Chapter 46: Alternatives
Even though he was surrounded by cold mist and should have felt chilled, the man had lost count of how many times he adjusted his tie.
"If he really made me come all the way out here for nothing..."
Wiping the sweat forming on his forehead yet again, the man rolled his eyes as he stared at the clothing store. He had been standing there for two long hours and the signal indicating his target’s arrival had yet to appear.
“As if it wasn’t bad enough that bastard Hector ruined everything before, now I’m surrounded by fools,” he muttered, huffing as he gripped his tied-back red hair in a futile attempt to calm himself. “Experienced mercenaries are the worst kind of subordinates. They think they have potential but still manage to botch the only job they’re given.”
His irritated mind drifted back to his last job. The silver-haired girl, who would have been the crown jewel of his trade, had disappeared. Hector and Travis were dead, and to make matters worse, three more of his men had met the same fate. With no leads aside from a pile of corpses destroyed beyond recognition, he had no way to begin tracking down whoever was responsible.
The unexpected appearance of another girl with an even more appealing description than the one he’d lost was a pleasant surprise. The opportunity was so promising that he decided to come personally. Yet, once again, it seemed like he had only wasted his time.
After another half-hour of waiting, his tired, baggy eyes caught sight of an older man discreetly exiting the clothing store and approaching him. The man’s hands were clasped nervously in front of his protruding belly and the cold sweat on his forehead only highlighted how anxious he was.
“I apologize, Mr. John. I should have made her stay the night in the store.”
The man’s sweaty, frightened expression was obvious, but John couldn’t care less about his fear.
“You’re only realizing this now? After all the commotion you caused? No, seriously, tell me—do you think my time is so cheap that you can waste it by dragging me here for nothing?”
John’s irritation was so palpable that it seemed to radiate like heat, to the point where he didn’t even notice the older man breaking the rule about avoiding open communication in public spaces.
“I-I’m sure she’ll come back soon,” the old man stammered, nervously tugging at his beard in a desperate attempt to maintain his composure. “I even gave her one of the dresses. I could see in her face how mesmerized she was by the quality of the fabric—something she’s never had in her hands before. Gloria will definitely return for more benefits; she has nowhere else to go.”
The older man adjusted his dress shirt, but his frantic, nearly breathless explanation did little to ease his strained expression.
“Or,” John replied, stepping closer and grabbing the man by his bow tie, his amber eyes narrowing into sharp blades, “she sold the dress at a thrift store and ran off with the money. You’ve let a few successful jobs inflate your confidence to the point of making idiotic mistakes. Don't forget that I can simply ask the boss for another watchman if you turn out to be useless at your job!”
Pushing the old man aside, John let out a deep sigh, readying himself to leave.
The idea of wasting the rest of the day waiting in that uncomfortable suit annoyed him even more than the elderly man’s incompetence.
However, just as he was about to walk away, an enraged shout pierced the air.
“Damn it! Fuck! How dare she treat me like that!”
Even without relying on his physical abilities or mana training, it was easy to locate the source of the voice.
About ten meters away, a dark-skinned man with brown hair and fiery orange eyes was shouting profanities without restraint. His cheap leather shirt trembled with every punch he landed on the walls of the shops along his path.
“T-That man?”
John, observing the furious man amidst the bustling crowd, heard the elderly man’s confused voice from beside him.
“You know him?”
Noticing that John had caught his stammer, the old man quickly stepped closer, despite having just been pushed away. This was a chance to redeem himself, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
“He came to the shop the other day asking about a missing woman. She was one of our captured targets, so I denied all his questions, and he left. Seems like he’s interrogated the whole street since then, but obviously, he hasn’t found any evidence.”
Crossing his arms and resting his chin on one finger, John studied the man storming down the street. Whether by chance or fate, the man was heading straight toward him. When their eyes met, the man’s expression grew even more furious.
“What are you staring at? Don’t you have something better to do?”
The moment the brown-haired man noticed John’s gaze, he charged toward him with a raised fist.
“Whoa, hold on. I wasn’t looking for trouble, so calm down,” John said, quickly moving his hand to block the incoming punch aimed at his face.
“Don’t tell me to calm down, old man! My day’s already a mess!”
When John saw that the sharp orange eyes showed no signs of backing down, his voice turned cold and emotionless.
“You’d do well to listen and calm yourself. You’ve got the guts to attack someone in the middle of the city like this, but are you sure it’s worth drawing so much attention?”
Gesturing with his head toward the onlookers who had stopped to watch the commotion, John noted the man’s expression waver noticeably. Though still visibly angry, the man seemed to grasp the weight of John’s words. As expected, the tension in his fist lessened, and he stepped back.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for my friend here. He’s had a rough morning and may have had a little too much to drink. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.”
The last thing John needed right now was another complication. Turning to address the crowd, he spoke with a calm and eloquent tone.
Attention is a fleeting thing, and once it became clear that nothing extraordinary was happening, it didn’t take long for the bystanders to lose interest and return to their business.
