Chapter 55

<55. Puppeteer (2)>

The blue moonlight seeped through the open door, revealing the interior of the warehouse.

A hanging corpse from the ceiling and a surgical table set up on one side.

Surgical tools and various instruments beside it.

The scene looked more like a laboratory or workshop than a warehouse.

The only sound was the heavy, labored breathing—hoo, hoo.

"Who... who are you?"

Oliver looked at him.

A man surrounded by zombies stitched together like rags.

Oliver instinctively recognized him as the puppeteer Grep and greeted him politely.

"Hello."

"......"

Perhaps the greeting was wrong, as he stared at Oliver with a sense of discomfort and confusion.

Oliver also observed him, understanding why he communicated through puppets.

He was grotesquely fat, his flesh bulging and spilling over like bread dough.

Certainly, his physique was unsuitable for a dangerous battlefield. Well, the emaciated Oliver wasn't much different.

Oliver stood quietly, waiting for Grep to speak first, and fortunately, he did.

"Who... who are you?"

"...? I'm Oliver. Didn't I explain that just now?"

"...Who is your master?"

"Huh? That was also just-"

"-Don't lie!"

The puppeteer's jowls shook as he shouted.

"I've never heard of Joseph in Randa. You look like you're not much older, yet you... Who is the owner of my puppets?!"

Oliver remained silent.

He had told the truth, but the other party didn't believe him, and he had no idea how to persuade him.

However, his silence seemed to have an effect, as Grep mumbled, feeling confused.

"It's not a lie,

"Yes... My master is someone outside of Randa. I just arrived here."

Grep's sweat trickled down, and he strained his eyes.

He was probably trying to read Oliver's emotions, something Oliver himself often did.

"Who are you?"

Grep stared at Oliver, then stumbled backward, asking.

Oliver thought he had a good idea of what he was talking about.

"Ah, my master says I'm very emotionally weak. So..."

"-No, it's not that simple."

"Huh?"

Oliver asked, but the puppeteer didn't answer.

His emotions were clouded with confusion, fear, and terror.

As if he had seen something unbelievable. But it was only for a moment.

Amid the confusion, calmness seeped through, and fear and terror were replaced by courage and cunning.

"...Why? Are you hostile to me?"

He asked, more to observe Oliver's reaction than out of genuine curiosity.

Oliver answered, as he too had questions.

"Well, it just happened, didn't it? Can I ask a question too?"

"...Go on."

"About the puppets I saw on the way here, how did you do it?"

"Are you talking about the corpse puppets?"

"Yes. They were amazing. Just looking at them, they seemed like real living people."

He praised sincerely, but Grep shuddered instead of being pleased.

He looked like someone facing a predator, yet there was a will to seize an opportunity amidst the tension and fear.

What exactly did he want?

"...I learned it from my master."

Sincerely.

"Learned it?"

"Yes, from my great master, Puppet."

Grep seemed to have said it with some expectation, but Oliver's reaction was indifferent.

"Puppet...? A puppet? What a unique name."

Grep's emotions were filled with absurdity and disbelief.

"...You don't know who Puppet is?"

"Ah... Should I?"

"Of course. If you're a black magician, you should know! He's a living legend in the world of black magic, having lived for hundreds of years."

"Ah... I'm sorry. I've only been learning black magic for a short time. I don't know much. My master... also had some issues and couldn't teach me properly."

"...? How long have you been learning black magic?"

"Um... a few months?"

Oliver answered, counting on his fingers.

It was a rough estimate based on when he remembered being sold to Joseph.

However, Grep seemed unsatisfied with this answer.

"Lie... Don't lie! No matter how talented, no one could create corpse puppets, which are the culmination of a lifetime of knowledge, in just a few months!"

He was genuinely angry.

His expression was as if he had seen something he shouldn't, or rather, something he shouldn't have seen.

He was extremely angry and denied it.

But it was the truth.

"You... are a contractor?"

Contractor.

A word Oliver knew. A being who gains power through a contract with a demon.

According to what he read in Joseph's study, it was a way to instantly gain power that surpasses talent and a lifetime of effort.

It was like a leap in evolution... Although there was a price to pay, the fruit was so sweet that many black magicians fell into temptation.

That's why black magicians were shunned.

"Unfortunately, no."

"Not a contractor?"

"No, I've seen contractors before, but I'm not one."

Gulp.

Grep swallowed, looking for an opportunity. He seemed to have made a decision.

"...Do you want to become a contractor?"

"Um... I'm not interested in being a contractor, but I do want to meet a demon. I have some questions."

Oliver answered, recalling the old man who greeted him.

Why did he greet him? And why did it feel both alien and familiar?

Oliver wanted to know.

"...You have questions for a demon?"

"Yes..."

"Do you also have an interest in my corpse puppets?"

Oliver turned back and answered.

"Yes... They were very interesting."

"You really... have a lot of questions, don't you?"

"How did you know? I have a lot of questions."

Grep's expression now had a faint smile, as if he had found a way out, or rather, a gold mine.

"...Then I'll help you."

"You'll help me?"

"Yes, I'll help you. To satisfy your curiosity. From what I can see, you have great skills but lack common knowledge... How about it? If you help me, I'll help you."

Oliver looked at Grep. He was speaking sincerely, though there was a hidden agenda. The offer to help was genuine.

