Proposal

The contract’s clauses were, overall, focused entirely on Ian’s advantage. Not every clause was like that, but the promise to accommodate him as much as possible did seem to be true.

“Hmm.”

Ian took a sip of the cold water he’d fetched and flipped to the next page of the contract.

This was the last page. There were exactly two clauses written on it.

[24. Party A may not ask Party B to help with personal matters, and the same applies to Party B. However, Party B may request Party A’s cooperation on missions carried out by the Bureau.]

[25. Party A may refuse Party B’s cooperation, but if anything arises that could threaten humanity’s survival, Party A must cooperate with Party B.]

The contract ended with clause 25. Ian set the papers he was holding down and racked his brains while looking at the two people sitting politely before him.

The terms were, overall, not bad. He liked that they imposed no restraints or shackles on him, and that he’d be paid every time they cooperated.

It wasn’t as much as the Cartel, but it wasn’t a small amount either. Since it started in the low thousands at the very least, he could live just fine as long as he cooperated in moderation. He wasn’t sure whether the other mages were treated the same way, but there was no need to compare himself to them.

They even assigned a watcher to ordinary mages and put GPS trackers on them, so he was definitely a lot freer than they were.

‘I can see why mages want nothing to do with the Bureau. With control like that, they’d have no choice but to hate it.’

He could understand the Bureau’s position too.

Since it was an organization that managed mysteries, and because mages could summon and handle them directly, keeping them under watch wasn’t strange. Objectively speaking, it was a reasonable judgment.

But were mages really the sort who could look at anything involving themselves objectively?

Ian could think it reasonable only because it didn’t apply to him right now; if those surveillance, wiretapping, and GPS-tracking measures were applied to him, he’d have sent them packing without a second thought.

“…….”

Well, it was a pointless hypothetical. There was no reason to feel annoyed over a future that would never come.

Ian drained the last of the cold water, tapped the grimoire against his shoulder, and spoke.

“The terms are better than I expected.”

“I’m glad to hear that. If there’s anything else you’d like, please write it in the blank space on the last page. We’ll accommodate you as much as possible.”

“More than this?”

“We’ve already taken a hit to establish a cooperative relationship with the mage. We might not be able to handle anything too extravagant, but small requests should be fine.”

Kim Iseo said that while maintaining her deferential posture. Ian, instead of answering, tapped the grimoire’s cover.

Just what was the Bureau thinking, to keep insisting on being the subordinate party? Why would an organization need to bow and scrape like that to a single mage?

‘Watcher.’

All the answers were in the grimoire Ian held in his hands. He stared at his jet-black grimoire for a moment and let out a snort of laughter.

An Outer Sea creature summoned right before his eyes. A massive monster that had not only swept away the doctor, nurses, and patients who had been inside the hospital, but even held back the hospital director, the master of that space.

Since it was a space-type anomaly, summoning it caused no particular trouble, but what would happen if it showed itself in reality?

It wasn’t even worth worrying about. It would absolutely not end well.

The Bureau was probably wary of that. So they were taking this deferential approach, making sure unnecessary casualties didn’t happen and that the tip of his blade never turned toward the Bureau.

‘There’s no need to tell them that I can’t summon Outer Sea creatures for free, or that I still need a sacrifice even after summoning.’

Information advantage was always important. There was no reason to tell the other side something it didn’t know, especially if he’d have to take a loss to do it.

Ian nodded and took a pen from the table. Seeing that, Kim Iseo and Park Mina’s faces brightened slightly.

He did intend to sign. Every time he took a job, he and the Bureau ended up sizing each other up while he concealed his identity from them, so it would be better to build a cooperative relationship and move around with ease.

If there had been any clauses restricting his actions, he’d have torn up the contract without a second thought, but that wasn’t the case. If he could form a good relationship with them without any restraints or shackles, there was no need to refuse.

But even thinking that, Ian didn’t sign right away. The moment he wrote his name on the contract, it would be sealed, so he planned to squeeze out everything he could before then.

He twirled the pen in his hand and looked at the two of them.

“If I cooperate with the Bureau, which team would I be working with?”

“You’ll be working under the General Affairs Department’s direction, and cooperating with either the Response Division or the Containment Team.”

“The Containment Team?”

“There’s a facility in the Bureau’s underground levels where mysteries are imprisoned and studied. With the mage’s help, research would make progress.”

Ian nodded at Kim Iseo’s words.

The Response Division and the Containment Team. Just from the names alone, they sounded like departments that needed firepower. He didn’t plan on cooperating with them very often, but if he ever had to go there, it would be best to be thoroughly prepared.

“Roughly speaking, what kind of tasks would you ask a mage to cooperate with? Give me an example.”

“If reconnaissance turns up multiple casualties, or if ten or more people in the Response Division are killed or go missing, we ask for cooperation. We don’t just call mages in for anything.”

“How many mages are currently cooperating with the Bureau?”

“Three. If you come in, that makes four.”

“Were their contracts concluded normally?”

“Some were, some weren’t. Only one person calmly accepted being monitored. The other two threatened to kill everyone in the Bureau and leave no one alive if they were monitored one more time, so we adjusted the contract a bit.”

“So it’s not like you monitor everyone indiscriminately.”

“Since we’re cooperating with talented mages, yes. The Bureau is still quite new, so we have no choice but to bow our heads.”

A Bureau that was newly established, huh.

It seemed their history was extremely short, unlike the Vatican, the Clock Tower, and the Cartel.

Still, if the Bureau had existed since ancient or medieval times, there would be no way records of demons or yokai would have survived. These days everything is treated as occult, but back then it must all have really happened. It was fortunate they handled information laundering so well; otherwise, the existence of mysteries would already have spread into the open.

What he was wondering was why nobody had controlled information before the Bureau appeared.

Fortunately, when he asked, the answer came right away.

“They’d also been working hard on information control for a long time. The problem was that information spread faster than they could control it.”

“Ah.”

“Since the Bureau’s appearance and the establishment of firm information control, they don’t pay much attention to control anymore. They’re only doing the bare minimum now.”

“What means does the Bureau have that lets it conceal and distort information so well, something even the other organizations couldn’t properly do?”

“It’s nothing special. We bribed people all over the world to damage, delete, and revise information, and we also used the power of mysteries to alter people’s perceptions. Cooperation from various corporations and governments helped too.”

“…….”

“So far, the other organizations hadn’t really built cooperative relationships with governments or corporations. The Clock Tower had always been a place where people lived in their own little world, the Vatican was a closed religious group that followed only God’s will, and the Cartel was a profit-driven group that chased money above all else. I’m sure governments around the world, and even the UN, welcomed the Bureau’s arrival.”

While Kim Iseo paused to drink some water, Park Mina opened her mouth.

“Concealing information also dramatically reduced how often mysteries appeared. Stories often carry power. The more people regard occult tales as nothing but illusions, the weaker ghost stories become.”

“So that means they aren’t the kind of anomalies that originated from ghost stories.”

“……Mysteries that appear out of nowhere, with no origin at all, are like that. They’re simply things that exist.”

“Eight-Foot Ghost, doppelgänger, Monkey Dream, and so on.”

On the other hand, there were also anomalies born with no origin at all—literally mysteries themselves—like theme parks, libraries, and hospitals.

The former could be escaped by using the countermeasure written in the original or by thinking a little, but the latter could not. Without a proper strategy, you die no matter what. It wasn’t for nothing that Bureau agents banged their heads together to write countermeasures.

Ian let out a soft hum and tapped the grimoire’s cover.

“If you only compare the proportions on both sides, which one is higher?”

“They’re about the same. The ones derived from ghost stories tend to keep appearing, so if you compare sheer numbers, the ghost-story side is probably a little higher.”

“I see... By the way, can a ghost story that’s only recently been created also gain power and become a mystery?”

“If it’s very famous, yes. But rule-based ghost stories like Napolitan have already had their concept devoured by mysteries, so stories created by humans can’t gain power. Ah, but the Backrooms was created too. Pretty amazing, right?”

Park Mina gave an awkward smile as she said that.

“Mysteries really are strange. There are so many exceptions that it’s hard to define them cleanly. We’ve made our own handbook, but even that gets revised every year whenever some unusual case comes up.”

“…….”

“That’s how malicious mysteries are toward humanity.”

Ian didn’t answer, but he inwardly agreed with her.

Every mystery he had encountered so far had been anything but friendly to humans. Maybe there were some like that, but their number definitely wasn’t all that large.

Thinking that, Ian set the grimoire down beside him.

“All right, then. Last question.”

With the pen in his hand, he tapped the contract’s final clause.

“What kinds of situations listed here are dangerous enough to threaten humanity’s survival?”

“There aren’t many. Based on what we’ve observed so far, there have been zombie viruses, ghost nukes, and the revival of Nazi units. In cases like those, the Vatican and the Bureau’s prophets cooperate to nip them in the bud ahead of time.”

But then Kim Iseo added.

“We can’t stop the arrival of the Outer God’s true body. So anyone who tries to summon an Outer God is shot dead on the spot and has their brains smashed to pieces.”

She said that, then moved her lips with a faint smile, as if she were trying to crack a joke.

“But Outer Gods never answer human summons. No, they honestly aren’t even interested. They do occasionally hand out grimoires, but that’s only as much fun as tossing a dirty toy to an ant. I don’t think there’s a single Outer God that truly cherishes or loves humans.”

“…….”

Ian didn’t answer and instead looked down at the Deep-Sea Travelogue.

Then the grimoire’s page turned slightly on its own, showing him a single sentence.

[The lord of the Outer Sea swore to bestow infinite trust and affection upon the man named ‘Shin Ian,’ the owner of Deep-Sea Travelogue.]

A sentence that blatantly contradicted Kim Iseo’s words.

Ian let out an involuntary snort of laughter and closed the grimoire.