Chapter 879

"Client?" Hector, who had entered the hall last after Charlotte, asked in confusion.

Even now, everyone gathered inside remained silent, watching Ian with eyes full of tension and awe.

Stopping in the middle of the room without a care, Ian replied, "Looks like nobody ever told you my real profession is being a mercenary."

His gaze remained fixed beyond the soldiers, on the disheveled-haired woman standing in front of the kitchen entrance.

She had been smiling back at him, but now her eyes widened as though she had finally realized something.

Hector let out a disbelieving laugh as he closed the door. "I had heard rumors that you used to be a mercenary... Dear gods. So it was actually true..."

The room, already heavy with flickering firelight and stale odors, fell into an even deeper silence.

Ian continued, "That's right. And your commission has been completed, Ohara."

No answer came immediately. Ohara simply stared at him with widened eyes, even her black-painted lips slightly parted.

It was enough to draw Ian's gaze toward Theodore among the soldiers. "So you still haven't passed along my message."

He had originally intended for Theodore to break the news to Ohara.

Despite the smile on Ian's face, Theodore flinched, visibly lowering his head. "M-My apologies, Your Grace. We only arrived a few hours ago..."

"That would explain it. I wasn't blaming you."

After all, Theodore had business to discuss with Ohara as well. He had likely intended to find an opportunity to speak with her privately once the situation settled.

Shrugging, Ian turned back toward Ohara. "Thanks to that, I get to tell you myself."

The people standing before her had already stepped aside, opening a path.

Charlotte had likely signaled them from behind.

Ohara looked at Ian with ripples of emotion in her eyes.

"So it's true.... You really fulfilled my lifelong wish, Agent of the Saint."

"It was a commission. And I'd already received the advance payment."

Though his response was casual, Ian's eyes drifted over the tattoos covering her neck and forearms. Large sections of her light-brown skin appeared twisted and scarred, as though burned. And what was visible was undoubtedly only a fraction of it.

The consequences of revealing the magic tower's location to Ian had remained behind as wounds that would never fully fade.

Yet Ohara seemed completely unconcerned.

"How in the world did you? No... goodness, I got ahead of myself." She hurriedly shook her head.

Running a hand across her mouth, she continued, "The details of how it happened aren't important at all—"

"Well, if the client wants to know, it's not as though I can't tell you."

The moment Ian interrupted with a shrug, Ohara froze. Her eyes widened even further.

As expected, there were countless things she wanted to hear. It had been her lifelong wish, after all.

Swallowing hard, she carefully asked, "T-Then... When should I prepare a place for us to talk? You should probably recover from your journey first."

Her gaze briefly flicked toward the people standing behind Ian. She had clearly overheard Hector's conversation.

Still thinking of others at a time like this. Not bad.

Smiling, Ian tilted his head. "I don't mind talking right now. Though my friends, who'll be arriving shortly, need food, drink, and proper rest first."

"Of course they do!" Ohara's eyes lit up immediately. Unable to hide the smile spreading across her face, she snapped her thumb and forefinger together.

A burly chef with a long scar running across his mouth, along with an expressionless waitress, immediately emerged from the kitchen. Both were staring at Ian with unreadable eyes.

Their names were Max and Anna, right?

As Ian gave a slight nod of greeting, Ohara turned to them and continued. "I don't care if you have to empty the entire storeroom. Prepare as much food as necessary. Clear out every room upstairs, and house our honored guests in any vacant homes around town as well. Make sure they can rest without the slightest inconvenience."

While Max and Anna silently nodded, Hector said, "The entire upstairs?"

It was a natural reaction. His men were sleeping upstairs.

Ohara, however, didn't even blink.

Without even giving Ian a chance to object, she turned her usual cool gaze toward Hector and said matter-of-factly, "Now that the Agent of the Saint has arrived, you'll have to vacate the rooms, Count."

Of course, Hector neither protested nor complained. "Fair enough. We'll stay aboard the ships."

He merely nodded, not because Charlotte was staring holes through him.

After all, Ian had helped fulfill Hector's long-held wish as well.

Ian suppressed a chuckle at the sight of Theodore and the soldiers nodding with mixed expressions.

"Come to think of it... in my surprise and happiness, I neglected the most important thing," said Ohara with a soft voice.

Ian paused and turned.

At that moment, she collapsed to one knee. "My sincerest gratitude, Agent of the Saint. I always believed you would one day fulfill my wish, but I never imagined that day would come so soon."

Max and Anna likewise dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. Even the soldiers unconsciously adopted solemn expressions.

Smacking his lips, Ian interrupted, "All right. Get up before you make me not want to talk about it anymore."

That alone was enough to send Ohara springing back to her feet. Turning toward Max and Anna as they stood as well, she gave a small nod.

Max immediately turned and headed back into the kitchen, and Anna strode past the soldiers toward the staircase. As she did, she pulled a sharp metal hook from behind her waist and held it loosely in one hand.

Gesturing politely toward the rear of the kitchen with both hands, Ohara said. "Then, so that you may speak comfortably without interruption, would you allow me to escort you inside, Agent of the Saint?"

Ian readily started forward. "Lead the way."

At the same time, he glanced back toward Charlotte.

