Chapter 557: An Absurd Proposal

Oliver nodded at the Holy Knight’s summons.

The Holy Knight, intent on taking Oliver away discreetly, received a simple nod in response. Oliver, however, didn’t comply and softly called out to Jane.

“Miss Jane.”

“Yes?”

“······?!”

Despite her attention being caught by the prominent Armand, Jane responded immediately to Oliver’s call, surprising the Holy Knight. He had clearly intended to take Oliver away secretly.

Oliver didn’t care about that and did as he pleased.

“Excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Is that alright?”

Jane, who was quick-witted, immediately noticed the Holy Knight had moved away from his post, meeting his eyes.

The Holy Knight was caught off guard.

For a brief moment Jane managed to sense something even though it wasn’t concrete, and nodded to Oliver instead of questioning him.

Even though Oliver had disrupted the atmosphere, she still showed such understanding. Oliver couldn’t help but feel grateful.

“Thank you······ and I’m sorry.”

Jane only responded with a smile as if to say it was all fine.

Click. Click. Click.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

After exchanging farewells with Jane, Oliver walked away, following the Holy Knight so as not to be noticed by the others at the party.

With everyone’s attention on Armand, there wasn’t much to worry about.

“I asked you to follow me quietly.”

As they moved to a secluded corner on the first floor of the party hall, the Holy Knight spoke in a low voice. Oliver replied.

“I’m sorry. I just thought it would be polite to at least inform my companion.”

The Holy Knight pondered this for a moment before conceding. He stared at Oliver with a mix of wariness and subtle curiosity, yet his attitude was surprisingly amicable for a Holy Knight.

“······It’s not wrong. I hope you’ll extend the same courtesy to the one you’re about to meet.”

Oliver nodded. He had a rough idea of whom he was about to meet.

“Yes, I understand······. May I ask where we are going?”

Oliver asked as he noticed the corridor they were walking through was increasingly narrow and dilapidated.

It wasn’t that he had any particular complaints about the road, but it seemed odd considering he was about to meet a high-ranking official who held positions both in the Pater Church and Gallos.

The Holy Knight seemed to read his thoughts and stopped at a particular spot before answering.

“Don’t worry. This is the right way.”

As he said this, the Holy Knight pressed a part of the brick-exposed wall.

Thunk.

The brick the Knight pressed sank inward, and the surrounding bricks folded inward, opening a new path.

It was a secret passage.

“Follow me.”

The Holy Knight entered the secret passage with a familiarity that suggested this was not his first time using it.

Oliver followed suit, eventually encountering a staircase leading downward.

It seemed very deep at a glance, but Oliver descended the stairs without hesitation, continuing to follow the knight.

“This place is quite practical.”

Oliver observed the interior of the secret passage, evaluating it.

The passage was adequately sized, with just enough finishing touches. There were no paintings or decorations.

In other words, it was a passage solely dedicated to serving as a secret path. The same could be said for the elongated corridor that appeared after the stairs ended.

It was purely a secret passage.

Although it took considerable money to construct such a passage, it was evident that just the right amount was spent.

They weren’t stingy with the money, but they didn’t waste any either.

Oliver thought he could roughly guess the personality of the person who built or owns this secret passage.

“But let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m not as skilled as Miss Jane or Mr. Forest.”

Oliver recalled the capable people he knew as he stood before a door significantly more ornate compared to the passage.

The Holy Knight who escorted Oliver gently opened the door, even though Oliver was a warlock, and suggested he enter.

Creak.

“Please wait inside. They should be here soon.”

The Holy Knight never revealed who it was they were meeting, but Oliver quietly stepped inside without pressing for details.

He had a general idea of who it might be, plus, he wanted to take a quick look around the room.

“Hmm, this is unexpected.”

As the Holy Knight had anticipated, Oliver muttered to himself as he surveyed the room after stepping inside.

The interior was more luxurious compared to the passage they’d walked through, but that wasn’t what surprised him.

Oliver had learned from working with Forest that decorating a reception room to some extent is not extravagance but is a sign of courtesy.

What really caught Oliver off guard was the sheer number of books in the reception room.

The bookshelves, though displaying an antique but simple design, were packed tightly with books.

Hundreds of books were housed in this basement located beneath a villa where nobles and wealthy individuals were having a party. The books all bore signs of being well-thumbed.

This was proof that they weren’t merely placed there for decoration.

But more concerning to Oliver was the nature of the books.

Besides educational books on subjects like society, politics, economics, and religion, there were also specialized texts about magic, expertly curated.

The collection wasn’t just composed of well-known texts but included books that would be difficult to understand unless one was an expert. It was enough to mistake it for the Tower of Magic’s library.

However, what concerned Oliver even more was that there were also black magic books.

Books on fire, manipulation, disease, and creation—all branches of black magic.

There were even personal research journals and diaries belonging to black mages.

Some of them were rare enough that even Oliver wanted to read them.

“Are you interested?”

A voice suddenly interrupted. Oliver replied calmly, unphased by the suddenness.

“Yes, there are a lot of interesting books here.”

“That’s good to hear. I went through a lot of trouble to get them, so I’m glad they weren’t in vain… Why didn’t you read any?”

