guarantees the safety of a particular unaffiliated individual. For example, a certified and proven master physician.”
Blue Tickets were issued to professionals whose protection was deemed worth ensuring. Naturally, that protection only applied as long as they didn’t engage in problematic behavior first.
Having your safety guaranteed in Bennett City was an extraordinary thing, so many people desired it but the conditions for issuance were extremely strict.
“That sounds rather tempting.”
“You don’t get one just because you want it.”
Spring Parsley shot back sharply. Like the Red Ticket, the Blue Ticket was rarely issued, and its authority came from the promise of unconditional protection.
“There’s a doctor named Ivan Selbavich who received a Blue Ticket. He was fleeing accusations of human experimentation and corpse dissection when he drifted into Bennett City.”
He was famous as a master of surgery. He had successfully treated a fractured hip in a woman who was 120 years old.
Not just any doctor could receive a Blue Ticket you had to have skill of that caliber.
“If you get a Red Ticket, you die. If you get a Blue Ticket, your safety is guaranteed.”
Spring Parsley gave a simple summary of the ticket system. It was a principle so easy a child could understand it, yet it carried an intense message.
“Well, I’ve finished what I came to do. After this, is there anything else you need my help with or anything you absolutely must handle here in this mansion? Oh, you’re welcome to finish your meal before you go.”
Cecilia looked at Spring Parsley and me as she spoke.
Her tone was soft and her words polite, but to put it simply, she was telling us to leave. Of course, Cecilia probably hadn’t meant it in such blunt terms.
But no matter how gently you phrased something, if the person saying it was Cecilia, there were countless cases where listeners instinctively took it as a threat.
“Ah, then we’ll step outside and finish the rest of the conversation!”
Spring Parsley replied, bowing hurriedly with a look like he’d been struck by lightning. I, too, had no intention of showing the reckless courage to say, “I’d rather not,” when Cecilia was telling us to get out.
“Really? What a shame. Well then, take care.”
Though she politely said it was a shame, Cecilia’s gaze was already fixed on the door.
The fact that the person running the entire Rose Garden had spent this much time here at all was practically a miracle.
If I hadn’t managed to catch even a bit of Cecilia’s interest, this wouldn’t have happened.
Cecilia’s order to leave was given. Spring Parsley and I promptly obeyed and stepped out of the mansion.
“Phew.”
As soon as we were outside, Spring Parsley pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
“Thought I was gonna die in there. Hey, you said your name was Kairus, right?”
I nodded at Spring Parsley’s words.
“Even if you recognize my face, don’t go blabbing about it. The fact that the boss of the Rose Garden brought you in and showed you my face….”
It meant Cecilia was offering me a measure of protection over Spring Parsley’s safety.
“You worry too much. You don’t need to. I promise.”
If the word “promise” came out of my mouth, that meant it was certain. But there was no way Spring Parsley would know that.
“Anyway, you’ve got some damn impressive luck. Do you know how much the payment for this job the Rose Garden arranged is worth?”
I shook my head. Of course I didn’t. And it was the sort of question you couldn’t easily ask Cecilia directly.
“You get to keep all of it.”
“All of it? If you’re going to explain something I don’t know using terms only you understand, how am I supposed to follow?”
Spring Parsley watched my expression, then let out a small sound and scratched his head roughly.
“Come to think of it, you don’t even know what the job you were hired for is, do you?”
“Apparently not.”
Spring Parsley gave me a look of exasperation, then scratched at his slightly plump belly and spoke.
“Don’t freak out. Listen carefully. We’re going to rob the Valorn Empire’s tax transport convoy.”
“I see. So that’s why you were talking about Medal Knights and Paladins.”
I let out a short sigh of admiration, then after a moment of silence, continued.
“Well, it’s not like the taxes they collect from the people are being put to any useful purpose. Even if we take it, in the end it’s all wasted anyway.”
The payment for this job was everything in the train carrying the collected taxes if we successfully pulled off the heist.
“Then what exactly does the person who commissioned this job get out of it?”
At my question, Spring Parsley exhaled a plume of smoke with a whoosh and let out a belch before replying.
“The person who commissioned it? You mean the developer?”
Just as crimes were called construction projects and those who planned them were called architects, in this city the client was called a developer.
“Usually, the developers aren’t after money.”
“Really? Then why bother?”
At my words, Spring Parsley rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as he answered.
“They already have plenty of money. That’s why they pay people like us contractors to do things that would cause them problems if they did it themselves.”
Contractors carried out construction planned crimes and developers paid them for it. The harder the job, the more money was promised.
“When you step beyond the bounds of morality and conscience, Bennett City is overflowing with opportunities to make money. This place that’s hell for some becomes heaven for others.”