"Um... Is it related to the Black Hand?"

"Yes... Did the mole tell you?"

"Yes... I heard it's an organization of powerful black magicians. Is that correct?"

"Yes... It's even more impressive than that, but that's roughly correct. It's a powerful organization that handles many resources and forbidden knowledge in the underworld. If you join officially-"

"Is Mr. Puppet, your master, part of it?"

"Yes! Now we're getting somewhere! But when you mention him, use the honorific 'sir.'"

"Ah, yes... But I have a question."

"What?"

"If your master is part of it, why are you trying to join?"

At that moment, Grep was shaken.

It was like he had been hit where it hurt. He stammered, flustered.

"T, that's because of my master's teachings... Yes, his teachings. To prove my own abilities... It's like a test!"

A lie. Oliver saw through Grep's intentions.

However, he didn't press the issue.

It didn't seem worth pressing. Instead, he asked another question.

"The Black Hand, it's a very impressive organization."

"Yes."

"Then, it must be difficult to join, right?"

"...What exactly are you trying to say?"

"Ah, just wondering, did you ask the mole for the homeless people to join? Like the people down there?"

Oliver pointed to the floor of the warehouse.

There were many emotions of fear and terror below.

Grep's expression turned grim at the question.

"Yes, so what?... Do you think a black magician would care about such things?"

Care... Oliver rubbed his forehead, lost in thought.

Hmm, would he care?

Oliver thought about why he left Wainham.

He had momentarily forgotten while being curious about Cant.

Why did Oliver leave Wainham?

It was to satisfy his curiosity.

To resolve his curiosity about beautiful emotions, black magic, and demons.

He thought it would be difficult to satisfy his curiosity while running the organization.

"No..."

Oliver muttered.

Certainly, that was the main reason, but there was a small spark that had given him the push.

A passing comment. However, it was the decisive word that made Oliver leave Wainham.

At that moment, a woman's voice echoed in his ears.

"Don't stay in this darkness. Come out into the world. Meet people and learn how to live as a human."

"Ah..."

Oliver gasped, as if the exact spot that itched had been scratched.

And in the process, he met Cant.

Cant, who helped him without any ulterior motives.

He helped him just because he saw him. Because he had received such help in the past.

He also protected the homeless and even risked his life.

Although his emotions were not free from temptation or frustration, he still upheld his will to the end.

Not as dazzling as a beautiful light, but still, that faint light was...

"-Answer my question!"

A sudden loud voice brought Oliver back to his senses.

The puppeteer in front of him had an angry expression.

"Answer my question... Does a black magician care about such trash?"

"Um... One person, maybe."

"...What?"

"What can I say... It's hard to express, but it's impressive. The will to endure and maintain one's principles... It's quite beautiful."

"Beautiful?"

"Yes, the emotion... As a black magician, you should understand, right?"

"...I don't. I don't understand what you're saying."

"Ah, that's a shame."

"...I'll say it again. If you cooperate, I'll help you get the knowledge you want. If you join the Black Hand, you can access the organization's knowledge and teachings, and use the black market through connections."

"Um... The Black Hand, the black market. I'm sorry, but do I have to hand over the homeless people like the mole did?"

"Yes, that's the price for joining. It's a good deal. You can hand over the trash on the streets and gain immense power and knowledge."

"Um..."

Oliver fell into thought again.

Demons, black magic, beautiful light. There was so much he wanted to know, and Oliver didn't know how to get it.

Certainly, the man in front of him was speaking sincerely.

If Oliver helped him, he would surely help Oliver gain knowledge.

The first step was to hand over the homeless people.

It was a cheap price. There was no denying it.

There were many of them, but they were weak, and if Oliver wanted to, he could easily capture and hand them over. But, it was...

"Kind of..."

"What?"

"Kind of... I definitely want knowledge, but it's kind of..."

"...Do you know how stupid you sound right now?"

"Yes. But I don't really want to. I've received help, and I don't really dislike those homeless people."

"Are you going to miss out on this great opportunity for such a trivial reason? The Black Hand... It's an opportunity all black magicians dream of!"

"Well, it's a shame, but there's nothing I can do. But..."

"Because of that trivial reason, I met you, and isn't that interesting? ...Coming out into the world and mingling with people, I've found such joy."

"Is that so... Then, die-!"

The puppeteer, consumed by anger, ordered the remaining zombies to attack.

Oliver targeted the zombies' heads and fired a hail of bullets.

Unlike the corpse puppet earlier, the zombies were helplessly destroyed, as no additional functions had been added.

[Meat Shield]

[Bone Spear]

The puppeteer used the broken zombies to create a defensive barrier and a spear made of bones.

However, as Oliver poured a hail of bullets, his counterattack was thoroughly shattered.

"......"

Eventually, the defensive barrier made of corpses was breached, and he was hit in the abdomen and fell. In a hurry, he said:

"S, such...! F, fine... I'll leave. I'll leave..."

"I know you're lying."

Oliver said as he approached.

"Ugh... If I die, the person who received items from me will seek revenge-"

"That's also a lie. You're not even sure, are you?"

Grep's expression was distorted with shock.

It was filled with shame, as if he had been stripped naked.

Oliver approached him, knelt on one knee, and asked politely:

"Joining the Black Hand. The test given to you by your master, Puppet, is also a lie. Why did you lie?"

Grep's expression was so distorted it