#Chapter 62
—
“There are two kinds of people in the underworld.”
With those words, Willet took out a cup.
It was a cup made of gold, expensive-looking even at a glance.
Willet poured vodka into that cup until it overflowed, then continued explaining.
“One is a mad lunatic. The other is human scum.”
Arthur replied with a laugh.
“Neither of them sounds sane, huh?”
“Would a sane man set foot in that world?”
Arthur nodded.
“Well, true. A person with normal thinking would earn money through honest work.”
Willet burst out laughing.
“Exactly… Then here’s a question. Which is more dangerous—the lunatic or the scum?”
“Oh… That’s a tough one.”
“Think carefully. The answer will come soon enough.”
Arthur stroked his chin, then snapped his fingers.
“The scum, I’d say?”
“And why is that?”
“If both are trash, then the one who commits calculated trash deeds usually ends up being worse.”
Willet nodded.
“Right. As you said, usually it’s the latter that’s more dangerous. And the man you intend to kill now is precisely the kind that does calculated filth.”
With those words, Willet tossed a document toward him.
Arthur took it and slowly read through the contents.
\[Hamburg Erison: <Lalalal> Slave Auction Host.]
….
Willet spoke.
“Do you get the picture now?”
“About what?”
“Why I told you that if you go there, you’ll end up dead.”
After some thought, Arthur answered.
“Because of this Hamburg guy’s connections… or rather, his influence?”
Willet nodded.
“Exactly. Trash like this… they all share one thing in common. They cherish their own life above all else.”
“…”
“While disregarding everyone else’s lives, they go to ridiculous lengths to preserve their own. Anyway… Hamburg is one of those types, and among them, he’s the most thorough.”
Willet tilted back his cup.
“A slave trader… no, more than that, the operator of slave auctions. He’s built ties not only with big shots of the underworld, but also with this city’s VIPs.”
“…”
“And those ties aren’t just to attract customers. They’re Hamburg’s hidden trump card, prepared for the day things go wrong.”
Arthur let out a short laugh.
“Hm… So the problem isn’t killing Hamburg, but what comes after killing him. That’s what you’re saying, right?”
“Exactly. Even if you were to kill Hamburg…”
Willet trailed off, erasing the faint smile on his lips.
“…You’ll end up dead. By the hands of the city’s powers who have their shameful secrets held in Hamburg’s grip.”
“…”
“And if it comes to that, even I won’t be able to help you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Arthur stroked his chin.
‘So even Willet Elder can’t protect me from those kinds of men.’
He nodded along with the thought.
‘Well… that’s nothing strange. In fact, from Willet Elder’s perspective, it’s only natural.’
To Willet, he was nothing more than one of the many mercenaries registered with the office.
There was no reason to make enemies of the underworld’s giants over a single mercenary.
Having thought that far, Arthur smacked his lips.
“This is tricky.”
“Life is full of such moments.”
“And to move forward, I’ll have to overcome such moments, right?”
At Arthur’s question, the corner of Willet’s eye twitched.
“Do you truly intend to kill him?”
“Yes.”
“Simply out of personal grudge?”
“That’s right.”
Willet asked no more.
Instead, he pulled out a thick file and handed it over to Arthur.
It was filled with information on Hamburg Erison—at a glance, an overwhelming amount.
“All the information on him. Whatever advice I can give is in there too.”
Arthur nodded.
This was the best help Willet could offer from his position.
So without lingering, he rose from his seat and bowed his head.
“Thank you, Willet Elder.”
“…”
“Thanks to you, I always gain so much.”
At the casual farewell, Willet’s expression wavered.
But Arthur didn’t notice the change, and turned to leave.
Just as his hand touched the doorknob—
“It’s in a month.”
“…?”
“Don’t forget to come. It was hard to get that ticket. Don’t waste it.”
Arthur turned back.
Willet, arms crossed, was drinking from his glass with an indifferent face.
‘Ticket… Ah. That black market ticket he mentioned back then.’
