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“Just so you know, don’t think this means you owe me anything.”
“The food is meant for her. I couldn’t care less about you.”

With a sullen and indifferent tone, the dwarf spoke, and Ashimi responded in an equally unfriendly manner. In the end, the dwarf and the girl easily accepted the emergency rations Ashimi reluctantly offered with a, “Well, if it’s given, I’ll take it.”

Currently, Ashimi and the dwarf are having a chat outside while waiting for the girl to prepare dinner inside the shack. This was simply because the broken pots, pans, and scrap iron scattered inside the shack prevented Ashimi, who had a metal allergy, from entering. Meanwhile, the girl, accustomed to it, nimbly navigated her way inside.

“I can’t understand why anyone would willingly stay in such a place reeking of metal…”
“I’m not collecting it for fun. I repair broken pots and pans and cast unusable iron into knives and such to make a living.”
“Hmph, a tinkerer, huh?”
“That’s right. I can’t do full-scale blacksmithing, but I can manage that much. It’s quite useful around here.”

After all, even in a slum like this, there is still a semblance of human activity.

“…what’s with the half-elf?”
“I’ve got no connection to her. Well, we’re both outcasts, supporting each other… that’s about it.”
“You are a weird one.”

Despite his words, Ashimi felt a slight sense of respect for the elderly dwarf—though considering the lifespan of dwarves, which is only two to three times that of humans, the two were probably of similar age. Ashimi was surprised to recognize such feelings within himself.

“Hah! In a place like this, you can’t survive if you fuss over the details. That said, young one, you’re quite different from the usual Mister High-and-Mighty Elf. To worry about that half-elf girl and come to a dump like this that could be cleared out at any time, and to trade barbs with a dwarf like me, quite the peculiar one.”

As always, the dwarf spoke rudely, but there was a hint of admiration in his tone. Ashimi shrugged lightly, acknowledging it.

“Don’t call me ‘young one,’ my name is Ashimi. More importantly, gramps, tell me what you mean about the clearing out.”
“Hmph. I ain’t no gramps. The name’s Bernd. Also, that’s not something new. The bigwigs in the city don’t like this neighborhood. They call it illegal squatting, an eyesore, a breeding ground for crime and try to drive us out. Hah! They think that if we disappear from their sight, then poverty and discrimination will disappear too.”
“…That’s a disgusting thought.”

To Ashimi’s candid remark — “Heh,” this time, Bernd revealed a smile, showing his broken front teeth.

♦♢♦

The first thing that Silhouette (a pseudonym) —the president, salesperson, and procurement officer of the All-Solutions Firm— said to his employee who turned a simple delivery into an unexplained three-day absence was;

“Who might you be again?”

Despite her tearful apologies, he showed leniency by cutting her salary by only thirty percent, a surprisingly mild punishment.

“…I feel like it would have been better if I had just kept working at the café.”
“In that case, we would have sent an assassin under the pretext of maintaining confidentiality.”

Knowing there was no threat or exaggeration in the words that he spoke without as much as lifting his head from the account book, she replied, “Just kidding,” with a blank expression.

For a while, the sound of flipping pages and writing filled the store as he organized reports sent from various places.

Silhouette was organizing them in chronological order when he came across a report dated today about an evil deed planned to take place near the Imperial Capital, Cilento. “Hmm,” he grunted.

“Is something the matter, boss?”
“No. It seems there’s a request from some corrupt official to clear out the slums, but I doubt something like this can be done in a single day.”
“That’s true. That place has a strong sense of community and they’re not afraid of violence… In a way, it’s a gathering of people who have nothing to lose, so previous government policies should have failed. Let’s see… The contract was taken by the illegal adventurers’ guild ‘Dragon Tail,’ and it’s to be executed by Gustav Dahl, a former C-rank adventurer turned bandit and current bounty target, along with his comrades.”
“A corrupt official, an illegal guild, and a former adventurer with a bounty on his head—it’s a lineup that screams trouble. I doubt they’ll handle this peacefully… will it even work out?”
“Even if these people use violence for a living, the numbers and scale are different. I can’t imagine a few former adventurers could make much of a difference.”

While she predicted these bandits might at most resort to some thuggish intimidation or get beaten up by the slum dwellers, Silhouette, in contrast, tilted his head with a difficult expression (though his usual smirk didn’t reveal much change).

“Hmm. They should at least understand that much… but I have a feeling this could turn into a troublesome situation. It reeks of a short-sighted and foolish move. —If it escalates into something that can’t be covered up, make arrangements to offer them up as scapegoats.”

“Understood.”

Without any further unnecessary exchange, she nodded and immediately began making the necessary preparations. Silhouette, having given the instructions, returned his attention to the various documents detailing the criminal activities set to unfold across the continent, as if he had already forgotten about the matter.

♦♢♦

“Um, Ashimi, we’re already at the outskirts of town. How far are we going?”

When Luke was about to learn the basics of spirit arts under Pryui’s guidance just like yesterday, Ashimi had half-forcibly taken him out of Letindüte, saying, “It must be stifling to stay inside the mansion all the time. Today, I’ll teach you and we’ll go outside for a change of pace.” Luke, looking puzzled, glanced at the old houses around them where the lower-class citizens lived.

“A little further. Still, this area is within the city limits… If this is enough to scare you, the future looks bleak for you.”
“The future… Isn’t this for spirit arts training?”
“Uh… Yes, it’s training, practical training. It’s just that the location is a bit unusual. —By the way, do you have any cash on hand?”
“Well, I have some gold and silver coins. Why do you ask?”
“Then there’s no problem. I was thinking of letting you hear a good song, and that’s the listening fee.”
“Music? Are you going to play…?”

Luke tilted his head, looking at Ashimi’s lute, which he had taken out before they left and was now slung over his back. He had heard from Jill that Ashimi and Pryui sometimes pretended to be bards in Letindüte, hence the question, but Ashimi shook his head and said, “No.”