Chapter 42

I'll translate the provided text into English, maintaining the original structure and formatting:

---

When I and Uncle Loanz heard the news, we couldn't help but freeze.

After all, the efforts of many people, including myself, had been cruelly taken away.

"Someone really pulled off a bold move."

"I hope we, who were doing the collection work, won't be suspected."

"It's a theft on a planet. We're not that stupid to suspect the ones who've been in space all along."

"I hope so."

To be honest, I'm quite worried.

It's common for the nobles who were expecting profits from rare metals to direct their frustration at the mercenaries and workers on the ground.

Depending on the situation, we might have to find the real culprit ourselves.

But that's not something I should be doing.

"Leave it to the police. It's not worth sticking your neck out."

As if reading my mind, Uncle Loanz gave me a gentle warning.

"Yeah, I guess. I'll leave early today before they ask for the reward back."

"Probably a good idea..."

I said it as a joke, but I didn't expect it to become a real concern.

So, I decided to leave quickly.

I headed straight to Gonzales' place.

To get information about the recent theft.

On the way, I thought I'd buy some of that butcher's products, so I went into the store for the first time in a while.

The shop owner was as usual, a friendly old man, but looking at the product lineup—

beef = Minotaur meat, pork = Orc meat, chicken = Cockatrice meat, ham = Membrane of the Dead, croquettes = Blissful Gold—it made me wonder how twisted this guy is. It's beyond curiosity, it's worrying.

Anyway, I bought about four croquettes and headed to Patterson Pharmacy.

"Hey."

As I entered the store as usual,

"About the rare metal theft?"

Without the usual greeting, he immediately hit the nail on the head with what I wanted to know.

"Do you have any information?"

I placed the croquettes and a plastic bottle of tea on the counter and offered them to Gonzales.

"Most of it is manga plot or conspiracy theories."

Gonzales picked up a croquette, and I followed suit.

It was my first time eating it, but it was quite delicious.

"Like a grand theft by a master thief with flashy illusions? Maybe a war between a beautiful girl thief and a handsome boy thief?"

"Something like that."

Gonzales finished his croquette and reached for the tea.

"What about the serious stuff?"

"Completely unknown. But it's certain that someone inside was involved."

"That much anyone could guess..."

It seems even his network of information can't provide more details.

Well, it's best not to get involved, so there's no need to talk more about it.

Then, as Gonzales reached for his second croquette,

"By the way, what are you going to do about the joint alumni meeting tomorrow?"

he asked.

Actually, on the first day of the collection job, I received an invitation to the joint alumni meeting through the mercenary guild.

The "joint" part is because, due to the incident where I was forced to join that mercenary group, the number of students in my generation drastically decreased, making it hard to hold an alumni meeting.

But in reality, it's clearly a setup to get closer to Riole Burnnext and Scoona Noswail.

"When I got the invitation, I was in the middle of the collection job and didn't know when it would end, so I immediately declined."

"Same here. I've already met the friends I want to see. Besides, that guy will definitely come after me."

Gonzales made a bitter face.

"Right. He probably hasn't changed."

He's Arudih Irelbargas, a classmate of mine and Gonzales' from second year.

Not a noble, but the son of the president of Irelbargas Commerce, and of course, a handsome guy.

He always brought his entourage, exuded an elite aura, prioritized fun, loved playing the field, and enjoyed putting people down. He was the epitome of a trashy popular kid.

Because of him, not just us, but all the introverts in the class suffered.

If I say that I'd rather meet Riole Burnnext than him, you might understand.

At least Burnnext, while making some jokes, isn't the type to resort to violence.

According to Gonzales, he's currently traveling to take over his parents' company, living a very stylish life.

"Most people go to meet old friends, but we see them often enough."

Gonzales spread out a newspaper and reached for his third croquette.

"Yeah, that's true."

I agreed, sipping my tea and finishing the croquette in my hand.

I was relieved that I hadn't received any calls to return the reward, so after cleaning my room and doing some other tasks by noon, I decided to get my gun maintained for the first time in a while.

I rarely use it, so I only clean it once a month or after using it.

So, I thought I'd have a professional take a look.

The shop is in the basement of a mixed-use building in the city, called "Swanson Arms."

"Hello~"

"Welcome! It's been a while."

"I don't use my gun much."

The store has a sturdy counter with thick blast and laser-resistant acrylic plates, and all the products are selected from display screens.

The one who greeted me was Linda, the shop owner's daughter, who is still in high school.

She might be skipping school.

I can't see the shop owner, but he's probably in the back doing repairs or restorations.

When I placed my gun on the counter, she picked it up and said,

"It looks like you've taken care of it to some extent."

She then sat at the workbench behind the counter and started disassembling the gun.

Unlike me, who takes my time, she disassembled it in no time.

She's still a novice, though.

While working, she suddenly spoke up.

"Hey, do you ever get custom-made guns?"

"What would a mediocre person like me do with a custom gun?"

"Let's make one. Mercenaries would want one, right?"

"I don't need one. It would be a waste."

This conversation has been going on ever since she started coming to the shop.

She's eager to design and make a gun from scratch.

So, she's asking me, who doesn't have a custom gun, to place an order, which means providing the funds.

"Even if you gave me a custom gun, I rarely use my gun, so a mass-produced one is enough."

"Aww. I was hoping to try out new materials."

While working, her pouting face was quite cute.

Just as the gun overhaul was finished, the door opened with a bang, and a clearly troublesome customer entered.

You can't make someone on another planet the culprit, especially when they were in New York, USA, with witnesses, and the crime was committed in Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan.

Thank you for your opinions, comments, and any typo reports.

The side effects were minor, but I'm scared of the second dose.

I found a contradiction during the book production process, so I made the necessary corrections.