# Chapter 28
—
Willet explained the details of the request.
“One week. You’ll be guarding President Tartan. Discuss the range of protection with him, and as for the rest, we’ll talk while looking over this document.”
But Arthur couldn’t properly take in the explanation.
The reason was because of the mercenary who would be accompanying him on this mission—
a woman named Jeannie.
Or rather, because of her ears.
*Twitch, twitch!*
From the moment she entered the office, her sharp, pointed ears hadn’t stopped moving even for a second.
It was too peculiar to dismiss as a mere deformity.
*Hmm… bloodline?*
Arthur nodded to himself at the thought.
People with such distinctive physical traits usually carried a corresponding lineage.
At that moment, Undine appeared and whispered.
\[Arthur, Arthur! That Jeannie person smells really good!]
*…Smells good?*
\[Yes! A really good scent! On top of that, I also feel the aura of a mid-tier wind spirit—Sylph!]
Arthur let out an exclamation.
*So it really is bloodline-related. Just like Bill Dormund… Is it an ability tied to spirit affinity?*
Judging from the circumstances, it seemed so.
That realization made Arthur’s lips curl upward.
*Then… if I could obtain this Jeannie woman’s blood, wouldn’t Undine and Mr. Gnome’s abilities grow even stronger?*
But of course, he couldn’t just blindly ask for her blood.
As he was pondering how he might possibly obtain some, Jeannie suddenly raised her hand and asked:
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Speak.”
“Can we even trust this guy?”
Her sharp tone made Willet close his mouth.
Arthur blinked.
In the meantime, Jeannie pointed at him and burst into complaint.
“I have to team up with some idiot who just stares holes into my ears while you’re explaining the request?”
Willet turned his gaze toward Arthur.
Arthur scratched his head and avoided Willet’s eyes.
Willet let out a sigh and spoke.
“…He may be a bit unusual, but I can vouch for his ability. The rumors you heard about him aren’t exaggerated.”
“Isn’t he just a guy who solved two measly incidents?”
“Would I really assign someone who only solved two measly incidents to team up with you?”
Jeannie fell silent.
At that, Willet lightly tapped his desk.
“Taking your ability into account, I put him with you. If you really can’t stand it, then one of you should give up the request. I’ve no intention of sending people out only for my office members to clash with each other.”
His tone was light, but both Jeannie and Arthur could sense the subdued menace in Willet’s voice.
Neither of them could give a reply. Rising from his seat, Willet added a piece of advice.
“If problems arise, act separately. If an emergency comes up, contact me. The key point of this mission is time—stalling for time…”
—
—
Through the newly begun mission, Arthur quickly realized one thing:
he could never get along with Jeannie.
She openly treated him with hostility, kept her guard up, and refused to converse.
Arthur regretted staring so intently at her ears the first day they met.
He thought that rude behavior was why she was wary of him.
*Well… staring like that at such unique ears, of course she’d dislike it.*
Clicking his tongue, Arthur decided to abandon both hopes of getting along with Jeannie and lingering thoughts of her bloodline.
Once the escort duty fully began, Arthur realized he had been mistaken about her in one respect.
“What are you glaring at? Want to die?”
It wasn’t just him she disliked—
she disliked everyone who approached her.
The only one she didn’t show hostility toward was President Tartan.
Which meant, Arthur realized,
*So it’s not me she hates. That’s just her personality, huh?*
Scratching his head, Arthur soon shrugged.
Aside from her nasty personality, Jeannie was extremely competent as a mercenary.
She handled the escort of President Tartan—this mission’s main goal—with thorough planning and system.
Not only did she fully map out his movements, she even identified potential ambush points in advance and informed Arthur and the other bodyguards.
*As long as her abilities are solid… it doesn’t matter.*
Thus, Arthur decided not to pay her any more mind.
There was no need to clash with her, and this mission required even more caution than the last two requests he’d taken on.
*The request: guard him for a week. The given reason was “personal circumstances,” but Willet said President Tartan was caught creating slush funds.*
If it had been just slush funds within the company, that would’ve been one thing.
But these particular funds were entangled with the underworld.
*The underworld types have no scruples… he’s got guts, I’ll give him that.*
These people were the kind who could commit murder in the middle of the city without so much as official sanction.
Arthur instinctively felt the danger of this mission.
They had to guard blindly, not knowing which underworld faction Tartan had crossed.
But he couldn’t afford to pass up this chance to earn a mid-tier Essence Pill. So he prepared thoroughly.
On the fifth night—halfway through the week—President Tartan summoned Arthur and Jeannie.