When John noticed one of his problems was momentarily resolved, he turned to the dark-skinned man, who still stared at him with a hint of anger in his eyes. His elderly subordinate, on the other hand, was cowering in fear, waiting for orders on how to proceed.
Rolling his eyes and flashing a fierce grin, John stepped closer to his unexpected guest.
“You’re pretty strong for a face I’ve never seen around here. Trying your luck at a fresh start in Caligo?”
Hiding his arm behind his back, John flexed his right hand a few times. The dull ache in his fingers reminded him that reinforcing his arm with mana before catching the man’s punch had been a wise decision.
“Trying? More like struggling! I’m sick of this wretched city. I’m leaving as soon as the monster alert is lifted.”
The man slumped to the ground, leaning against the wall of a nearby shop. His right arm, wrapped in crimson-stained bandages, reached up to ruffle his brown hair.
“Name’s John.” Sighing, John joined him on the ground, spreading his legs and resting his arms on his knees. His tolerance for the heat seemed to have run dry, as he yanked off his tie entirely. “I figure you’ve got a name too. Mind sharing it?”
“Cleo.”
The curt reply came almost instantly, but Cleo said nothing more, staring at the ground as if his gaze alone could bore a hole through the earth.
“For someone this pissed off so early in the morning, let me guess—women?”
As if John had hit the nail on the head, Cleo growled in frustration and pounded the ground near his feet.
“I’ve had enough! I only took this escort job because I thought it’d be easy, but no! That damn girl had to get overexcited and disappear. Now my client’s refusing to pay and is threatening to report me to the Mercenary Guild! How is that my problem!? She’s the one who decided to sneak out at night; and somehow that’s my fault? What kind of joke is this!?”
Cleo ranted furiously, his sharp voice punctuated with a slew of curses. John, listening quietly, pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it with a lighter.
“She’s the one who did that to your arm?” John gestured with the glowing tip of his cigar toward the bandaged limb.
“Since I couldn’t find her daughter after all this time, she decided to take her anger out on me while I was sleeping. If I hadn’t held back and walked away, I don’t know what I might’ve done to her.”
Cleo touched his injured arm and let out another frustrated grunt.
“It’s good you kept your cool. Killing someone in broad daylight wouldn’t have gone unnoticed.”
“I’m not that stupid. If we’d been in the forest, it’d be a whole different story.”
John tested the waters, his words laced with a subtle implication to gauge Cleo’s willingness to kill. The response he received was even more revealing than he’d hoped.
“You’re part of the Mercenary Guild, right? A single failed job shouldn’t mess you up too much. Maybe a few points off your ranking, but nothing permanent.”
“And that’s the problem, genius.” Cleo scoffed. “I’ve trained my whole life with my old man to leave my crappy village and become a mercenary. But if you don’t have a team, the only jobs that aren’t guaranteed death are gathering plants or scouting monster dens. None of those will earn me money fast.”
John exhaled a cloud of smoke with a soft sigh, fixing Cleo with a teasing smile.
“Don’t tell me—you're in debt, aren’t you?”
Cleo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he ruffled his hair in frustration before continuing.
“The woman’s married to one of the big shots in the Star Dust Spring’s city hall. All I had to do was escort her caravan to and from Caligo and stick around while she was here. The pay was good and he was even going to write me a recommendation letter. That would’ve helped me get into a decent group.” Cleo removed the sword from his belt, gripping it tightly, his eyes narrowing as if all his effort had been for nothing. “Damn it! I knew I should’ve taken a monster-hunting job. Even without a group, it’d have been better than this humiliation.”
John’s tired eyes took in the weapon in Cleo’s hands. The blade gleamed, its surface marred by only a few minor scratches. It was a weapon of quality, not something found at just any smithy. John knew this well—he recommended similar weapons to his men.
“Do you plan to keep looking for your client’s daughter?”
“What? Why the hell would I? She fired me. I don’t care where that girl drops dead. No, that’s a lie—if I could, I’d kill her myself.”
John felt a shiver run down his spine. Cleo’s bloodlust was so palpable it seemed to scratch at his skin.
“Looks like today’s your lucky day, Cleo.” Tossing his cigar aside, John rose to his feet, glaring down at the man still sitting. “I have a business that could use someone like you.”
John smiled, extending his hand toward Cleo, whose amber eyes widened in shock at the sudden offer.
“No fucking way. You can’t be serious.”
Anticipating this reaction, the red-haired man grinned, his sharp teeth glinting.
“Cleo, you’re still young and promising. If the Mercenary Guild doesn’t see that, you don’t need to stick around with people who can’t recognize your potential. The scars on your body aren’t from farm work or household chores—they’re years of effort and struggle to carve out a place for yourself in this world. We just need to show those who can’t see it where they belong.”
John extended his hand again, his piercing gaze catching the subtle shift in Cleo’s expression from fury to hope.
