Chapter 28

28. The New Owner (2)

Ding dong.

As the pharmacy door opened, a beautiful chime echoed through the air.

A bent old woman, wrapped in a scarf that had fallen off, entered.

"Welcome."

A middle-aged man, half bald and wearing wire-rimmed glasses, greeted the old woman. He was the owner of the pharmacy, wearing a white gown over his suit.

"Oh, Pharmacist, hello?"

The old woman, with her wrinkled face, greeted him warmly.

The pharmacist also welcomed her kindly.

Indeed, he was a prominent figure in the city.

"Yes, I'm always well. Come, this way..."

The pharmacist approached the old woman, who had arthritis, to help her move.

His kindness was ingrained. The old woman thanked him gratefully.

"Thank you, sir. That... Ah! The chicken dish you sent me the other day was really delicious. It was the best meal I've ever had. Thank you so much."

"No, I'm glad you enjoyed it."

The pharmacist replied smoothly.

After all, he had done countless charitable acts in the city, so he was used to hearing such gratitude several times a day.

After the thanks were over, the old woman took out a crumpled banknote from her bosom.

"Really... I feel quite embarrassed, but could I buy some painkillers with this money, sir?"

The pharmacist glanced at the money. It was nowhere near enough.

The old woman, knowing this, asked again.

"It's getting harder to move around. I'll pay the rest later..."

The pharmacist raised his hand. He then went inside the store and took out a recently arrived painkiller.

It was Tantan, a painkiller made by John Snow Co.

"Take it with water before bed. It's a new painkiller, and it's quite effective."

"It looks quite expensive..."

The old woman stammered. The pharmacist, not to be outdone, replied kindly.

"It's fine. Consider it a birthday gift."

"But my birthday is still far away..."

"Didn't I miss it last year? Just take it. I'll say the money is for your grandson's allowance."

The old woman, though feeling guilty, finally accepted the pharmacist's consideration.

She was so grateful that she kept thanking him, and the pharmacist, with a gentle smile, repeatedly assured her it was fine.

"How old is your grandson?"

"He's about fifteen now."

"If you wish, I can help him find a job. We need more hands in the warehouse, and I have connections with restaurants and factories in Randa."

"Thank you. Really, thank you... I'm sure you'll be blessed."

The old woman, still thanking him, was about to leave when she almost bumped into some people who had just entered, accompanied by the chime.

"Oh..."

"Are you okay?"

A boy with black hair and pale skin, looking like a living corpse, helped the old woman, who had almost fallen.

His actions were kind, but his lifeless skin and fish-like eyes evoked more repulsion than warmth.

The old woman, sensing this, quickly accepted his help and fled the pharmacy as if running away.

"..."

"..."

The new customer and the pharmacist looked at each other in silence.

After a moment, the pharmacist, sensing something was amiss, walked over and locked the door, then hung a "Closed" sign in front.

"Let me ask, just in case. Did you come here to see me for something? Not to buy medicine."

The customer, or rather, Oliver, replied.

"Yes."

The pharmacist led Oliver and his attendants, Marie and Peter, to a small room in the back of the pharmacy.

"I'm sorry, but we only have two chairs. We only have water to drink. This place wasn't designed to receive guests."

"That's fine, Pharmacist."

The pharmacist poured water into a cup and asked while drinking it.

"Let's get straight to the point. Even if it's urgent, I try not to close the shop for more than 20 minutes. What brings you here?"

"I came to ask for a favor."

"A favor?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't Joseph come himself? Why did you come?"

"Because it's my request."

"..."

The pharmacist looked at Oliver silently, trying to figure out what he was up to, but to no avail.

Oliver's demeanor was the same as when he had come to extract life force, when he had brought in the attacker, and even now.

There was no malice, no kindness, no ulterior motive.

"..."

"Normally, I would just ignore you and send you away, but since you helped my employees in the battle with the mage last time, I'll listen to you once... Oh, wait. Did you get Joseph's permission? He would hate it if you acted without his permission."

"Oh, don't worry about that. He's... gone."

"..."

"What?"

"He's gone. In Randa."

"..."

"Did you see it yourself?"

"Yes?"

"What happened?"

"He lost an arm to a Ras Boom and bled to death..."

"Was he attacked by another black mage? And why are you unharmed... Ah, did you kill him?"

The pharmacist, understanding, said this. Oliver calmly replied.

"Yes, that's correct."

The pharmacist, though he should have been surprised, wasn't. Somehow, looking at the boy in front of him, it seemed entirely possible.

"..."

"Why did you kill him?"

"Because he tried to kill me. More precisely, he wanted to offer me to a demon... So I had no choice."

The pharmacist wasn't surprised. He had dealt with black mages for decades and knew their quirks well.

Especially for a strong black mage like Joseph, making a deal with a demon wasn't unusual at all.

But this boy was different.

A black mage who offered sacrifices to demons would surely be a threatening monster.

Yet, the boy in front of him, who looked about fifteen or sixteen, claimed to have defeated such a monster.

And he didn't boast or gloat about it at all.

A sense of something alien, different from malice, arrogance, or cruelty, was strongly felt.

"Alright, I understand. Joseph tried to kill you, and you killed him to survive. Is that right?"

"Yes... I'm glad you understand."

"..."

"What I don't understand is why you came to me. What do you want?"

Oliver whispered a few words to Peter and then replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I've taken over Joseph's family, and others said that if you found out, you might attack us."

"Is that so... Did you come to ask me to mediate?"

"Yes, that's right. Can you help us?"

An innocent question. The pharmacist sensed something beyond simple malice or cunning.

"No."

"Ah... May I ask why?"

"For whatever reason, I've been dealing with Joseph for a long time. Now, you, his subordinate, come and commit a coup and ask for my help? Honestly, everything you say could be a lie."

"Ah... That's true, I guess?"

Oliver really seemed to think it was possible.

Peter spoke to Oliver again.

"..."

"Still, I hope you can help us. If black mages fight, it could disrupt your business, right?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, absolutely not."

Oliver, waving his hands, spoke. The pharmacist sighed and said,

"Ha... Your point is valid, but mediating this kind of conflict is a risky business. If I help you and it leads to a misunderstanding, I could lose more."

"But you've helped us before, haven't you?"

"At that time, everyone wanted to stop the fighting, and it was beneficial for me."

"Then, if I can offer you a benefit, will you help us?"

Just as he was about to dismiss it as nonsense, the pharmacist, looking into Oliver's eyes, closed his mouth.

His business instincts told him this wasn't just talk.

"..."

"Even if I can't help you fully, I can at least arrange a meeting for you to talk. After that, it's up to you."

"Ah, that's enough. Thank you."

"I haven't agreed yet. What can you offer me?"

"Oh, that..."

Oliver took out a philtre and began to speak.

***

Two days after the meeting with the pharmacist.

As promised, the pharmacist invited the leaders of the Anthony and Dominic black mage families to a tavern he owned.

Anthony was a pale, gaunt man with brown hair combed to the right,

while Dominic had a square jaw and a sturdy build, like someone who did manual labor.

Both were around the same age as Joseph, and they didn't look kindly on Oliver, who appeared to be no more than fifteen.

Still, they kept silent and observed the situation, as it was the pharmacist's invitation.

"..."

"..."

"..."

An awkward silence filled the air. Oliver stood up and greeted them.

"Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming."

There was no response.

However, their reactions were not absent. Their emotions ranged from confusion, irritation, and bewilderment to speculation, observation, and cunning.

Just as Oliver was about to speak again, Anthony raised his hand.

"Oh, yes. What do you have to say...?"

"..."

"I have many questions, but let's start with the basics. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry