After much deliberation in his office, Ronan made up his mind and descended to the tavern's ground floor.
He was about to tell Osian to take someone with him when he saw Lorraine and closed his mouth again.
Osian greeted Ronan as he descended the stairs.
"Ms. Lorraine is here."
Lorraine was strangely subdued, when normally she would have been asking for a drink in broad daylight.
Instead, she was sitting a bit more spaced out than usual, watching Osian's eyes.
It was obvious, no matter how you looked at it, that there was something between them and Ronan could easily see what was going on.
‘She tried to set the tone as the senior, and got her ass kicked.’
But Violet Fox doesn't take fixers lightly.
Ronan carefully vetted them before offering them employment, which is why the brokerage had so few fixers compared to other brokerages.
Perhaps Lorraine knew this, and it made her even more desperate to have a newcomer.
She was so thirsty that she was halfway to giving up.
Lorraine wanted to show her seniority and establish her authority but this newcomer was far beyond her wildest dreams.
‘That's why I told her to be careful.’
This is all Lorraine's karma after all, Ronan thought, turning to Osian.
"I was going to say that it would be a good idea to take the job on the condition that you have someone with you."
"Well, since you've found such a fine guide, I suppose there's nothing I can do to stop you."
Lorraine's pride was wounded at that, and she glared at Ronan.
‘Hey, you blind bastard, who says I'm his guide, do you want to die?’
Lorraine spat out her words out of Osian's sight, but Ronan turned his back on her.
Lorraine cringed at the sight, but she couldn't protest out loud; she was too afraid of Osian next to her.
"So, are you leaving right now?"
"The sooner the better."
Tirna's 43rd district is a huge industrial zone.
Workers in grease-stained overalls scurried about. Their dark-circled faces showed no signs of life.
On the streets, huge trucks rolled by, belching white steam.
Truckers honk their horns hysterically. The sound of the horn scattered the rats on the road in all directions.
Osian stood on the sidewalk and watched the spectacle.
Lorraine asked in a gravelly voice, half-forced to follow him.
Osian shook his head at the comment. The sight of workers and cars driving around was something he had seen many times in his world.
Instead, his attention was drawn to the smoke from the factory chimneys.
Some were spewing black smoke, others white.
The two types of smoke intertwined with each other and mingled with the clouds in the sky, making the surroundings rainy even in broad daylight.
"The black is charcoal and coal, and the white is white smoke from burning ether water."
Sensing where Osian's gaze was directed, Lorraine explained the unasked question.
"Ether water is an indispensable resource for industry. It's three times more energy efficient than boiling regular water, so who wouldn't want it?"
"But there seems to be a lot more black smoke."
"We can't all use the same resource."
Ether water can't just be evaporated.
It was a raw material that required complex processing and coordination.
This created a divide between those who could use ether water and those who couldn't, and it became the yardstick by which companies were judged.
Those without access to ether water burned low-quality coal and charcoal for fuel.
The soot from their chimneys was bound to be black.
The black smoke was a symbol of scarcity.
"In Tirna, the way people grade a factory is simple: they look at the color of the smoke."
If the color of the smoke is white, it means they're using ether water, so they're a white company.
Conversely, if it's black, it's a black company.
From that point of view, the 43rd District was a zone with more black companies than white companies.
"Honestly, I don't want to stay here for a long time. I think my lungs will rot even if I stay for a little while."
"It's not a big deal."
Osian was aware that the air in the 43rd District was not good.
His senses were more acute than anyone else's, and he could smell the subtle stench in his nose and the toxicity in the air but it didn't damage him physically.
Even if he had breathed in a much more concentrated poison, his immensely powerful body would have broken it down.
Lorraine, unaware of this, pouted her lips and grumbled.
"Whatever. Mutants shouldn't be . You have no idea how a normal person feels."
Osian responded to Lorraine's grumbling.
"Why are you calling me a mutant?"
Osian didn't understand.
‘It was said that mutants arose after the discovery of ether water.’
Mutants didn't exist in the game.
It had been some time since humanity had discovered Ether Water and used it in various magical industries.
In the meantime, the world has seen the birth of individuals with unusual constitutions.
They were able to perform physical feats or breathe fire without the use of magic.
The advancement of science and environmental pollution caused the human genes to mutate, creating a new species.
The world called them mutants.
Osian was bothered by the fact that people around him thought of him as a mutant.
Lorraine's eyes widened in disbelief at Osian's question.
"We call a mutant a mutant, what do you call yourself then?"
"What? What does that mean?"
“Everyone seems to be mistaken, but I am an ordinary human being.”
"A normal human being slicing and dicing gun-toting bastards with a sword? That's a joke even a passing dog wouldn't laugh at."
"If it's not a joke, then what is that ridiculous physical ability?"
Lorraine asked, and Osian didn't have a straight answer.
It's because he maxed out his stats while playing the game but he couldn't say that.
