Chapter 55
After returning from the hospital, Ian washed up, ate, and then immediately flopped onto the bed as if diving into it.
Normally, he would have read his grimoires or browsed the community right up until bedtime, but today he was fairly tired and didn't feel like doing anything else.
Rather than force his brain to keep working or study in this state, it would be much better to just sleep. He had to manage his condition for tomorrow, too.
Thinking that, Ian placed the Deep-Sea Chronicle beside his head, pulled the blanket over himself, and closed his eyes. Before long, his breathing evened out.
[…….]
The Deep-Sea Chronicle, which had been lying quietly, crawled over the moment Ian fell asleep and clung tightly to his chest. The Hand of Re-Creation, which had been sitting on the desk, stared at it disdainfully, then a few minutes later it too burrowed into Ian's side.
That night, he dreamed that two women whose faces he didn't even know were embracing him.
*
The next morning.
Ian sat up with sleepy eyes and peeled the grimoires off his chest and side. The grimoires resisted for a moment, but soon retreated obediently.
“……I’m sure I left them somewhere else. Why are they stuck to me.”
He stared vaguely at the grimoires lying face-down on the bed, gulped down the water he'd left by the bedside to shake off his sleepiness, and got up while stretching.
Perhaps because he'd slept well, his drowsiness disappeared quickly. Ian gathered his clothes, showered, and took out the ingredients he'd kept in the fridge to prepare a simple breakfast.
He hardly ever cooked for himself before, but lately he'd been trying to cultivate some interest in cooking.
There was no special reason; it was to avoid things like a Mystery showing up disguised as a delivery driver or getting suddenly abducted by a spatial-type Mystery. He also planned to pay a little attention to nutritional balance while he was at it.
Being a magician didn't mean he could just sit in the back and spam magic with a click. If anything, since he often had to run around on the front lines himself, building up his stamina was something he ought to do whenever he could.
Sizzle.
He grilled some frozen pork neck, not even sure when he'd bought it, and put rice and bean sprouts, among other things, into a bowl. Then he cut the properly cooked pork neck into bite-sized pieces and placed them over the rice.
The pork neck and bean sprout rice bowl was done. Ian grabbed whatever sauce was in the fridge, mixed it in roughly, and took a spoonful.
“Not bad.”
It tasted better than expected. He ate until he was full, did the dishes, and then sat on the bed.
He did wonder if he should go work out, but decided to just rest today.
His head was tangled up with thoughts anyway, and he'd moved around a lot yesterday, so he even had muscle soreness; resting a bit seemed like the right call.
It was already about time to return to his main line of work. It would be better to get his condition under control in advance.
Thinking that, Ian began tending to the cover of the 'Hand of Re-Creation,' as he'd promised before.
He brushed the dust away with his fingers, checked for stains, and swept off any impurities with a brush. The Hand of Re-Creation, as if pleased by Ian's touch, gave off a faint vibration and nestled itself even deeper into his grasp. The Deep-Sea Chronicle poked at his thigh with its corner, as if asking for its turn too.
Bzzzt.
Then, the phone he'd left by the bed vibrated. Ian set down the grimoire he was tending to for a moment and checked the phone screen.
[010-……: I'm Cecilia. Let's meet and talk.]
It was a message from someone he had expected to hear from. He hadn't expected her to text him the very next day, but he had figured Cecilia would contact him somehow.
After a brief moment of thought, Ian tapped out a reply on his phone keyboard.
[Me: How did you get my number?]
[Cecilia: I asked the nun, and she gave it to me. More importantly, where should we meet?]
[Me: I haven't agreed yet.]
A reply arrived a few minutes after Ian sent the message.
[Cecilia: You're curious about me too, aren't you?]
[Cecilia: I'll tell you. Let's meet.]
At her calm answer, Ian snorted softly and typed on the keyboard.
[Me: Let's meet at a cafe. I'll send you the address.]
*
Ding.
A small cafe not far from Ian's house.
When he opened the door and stepped inside, the part-time worker greeted him warmly.
“Welcome!”
“Yeah.”
Ian gave her a perfunctory response and turned his gaze to look for Cecilia. Before long, he found her sitting alone in a corner, sipping coffee.
‘Weapons... didn’t she bring any separately.’
Cecilia's outfit was very ordinary. She had taken off her coat and set it on the seat beside her, and there didn't seem to be anywhere to hide a gun or knife. If anything, she might have tucked something like a switchblade into her pocket, and he could react to something like that easily enough.
He'd left the bloodstained coat behind, but he had brought the reverse-sight device. If Cecilia showed hostility, he could respond immediately and maybe even subdue her instead, so there was no need to worry too much.
‘...Am I not being a little too murderous from the start?’
The thought suddenly crossed his mind, but thinking about his own safety first wasn't strange for a magician. Ian put on a dignified expression again and walked toward Cecilia.
“Ah.”
When she spotted Ian, she set down the coffee cup she was holding.
Espresso.
It was the coffee most Italians loved. But Ian wrinkled his brow slightly at the awful bitterness he could sense even from the smell and operated the kiosk.
“What the hell do you even taste in that? Isn't Americano better?”
“Damn Korean. Don't insult coffee.”
“I’m losing it.”
Ian let out a dry laugh and ordered an iced Americano.
A moment later, he sat down opposite Cecilia with his finished drink. She stared at the pale brown coffee with a hateful look in her eyes.
