57. The Phoenix Guild

“No. Bro. That… is there really nothing else?”

“What! What is it!”

The mood had gone cold, and Yujin’s voice rose.

“Boss. I hate to say it, but going just by the name, it sounds like one of those black companies.”

“Translate ‘Company’ literally and that’s exactly what it means.”

After I showed off my skills and fed them till they were full. These ungrateful little wretches!

Yujin fell quiet for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth.

“You’re really telling me no?”

““Yes!””

You lot. Did you plot this together while you were eating?

The group answered as one, and his head throbbed.

‘What’s so wrong with “black”!’

Yujin propped his chin on his hand and sank into grave deliberation.

This is a problem. I never even considered another name.

“Is Noir acceptable?”

“Sounds like I oughta be carrying a gun.”

“More than that, Bro, that’s just French for ‘black,’ isn’t it.”

“I never knew our business partner had a thing for playing with colors.”

Damn it. To think they’d catch on right away that it’s just ‘black’ in French.

“Don’t just shoot things down — come up with an idea.”

“There’s four surnames, so how about Four Family?”

“You don’t plan on taking anyone else on later?”

“How about Alliance?”

“Rejected. Sounds like the name of a newspaper.”

A few more ideas surfaced after that, but none could win over the whole group; never mind the group, they couldn’t even win over Yujin.

“Any other opinions? Then let’s go with the original plan.”

— Haaah.

Shin Junseok let out a sigh, and the Kang siblings shook their heads.

“It really is a black company, no two ways about it.”

“So even Bro has a human side. Your sense for naming is just no good.”

Black Company

In the end, the Company was founded under the very name the whole group had recoiled from.

The next day.

Stepping out from his rest in the workshop, Yujin glanced toward the buzz of voices outside.

“What a thronging crowd.”

“Those people have no sense of day or night. Being competent is such a tiresome thing.”

You don’t usually say something like that out loud, you know.

Ignoring Yujin’s baffled look, Shin Junseok wore an annoyed expression.

“You’ve still got no interest in investment, right?”

“I’ve already gotten what I needed from you, partner, so I’m fine.”

“Building the factory up bigger wouldn’t be a bad thing, though.”

“I know the limits of my ability. Get too greedy and I’ll come crashing down.”

Oh. What’s this? Shin Junseok, were you always this good at sizing yourself up? Back before the regression he was the very incarnation of narcissism, but for now he was still within the bounds of a normal person.

“What is it. That look in your eyes.”

“Nothing. Pay it no mind.”

Feigning ignorance, Yujin brushed off Shin Junseok’s suspicious gaze and spoke again.

“Did you hand over the first run of potions to Arahan?”

“Yes. A hundred and one all told.”

“That’s fewer than I’d have thought.”

“The original target was two hundred. It doesn’t go as well as you’d hope.”

Even with automated production, fully unmanned operation was impossible. A machine could only stand in for a human on the simplest tasks: heating the mana-stone melt to a set temperature, or laying out the materials.

“You know it too, partner. Alchemy’s a rather delicate field, you see.”

A slight difference in temperature, the quantity of materials, the sequence and timing of their addition: such was alchemy, where the final product shifted with each. In the end the final tuning fell to Shin Junseok, and that was why an unmanned factory still couldn’t dramatically boost output. If anything, filling even half the initial target was a remarkable feat.

“That’s true enough.”

“Anyway, I need to do a second run, but it’s a hassle with things in that state outside.”

“You can’t keep those fellows standing out there forever.”

“You’re telling me to accept an investment proposal?”

“No. Just pick out somewhere to hand off the second-run quantity.”

The story of Shin Junseok turning down a thirty-billion investment offer had spread through guilds and corporations alike, and a good many of those clamoring outside wanted the second run of potions even more than a chance to invest.

“Since Arahan worked so hard promoting the efficacy of the mass-produced mid-grade potions.”

“To pester a man for a reason like that.”

“And if you happen to get lucky and accept an investment proposal, all the better.”

Either way it was a guaranteed gain, so they had no reason to stay quiet. Once a single group was chosen to absorb the second run, a fair number of the rest would drift away.

“Have you got somewhere in mind?”

“Not particularly. How about either Phoenix or Dawn.”

“Not Arahan, then.”

“I sank their Supernova — why would I do them any favors?”

