His heartless banter with Old Ed somewhat alleviated the sympathy and guilt Elias felt for Aaron.
Just as he habitually complained in his mind during tense situations, this near-cold humor was a defense mechanism.
In this mysterious world full of the unknown, excessive sentimentality was often a fatal poison; it would not only interfere with decision-making but could also cost one their life.
Elias took a deep breath, suppressing those untimely emotions back into the depths of his heart and resuming his shrewd expression.
"I saw that person seem to summon a spirit world creature earlier?"
"That thing that crawled out of the rift."
Elias gestured with a frown.
"It was a spirit world creature, wasn't it?"
"What exactly was that?"
"A messenger!" Aaron answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his tone like someone asking, "Don't you wear shoes when you go out?"
"That is a messenger who has signed a contract with the spirit world, specifically responsible for delivering information between the material realm and the spirit world."
"Don't you have one?"
Elias's hand holding the wine glass stiffened.
"I... should I have one?"
While vaguely stalling Aaron, he roared at the unreliable old man in his mind.
'Old Ed! This is another one of those things you forgot to mention, isn't it?!'
'Something even a primary schooler has, and I don't?!'
'Again with this? If it's such common knowledge, do you think I wouldn't tell you if you asked?'
'The point is, you didn't ask!' Old Ed's aggrieved voice rang in his mind.
'Messengers are generally spirit world creatures. Like dream demons, they don't have much offensive power themselves, but they can travel through spirit world rifts and cross vast physical distances extremely quickly using spirit world coordinates.'
'As long as you say the corresponding true name or hold a contract token, they can accurately deliver messages to the designated person.'
At this point, Old Ed's voice suddenly took on a hint of playfulness.
'However, these things charge a fee.'
'Do you have any soul coins?'
'What the hell? That sounds incredibly evil!' Elias's heart skipped a beat.
'Summoning a messenger requires a specific ritual and the payment of "soul coins" as a reward.'
'This thing is the universal currency for spirit world creatures. Most legitimate transcendents hire their messengers from the Spirit World Post Office.'
'That is an extremely massive and rigid organization. They place great importance on the spirit of the contract—you get what you pay for, and they never offer credit.'
'And the Spirit World Post Office only accepts soul coins.'
'Do you have any?'
'What do you think?' Elias rolled his eyes in his mind.
Old Ed's soul-searching interrogation once again made him feel the helplessness of poverty.
He was short on gold crowns, so where would he get spirit world currency?
'The black market exchange rate between soul coins and gold crowns is roughly ten to one, and even then, there's no supply to meet the demand.'
'No one knows what kind of high-existence level being creates them, but it's said that every single coin is made from a cursed soul.'
As if he hadn't dealt enough of a blow, Old Ed continued to gloat.
'Who knows, if you ever die from the dream demon curse, with your spirituality being so robust, you might have the honor of being made into two soul coins!'
'By then, your net worth will have doubled!'
'Piss off!' Elias cursed decisively in his mind.
This old man was purely asking for it!
Listening to Old Ed's hearty, almost perverse laughter after mocking him, Elias focused his attention back on reality.
He looked at the confused young master before him, spread his hands, and pointed to the not-so-expensive frieze coat he was wearing.
"Aaron, you're high nobility after all. Do I look like someone who can afford to hire a messenger?"
Aaron froze for a moment, then looked him up and down.
After considering that the man had even accepted a commission for a mere 200 gold crowns, he finally nodded in agreement.
"You're right, you don't."
Though it was the truth, it really stung.
"But since you have a messenger, why didn't you ask for help?"
"Why would you think of running to a place as mixed as the Society of Freemen instead of the orthodox god churches or something?" Elias asked the key question.
Since he had such an instant communication tool, why bother running around?
"I did."
Aaron's mood plummeted again as he fidgeted with the hem of his clothes.
"When many members of the family went missing, the family summoned a messenger to seek help from the Life Scholars."
"But the plea for help was like a stone sinking into the ocean."
"Furthermore, the moment Mr. Ford went missing yesterday, I also summoned a messenger to try and contact him."