“It looks like devil's dishwater...”
“...That doesn't seem like something a cleric should say.”
Ian took a sip of the Americano and got straight to the point.
“So, what did you want to say?”
…….
Rather than answer immediately, Cecilia took a sip of coffee like Ian. The hot, bitter liquid wriggled over her tongue and slid down her throat. Thanks to that, the winter chill seemed to ease up a little.
“...My purpose in coming to Korea was to find the magician who picked up a grimoire of a Foreign God.”
Without beating around the bush, she stated her purpose right away.
“The prophets of the Vatican told me to find the owner of the grimoire in Korea and deal with them however I saw fit. They didn't give me any more information than that.”
“...Deal with them.”
“Either get close to them, or kill them. They left the judgment to me.”
Clink.
Cecilia set down the espresso cup. Then she stared at Ian with a serious expression.
“So I set my own criteria. If the owner of the grimoire was sane, I'd get close to them. If they'd already gone insane, I'd kill them. But fortunately... I don't think I'll need to kill you.”
Her gaze briefly shifted to the bag Ian had brought, then back to his eyes.
“I want to build some rapport. Let's be friends.”
Rapport. Friends.
If you looked only at the words she spoke, they were admittedly a little deflating, but the meaning behind them was not.
“...”
Instead of replying right away, Ian stared into Cecilia's violet eyes and tapped the table lightly.
The Vatican. The Holy See. The holy land of Catholicism.
It was called by many names, but it was an organization with few points of contact with magicians and little known information. Why would such a place try to build rapport with a magician chosen by a Foreign God, someone no different from a heretic?
‘Since killing was an option, this probably isn't focused on obtaining the grimoire or keeping me safe. The most likely thing is creating a point of contact.’
Ian himself couldn't tell what benefit the Vatican would gain from befriending the owner of a Foreign God's grimoire. But there had clearly been a prophecy that it would be more advantageous than leaving him alone, which was why she'd moved so directly.
Honestly, it wasn't a very bad proposal for Ian, either.
As far as Ian knew, the major organizations tied to the Mysteries in this world were the Bureau, the Cartel, the Vatican, and the Clock Tower. Strictly speaking, there were other groups too, but those were the ones usually mentioned.
And Ian had absolutely nothing to lose by building friendly relations with a few of them.
If they wanted to build rapport through a contract or some other conditions, Ian would think about how to make it beneficial for himself as well. But there was no need to read too much into a simple 'let's be friends,' or think of it selfishly.
The Vatican didn't want to antagonize the one who'd picked up a Foreign God's grimoire.
Ian didn't want to create friction with the Vatican and end up making an enemy of another organization.
As long as their interests aligned, there was no reason to refuse Cecilia's proposal.
Of course, that didn't mean he trusted her completely. Just as interests could align, this line of work was one where things could suddenly sour and you might get stabbed in the back.
‘It's better to build relationships while always assuming betrayal. At least until trust is actually formed.’
Having sorted out his thoughts, Ian took a sip of coffee and nodded.
However, instead of accepting her proposal right away, he casually asked the personal question that came to mind.
“How were you so certain the grimoire I had was a Foreign God's?”
“It's usually hard to notice, but I serve a god. Realizing that it's a resident of another world isn't difficult at all.”
A resident of another realm.
She meant the Watchers. Apparently the clergy of the Vatican could roughly tell where the creatures they called the Deep-Sea Chronicle came from. They might not know the exact environment or background, but they could probably guess that it was something that didn't exist in this world.
However, remembering that she hadn't said anything when he used magic, it seemed they couldn't detect ordinary magic at all.
‘I'm learning one more thing.’
It wasn't a huge piece of information, but it was better than nothing. Ian gave a small smile and set down his coffee cup.
“Good. Let's get along. If I need anything in the future, I'll reach out to you.”
“...Anything you need?”
“When I'm handling Cartel requests or the like, it'd be better to move together than alone.”
“...You mean you're using me as a tank?”
“If you put it in game terms, sure.”
Ian answered with a faint smile.
Cecilia's regeneration ability was extremely valuable as a vanguard. In a good sense, she was a reliable shield; in a bad sense, a meat shield.
Either way, she was practically a good comrade to Ian.
“I won't call you every time. I'll respect your wishes too. I don't intend to force your actions through threats or anything like that.”
“...As long as you don't force me, it's fine. And... catching Mysteries is originally my job too, so if the chance comes up, I'll join you.”
Cecilia answered with a faint sigh and lay face-down on the table, mumbling.
“Still, sometimes just hang out like a friend. It's hard enough already since I don't have many people I'm close to in Korea...”
“Are you the type who gets lonely easily?”
“...A little?”
At her honest answer, Ian let out a small laugh. He left his half-finished Americano and stood up from his seat.
“Let's eat. It's on me to celebrate becoming friends. What do you want to eat?”
“...Pizza.”
“Sure, let's go.”
Ian took his bag and looked down at Cecilia. She drained the rest of her espresso in one go, slipped on the coat she'd taken off, and followed him out.
The pizza place they went to.
Cecilia devoured all thirty pizzas right there. Smiling happily, she handed Ian only the Hawaiian pizza the shop owner had given them as a freebie.
“It's tasty. Have some too.”
“...”
That day.
Ian vowed never to take Cecilia to any restaurant other than a buffet again.