He’d dragged Arahan into promoting the mass-produced mid-grade potions because, at the time, he’d had few other means. The Shin Junseok of this timeline was a nameless alchemist, and proving the potions’ efficacy would have taken a fair while. Dragging Arahan in had been a way to cut that ‘time’ down.

“There’s no need for it now.”

“So you meant it that way from the start.”

“Heh heh heh. That’s just how business relationships go.”

The two of them headed toward the fence.

“Alchemist Shin!”

“And the Hunter Cheon Yujin’s right beside him!”

— Murmur, murmur.

“You’ve become quite popular yourself, partner?”

“Being competent is such a tiresome thing.”

At his own words thrown back at him, Shin Junseok’s face flushed red.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Wow. How’d you guess. Must be because you’re the alchemist who succeeded at mass-producing mid-grade potions.”

“Enough. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

While Yujin snickered, a woman caught sight of him and gave a start.

“You. Could it be — the Forgotten Shrine?”

The voice was one he’d heard not long ago, and Yujin’s head whipped around.

The woman wore her long hair tied back neatly, her skin clean and clear, a single sword at her waist. The moment Yujin’s eyes met hers, he let out a low, groaning hum.

‘Jang Miseon, is it?’

A Hunter hailed as the next Sword Saint, the hope of the Phoenix Guild. In his past life, she’d been the one to clear the Forgotten Shrine.

‘Thanks to her, the Dragon-Scale Armor’s served me well, though.’

Had he not recalled the contents of Jang Miseon’s interview, he’d never have cracked the secret of the Forgotten Shrine, and only the Dragon-Scale Armor had carried him through the manpower shortfall in the crimson camouflage clear and the spider hunt.

‘She never used the Dragon-Scale Armor anyway.’

The armor reshaped itself freely at its user’s will. Drawing out its full power, though, meant taking the heavy-armor form, and that didn’t suit the speed-focused Jang Miseon. In the end the Dragon-Scale Armor had passed to Kim Yeongsu, master of the Phoenix Guild.

‘It suits Fafnir better anyway.’

Of course. It’s not as if I snatched away someone’s fortuitous encounter; I just handed it to whoever needed it more.

‘If it galls you, then regress that fellow too.’

A mere backwater goblin, and so full of talk.

He’d run into someone unexpected, but precisely because of that, it became all the more certain.

“Is there a Phoenix representative there?”

“Right here.”

The man standing beside Jang Miseon shot his right arm up, looking stiff and plainly nervous.

A sneer tugged at the corner of Shin Junseok’s mouth.

“Back when I was at Daeseong, the people from Arahan and Phoenix held their heads awfully high, you know.”

“The name-value of the organization you belong to is your own weight, after all.”

“That’s exactly why it’s so strange.”

Even back when he’d worked as a senior researcher at the Daeseong Group, he’d never been treated like this. After his results were stolen and he tendered his resignation, his colleagues had all tried to talk him out of it; it felt like only yesterday.

‘It’s all thanks to Master Yujin.’

Keeping his feelings well hidden, Shin Junseok ushered the Phoenix personnel who’d raised their hands inside.

The two from the Phoenix Guild were shown to a reception room set up in one corner of the workshop. Since the place was a converted abandoned factory, calling it a “reception room” was generous; the whole thing looked ready to topple in the first stiff breeze.

“The workshop’s in this sorry state. Still, make yourselves comfortable.”

“Just being welcomed is gratitude enough.”

The Phoenix sales rep bowed so deeply it looked as though he’d plant his head in the ground.

Word that mass-produced mid-grade potions had been sourced through Arahan was already running rampant through the industry. Simply securing a private audience with the man at the center of it all was a real coup.

“But who is the person accompanying you?”

“This is the Hunter Jang Miseon.”

“I never imagined I’d meet the next Sword Saint in a workshop. It’s an honor.”

Shin Junseok didn’t extend her an unconditional welcome. Next Sword Saint or not, she had nothing to do with the potion trade.

Catching the barb buried in his words, Jang Miseon broke into a soft smile.

“I’m sorry for the rudeness. Even so, I had my own reason for coming to this workshop.”

“Might you tell us what that purpose is?”

“I once had a sparring match with Song Myeongseok, and I lost.”

— Ah.

A sigh slipped from Shin Junseok.

“And I heard the Hunter Cheon Yujin happened to be at the Paju workshop, too… is what I heard.”

As if on cue, three pairs of eyes turned toward one person.

— Sniff.

Yujin gave a nonchalant snort.