She nodded as if to say, "Leave it to me."

A faint smile tugged at Ian's lips as his gaze shifted to Hector. The count was staring blankly at Anna's retreating figure as she climbed the stairs, the metal hook dangling from her hand.

"My lieutenant will be bringing a few familiar faces soon. "If you're curious, ask them first. And as you know, my goddaughter will probably be the friendliest one."

Hector flinched and immediately bowed his head. "Y-Yes. Understood, Your Grace."

As Ian passed Theodore, he added, "I'll mention your situation as well."

Theodore's eyes twitched slightly as he lowered his head. "Thank you, Your Grace."

A strange determination had appeared in his gaze. He had probably noticed something in the scars and tattoos covering Ohara.

Maybe that was why he hesitated to bring it up.

The thought crossed Ian's mind anew as he followed Ohara into the kitchen.

The space was larger than he had expected, and oppressively warm. Along the dingy walls hung rows of sausages, jerky, and fish of uncertain age.

Two large pots of stew simmered atop lit stoves. The pots themselves looked as though they hadn't been cleaned in years.

Slice, slice.

Max stood beside an unlit stove, chopping something with practiced motions.

Judging from the overwhelming fishy smell, it was probably fish.

That's supposed to be edible, right?

Ian was just entertaining the thought when Ohara, who was crossing the kitchen ahead of him, casually added, "Don't worry about the meals. Max will prepare everything himself, even if he has to stay awake the entire time you're here."

Turning toward her without missing a beat, Ian replied, "Don't actually keep him from sleeping. And if you're short on ingredients, let me know. We've still got supplies left on our side."

"That's good to hear. To be honest, our stock wasn't exactly plentiful."

Ohara entered a passageway on the opposite side. A moment later, she turned left and headed deeper inside.

"Are you taking me to your room?" Ian asked as he followed her into the dim corridor.

A closed wooden door stood directly ahead.

Stopping before it, Ohara opened it and smiled. "Yes. It's the safest and quietest place available."

Ian realized she wasn't exaggerating the moment he stepped inside after her. Intricate spell circuits, etched across the walls and ceiling, pulsed with a soft, eerie light.

You've turned it into a laboratory."

However, that wasn't the only reason Ian let out a chuckle. The spacious room was crammed with so many objects that it resembled a junk shop.

Strange magical devices and relics of unknown purpose were scattered everywhere. Glass jars filled with unidentified substances sat beside pots growing various herbs.

The faint glow of the spell circuits deepened the room’s ominous atmosphere.

Walking through a narrow path between the clutter, Ohara replied, "Even if I've left the magic tower, I'm still a mage. Or rather... I suppose I should call myself a witch now."

That was enough to make the corner of Ian's mouth curl upward. "Right. An exiled mage is still a mage."

"No sound will escape. We won't be interrupted, and there won't be any danger. Though... I admit it's a little embarrassing."

Eventually, Ohara entered the section containing a bed and approached a desk surrounded by potted herbs.

"I haven't invited anyone into my room in a very long time. It doesn't help that this is the only place I can properly host guests."

She crossed toward a desk positioned beside several potted plants. Gesturing politely toward a chair, she turned around.

Gathering the papers scattered across the desk, she tossed them onto the bed before rummaging through a nearby shelf.

"Well, it's not the worst room I've ever been in," Ian answered casually as he sat down.

Though Ohara herself was completely free of corruption despite appearances, the room still felt suspiciously like the study of a dark mage.

"The only thing I can offer is alcohol. But I promise the taste is excellent."

Ohara placed a pewter cup in front of him and poured liquor from a glass bottle. At the same time, she watched him with eyes carrying a strange thirst.

The magical restriction placed upon her likely prevented her from speaking freely about what she truly wanted to know.

Of course, that wasn't Ian's problem.

"So, should I start from the moment I entered the tower?"

As he lifted the cup and asked, Ohara sat down opposite him and nodded.

"Please."

She sat with her back perfectly straight, tension visible in her eyes.

Taking a sip of the herb-scented liquor, Ian began recounting everything that had happened within the Gray Magic Tower.

Though the story was largely a straightforward chronological account, Ohara listened intently.

"Indeed…Hmm..."

She spoke very little, responding mostly with brief gasps and murmured reactions. Still, she couldn't completely conceal her emotions.

When Ian described the mages being slaughtered by the slaves, she shut her eyes tightly with a grim expression.

"You gave them what exactly?"

On the other hand, when he explained how he had taken control of the tower and offered the slaves a choice, she could barely hide her shock.

The same was true when he described bringing Lily out. At one point, she even started to say something before hurriedly covering her mouth with her hand.

At last, Ian set down his now-empty cup. "And that's everything. If there's anything else you want to hear, ask."

Ohara couldn't answer immediately. She merely stared into her own drink with a complicated expression.

After a short silence, Ian said, "Guess not. In that case, mind if I ask you something?"

Still watching her, he used his Willful Grasp to pull a bottle from the corner of the room into his hand.

Ohara finally nodded. "Yes. Go ahead."

Taking a steadying breath, she reached for her cup.

Ian refilled it and casually asked, "What do you think about returning to the tower?"

The cup slipped straight from Ohara's hand.