The one Willet gifted him for staying to the very end against Black Cross.
Recalling the memory, Arthur curved his lips into a smile.
“Of course. I won’t forget—I’ll come.”
Willet didn’t reply, just waved his hand.
Arthur too said no more and turned back.
Bang—!
The door closed, leaving Willet alone. He drained the remaining vodka.
Then, staring at the door through which Arthur had left, he muttered to himself.
“…I truly don’t understand.”
Lighting up a cigar, Willet exhaled smoke.
“The heir of House Bayern… why would he want to kill a slave trader?”
—
—
Coming out of Willet’s office, Arthur thought,
‘Connections, networks… well, to do business in this line, having such sponsors is a given.’
So there was nothing strange about it. Neither about the situation, nor about its unfairness.
‘In my last life too, it was always like this.’
Khan Madrid, the Empire’s greatest power.
Because he opposed him, the ones Arthur always faced ended up being great nobles of the Empire—counts, marquises, and the like.
Every time, people around him told him to give up, to value his life, but Arthur never gave up.
‘If I were the type to back down out of fear of such backers, I wouldn’t have started in the first place.’
Of course, that didn’t mean he would go charging in unprepared.
With that thought, Arthur headed to his next destination—the gun shop.
“Welcome… huh? Ain’t you that mercenary from before?”
The shopkeeper yawned with his mouth wide open.
“Yes, hello.”
“You still have that dull, hazy look about you.”
“And you still look half-asleep, Shopkeeper.”
At Arthur’s retort, the shopkeeper barked out a laugh.
“That weird way of talking, still the same. So, what brings our wealthy mercenary here today?”
Arthur pulled out the pistol he carried inside his coat.
The shopkeeper’s eyes widened as he muttered.
“What the hell? How’d such a fine piece get wrecked like this?”
“…? It’s broken?”
“Not broken, but it’s about to be.”
Clicking his tongue, the shopkeeper took the pistol Arthur handed over.
“Just how much did you abuse this thing? Sure, it’s not the sturdiest, but it shouldn’t fall apart in less than half a year.”
Arthur scratched his head.
“Uh… I just fired it whenever I felt like shooting…”
“What, were you in a war or something?”
The shopkeeper returned the gun with that remark.
“…Anyway, you came for maintenance, but that one can’t be fixed.”
“Why not?”
“I told you before—it’s more for show than for real combat. More like a prototype close to what army officers get issued. Better to just buy a new one than try fixing it.”
Arthur smacked his lips.
“So if it breaks from use, I just have to toss it, huh…”
“Are you lamenting the money, or the pistol?”
“The pistol. This one… it was pretty good.”
The shopkeeper gave a soft whistle.
“So it felt good in your hands, eh?”
“Yeah. Recoil was just right, and above all, most people dropped dead from this pistol alone—it was convenient.”
The shopkeeper blinked.
“…Dropped dead conveniently?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No? I’m serious.”
The shopkeeper fell silent.
Meanwhile, Arthur packed away the returned pistol and turned.
“Then I’ll visit again another time.”
Just as he was about to step out, the shopkeeper came to his senses and shouted.
“Want to see another piece?”
“…?”
“A really good one came in. Since you’re here, you shouldn’t leave empty-handed, right?”
Arthur turned his head.
“Better than this pistol?”
“Well… can’t say if it’s better, or more dangerous.”
“…?”
“You’ll know once you see it. Come along.”
Following the shopkeeper’s gesture, Arthur headed to the back of the store.
As before, unlike the front, the back was lined with all sorts of different guns.
The shopkeeper rummaged around, then brought out a box.
“Open it.”
Arthur tilted his head, but obeyed.
And without realizing it, let out a gasp.
“This is…”
“Beast.”
The shopkeeper’s smile vanished as he muttered.
“A cursed artifact, a magic-bullet gun. Rare as they come.”
Arthur’s eyes turned back to the pistol inside the box.
….
Its barrel was long.
