Thankfully, Forrest acquiesced to Oliver's abrupt request, even though he was shrewd enough to sense that there was something amiss. However, being an inherently benevolent individual, Forrest didn't delve further into the matter.
Expressing regret at their missed opportunity to converse, he bid Oliver farewell and drove off in his car. Once Forrest was out of sight, Oliver sprang into action.
Tak- Tak- Tak- Tak-
With each step Oliver took, the quarterstaff in his hand struck the ground, producing a rhythmic sound.
He passed by buildings resembling palaces and magnificent clock towers he had only seen in s, and entered a luxurious park prepared for politicians and city officials working in District A.
"Hello?"
As Oliver approached the entrance of the park, he greeted a man sitting on a nearby bench, busily feeding the pigeons. Although they were not entirely unfamiliar with each other, they were hardly acquaintances.
Startled by Oliver's sudden appearance, the flock of pigeons took flight in unison, leaving the man unfazed. He continued to scatter food, seemingly more interested in the act of feeding than in the birds themselves.
"I was waiting just in case, and you indeed came."
"Were you waiting for me?"
"Didn't you know?"
"No, I didn't. I just happened to see you here, and I wanted to express my gratitude."
"Gratitude? For what?"
"Thanks to the book and corpse dolls Mr. Puppet left behind, I was able to use corpse dolls… I received help, so I'm grateful. Thank you."
The man, no, Puppet stopped scattering pigeon food and turned his head to look at Oliver.
"Kukuku… You're quite interesting. The time spent coming to meet you wasn't wasted."
"What business do you have with me?"
"Well, I have something to discuss… It might take some time, though. Do you have time?"
Puppet kindly checked Oliver's schedule first.
"Yes. About an hour… Is it okay to talk here?"
"I don't mind, but do you not like it?"
"No, it's fine. But, can I ask for a favor before we start?"
"What is it?"
Oliver pointed to the ice cream booth at the end of the path.
The sign on the ice cream booth was engraved with the words ‘luxurious vanilla and rich chocolate flavor'.
"Can I buy ice cream? I want to eat one."
"Hmm… Buy one for me too, then."
⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩
To anyone privy to the details, the scene would appear quite bizarre. A black magic grandmaster who had lived for centuries, never revealing his true form to anyone and had trained countless organizations and disciples, was casually seated on a park bench enjoying a vanilla ice cream cone. Beside him was a young man barely in his twenties. Yet, ironically, to an outsider who was unaware of the situation, it seemed natural enough. The two appeared to be friends with a slight age difference.
"I didn't expect you to like ice cream."
"I don't dislike anything in particular. I like sweet things too… By the way, Mr. Puppet, can you taste it?"
Puppet's expression became slightly troubled at the question, despite its rationality given that the body he was occupying was also a corpse doll.
"That's a bit… discriminatory. Racist."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
As soon as he heard the apology, Puppet chuckled.
"However, it's a valid question. Even though it's a corpse doll, I can taste it. I can feel the touch of the wind, and I can hear the chirping of birds… I had to invest a considerable amount of time, but I wanted to enjoy this blessing."
One could perceive a sense of shamelessness from someone who had lived for centuries and had conducted innumerable human experiments, but at the same time, there was an air of sincerity and reverence in his demeanor.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
After savoring every last bit of the ice cream, including the cone, both of them showed contentment. It was clear that they had enjoyed it thoroughly.
"Now, if you don't mind, may I ask why you wanted to meet me? I was honestly surprised to see you here."
"There are many reasons: my personal curiosity, the current situation, and the fact that you have recently been involved in some interesting events."
Puppet twirled his finger as he spoke, seemingly sincere.
"Thank you for being curious about me. But I don't quite understand what you mean by ‘the current situation' and ‘interesting events'."
"Cannibal Chef."
Puppet uttered the words softly.
"Recently, you've taken down some disciples of Cannibal Chef."
"Are the individuals you are referring to Mr. Cook, the manipulation-type warlock, Mr. Pig Face, Mr. Venium, those four?"