“Tonight, I need you to guard me all night. I have important matters to handle. Instead, once tonight is over, we’ll count the request as complete. Is that acceptable?”
—
—
Following his words, Arthur and Jeannie began his personal guard.
It wasn’t anything grand.
Besides them, President Tartan had his own private security, so Arthur and Jeannie simply stood side by side in front of his office.
“….”
Time passed.
Then Jeannie suddenly asked Arthur,
“Can I ask you something?”
“…Yes?”
“I said, can I ask you something.”
Arthur blinked.
He hadn’t expected Jeannie to initiate a conversation.
But he quickly hid his surprise and answered.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“Something’s going to happen tonight. How skilled are you, exactly?”
“…? What do you mean?”
“I said, something’s going to happen tonight. Is that hard to understand?”
Arthur thought for a moment, then asked,
“You mean some incident will occur?”
“High probability, yes.”
“How do you know that?”
“Why should I tell you?”
Arthur fell silent.
Not out of anger at her tone, but because he was surprised.
*How can someone’s way of speaking be this aggressive?*
Still, from what he’d seen, Jeannie was a highly capable mercenary. She wouldn’t say this without a reason.
Arthur quickly gathered his thoughts and replied.
“Hmm… Well, I can handle up to 3rd Circle swordsmen.”
“3rd Circle? You? But I only sense 1st Circle mana from you.”
“I’ve got good bloodline. And I can handle spirits.”
With that, Arthur summoned Undine and Gnome.
Seeing the spirits appear, the sharp look in Jeannie’s eyes eased slightly.
“…I did sense something, but you really can use spirits.”
“My spirit affinity’s decent.”
“Still, for a 1st Circle to kill a 3rd Circle swordsman…”
“Well… I managed it, didn’t I? That’s why I’m alive.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“A few days ago, I killed a man named Furis. He was a 3rd Circle swordsman.”
“….”
“If I were weaker than a 3rd Circle, I wouldn’t be standing here, right?”
Her eyes sharpened again, but she couldn’t refute him.
Arthur shrugged, while Jeannie muttered inwardly,
*Am I really supposed to trust this fool?*
To her, Arthur was far below standard for a mercenary.
She hadn’t yet seen his skills, but his goals, his intent toward the request—
everything about him fell short of a first-rate mercenary.
*Willet vouched for him, so maybe he does have skill… But I’ll treat him as if he doesn’t.*
The truth was, guarding Tartan was indeed dangerous.
According to Willet, Tartan had fallen out with underworld partners during the slush fund process, and was now hurriedly trying to sell off the company.
Considering the company’s considerable value, there was no way vultures in this line of work would miss such a chance.
*And if the underworld gets involved… things could turn ugly. Especially since Tartan dropped that cryptic line just now.*
*“I’ll end the week-long request tonight.”*
In other words, something was bound to happen tonight.
*It reeks. Stinks of something filthy.*
The only relief was that Willet had promised to dispatch extra reinforcements in case of emergencies.
*So even if trouble comes, all we need to do is stall for time.*
Which meant she didn’t actually need the rookie’s help.
But she’d asked him anyway, just in case.
Thinking this, Jeannie fiddled with her custom sniper rifle—
a weapon she had reconstructed using her magic scope and all manner of arcane tools—
while pacing before Tartan’s office.
Arthur, who had stood still until then, suddenly shuddered.
“Um… Miss Jeannie?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Uh… understood.”
“…Speak.”
“I just heard a strange noise from downstairs. Didn’t you?”
Jeannie turned her head.
“No. Wasn’t it your imagination?”
“Hmm… I don’t think so. I definitely heard something.”
Jeannie sighed.
“Then why ask me? You and I aren’t teammates. Are you an idiot?”
Arthur blinked. Then, after a beat, he nodded.
“Oh, right. This mission is individual, not a team. We’re not colleagues.”
He turned and started toward the first floor.
Clicking her tongue as she watched his back, Jeannie muttered,
“…What a real idiot. How does someone like him even work at Willet’s office?”
Folding her arms, she tapped her boot heel against the floor in rhythm to pass the time.
Then—her sharp ears caught a sudden sound.
Snapping her head around, she saw one of Tartan’s guards with his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
*Kkiek?*
“…Kkiek?”
Jeannie unconsciously mimicked the strange noise the guard had made—then flinched.
“…Blood? His chest is pierced?”
Realizing the situation, she immediately acted.
Shouldering her sniper rifle, she summoned a mid-tier wind spirit—Sylph.
In the same instant, as the storm winds surged, she aimed at the guard’s forehead without hesitation and pulled the trigger.
