—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The weather was as pleasantly warm as ever. Outside, neighborhood kids ran around chattering, playing ball, while the brand-new magic-powered air conditioner hummed, sending cool air throughout the office.
From the second-floor bathroom came the clunk-clunk of the washing machine—Shura must’ve started laundry. After my morning training and a quick shower, I changed into clean clothes and headed to the office.
Armida noona was, as usual, sprawled over the counter, snoring away. This woman had it made. She’d originally come down to the surface to find a runaway friend, but now she just lounged around like she’d transcended worldly concerns.
Grabbing a glass of fruit juice from the fridge, I stepped outside. I had urgent business to attend to.
“Whew, it’s hot.”
Though technically still late spring, Karah’s city center was sweltering. Not all desert climates were like this, but today was particularly brutal.
Just then, a group of kids rushed past me. One accidentally kicked a small ball right to my feet. They grinned and ran over.
“Mister, can we have our ball back?”
I smirked and punted the ball as hard as I could toward the western gate. Infused with mana, it sailed over the city walls and vanished into the distance.
“Hey, brats! I told you to go play somewhere else if you’re gonna be loud!”
The kids wailed as they chased after their now-invisible ball. One brave little punk flipped me off and yelled,
“Mister! I’m telling my dad!”
“Go ahead. Bring him. I’ll cut him down in a fair, honorable duel.”
With the kids gone, it was finally quiet. Still hot, but at least peaceful. Another day of working hard for my comfortable life.
Humming, I turned back toward the office—when a soft voice called from behind.
“Excuse me.”
“Hm?”
An elderly man in a gem-embroidered robe stood there, hunched with age but with sharp, lively eyes. He wasn’t alone—behind him stood a line of guards, not soldiers or mercenaries but disciplined warriors from some organization.
The old man bowed politely.
“Greetings. I am Robert Verve. Might you be Kao Yan, the White Mask?”
I tilted my head.
“Kao Yan, yes. White Mask?”
“That’s what they’re calling you in the streets now.”
Seemed I’d gotten a new epithet. “Kao Yan the White Mask”—a definite upgrade from my past life’s “Dirtbag Grandmaster.” Who knew a stolen (well, acquired) white mask would bring such prestige?
“Yeah? What do you want?”
“I’ve come with an urgent request, though it pains me to impose.”
“Alright, let’s talk inside.”
I hurried into the office and nudged Armida awake with my heel.
“Noona. Wake up. We’ve got a guest.”
As she groggily wiped drool off her face, Verve entered, leaving his guards outside.
“Oh ho~ What a beauty.”
Armida squinted at him.
“Who’s this geezer?”
“A client. Get us something to drink.”
“Me? You know who I am.”
I glared.
“You want me to do it? If you’re freeloading, at least contribute. Hurry up.”
“Tch, fine.”
As Armida grumbled away, I seated Verve on the lounge sofa.
He nodded approvingly at the interior.
“Quite a comfortable space.”
“Yeah. Spent some money lately.”
I had splurged. The magic-powered air conditioner, fridge, washing machine, and lighting cost 24 leaf gold. The mid-tier essence and energy supply system for the appliances, construction fees, and mage labor added another 253. Total: 277 leaf gold.
But that was pocket change. The real expense was the magic lantern now tucked in my dimensional pouch.
You’d think a 30cm lantern wouldn’t cost much, but mine was expensive—it had a top-tier essence core. The Freaker-hunting spoils and extra Chaos Pieces I’d bought set me back 465 leaf gold, but it was worth it.
This lantern, alongside Obsidian Reaper, was my Survival Kit Item #2.
At night, it lit up a 100-meter radius and could run indefinitely. Essential for nocturnal monster fights or midnight escapes.
“I see.”
“So, what’s this about?”
Verve’s face darkened.
“My foolish son’s life is in danger. I’ve come to beg for your help.”
“Your son’s gonna die? Why?”
Armida returned with two glasses of juice. Verve took a grateful sip before continuing.
“To put it simply…”
Verve ran the Verve Trade House, one of the largest intercontinental merchant groups in Roblos Kingdom, dealing in magical goods, silk, tea, and spices.
Business thrived, but he had one problem: his reckless heir, Fiat Verve.
“And?”
“That fool recently led a risky caravan into the Great Desert and was captured by bandits.”
