Memoirs of the Returnee

Chapter 304: New Year (2)

“Negotiation, huh.”

In a dimly lit factory, I glared menacingly at the executives from Cafe [BALANCE] who had come to find me.

An executive in a suit spoke seriously.

“Let’s stop these wasteful activities and state your terms.”

For the record, I’m currently pretending to be one of Blocker’s underlings.

It’s a setup using Grawl’s intelligence network. I’m controlling all the information that flows to and from Jade and his subordinates.

It wasn’t difficult. Jade, who doesn’t manage information or combat personnel, was the easiest direct lineage to deceive.

The whole purpose of this process was ultimately to infuriate Jade.

“lf you give up 30% of your net profits as protection money, you might find it manageable.”

I smirked slyly. The demand was, of course, absurd.

“That’s ridiculous!”

One of the executives burst out angrily.

I immediately turned serious, staring at them with eyes marked by scars.

“lf you want to leave here in one piece, I suggest you keep your voice down.”

The executives flinched. They had bodyguards, but their faces were equally frightened.

“30% of the net profits is an impossible figure.”

“lmpossible? Don’t you understand the concept of protection money? The railroads you use to transport your coffee beans are frequently attacked by monsters. Plus, the smell of the beans attracts them. We’re offering to protect your distribution network.”

“That’s absurd”

“The absurdity is what you’re spouting.”

I spoke and acted like a thug who couldn't be reasoned with.

As if the only solution was a slaughter.

“So, convey our terms precisely, without missing a single detail, to that noble lord of yours.”

I said, baring my teeth. The executives bit their lips in anger, and I flashed a villainous smile.

“Ha ha ha ha”

Well, with that kind of laugh.

For the first time in his life, Jade was experiencing what could only be described as a fit of rage. It was rare for his patience to be tested this much.

Because of these damn leeches clinging to him like ticks.

“Negotiation?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. It was so frustrating that I had to step out…”

Jade had not permitted negotiations with these bugs. However, his employees had forcibly arranged a meeting, and all they received was a demand to hand over 30% of the profits as protection money.

“I never authorized this.”

Jade tilted his head, a habit when he was angry.

With just a slight flick of his finger, all the employees could be dead.

Of course, the employees didn’t know this, but they quickly knelt down, sensing the danger.

“l’m sorry!”

“…”

Jade pressed his temples.

Killing them would only serve as a momentary relief. It would leave him without people to work.

The real problem was the force called Blocker. These cancerous elements of society disregarded public authority, operated across borders, and infiltrated. Not only in Edsilla but also in other countries, many bureaucrats were feeding off the scraps to these villains.

Initially, Jade had tried to deal with them with the poise of a noble.

However, these scoundrels didn’t even bother to negotiate, not only raiding the coffee beans but also stripping the cafe’s interior to commit robberies…

Because of this, Jade was genuinely agonizing.

Should he personally step in and wipe out these filthy creatures?

Knock-knock—

Just then, a knock sounded. Jade turned towards the source.

Beyond the door opened by the butler stood Shion Ascal.

He first bowed politely.

“Lord Jade, it seems you are troubled, so I have come to see you.”

Jade sighed lightly and gestured with his eyes for the employees to leave. They all exited the room.

“You already know what this is about.”

Jade had given Shion a mission. He hadn’t named names, but he must have caught on.

“Yes. Regarding that matter, Miss Zia is also distressed.”

“Tell Zia it’s not her fault and not to worry.”

Jade gestured to a chair. Shion nodded and took a seat.

“Now that you’re here, let me explain the mission in more detail. Those pests have been up to all sorts of trouble.”

Jade detailed all the conflicts from the past few months. Shion pretended to be unaware and listened attentively.

“Did you request their location and identities to sweep them out?”

“l'm still considering it.”

Violence lacks dignity. There’s also the risk of information leaking out.

Suddenly, Shion spoke up.

“Lord Jade, may I speak freely?”

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” is that what you mean?

Even the elders, let alone the employees, would advise this.

