Chapter 51. Dragon Horn Tea
Dibay headed to B-31 Sector.
A tea shop on the first floor of Building 17.
Sitting in the brightly open space, Dibay looked around with a dazed expression.
'Hmm....'
It was pretty different from what he'd imagined.
Leaking the Academy's exam papers was a major job that demanded strict secrecy.
Naturally, he'd pictured the place where such plotting happened to be hidden and dim, but when he actually came here, it was an utterly ordinary tea shop.
Thinking he might have come to the wrong place, he checked the location written on the note over and over, but...
There was no mistake.
More than anything—
"What would you like to order?" "D-Dragon Horn Tea, please freeze it hot." "Yes, please wait a moment."
The employee, hearing the absurd code phrase written on the note, headed into the kitchen without a single word.
Seeing that, this had to be the place Ivelin told him about.
"You look quite flustered."
"Ah, um..."
Dibay let out a small, uneasy sound as he looked at the middle-aged man sitting across from him.
Judging by the circumstances, this was clearly the person who came out after hearing the code phrase—but Dibay couldn't be completely sure.
Perhaps he'd noticed Dibay's hesitation.
"You don't need to be so tense. I'm the Master of this tea shop."
"Ah, I see."
At the Master's self-introduction, Dibay nodded, his expression slightly stiff.
Right then, an employee approached and set down a teacup.
An ordinary black tea.
The Master took a sip and savored the aroma, and then—right after—he spoke.
"Most people are surprised. When they hear 'black-market broker,' they usually picture a secret, hidden place. But as you can see...."
Following the Master's glance, Dibay turned his gaze.
The wide-open door.
Citizens of the city of Hazen passed by on the street, lively in a way that matched the bright weather.
The flowers blooming at the flower shop across the way looked fresh, and the shop owner—who'd come out to arrange them—met the Master's eyes and even waved.
The Master returned the greeting and smiled faintly.
"Who would ever think a place like this was a black-market operation?"
"Hmm."
It really was like that.
By not hiding, it became even more hidden, in a way.
'A black-market broker... I'd only heard rumors, but to think it was like this.'
They were said to be everywhere, and nowhere.
For the first time, Dibay truly understood that saying.
Still, one question lingered...
'There aren't any customers right now, but what do they do when there are customers?'
Swallowing the small doubt, Dibay took a sip of the black tea—only to realize almost immediately that it was a useless worry.
"Urk."
How could someone brew black tea this badly?
It was waste disguised as black tea.
Just what in the world was wrong with the Master's palate, to drink something like this so deliciously...?
Anyway.
That was enough of that.
"So then, what brings our young customer here?"
At the Master's voice, Dibay gathered his wandering thoughts.
'What brings me....'
The purpose was to carry out Ivelin's order.
And though it was only an assumption, the Master likely didn't not know that fact, either.
'I thought she'd have me meet some lackey... but to think she'd introduce me to a black-market broker.'
It was unexpected, but the task itself wasn't much different.
"I came to obtain the exam papers for the Academy's Basic Track, first-year."
"...Hmm, the Academy's exam papers. As it happens, there is someone who's expressed interest in selling. Which division are you looking for?"
Dibay hadn't given thought to which division.
But his voice didn't hesitate.
"What division is the seller?"
"They're from the Magic Division, but...."
"Then I'll take Magic."
At that smooth exchange, the Master nodded.
'It's nice that this moves fast.'
The leak of the Academy exam papers had been planned meticulously for months already.
Ever since Ivelin's Academy admission was decided.
There'd been enough groundwork laid that it would be fine if things proceeded as planned.
But when she suddenly said she'd be sending an Academy student as a front, there had been no small amount of concern.
No matter how clever an Academy student might be, they were still just a young kid.
Yet Dibay seemed fairly bold.
'From the way he talks, he seems to roughly understand what's going on, and it looks like he's figured out his own place, too.'
If this went well, it wouldn't be bad to set him up as a front for this and that.
'Then, let's see....'
"Hmm, let's see."
Pretending to flip through a notebook, the Master looked at Dibay and asked carefully.
"As it happens, I've arranged to meet the seller next weekend. How about it—would you like to come along?"
"Come along... you mean?"
Dibay tilted his head.
If you're a black-market broker, you just take the goods and collect a margin. Why go out of your way to arrange contact?
It wasn't normal behavior.
But—
'Hmm.'
Dibay quickly understood the intent.
'He wants to nail my face to this.'
By exposing Dibay to the seller, he intended to firmly establish Dibay as the principal party behind this deal.
"Well, if that's difficult, we can pretend this never happened—"
"No. I'll go."
"Hmm, are you sure?"
"Yes. Verifying the seller and checking the quality of the goods is basic for a merchant, isn't it?"
It was putting a leash on himself in a way that left no escape.
'But I don't have anywhere left to retreat anyway.'
At that, the Master smiled faintly.