“Um, so, Hunter Cheon Yujin.”

“If you’re asking whether we’ve met once before, then yes.”

“Right? The Forgotten Shrine!”

“That was barely more than passing each other by, yet you remember it well.”

“I felt it back then, just like that! I told myself you weren’t an ordinary person. Really, wow. To think it was just a coincidence is…”

Hold on. This girl, was she always such a talker? A connection that amounted to nothing more than our eyes meeting at a gate clear.

And even before the regression, by the time Yujin was active in earnest, Jang Miseon was already dead, so there had been no point of contact at all. Maybe that was why.

‘She’s an awful lot of a chatterbox.’

‘I didn’t know she was this kind of character.’

Leave her be and she’d run on to a second verse, a third, all the way to a fourth.

He gave a couple of short coughs, ahem, ahem, and Jang Miseon, who had been chattering without pause, blinked her eyes wide.

“What’s the reason you wanted to see me?”

“I wanted to see the Hunter who beat Song Myeongseok.”

“Then your purpose has been accomplished.”

“Coming here, one more reason cropped up.”

A question mark floated up over Yujin’s head.

“The, the one who beat Song Myeongseok was the summon you used at the Forgotten Shrine, right?”

“You remember even that much. Impressive.”

“It’s our first — no, our second time meeting, so this is rude, but I’d like to ask you for a sparring match.”

“And do I have any obligation to grant that request?”

Yujin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

“Partner. Still, she did come all the way from Phoenix — is there any need to think about it so negatively?”

“No. The one who came to see the Hunter Cheon Yujin is an individual. Not the Phoenix Guild.”

Jang Miseon drew a clear line: even if he refused the request, the Phoenix Guild would not retaliate.

— Hoh.

Yujin straightened from his half-reclined slouch.

‘She talks a lot, but her nature seems decent enough.’

He didn’t know much about Jang Miseon. A talent drawing notice as the next Sword Saint; the Hunter who’d cracked the secret of the uncleared gate, the Forgotten Shrine. Those were the only two anecdotes that came to mind.

Before she could ever bring that brilliant next-Sword-Saint talent into full bloom, she’d fallen into a trap laid by the Arahan Guild and become one who could not return.

‘She must have a fair bit of talent.’

Even when he deliberately scraped at her temper, slouching crooked with his arms folded, she only beamed, smile after smile. She never threw the guild’s weight around, and she’d even drawn that clear line herself.

‘Don’t go jumping to conclusions after seeing her once.’

Leave her be and she’d stamp her seal on a loan guarantee at the first person who asked. The world of mortals was far too harsh a place for a backwater goblin to survive in.

‘It’s true she’s naive, isn’t it.’

Ohh, really? Well then, let’s hear just why a backwater goblin came to such a judgment.

‘Hmm. That’s plausible.’

’…I can’t take it quite that easy. But since it’s your word, Constellation, I’ll make the effort.’

Kronos’s words made sound sense. Unlike the usual times the Constellation sang hymns to heroes on nothing but strung-together sophistry, this actually held up, and Yujin found himself nodding without thinking.

“Master Yujin?”

“My apologies. I was just thinking for a moment.”

Right. Just because I have no information on her doesn’t mean I need to push her away. Better to wring whatever I can out of the situation.

‘There’s no harm in observing what kind of person she is before I decide how to handle her.’

Song Myeongseok, too, was on his death-list, yet he hadn’t rushed off to cut the man’s throat. Taking the time to watch a variable he’d never encountered before the regression wouldn’t hurt either.

“And what do I get if I spar with you?”

“I’ll give you the heart-stone I’m carrying.”

“A, a heart-stone!!!”

Shin Junseok, who’d been listening in silence, let out a shriek.

A heart-stone amplified energy, the same as the blood-stone mined in the crimson camouflage. Ounce for ounce, blood-stone already ran pricier than gold, and a heart-stone was a powerful catalyst several times stronger still.

“It’s not something I need.”

“P-partner!!!”

I got you Paracelsus’s Magic Cylinder too, you know. A heart-stone’s a powerful catalyst, but I’ve no use for it right now.

“You mean if it’s an item of similar value, then it’s all right?”

“Quick on the uptake.”

“Anything I can obtain within my power, I’ll give you.”

The answer leapt out without a single second’s hesitation.

You. I’m starting to like you a little.

Only then did Yujin allow himself a satisfied smile.