“lt’s the concept of ’the chosen people.'”

Shion Ascal said something entirely different. Jade’s eyebrows twitched.

“Lord Jade, you are a noble chosen by the heavens. Your dignity and ability prove it.”

“…”

It was a compliment that pleased him greatly. Jade’s lips twitched slightly. He struggled to keep his smile from showing.

“On the other hand, those creatures are barbarians. To them, logic is power, and violence is dialogue.”

Shion placed a scroll on the desk, a map marked with specific coordinates.

“However, Lord Jade, violence is a term used among humans. To beasts that do not understand words, human violence is akin to enlightenment. Humans civilize beasts through violence.”

Jade nodded, listening to his words.

“Just as it is the right of humans to civilize beasts, civilizing barbarism is the right of chosen ones like Lord Jade. Such civilization is, in fact, a dignified act.”

He was a superior chosen one, and the others were uncivilized barbarians. The violence enacted upon them was not violence but civilization—a very persuasive proposition.

“That sounds plausible. But what if I have no intention of civilizing them?”

Shion looked puzzled, his eyes widening.

Jade’s expression darken.

“What if those creatures are beasts unworthy of civilization?”

Shion pondered for a moment before responding.

“Culling would be appropriate then. That too would be within Lord Jade’s rights.”

…The air itself seemed to freeze in the chilling winter.

Recently, the atmosphere of the Glofeld family has been gloomy. The entire estate seemed as if it had been drenched in rain, sagging under the weight.

Even the usually iron-willed head of the family, Derian, was no exception. His normally upright posture seemed bent as if he were sighing deeply.

“…Lord.”

Inside the private chambers of the Glofeld mansion.

A knight who had been with the family for 30 years bowed to Lord Derian.

“I believe it is time to seek them out.”

Derian was silent. He understood what the knight meant. Had it been three weeks earlier, he would have immediately issued a decree.

The knight spoke persuasively.

“lt is not about relying on superstitions. We must grasp at straws now. If we continue like this, young master Beckron will…”

“…”

Derian had a troubled expression.

The future of a person, the handling of souls through magic—such things could not exist. Thus, divination and shamanistic practices were merely ‘superstitions.’

Yet despite this—

“Lord, I ask for your command.”

Even Derian’s heart was weakening.

“…Did they agree to see him?”

“Excuse me?”

“Didn't Beckron cause a mess when he left that fortune teller’s place?”

Glofeld’s heir, Derian’s son Beckron.

His pancreatic cancer had been completely remitted. Magic medicine made that an easy feat.

However, he was still hospitalized. Due to some ‘symptoms’ that modern medicine couldn’t explain.

“The fortune teller must forgive Beckron before we decide whether to visit or not.”

Day by day, Beckron was wasting away, falling into some madness, blaming Derian. He was screaming that Derian’s refusal to meet was killing him.

What impact this information could have on Glofeld…

No, not just a blow to their public image, but a crisis that could end the Glofeld lineage.

“…ln fact. The lady has arranged a meeting.”

Derian’s eyes widened at the knight’s words.

“My daughter-in-law?”

“Yes. The lady somehow contacted Lord Yerain and successfully persuaded her to arrange the meeting.”

“Yerain? You mean Rodman’s daughter?”

“Yes. She too was saved from disaster thanks to the astrologer mage.”

Derian pondered. But thinking of his son in the hospital, he couldn't just sit idly.

Beckron was his only child, obtained late in life. He was also the last gift from his wife who had passed away earlier.

“…Alright. I will go myself, so ask her to prepare for a meeting.”

At Derian’s words, the knight sighed in relief.

“Yes. I will obey!”

He spoke loudly, bowing at a 90-degree angle.

Inside the tent of Castrology, I gaze upon Derian of Glofeld.

Though now a gaunt-faced old man, he still meets my eyes with a piercing gaze.

“l've heard you spoke some bizarre words to my son.”

His tone was quite worn.

I shook my head.

