Report
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Kiteretsu]
[Proofreader - Kyros]
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Chapter 131
Ian lightly taps the whiskey-filled glass with his finger.
Cling!
The crisp sound rings out as his fingernail brushes against the glass. The golden liquid ripples gently, releasing its intense aroma, but Ian simply gazes at it with an indifferent expression.
"......"
The adjudicator's mission was complete. There was no additional reward—it had never been about compensation. This mission was merely an obligation he had taken on in exchange for purifying the dragon's magic stone.
‘Not that I came away empty-handed.’
Through repeated real-life combat, Ian had been able to acquire fragments of the techniques Eor had refined to perfection.
His understanding of flames had deepened, enabling him to wield Bane of Evil with greater precision. This was not speculation but a certainty.
‘And I’ve established a connection with the Golden Tower.’
He had informed them of the replicated versions of Dara’s pocket watch being circulated. He had also conveyed methods to distinguish the authentic watches from the counterfeits—a detail any craftsman would notice immediately.
Though there had been no response yet, Ian expected a fitting reward since he had signed off under Berger’s name.
‘If they send me a pocket watch, I’d be pretty disappointed.’
If they were going to provide something—or if there were options—it’d be better to receive a practical artifact rather than a mere pile of gold coins.
The mages of the Golden Tower, though strict, were also prideful. They wouldn’t dismiss the matter lightly with empty promises.
Ian sipped his whiskey.
‘There’s some time before the next proxy mission.’
His mind wandered back to his last encounter with Eor.
"No. There’s another mission to come."
"…What?"
"Of course, I’m not saying it needs to start immediately, so you can relax."
"Then?"
"Why the irritated expression already? Please remember, the purification of the magic stone isn’t complete yet."
"Hmph. You’re sure you’re doing it properly, right?"
"Rest assured. Unlike ordinary magic stones, the one you’ve brought requires adequate time and care. If you rush the process, the results could fall short of expectations. Are you fine with that?"
"…I’ll leave it to you."
"Of course. I promise to give it my utmost. And don’t feel so sour about me taking on your duties—it’s a testament to your competence."
"I don’t feel flattered in the slightest."
"Why ever not?"
"Because I haven’t shown you anything remarkable this time."
"No need for such humility. You’ve just demonstrated your skills—your exceptional ability to locate things. That alone, finding what even priests and holy knights missed, is plenty impressive."
"Why are you making me uneasy?"
"No need for concern. Do you think I’d send you into a perilous situation? Just wait patiently."
Ian frowned. What was this “next proxy mission” that had Eor specifically highlighting his search skills?
‘...I can’t figure it out.’
Eor had promised to reach out soon. An indefinite wait lay ahead.
If that was the case, they might as well have handed him a portable communication device. But the excuse of it being an unreleased item left him with no argument.
Ian took another sip of whiskey.
"You seem lost in thought."
"......?"
Ian shifted his eyes toward the voice. The speaker was a man with neatly trimmed hair, a crisp white shirt, and a burgundy vest—the quintessential image of a bartender.
The man polished a glass with a pristine cloth, his movements smooth and meticulous.
“……”
Ian had visited this place, Midnight, even before his regression.
This bar, which he had stumbled upon by chance, had left a strong impression on him back then.
The dim lighting, the heavy atmosphere, the soft music playing in the background, and the hushed whispers of patrons all contributed to the mysterious and tranquil ambiance.
It made him feel like a lone wolf. He felt the same now—unchanged from before.
But Midnight wasn’t an ordinary bar. While it sold drinks, it was also a hub for trading information and handling covert requests.
Who could tell if the man and woman at a table across the room were chatting about hobbies—or hiring someone for an assassination?
Given the nature of this place, its staff were known to be tight-lipped, never spilling information carelessly.
Yet, here was the bartender initiating conversation—a rare occurrence, especially from someone who appeared to be the most experienced among them.
This has never happened before.
Ian had visited countless times in his previous life, but this was the first time a bartender had approached him.
He emptied his glass and set it down.
“Would you like another?”
Ian nodded. Without a word, the bartender poured him another whiskey.
“If you’d like, I could keep you company.”
“Company?”
“Well, I seem to be older than you, so…”
The bartender closed the whiskey bottle and continued,
“…I might even offer you some advice. Whatever troubles you have, sometimes sharing them with another can be helpful.”
The bartender’s somber gaze seemed indifferent, yet there was a hint of curiosity, as though he wanted to delve into Ian’s thoughts.
Ian lifted his refilled glass. The sharp burn of the whiskey stung his tongue and throat, but paradoxically, it calmed him.
“That’s good.”
A faint smile crept onto Ian’s face. His visit here wasn’t just for a drink.
He intended to make himself known to the bartenders in this quiet setting.