"Good. Then I'll tell you the place and time. Hear it here, and don't record it anywhere."
"Yes, understood."
"The place is...."
With a grave face, Dibay etched the location the Master spoke into his mind.
And so, the ridiculous play of two actors with no audience came to an end.
No—there was an audience.
A tea shop window facing a sparsely trafficked alley.
Peek.
A head slowly rose into view.
Aster, who had watched the entire performance, stuck only his head out to look inside and let out a small snort.
'What a load of bullshit....'
Pathetic.
He'd followed 310 Gold and ended up witnessing an unexpected scene.
And what did they say?
'They're seriously going to rip off exam papers?'
Like nobody's ever thought of that.
But I'm a righteous Troubleshooter. Cheating on a sacred exam will not be tolerated.
Not because Demian isn't sharp enough to cheat—no, it's because I worship justice.
I can't just let this slide.
More than anything—
'There's more than one or two suspicious parts.'
Academy exam papers aren't rocks you find rolling around on the roadside.
A seller just conveniently appears, and at that exact moment a buyer shows up?
And most of all...
'No one even mentioned the price.'
It wasn't a normal situation.
But—
That was as far as the worrying went.
'All I have to do is check it myself.'
Aster's eyes alternated between 310 Gold and the black-market broker.
'First....'
310 Gold left the tea shop with a somehow lighter expression. And the black-market broker, like an ordinary tea shop owner, calmly tidied the table.
Which one should he shake down first?
The 고민 didn't last long.
'The one with more money first.'
The broker was just doing his job, but it couldn't be helped.
Justice moves by capital, and capital was more likely concentrated with the broker than with 310 Gold.
"...Let's see. I'm sure I put it somewhere around here."
Aster rummaged through Kalahen's Subspace.
There was an outfit that was perfect for times like this.
Something that could hide his identity and bring even a money-crazed black-market broker back to his senses—a truly excellent outfit!
'Found it.'
Aster pulled out a robe and draped it over himself.
A pitch-black robe with the Deculan crest emblazoned on it as large as a gate.
It was bright midday, but the area was sparsely populated, and he'd hidden his presence, so no one saw him.
'Looks convincing.'
Aster nodded in satisfaction.
But if anyone had seen him, they would have said it didn't look convincing at all.
He'd folded the sleeves a couple times to manage them somehow, but the robe was so long it practically dragged across the ground.
Still, Aster walked straight into the tea shop.
After Dibay left, the Master returned to being an ordinary tea shop owner, standing behind the counter.
Not that any customers came.
He'd deliberately served waste-tier tea to customers, so there wasn't a single person in this area who still came looking for this tea shop.
'Boring. Once this job's done, I should leave Hazen too.'
It had already been a year since he came to the city of Hazen.
To be honest, Hazen wasn't a particularly good environment for a black-market broker.
He was only stationed in Hazen at the urging of the VIP of the black-market brokers' guild: Ivelin.
In a way, it wouldn't be wrong to call him Ivelin's personal black-market broker.
But VIP treatment should have its limits.
'Now that I've diverted the Academy exam papers, staying in Hazen is too dangerous. Where should I go next?'
Of course, he'd been careful not to get caught.
He'd been slowly coaxing a poor Academy teaching assistant since last year, and once this job was finished, that assistant would take a fat sum of money, resign, and leave too.
Still, danger comes suddenly.
The Master was thinking of leaving Hazen.
'This is enough. I've done plenty.'
The guild would likely accept it without complaint and dispatch another broker.
So he spent a languid, idle afternoon when—
"You not taking customers."
"...?!"
The Master flinched and turned his head.
An empty tea shop.
At the innermost table sat a single person.
No—was it a man? He wasn't sure. The figure wore a robe pulled low over the head, so the face wasn't visible, and even the voice was hard to understand—perhaps due to a voice-altering spell.
'W-when...?'
Even though he prided himself on being a fairly skilled Aether user.
To not notice even a hint of presence like this.
Still, his surprise lasted only a moment.
The Master recovered his composure.
"I'm sorry. I must have dozed off. What tea would you like?"
A response befitting a seasoned black-market broker who'd been through every possible hardship in the shadows.
But that composure didn't last long.
Because as he approached—putting on a merchant's friendliness to hand over the menu—he caught sight of the crest embroidered on the robe's chest.
'D-Deculan...!'
And not some mediocre group of mages.
Beneath the Deculan crest, a brilliantly red bead was embroidered.
It was the emblem of Hongok (Red Jade), one of Deculan's elite mage corps!
'H-Hongok, why would they....'
The Master's mind raced.
Now that he thought about it, hadn't Hongok's vice-captain attacked an Academy professor not long ago and died?
Publicly, they'd cut him off as if it were the vice-captain's fault alone...
As thoughts flashed through his mind, the mage's voice dropped low.
"The sound of you grinding your brain is quite noisy."