I didn’t get it. The words made sense, but not his motive.
Desert bandits took hostages for ransom. Pay up, and they’d usually release them. Why hire me?
Sure, some scum took the money and killed the hostage anyway, but that was rare. Even bandits needed credibility for future negotiations.
“Hostage? Then you don’t need me. Or are you not paying?”
“We tried. But… an unexpected complication ruined the negotiations.”
“What happened?”
Upon hearing of his son’s capture, Verve sought a broker—someone with bandit connections to mediate. Standard practice.
He’d hired a veteran mercenary captain, well-connected with desert bandits after years on the trade routes.
“A mercenary buddying up with bandits? Aren’t they enemies?”
“Officially, yes. But constant bloodshed hurts both sides. Smart mercs pay tolls for safe passage. Bandits, tired of losses, usually agree.”
A live-and-let-live arrangement. Made sense—fighting to the death only drained both sides.
“So they got cozy. Then?”
“That captain ran off with the ransom. The betrayed bandits are furious. We tried renegotiating, but they threatened to kill my son as an example.”
“Threatened? So he’s still alive?”
“Yes.”
I smirked. If they hadn’t killed him yet, they just wanted more money.
“They’re upping the price.”
“Indeed. But during talks, they made a new demand.”
“Which is?”
“Bring them the captain—alive.”
“Ah, personal revenge? So my job’s to fetch this guy?”
“Precisely.”
“Who is it?”
“You might know him. His name’s Alron.”
Alron. The guy who’d egged Commander Adan into paying me a fortune during the Freaker hunt. We’d clashed, but I’d let him live—as an “emergency fund.”
See? Kindness pays. Spare a life, and it comes back as a job.
“Ah~ That emergency fund. So why’d he run off with your money?”
“Apparently, he could no longer work as a mercenary in the Great Desert and planned to flee home.”
“Did he get badly hurt or something?”
“No. He received… a death threat.”
I frowned. Alron’s mercenary band wasn’t small-time. Who’d dare threaten them?
“Odd. They’re not the type to get pushed around.”
“…”
Verve hesitated, then stared at me.
Realization dawned. I pointed at myself.
“Me?”
“Yes. Rumors are rampant in Karah. They say you and Zenebe the Saint of Carnage vowed to slaughter Alron and his men.”
I scratched my head awkwardly. Someone must’ve eavesdropped on our conversation back then.
Damn that loudmouthed orc.
Zenebe’s booming voice could’ve woken the dead.
“Tch. Who said kill? I said I’d kill him if he ambushed me. Thought he was sneaky, but turns out he’s just a coward. Ahem.”
“Master, I’m not here to blame you. We erred in hiring him. But to save my son, we need Alron—alive.”
I crossed my arms.
“The problem is where Alron is now.”
“He’s at Polkin Gate. We contacted the gatekeeper there to stall him.”
Polkin Gate—the only passage through the Ipogeum Mountains between the Great Desert and Procia. If blocked, there was no escape. Cliffs on all sides, guards everywhere.
That fortress had held off hordes of monsters for over a year. No one got past unless allowed.
“You know the gatekeeper? Can’t you grab him?”
“Complications.”
“Like?”
“Paying ransoms to desert bandits is illegal in Roblos. If Alron exposes us after arrest, our trade house is ruined.”
Roblos despised desert bandits for disrupting trade routes and slashing profits. They strictly forbade dealings with them.
“So you want me to sneak into the fortress and nab him?”
“Yes. But you cannot cause a scene. The current fortress commander is… strict about such things.”
Simple in theory, tricky in practice. Killing was easy—extracting someone alive from an impregnable fortress under heavy guard? With no commotion? Too many restrictions.
But doable.
“Payment?”
“200 leaf gold.”
I scoffed. Too low for the difficulty.
“Pfft. That’s it?”
“You may collect the rest from Alron. He stole 600 leaf gold from us—more than enough for your trouble.”
600? That was two months of my party budget.
“But what if Alron’s broke now? Happens all the time.”
“I’ll cover any shortfall.”
Not a bad deal. 800 leaf gold was decent.
Besides, I had unfinished business with Alron. If he’d been slandering me as some bloodthirsty killer, we needed to talk.
I pocketed the advance purse Verve offered.
“Deal.”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
[Your Text Here]