“So, what do you say?”
“You call me young, but I’m twenty-six.” Taking John’s hand, Cleo stood, a sarcastic edge to his voice as he sheathed his sword again.
“And I’m eternally twenty-eight. It’s the golden age, makes you more appealing to the ladies.”
With a hearty laugh, John clapped Cleo on the back a few times before silently instructing his subordinate to return to the clothing store and resume his watch. As John guided Cleo through the bustling streets, their casual conversation filled the air, the smile on John’s face hidden behind the new cigar he had started smoking.
This was good—very good.
That was the only thought John allowed himself.
Even if his search for the silver-haired girl turned out to be a failure, the trip hadn’t been in vain. Without much effort, he had secured a talented young man, drowning in debt and with bloodlust burning in his eyes.
"When we get there, you'll have a meeting with the boss tonight. It's something everyone who joins has to do. Just show your skills, and I guarantee you'll get a good job," John said, exhaling smoke before discarding his cigar in a nearby alley.
Cleo raised an eyebrow, his skepticism clear. "I thought you were the boss."
With a faint smile, John replied, "In general terms, I'm the one in charge of preparing specialized labor for jobs outside the city."
John noticed how his vague response made Cleo's eyebrows furrow in suspicion.
"This job won't get me into trouble with the Caligo military, will it?" Cleo asked warily.
"Of course not. Relax, Cleo. Don’t worry about that kind of thing."
John's ease in navigating the alleys made it clear he knew the city’s layout inside and out. Cleo followed close behind, his expression uneasy as he tried to stay close enough not to lose sight of him. After about an hour of walking, they left the bustling commercial district and entered the quieter residential suburbs.
The flow of people on the streets dwindled, and when they finally stopped in front of a house, there was no one else around on the dead-end street.
"It's me. Open up."
John knocked four rhythmic beats on the wooden door, which slowly creaked open. Gesturing with his head for Cleo to follow, both stepped into the wooden house.
The room beyond the door had a stone floor, with windowless walls marking an area of at least thirty square meters.
"Welcome back, Mr. John."
The deep voice came from beside the door. Standing there was a towering woman, nearly two meters tall, with both hands clasped behind her back in a stance resembling a military salute. Strapped to her back was a massive iron spear, even larger than her imposing frame, which would catch the eye of anyone glancing her way.
The tall woman’s sharp eyes scrutinized Cleo, a stranger with brown hair and tanned skin, observing him from head to toe without missing a single detail.
"He's with me, don’t worry." Waving dismissively at the tall woman, John chuckled and turned to Cleo. "Wait here for a moment."
Heading into the next room, John found a young man with glasses seated at a desk cluttered with documents. Scattered across the wooden table were silver coins and small blue stones glowing with an ethereal aura. Toward the far end, a small dark blue box adorned with intricate inscriptions lay prominently on display.
"You took your time getting back, Mr. John. Did everything go smoothly?"
"That idiot was just making a fuss over nothing. The silver-haired girl might just be a figment of his imagination. I'll have to ask the boss for someone more reliable to replace him."
Running a hand through his red hair, John let a fierce smile spread across his face. "Still, it wasn’t all a waste. I managed to find another promising recruit."
The young man adjusted his glasses, tempted to ask more about the new recruit, but something urgent weighed on his mind.
"Mr. John, I think we have a problem with one of our teams."
The unexpected mention of trouble made John drop his cigar and raise an eyebrow.
"What kind of problem?"
"The report from Team A, which was supposed to be delivered this morning, hasn’t come through on the communicator yet."
The words made John cross his arms, resting a hand on his chin as he thought. John knew every member of Team A personally; after all, he had handpicked them himself. It wasn’t like them to cause delays.
"The team has seven members; all of them can't have forgotten. Could it be a malfunction with the communicator?"
"I checked multiple times. The engraving on the magical communication artifact is functional. I tried reaching out from this end, but there’s been no response from them."
John didn’t need much time to realize something was wrong. This wasn’t something he could afford to overlook, so he had to investigate immediately. Gesturing for the young man to follow him, John headed back to the entrance while raising his voice.
"Cleo, I’ll have to step out for a while. While I’m gone, could you tell this guy about the woman who hired you—!?"
What was supposed to be a quick farewell turned into chaos. John barely avoided having his face smashed.
Acting purely on instinct, he leaped to the side, dodging the blade aimed directly at him. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the bespectacled young man who had been following him. He was sent flying, unconscious, without even catching a glimpse of what had struck him.
"What the hell do you think you’re doing!?" John shouted in shock, his heart pounding and adrenaline surging as he instinctively shifted into a combat stance.
Shoving aside the towering two-meter woman, now lying unconscious on the ground, the attacker— a brown-haired individual— seized her massive spear before she even had a chance to draw it. He pointed the weapon at John.
"I’ll be taking this. Consider it compensation for the one your subordinates destroyed. I hope you mind—because it’ll make me feel a lot better."