"Don't bother telling me. I wouldn't remember them anyway. They're not my disciples, and can you imagine me remembering every person I've met over hundreds of years?"
Puppet made an uncharacteristically callous comment. It was hardly surprising, given that he could barely recall the name of his own disciple, Glyph– the warlock who attempted to hand over the beggars alive to the Black Hand.
While it was understandable to some degree that living for centuries could alter a person's mindset, it was still regrettable.
"Answer me. Did you really take them down?"
"Yes."
Oliver gave a detailed explanation of how he had defeated his opponents, along with his response to the earlier question.
He described how he had swiftly taken down the first warlock who specialized in manipulation, using a corpse doll-corpse cannon. He also explained how he had triumphed over Cook and Pigface in a direct confrontation, and captured Venium with Pinkman's assistance.
As he spoke, Oliver couldn't help but feel like he had maybe mentioned the Venium incident unnecessarily. However, Puppet didn't seem to care much about it. To him, it was too insignificant.
Instead, he redirected the conversation to another topic.
"It's quite impressive how deftly you used the corpse dolls,"
"The book was helpful. Thank you again."
Oliver was sincere. Although he had Glyph's journal, the first step was thanks to Puppet's book.
"It's ridiculous that all this happened because I forgot to take that book."
"Isn't that the fun of life?"
At Oliver's words, Puppet chuckled.
"Kukuku…You're not wrong. Speaking of which, have you ever considered joining the Black Hand?"
Taken aback by the unexpected proposal, Oliver stared at Puppet without answering.
His faint emotional state seemed genuine.
"…The Black Hand?"
"Yes, if you want, you can become my disciple, or if you don't like that, you can just stay under my shadow. Or you can even create an organization and become a part of it. I'll support you with personnel and funding."
Puppet's proposal was sincere and groundbreaking, sparking curiosity in Oliver's mind. He wondered about the reason behind it, though he already knew the answer was predetermined.
"I am truly grateful, but I must decline."
"Ho…"
A hint of emotion appeared on Puppet's face. He apparently hadn't expected such an answer.
"May I ask why? There are many warlocks who want to join the Black Hand."
"I just don't want to belong to an organization. If I join an organization, I'd have to work, and that would take up my time, and I might have to do things I don't want to do."
Oliver braced himself for Puppet's next words, ready to counter whatever argument the ancient warlock may present. He expected to hear praises about the Black Hand and how fortunate he was to be offered such a proposal.
But to his surprise, Puppet's response was entirely different from what he anticipated.
"If that's the case, there's no problem. With your skills, as long as you don't cause direct friction with the other members, you'll be free from most obligations. You'll have freedom."
Oliver was taken aback by the situation. It was the first time someone had offered him membership in an organization without any apparent ulterior motives. Usually, people wanted something from him and used benefits as leverage to get what they desired.
But with Puppet, it seemed different. The offer of membership was a genuine benefit, and there was no hidden agenda behind it. It was a strange feeling, and Oliver didn't quite know how to react.
"That’s a generous offer."
"You piqued my interest… And it's certainly not a disadvantageous proposal for you."
"Yes, with such benefits, of course…"
"… That's not what I meant."
"Pardon?"
"It might sound like a threat, but if you don't join the Black Hand, your life could become a bit more difficult."
"May I ask why?"
"The number of people targeting you will increase since you've taken down the disciples of Chef."
"…Like revenge?"
"Not at all. It's just greed for you yourself."
"…?"
"A warlock who suddenly appeared and killed the disciples of Cannibal Chef. That alone has various values. Killing you could raise anyone's fame, or perhaps provide excellent experimental data for warlocks or wizards."
Oliver roughly understood what he meant.
"I was just hired by Pinkman to do it."
"But you were the most active in the fight. Plus, you're a warlock."
"Ah…."
"Furthermore, both my side and the Cannibal Chef's side consider you an attractive item. The Cannibal Chef accumulates power by eating people. You know that, right?"