“Not bizarre words. I merely conveyed the words of the spirits.”

“…”

Derian slipped his hand into his coat. From it, he produced a small casket, placing it on the table.

“A treasure. If it were auctioned, it would fetch at least 300 million Ren.”

He opened the casket. Inside was a sphere the size of a ping pong ball.

I recognized the object at a glance.

“lt’s called a will-o’-the-wisp.”

This sphere floats around its owner, intercepting and protecting against external attacks.

An artifact far surpassing ordinary levels, indeed a treasure. Capable of replacing ten knights, it was a rarity even in Edsilla.

Certainly, it was an item to covet.

“Money isn't going to solve this.”

“…”

Derian’s hands tensed.

“lf money won’t solve it, then what will?”

“You are mistaken about the target of your anger. I merely interpret the flow of celestial bodies to people, embodying it through cards.”

“Meaning?”

Derian asked anxiously.

“I am the messenger of meanings. It is up to you to unravel them.”

“But why is my son suffering!”

He slammed his fists on the table. I calmly looked at him and explained.

“lt’s a resonance of the soul.”

“A resonance of the soul?”

Derian’s brow furrowed, veins pulsing on his bald head.

To him, I threw my words like a dagger.

“While you cherish your son, do you think so little of others’ sons and daughters?”

“…”

His expression hardened.

“The souls of those trivially lost have borrowed the power of the celestial bodies to descend upon your son.”

His bony hands trembled violently. He could barely breathe.

Snap-

I seized the moment to draw a card. It was green.

“The souls seek a proper apo logy .”

“…”

Derian silently looked at me. I floated several cards into the air. Suddenly, an auroralike phenomenon filled the tent.

It was an intended performance, and Derian momentarily lost himself in the spectacle.

“What exactly happened?”

“Will speaking change anything? Or, if you handle celestial bodies, shouldn't you know without words?”

Yet Derian still held onto his doubts.

“I can convey your intentions to the soul. But to do so, we must construct a ritual for the spirits.”

“A ritual?”

I nodded. Derian scoffed as if laughing.

“You mean to perform a ritual?”

“Something like that.”

“Ha.”

At that moment, Derian stomped his foot and stood up abruptly, intending to leave.

As I watched his retreating figure, I spoke.

“ln my view, the souls seem willing to forgive you to some extent.”

“…’To some extent'?”

He quickly grasped the significant implication of the words I had added.

“The souls say that it’s not just one family that has disturbed them. They claim that their tormentors attempted to fulfill some twisted ‘wish’ using them.”

“A wish…”

In an instant, Derian’s wrinkles tightened. His complexion turned as pale as if he had seen a ghost.

I pressed on.

“You are worthy of forgiveness. However, this also means you are being given a chance to make things right.”

“…”

Derian breathed heavily, wordlessly.

“lf you miss this opportunity, it won’t just be your son who suffers. You will never be able to continue your lineage.”

The old man’s knees wobbled, and his body slowly bent.

I flicked the last card. It turned into a drizzle that settled on the tent’s ceiling.

Jurrrrrrr…….

Derian’s back became cold and wet.

“Confess your errors to the souls and beg for a chance to make amends. They still have the heart to forgive you…”

I spoke like a sage who had seen through everything. At that moment, Derian began to cry. It was rare to see an old man cry, but there was no need for sympathy or Pity-

Whether it was partial cooperation, full cooperation, or if he was the instigator, he deserved much more suffering than this.

I waited for Derian’s crying to stop.

“…”

I thought he would stop sooner, but Derian cried for quite a long time. It was a hard sound to listen to. Surely, his son’s illness must have been a tremendous mental agony.

How much time had passed?

I inadvertently looked at my watch.

Already 30 minutes had gone by.

“…”

The old man was still crying. There seemed to be no end in sight.

When will this end? Why is this old man behaving like this?

“Time is running short.”

I finally urged him.

At last, Derian stopped crying. With a shuffling sound, he astonishingly lifted his dried-out body and sat down in front of me.

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