"T-that is...."
"Enough with the sloppy acting. Skip the nonsense about Dragon Horn Tea and whatever."
"...."
The Master realized at once: this mage had come here knowing his true identity.
So he lowered his gaze slightly.
'Damn it, what rotten luck.'
No matter how money-crazed black-market brokers were, there were people you simply couldn't afford to provoke.
One of them was Deculan's mages.
Their infamy was even more widely known in the shadows than in the light.
Even black-market brokers who feared no noble house when money was involved made an exception for Deculan.
"What… what is it you wish to know...."
The Master asked politely.
"I'm looking for an item. A Subspace pouch."
"A Subspace pouch...."
A memory surfaced.
'Don't tell me they're still looking for it?'
After news of Kalahen's death spread widely,
there had been a time when unknown people stirred up Hazen's black market in a sweep.
The rumor that circulated then went like this:
"They say Kalahen's Subspace is gone. I heard even Professor Parun can't find it." "They're tearing up Hazen to find it."
He'd assumed they'd moved on elsewhere by now.
Thinking that far, the Master broke into a cold sweat and replied.
"W-we've never seen such an item, sir."
"Hmm, is that so. Then what were you talking about with that boy earlier? It looked quite suspicious."
"T-that was...."
The Master was flustered.
Reciting information about a customer was one of the things a black-market broker must never do.
Especially since that kid didn't matter—but this involved Ivelin, a VIP.
"Looks like you're hiding something. Speak truthfully."
At this point, the Master's thoughts became tangled.
'W-what should I do?'
He was grinding his brain to find a way out.
But then—
Tzzzz...!
A terrifying killing intent filled the tea shop.
"The sound of you grinding your brain is too noisy."
The Master had seen every ugly thing imaginable in the shadows, but he had never felt killing intent like this.
'This one... isn't an ordinary mage.'
Even if Hongok was Deculan's elite, a mage who could exude this much killing intent couldn't possibly be ordinary.
That was why the Master gave up on everything.
"I-I will tell you everything about that boy earlier, exactly as it is. I-it's not even connected to Deculan."
"I'll listen and decide. There must be nothing hidden. If there's anything suspicious..."
Whoosh.
A part of the table burned away cleanly into ash.
Exactly the size of a palm print.
Terrifying magic power control.
"U-understood. Th-this is what happened...."
The Master began to speak, stammering. No—he tried to.
"We'll talk while we go to the storage room."
"...Yes? Why?"
"I should check the storage room myself too, shouldn't I. Talk as we go."
With watery eyes, the Master took in the mage.
"Why? Don't tell me you're hiding something?"
"N-no, it's not that, but...."
The mage gave a small snort.
"If you're innocent, nothing will happen. I swear on the name of Deculan. And what you reveal—so long as it has nothing to do with Deculan—will be kept secret forever."
"R-really?"
"Yes."
The Master's face brightened at once.
A Deculan mage had pledged it on that name.
It was a declaration that carried greater weight than any other promise.
"Th-then I will guide you. Hey—open the cellar."
"...Yes."
A voice answered from deeper inside the kitchen.
"Th-this is what happened...."
The Master led the mage with a much more relaxed heart.
Since there was nothing to feel guilty about, his steps were light.
It bothered him a little to spill things even about Ivelin, but hadn't the man sworn on the name of Deculan?
Even if it were a promise he couldn't trust...
'Once it's on the name of the House, if you don't answer, you die.'
He didn't have a choice anyway.
...And a few hours later.
The Master sat at the table in a daze and muttered,
"You X bastard, X-fucking bastard. You X piece of X."
You said you swore on your name. You said nothing would happen.
He didn't harm him, sure.
Even the VIP-related request, he just went, "Hmm, is that so," and let it pass, and in the storage room he nodded, saying there was nothing suspicious.
But—
"From what I can see, there doesn't seem to be a problem, but... I suppose the House needs to confirm it." "...Pardon?" "Prepare two Subspace pouches. I'll put the suspected items inside and take them."
The Master wasn't an idiot.
He knew what that meant.
So when he tried to hem and haw, the bastard pulled this.
"I swear on the name of Deculan. If there's no problem, I'll return it safely." "Th-that's a bit...." "Hmm. Are you saying the great Deculan are the sons of X-bitches? Trash not worth associating with, worse than goblins? Yes—so that's what you believe."
He hadn't said anything like that.
But if he refused there, it felt like the man would claim he had.
And so the Deculan mage left with two Subspace pouches stuffed full.
It was the wealth the broker had gathered over a lifetime, and the goods he'd acquired with great difficulty. If he'd known it would come to this, he should have stashed some away before coming to Hazen. But he'd brought everything with him!
"X-fuck. X-fuck. Hey! Go outside and throw salt!"
The black-market broker's furious shout echoed through the tea shop.
Soon, a mound of coarse salt piled up in front of the shop.