It was a pleasant surprise to be approached first—it saved him the trouble of making the initial move. The bartender, too, wouldn’t have spoken up without a reason.
Perhaps it was the golden insignia pinned to Ian’s coat. If they dealt in information, they likely already knew about Ian’s recent role in handling the Arbiter’s mission.
After all, he had effectively dismantled a trading guild in a less-than-pleasant manner, with the assistance of Holy Knights from the Pantheon.
“Convenient timing. I happen to need someone’s help.”
“What kind of help?”
“Not sure yet. First, why don’t we exchange names? Or rather, I just need to know yours. You seem to already know who I am.”
Without pausing in his glass polishing, the bartender met Ian’s gaze with a calm expression.
“Judging by this being your first visit, you seem well-informed about what kind of place this is.”
“Well, being a mercenary, you tend to hear things.”
The bartender chuckled briefly.
“Oddly enough, you’ve never taken on guild-sponsored requests, as far as I know.”
He stopped for a moment and gave Ian a faint smile.
“Well, that’s not important, is it? What matters is that you’re here, you meet the criteria, and you understand what we do. My name’s Victor.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Victor. Let’s hope this turns into a good partnership.”
"That will be arranged. Please, tell me what kind of help you require."
"What I want is simple. Among Gawon’s merchant groups, I’d like to find one worth investing my spare money into. Could you serve as a bridge for that?"
"Spare money, you say. How much are we talking about, exactly?"
"Hmm, let’s start with one platinum coin."
A platinum coin held the value of a thousand gold coins. It was a currency that most ordinary people would never see in their lifetime.
Even for Ian, it wasn’t a trivial sum.
Victor lowered his gaze, seemingly deep in thought, and slowly retrieved the information from his mind.
"One platinum coin… Merchant groups capable of handling that level of capital aren’t uncommon. However, gaining significant influence in a large merchant group with such an amount would be difficult. For mid-sized groups, there are a few currently drawing attention. The Blue Lake merchant group stands out in trade and transportation. The Snowflake group is rapidly growing through jewelry processing and direct sales. Meanwhile, the Yellow Leaf group is seeing steady growth through its spice trade—after all, food ingredients are always in demand."
Ian shook his head.
"That’s not what I’m looking for. I want a place where I can wield some influence through my investment."
Victor’s expression shifted to one of interest.
"Influence, is it? So, you’re not merely seeking to grow your wealth. In that case, why not consider acquiring a small-scale merchant group? Once they reach stability with sufficient capital, they could provide you with significant returns."
"And if they fail to stabilize?"
"Then, you must be prepared to lose it all."
It was a gamble of sorts. But things changed when you knew the future.
You don’t call something gambling when the outcome is guaranteed. Ian needed a merchant group that would reliably generate income while being useful when required.
His family also operated its own merchant groups, but that money was reserved strictly for family purposes.
"That sounds acceptable."
"Fortunately, we have a prepared list on hand. But first, there’s something I need from you."
"I thought advice was part of the service. Is this where the fees come in?"
"The advice was already given—acquiring a small merchant group. In life, obtaining desired information requires appropriate compensation. For us, that compensation happens to be glittering metals."
Ian didn’t particularly need the list. He already knew the names of the merchant groups’ leaders.
Still, why not? Circumstances might have changed, and additional insights wouldn’t hurt. Asking for the price wasn’t unreasonable.
"How much?"
"Three gold coins. It’s a small-scale group, so its importance isn’t particularly high."
After paying the fee, Victor retrieved a menu-like board engraved with the name of Midnight in elegant cursive.
Instead of whiskey or cocktails, the menu contained the names of small-scale merchant groups along with details about their leaders, areas of operation, financial status, and growth potential.
Each page was dedicated to one merchant group.
Ian couldn’t help but feel impressed.
"This really is a collection of hidden gems."
Every name on the list was familiar.
Some groups would ultimately fail, while others would merge with larger ones. Yet all of them had gained notable recognition at some point, confirming Midnight’s exceptional ability to gather reliable intelligence.
"All the information here is trustworthy. Whichever one you choose, you won’t regret it."
It seemed so. The details for his target merchant group were particularly thorough.
Wellington Winters.
A bastard from a viscount family. He used money earned from mercenary work to establish a merchant group but suffered repeated failures due to bad luck, leading to his downfall.
This was that very period.
Many avoided him, believing he brought misfortune. However, he eventually secured investment from an anonymous benefactor and achieved great success thanks to his natural business acumen.
Ian remembered him for his reputation as a man of integrity in a world where betrayal was common.
Ian closed the menu.
"We can assist with drawing up the investment contract. There will be a small fee, but it’ll be much better than approaching them on your own."
"Then, I’ll leave it to you."
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Kiteretsu]
[Proofreader - Kyros]
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