"Yes."
"I'm no different. The stronger the corpse doll is, the stronger my power will be."
"But you don't intend to kill me."
"Not yet. A living you is more intriguing than a dead you."
"Why is that?"
"…It's no fun if I answer that right away. Kukuku."
Puppet's chuckle revealed that there was indeed a genuine reason behind it, rather than just a mere bluff. Nevertheless, Oliver remained firm in his decision to decline the offer, politely expressing his refusal once more.
"I'm sorry. I appreciate your concern, but I still have to decline."
"I'm not worried… I just want to know why. You know my words and offer are not lies. Why do you choose the difficult path instead of the easy one?"
Oliver considered the question with great care. Despite only having met Puppet twice, he had already taught him how to use corpse dolls and artificial souls. Additionally, he had come to him with kind advice.
Therefore, Oliver believed it was appropriate to provide an equally thoughtful response.
He reflected on several experiences, such as Glyph's underground warehouse where he had imprisoned women and children, Puppet's human experimentation, and the secret underground laboratory at Mattel lab where he met Rosbane.
Though he did not condemn their actions, still…
"….I don’t like it."
Oliver answered.
With a short but meaningful response, Puppet didn't seem offended and chuckled.
"Kukuku… Don’t like it… Well, that's a sufficient reason."
Puppet stood up from his seat without any lingering attachment. There was no sign of discomfort or anger.
"Are you leaving?"
"Now that my business is done, there's no reason for me to stay here."
"Um… I'm sorry I couldn't give a better answer."
"You're polite. I also managed to get some ice cream. In return, I'll let you know something interesting."
"Um?"
"Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock has started ticking."
⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩
Flutter. Flutter. Flutter.
Oliver was reading the book that Kevin had given him in the Magic Tower staff room.
It wasn't just reading; he was summarizing important key points and transferring them to a notebook as a kind of preparation for Kevin's lectures.
Originally, it was Kevin's job, but with the piled-up side tasks like lecture room allocation, securing additional budget for classes, and coordinating schedules for educational facilities, Oliver was entrusted with organizing the lower-priority work.
Even so, work was work.
Usually, he should be happy and do his best, but Oliver couldn't fully concentrate as he typically would.
The reason was none other than Puppet's parting words.
‘Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock has started ticking.'
An incomprehensible statement about the clock ticking.
He wanted to ask more, but Puppet didn't answer and left, so Oliver couldn't follow up with questions.
It was just a feeling, but it didn't seem like something he said out of boredom.
What could it possibly mean? The clock is ticking.
Suddenly, he thought there might be a slight connection to the attack on the auction house by the Human-meat Chef's subordinates.
Knock-! Knock-!
While summarizing the book's content and lost in thought, he heard a knocking sound at the door.
The sound was somewhat rough, and the emotions visible beyond the door also seemed quite irritated.
It was a familiar face.
When Oliver got up and opened the door, there was indeed a familiar face.
It was the librarian of the Elemental School Tower.
The person who seemed displeased when Oliver marveled at the automatic door.
"Hello?"
Oliver politely greeted the unexpected visitor.
The librarian still had a displeased expression.
"Why are you here?"
"Pardon?"
"I called for professors' personal staff members to help organize the library, but you didn't come, Mr. Zenon. What's the matter?"
Oliver was taken aback by the sharp question.
"A call?"
"Yes, didn't you get a signal from the caller?"
"I didn't receive any caller."
It was true. Oliver hadn't heard about the existence of a caller from either Merlin or Kevin.
"…It was introduced this year, but it seems there was some mistake. Please inquire at the equipment management office."
"Thank you for your advice."
"You should know how to do it yourself… Anyway, come to the library quickly. Because you're not there, other people are doing more work."
(To be Continued)
OR
$5/month6 chap ahead + 5 chap/week$15/month12 chap ahead + 5 chap/week$30/month19 chap ahead + 5 chap/week$45/monthAll advance chap + 6 chap/week