“I’m interested, but I learned that it’s impolite to read a book without the owner’s permission… Sir Ironclad.”

Oliver responded as he turned to look at the man emerging from between the crowded bookshelves.

It was none other than Armand, the Pater Church’s Grand Knight and the Chancellor of Gallos, who had caught everyone’s attention at the event regardless of their status.

The middle-aged man, with his broad forehead, large eyes, and a well-groomed beard, looked at Oliver and responded.

“You may call me ‘Your Excellency.’ That’s the courteous way.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

Oliver answered without hesitation, then added as if he had just remembered something.

“Should I perhaps kiss the back of your hand as well?”

Oliver asked, recalling how the nobles had flocked to Armand like bees when he appeared.

Even the haughty, prideful ones had flocked to the cardinal without hesitation, revealing their desire to gain his favor, kissing the back of his hand without restraint.

It was a slightly surprising scene to Oliver, who had lived in the money-worshipping city of Randa.

“Do you want to?”

Unexpectedly, Armand dismissed the question with one of his own.

“May I reply honestly?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m not particularly keen on it.”

Maybe because of his experience in Randa, or maybe for some other reason, Oliver answered as such.

He could accept the act of bowing low as a form of respect, but kneeling and kissing someone’s hand felt excessive.

It made him feel like humans weren’t being treated as equals. Instead like some lesser species.

If it were necessary for courtesy’s sake, he’d do it, but if given the choice, he’d rather not.

Fortunately, Armand didn’t seem too concerned about it.

“Then don’t do it. After all, I don’t particularly enjoy having a man’s lips on the back of my hand either.”

“······Are you joking?”

“I’m half-joking but also being sincere. You certainly live up to your reputation.”

“Living up to my reputation?” Armand made an ambiguous statement as he casually removed the red Mozeta draped over his shoulders and then draped himself lazily over the chair, more comfortable now.

“Phew······. That’s much better.”

Oliver silently observed him. Though he wasn’t too familiar with religious figures or Holy Knights, he instinctively knew that the man before him wasn’t your ordinary cleric or knight.

It was both unfamiliar and refreshing.

Oliver and Armand locked eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

“······You seem tired.”

Oliver had a lot he wanted to say, but he chose to comment on something trivial.

It almost seemed as if Oliver had too much he wanted to say, and Armand responded in disbelief.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Haven’t you heard of my position?”

“No, I’ve heard it. You’re a Grand Knight of the Pater Church and Chancellor of Gallos, right?”

Armand carried on the conversation, picking up where Oliver left off.

“Quite right, meaning that all the administrative duties of this country, which has the second largest territory among the chosen nations, as well as all the affairs of the temple, fall on me. How could I not be tired?”

Oliver nodded in agreement. After all, the higher one’s position, the more work they typically had. It was the same for Paul Carver, the Director of the City Ministry of Internal Affairs, Kevin, the professor at the Tower of Magic, and even Forest, the entrepreneur and broker.

And yet, Oliver was puzzled.

“So why did you personally come with Millieu to retrieve the Flesh Cook’s legacy?”

“Oh, you figured that out?”

Armand spoke with feigned surprise, though Oliver could tell he’d already anticipated the question. The reason was—

“Thanks to the Warlock’s Eye.”

Oliver gestured to his eyes.

“I can read the unique emotions and vitality each person carries, so I recognized you when you appeared.”

Indeed, the reason Oliver identified Armand as the Ironclad Knight was thanks to the Warlock’s Eye.

Just like fingerprints on a person or the rings on a tree, a person’s emotions and life force each have a unique aura, a texture that differs from person to person, even between family members or siblings.

“Impressive.”

Armand genuinely complimented him, unlike earlier when his tone was more reserved.

“Thank you.”

“I mean it. There aren’t many Warlocks with an eye as accurate as yours. Didn’t you know that?”

Oliver remained silent.

“Well, true geniuses often don’t realize just how talented they are. While the Warlock’s Eye is said to penetrate emotions, most can barely read their forms. Only a few can truly discern how angry or happy someone is, fewer still can read thoughts from emotions and distinguish people. If that were widely possible, who would dare underestimate Warlocks?”

It was clear that Armand had deep knowledge of black magic as he spoke fluently. Even more surprising was that his words weren’t just empty talk; they had a solid intellectual foundation.

Oliver knew this because he’d studied the subject himself. He hesitated to respond, feeling shocked that this man from the Pater Church was so knowledgeable about black magic.

It was quite surprising. For a member of the Pater Church to show such expertise in black magic, Oliver soon understood why when he recalled the black magic books he had just seen.

Based on how worn the covers were from frequent use, it wasn’t shocking at all that Armand had gained such a depth of knowledge.

“I heard you were a former knight, but you seem to know a lot about black magic.”

“Precisely because I’m a knight. To catch a rat, you must know about rats; to hunt wolves, you must understand them, know where they reside, their habits, their weaknesses, and what is effective against them.”

It was a simple but clear answer that prompted Oliver to ask another question.

“It makes sense······. So, is the reason you kept me here and called for me related to that?”

“Unlike what I’ve heard, you’re quite perceptive. Yes, that’s correct. I have a proposition for you.”

“What is it?”

“Would you be interested in filling the vacancy of the Flesh Cook?”