"And then?"
"And then, I suspect the message was intercepted."
Aaron shrunk his neck.
"Because less than ten minutes later, those people in brown coats found me."
"..."
Elias opened his mouth, unable to say a word for a long time.
It... it can be intercepted?!
Then what's the difference between that and finding a postman to deliver a letter?!
Aren't we supposed to be talking about mysticism here?
"The messenger I contracted with has also gone silent."
Elias couldn't help but feel a headache coming on, his temples throbbing.
What a mess.
This 200 gold crowns was proving to be a bit too troublesome to earn!
This wasn't just finding someone; this was clearly walking right into an enemy's encirclement.
But what if he didn't go?
Only earn the 50 gold crowns deposit in his hand?
What was the difference between that and earning nothing!
No, since he was already here...
"How about this."
Elias pondered for a moment.
"I can take you to find him and check under that manhole cover according to the traces Mr. Ford left behind."
"But we must renegotiate the terms."
He leaned forward, looking Aaron straight in the eye, his tone becoming exceptionally serious, even somewhat cold.
"Once we find him, regardless of Mr. Ford's state—whether he is alive or dead, whole or... in pieces—you must settle the remaining balance."
Aaron seemed to want to say something, but Elias raised a hand to cut him off.
"Because you concealed the true nature of the commission."
"You said it was to find someone, not rescue them, and certainly not snatch them from the hands of cultists."
"If I were to go to the Society of Freemen right now and report you for concealing risks, you would be blacklisted immediately."
"When that happens, no one in the entire transcendent world of Hope County will take your job, and you'll have to face those people alone."
"Furthermore, let me emphasize again: I am under no obligation to be your bodyguard."
"If we encounter an overwhelming danger, I will prioritize my own survival."
"Is it a deal?"
Elias kept a straight face, trying his best to look like an emotionless killer.
Aaron bit his lip; he knew he was in the wrong.
At this moment, he had no choice but to rely on this man who seemed to have at least some shred of a moral compass.
"Okay."
He nodded submissively.
"It's a deal."
After the two had renegotiated the commission details, Elias downed the glass of slightly bitter beer that had just been served.
"Let's go. Let's see which hole Mr. Ford crawled into."
Leaving the tavern, the two made their way through the dark, damp alleys.
Guided by Aaron's description and Spirit Vision, they soon arrived at Miller's Lane in the central district.
This was the location of many food shops, where one could often buy cheap bread.
Following the lingering, already very thin spirituality traces of Mr. Ford, they finally stopped before a cast-iron manhole cover in a corner.
"This is the place?"
Elias raised an eyebrow, looking at the entrance that appeared disgusting no matter how he viewed it, his face revealing his distaste.
To be honest, he didn't really want to crawl into the sewers.
It wasn't just a matter of being a germaphobe; it was a physical repulsion.
Aaron nodded vigorously, pointing at the manhole cover with absolute certainty.
"The traces end right here."
Elias glanced at the kid.
Aaron's face was covered in coal dust and grease from his earlier escape, and his clothes had long since become so dirty that their original color was unrecognizable; it wouldn't matter if he went down.
But the coat Elias was wearing had only recently been washed...
Forget it!
Compared to those 200 gold crowns, what did clothes matter?!
At worst, he would just buy a new one!
"Give me a hand."
Having made his decision, Elias stopped being fussy.
He pulled a dagger from his coat, wedged it into the gap of the manhole cover to pry it loose, and then, together with Aaron, began the manhole-lifting business.
Just one block away.
In Pinewood Alley, which ran parallel to Miller's Lane.
A short, one-eyed man wearing an eyepatch had stopped in the middle of the alley with several investigators in black uniforms.
They all wore a silver badge on their chests—the emblem of the Seventh Agency.
The one-eyed man looked down at the equally rust-covered manhole cover at his feet, his remaining eye flashing with a look of disgust.
He spat heavily on the ground, his grumbling voice echoing in the silent alley.
"Dammit, I have to wade through shit just to investigate a case."
"Disgusting!"
Rate on N.U.