So long, it looked more like a rifle than a handgun.
But that wasn’t what drew Arthur’s attention.
‘This aura… should I call this mana?’
There was a special energy lingering within the pistol.
Arthur stroked his chin, then carefully picked it up.
At that moment, the pistol with the peculiar name “Beast” clung to his hand like it was alive.
The sensation was similar to when he held the meteoric iron sword.
While Arthur let out a low exclamation, the shopkeeper warned him.
“Hey. Didn’t I say it was cursed? Aren’t you being a little too careless?”
Arthur turned his head.
“Cursed? What kind of curse?”
“Death.”
“…What?”
“Everyone who ever used it died. That’s why it’s called Beast.”
Fear tinged the shopkeeper’s face.
“They say it devours its master like a beast. That’s how it earned its name. Despite its insane performance, that’s why it drifted all the way here.”
Studying his expression closely, Arthur tilted his head.
“Then why do you keep it, Shopkeeper?”
The fear disappeared from his face.
“Because it’s cool.”
“…?”
“The name Beast, its bizarre shape, and above all, considering its unbelievable performance—that kind of rumor is only to be expected.”
Arthur blinked, then chuckled.
“So it’s good enough to overlook such a curse, is that what you’re saying?”
“Exactly! From what I hear, \[Magazine Enhancement], \[Power Boost], \[Accuracy Aim]—all the basic enchantments are on it….”
The shopkeeper’s eyes gleamed.
“And shockingly, it’s said to have an attribute enchantment too. Of the \[Darkness] series.”
“Darkness attribute?”
“I never tried it myself—too scared of the curse. But that’s what I’ve heard.”
“Is it rare?”
“Compared to common ones like \[Fire] or \[Water], it’s in another league. The so-called true \[Darkness] attribute…”
He suddenly crushed a sheet of paper he had picked up.
“…doesn’t explode, but crushes. In terms of sheer performance, it’s second to none. On top of that…”
The shopkeeper’s throat bobbed.
“They say it once turned a hundred people into meat chunks with a single shot.”
“Oh… like that shotgun from last time?”
“No. Not exploded—crushed into lumps.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed slightly.
‘Hmm… It doesn’t sound like an exaggeration. But is something like that really possible?’
If true, its lethality surpassed any artifact he had ever seen.
Intrigued, Arthur gazed at Beast and muttered.
“…So, you’re selling this?”
“I am.”
“But it’s such a good gun.”
“Only if it finds the right owner. Folks in this line are superstitious, aren’t they?”
Arthur let out a faint laugh.
“They are. But I’m not. Being swayed by such silly superstitions….”
He lightly squeezed the trigger of Beast.
“…means you don’t have enough confidence in yourself, doesn’t it?”
The shopkeeper looked at him with pure admiration.
“Showing it to you was worth it. A unique piece like this should be wielded by someone as unique as you.”
“So you’ll sell it to me?”
The shopkeeper’s eyes gleamed.
“I will. Dirt cheap, too. But… can you make me one promise?”
“What promise?”
“After using it, tell me what kind of weapon it really is.”
Arthur tilted his head.
The shopkeeper smirked and explained.
“Gun nuts like us go crazy over high-end pieces like this. But I’ve never seen with my own eyes what this one can do.”
Arthur blinked, then finally understood. He let out a chuckle.
“So you want me to tell you how Beast turns people into meat chunks, huh?”
The shopkeeper flinched.
“Uh… not exactly, but…”
“Sounds good.”
Arthur curved his lips in a sly smile.
“Funny enough, I have someone I was going to turn into meat chunks anyway. I’ll test if this thing really does it, then tell you about it.”
The shopkeeper clamped his mouth shut.
‘That’s a joke… right?’
But he didn’t dare ask.
Because from Arthur’s expression, it seemed like he truly meant it.
Meanwhile, as Arthur inspected Beast from every angle, he smiled and nodded.
“I’ll take it. How much, Shopkeeper?”
—