When Osian didn't answer, Lorraine snorted at the sight of it.
No normal human being in the world cuts bullets with a sword, unless they're a mutant.
‘Of course, there were knights who reached the peak of the sword in the olden days, but when was that? It was a long time ago.’
Lorraine dismissed Osian's words as false.
She hadn't expected a normal answer in the first place. It was no sane person's idea to wield a sword while everyone else was shooting.
"You've read the brief, haven't you? You should read it carefully."
Lorraine said, subtly trying to sound experienced.
"Well, explain it to me."
"......? Well, I'll be kind enough to correct you as a senior."
Lorraine immediately cowered when this one came out a little stronger.
Osian couldn't help but chuckle at what seemed like a childish ego stroke.
"The fugitive warlock's name is Carl Jackson."
The dossier Osian had read included a black-and-white photograph of Carl Jackson, a thin, middle-aged man in his forties with sunken cheeks and hollow eyes.
Osian's impression of him was this.
‘He looks like a warlock.’
Although there shouldn't be any prejudice based on one's profession, strangely enough, warlocks looked like they practiced black magic just by looking at them.
"The main branch of magic he practiced was diseases, with basic necromancy and curse magic as a secondary branch."
Diseases and curses, it was certainly a combination that would make a fixer shudder.
For one thing, these types of fights don't end cleanly.
The remnants of the curse and disease would eat away at the flesh long after the fight.
"As of now, Carl Jackson has fled with the recipe and is believed to be in the 43rd District. No, it's practically a certainty."
"What, you know everything?"
Lorraine's voice was a mixture of relief and regret.
"Well, if that's the case, I don't really have any advice. Let's move fast, then, because we don't know when he'll get away."
"Do we know where he is?"
“It’s obvious, right? If the escaped warlock is hiding in District 43, he has to be staying at a place like an inn run deep in an alley. It’s a place where people don’t come and go, so it’s a good place for guys who do shitty things to hide.”
With that curt answer, Osian could see why Ronan had insisted on taking Lorraine with him.
He was still new to this city, and such details were not something he was familiar with.
"It's not a good idea to go into the alleyways blindly, though."
“It’s because of his familiars. He learned necromancy, so he used the corpses of dead rats to set up surveillance networks in every alley.”
"......Why do you know so much, isn't this your first time catching a warlock?"
Osian shrugged instead of answering.
"Oh, yeah. You have a past you're not telling me about, huh? I see."
With that, Lorraine threw her right hand up in the air.
In her hand was a gun with a grappling hook at the end.
The hook shot out and caught on the factory's roof railing.
Lorraine's body shot straight up and over the roof.
Retrieving the grappling wire, Lorraine looked down at the railing with a mischievous grin on her face.
"Hey, junior! If you want to climb up, why don't you ask this senior for help......?"
Just as Lorraine screamed, Osian jumped over her and landed on the roof.
Lorraine was so startled and red-faced that she looked back and forth between the railing and Osian.
"What, what?! How did you do it?"
Lorraine was speechless at Osian's answer.
She was a skilled fixer, and he just jumped up to a height she could barely reach with her grappling gun?
And he didn't even look out of breath or exhausted.
‘Why are you acting ? Aren’t you a mutant?’
A little lying goes a long way.
Lorraine suddenly remembered what Ronan had told her.
'I was told he came up with the idea for the concept and he’s stuck with it, these fixers aren't normal.’
Lorraine shook her head.
No matter how much she tried to show off her seniority, Osian's uncanny ability to show off his skills crushed her hopes.
‘You really think I'm just here to be a tour guide, don't you?’
Lorraine felt a pang of resentment.
"I know the way from here, so just follow me."
At this point, she was going to have to make sure she knew the way.
Lorraine took the lead and moved quickly, Osian following close behind.
Leaping over rooftop after rooftop of chimney buildings, Lorraine came to a deserted lot.
Perhaps the fugitive warlock was hiding somewhere here.
Just as she was thinking about it, Lorraine heard a loud thud.
Osian, who was following behind, grabbed her by the back of the head and yanked her to a halt.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?"
Osian raised his index finger to signal Lorraine.
Lorraine suppressed her anger at his seriousness. Her fixer instincts had sensed something.
Osian quietly pointed his finger into the air.
Lorraine caught sight of something whitish flying through the air.
It was circling around, calmly scanning the rooftops of the buildings.
"Crazy. He’s been keeping an eye on this place with his minion?"
The situation was urgent, and if she had reacted any slower, she would have been caught.
At the same time, Lorraine looked back at Osian in disbelief.
‘How did he know that?’
Osian acted casually, as if he'd seen this coming.
"Even a flying familiar has a blind spot. If we take cover and move well, we can approach without being seen."
"No, I mean, how do we do that.......?"
"If you're having trouble, just follow me. I'll show you the way."
It was obviously condescending.
Lorraine sulked and followed behind Osian.