*Bang!*
The silencer kept the gunshot quiet, but the destructive power was not diminished.
*Crunch!*
The guard’s torso exploded into unrecognizable flesh.
Staring at the blood-soaked corridor, Jeannie muttered,
“…Shit. This is screwed.”
The guard she had just killed wasn’t human.
He was undead—zombie, revenant, whatever name one gave to corpses raised by foul sorcery.
And those who commanded such sorcery were black magicians.
To be exact, necromancers.
*Of all things… it had to be a necromancer.*
Jeannie quickly set up cover she had prepared in advance.
With Sylph’s help, a barricade rose in an instant.
At the same time, the strange cries filled the corridor again.
*Kkiek? Kkiek? Kkiek?*
Tartan’s hired guards—
now dozens of undead—were shuffling toward her.
Jeannie’s expression hardened as she switched her rifle from single-shot to automatic and unleashed a barrage.
*Ratatatat!*
The heavy recoil slammed into her shoulder, but she absorbed it with ease, directing her aim precisely.
Undead bodies burst apart in succession, flesh and bone piling up into mounds.
“…This never ends!”
Even after mowing down a horde, more surged forward.
She wasn’t short on bullets, but at this rate, it would turn into a meaningless war of attrition.
Jeannie barked an order.
“Sylph! Find the necromancer!”
\[Yes, Jeannie!]
Sylph flitted off.
Just as Jeannie was about to ready her aim again—
A chilling voice slid across her ears.
“Oh-ho… such peculiar blood. To think your ears would be this pointed.”
Startled, she turned her head.
But the necromancer was faster—
His skeletal hand seized her throat and slammed her to the ground.
*Crash!*
Marble cracked, and Jeannie coughed blood.
But she didn’t faint.
Pain was secondary to survival instinct.
She twisted her body, aimed the rifle at his chest, and pulled the trigger.
*Ratatatat!*
Bullets tore holes into his torso—fatal wounds for any normal man.
Yet the necromancer only laughed.
“With one life as an offering… I endure.”
Even as his chest was mangled, new flesh sprouted.
Jeannie’s eyes widened.
“…You’re not some immortal, are you?”
“Not immortal. The number of lives I can offer is limited.”
He grabbed her jaw.
A strange energy seeped into her, making her struggle.
“Stay still, pretty girl.”
“The hell are you babbling?”
“Soon, it’ll all feel easy. You’ll have wonderful dreams. In return, I’ll take your strong body and blood. To cast aside a hard life and live anew—
Isn’t that everyone’s dream?”
“…Bullshit.”
Jeannie spat the words and lashed out with a kick.
The blow knocked him back, but undead swarmed in instead.
*Kkiek!*
Dozens of burly corpses piled atop her, pinning her down.
“Shit!”
Cursing, she tried to summon Sylph, but it was too late.
The necromancer bent down and spoke.
“Now, off to dreamland, my pretty elf.”
As his hand stretched toward her—
*Bang!*
A gunshot rang.
The necromancer’s head burst apart—
and Arthur appeared.
“Oh… Found the real body.”
The necromancer, already reforming his head, clicked his tongue.
“So both of you wield guns… and both inscribed with magic.”
“Wait, Miss Jeannie, you use guns too?”
“Aren’t you comrades?”
Arthur hesitated, then shrugged.
“Nope. Not comrades.”
The necromancer chuckled and extended his hand.
“Ugh!”
Jeannie gasped as his grip seized her, her face turning pale.
The necromancer sneered.
“Well? Will you still claim she’s not your comrade and shoot?”
Arthur blinked. Then, scratching his head, he slowly raised his gun.
Both the necromancer and Jeannie cried out in shock.
“You bastard, what are you doing?!”
“Huh? I was about to shoot—why not?”
“Of course not! We’re comrades!”
At her shout, Arthur fell silent.
Jeannie exhaled in relief, while the necromancer prepared a spell—
no doubt intending to use her as a shield.
Arthur scratched his chin.
“Um, Miss Jeannie? Sorry but…”
He raised his gun again.
“No matter how I think about it, we’re not comrades. My apologies.”
Jeannie’s eyes flew wide.
Arthur pulled the trigger.
*Bang!*
The gunshot shattered the necromancer’s spell and forced him back.
Freed, Jeannie staggered forward.
Her stomach had a hole blown through it.
“…You really… shot me?”
She collapsed with a thud.
The necromancer, caught off guard, muttered in disbelief.
“…You truly aren’t comrades?”
Drawing his iron sword, Arthur replied,
“I told you, we’re not. Anyway, Mr. Necromancer… how many more times can you die before it sticks?”
—
