Chapter 602: Changing Randa

“Ah, hello! Oli—no, I mean, Mr. Dave!”

Inside the office of the X-District Redevelopment Union. When Oliver greeted Celine, she bowed at a 120-degree angle in response, causing her hair to flutter.

This was the first time they had met since Wineham. Perhaps because of that, she was extremely nervous.

To ease her tension, Oliver knelt down on one knee to meet her eye level.

“Yes, nice to see you. How have you been, Celine?”

“Ah, yes, yes! Thanks to your grace, Mr. Dave, I’ve been doing well! Thank you for your concern.”

Contrary to his intentions, Celine became even more tense. However, Oliver continued the conversation, using all the conversational skills he learned at the House of Angels.

“Actually, I wasn’t too worried.”

Celine’s eyes wavered. They reflected loss and emotional wounds. This response was greater than he expected, so Oliver quickly followed up.

“Because I think you’re braver than me, Celine. So I figured you’d be doing just fine.”

“Ah.”

Hearing the same words Oliver had said to her back in Wineham, Celine now exuded joy, the opposite emotion from earlier. She was genuinely happy that Oliver remembered their conversation.

As proof, Celine’s face turned as red as a carrot, and her lips curled upwards in a mix of shyness and happiness.

The awkwardness in the air dissipated, and the tension in Celine’s small body disappeared too.

Building on this momentum, Oliver invited Celine to sit down.

Thud.

“Do you like cake? Or maybe cookies?”

Oliver pointed at the pile of sweet snacks on the table and asked, to which Celine pointed at the cake. Oliver cut a large piece and placed it in front of her. Celine nibbled on the cake like a baby bird.

“Is it good?”

“Yes! It’s delicious. Thank you, Mr. Dave.”

Celine made sure to add ‘Mr.’ and ‘thank you’ after every sentence.

It was personally a bit disappointing.

In Oliver’s mind, he wasn’t someone worthy of being addressed as ‘Mr.’, but neither could he tell her to stop. They had already discussed this back in Wineham. Celine found comfort in using ‘Mr.’, so Oliver had reluctantly accepted it. Therefore, the topic was off-limits.

Well, he had more he wanted to say. Like whether she still thought of him as a god. However, conversations have a natural order. Instead of asking such questions, Oliver asked something more ordinary and sensible. Like—

“How is life in Randa?”

Or asking if she was getting along. Halfway through her cake, Celine stared at Oliver.

“I know you’re brave, Celine, but living here is a different story. Is it okay?”

“Yes, I’m doing well.”

After swallowing her cake, Celine nodded. Perhaps due to the sugar, she regained her composure. As if proving that, she showed the same sharp mind she displayed in Wineham.

“At first, it was unfamiliar, but now I like it here. There are a lot of people, and I’ve made some friends.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Um, Mr. Dave, can I ask you a question?”

Celine’s eyes sparkled with interest, curiosity, and enthusiasm. Oliver allowed the question, knowing it would lead to a healthy conversation.

“Can I ask why you called me? Have we made a mistake?”

“No, of course not. I just wanted to talk with you.”

“Ah… Thank you, Mr. Dave.”

Celine expressed gratitude as if she were honored that someone like him would take interest in her. Her response made Oliver’s chest feel tight.

It was because, truthfully, Oliver wasn’t doing this for Celine or others; he was doing it for himself.

He wanted to use these conversations as a compass to become a better person.

Yet here he was receiving thanks instead. Suddenly, the side of his abdomen started to ache where Jane had stabbed him. Determined, Oliver resolved to carry on.

Despite the somewhat impure motives, as long as he treated people well, there shouldn’t be any problem. It’s similar to business: Oliver would get what he wanted, and others would get their jobs. That was it. No issues.

With this mindset, Oliver asked Celine in detail what she’d been up to while living in Randa, how she’s been, and how her life was.

First, she mentioned that she had been staying in an old multi-family house that Oliver had prepared. But as development progressed, she now lived in a decent home. In the mornings, she learned dark magic, in the afternoons she helped adults, and in the late afternoon or evening, she played with the Fighter Crew kids. Sometimes she even tutored them in reading or math.

“Do you teach them, Celine?”

“Normally, it’s the teachers assigned to our education. Miss. Marie told them to teach anyone who wants to learn.”

“Oh… That’s good.”

“Ah, Milo teaches math.”

Milo. The youngest sibling of Murphy Kimble, the Liquor King of Randa. He regularly visited to learn dark magic.

“Milo does?”

“Yes, he slaps us on the back of the head if we get it wrong, but he teaches well.”

“Really?”

“He uses candy to teach.”

“Oh…”

Oliver unintentionally expressed his admiration. To think that the same guy who used to get dragged around by his aunt Maggie and scolded by his brother Murphy could teach this way. It was a bit surprising. Well, people do have various sides to them.

After that, Oliver continued with more personal questions, like what she had done in the past and how she met Marie.

These were questions he couldn’t ask back in Wineham due to the circumstances, but as he expected, they weren’t exactly cheerful stories.

Living in the slums, encountering dangerous gangs, and being rescued by Marie—Celine’s meeting with Marie was quite similar to how Marie met Joseph. Perhaps most tragedies in this world follow a similar pattern.

“So, that’s why you like Marie.”

“We all like Miss. Marie. She’s kind and treats us well.”

The usually mature Celine flashed a childish grin for the first time. It was oddly pleasant to see.

“Of course, I like you too, Mr. Dave!”

Celine’s pure sincerity shone brightly, and Oliver felt a mix of gratitude and guilt.

“Thank you for saying that, Celine.”

After speaking, Celine blushed like a carrot once more as she finished the last bite of her cake.

The conversation almost concluded, Oliver was about to let Celine leave but stopped to ask one last question.

“Celine.”

“Yes, Mr. Dave?”

“Do you still think I’m a god?”

“…”

“I’m not asking to get mad or blame you, just curious about what you think. You can be honest.”

Celine remained silent for a moment before answering, and after hearing her reply, Oliver took her hand and thanked her for her honesty.

After that, Celine left, and Oliver moved on to the next conversation.

***

Inside the X-District Redevelopment Union office.

Over the past few days, members of The Selectors and Fighter Crew visited the office one by one.

Their commonality was each had a one-on-one private conversation with Oliver. To an outsider, this would seem utterly insane.

And rightly so, given that Fighter Crew’s numbers had grown well beyond five hundred, and The Selectors alone had hundreds of members in Randa.

Oliver’s decision to have individual conversations with all these people could only be described as madness.

Even a wealthy idler with plenty of time wouldn’t do such a crazy thing.

But Oliver didn’t mind. In fact, he welcomed it.

There’s value in quantity. For Oliver, who sought to pursue his ideal human image through conversations, a large number of people was not a hindrance but a resource.

Just as having more samples leads to more accurate results, Oliver was willing to talk to numerous people one by one to find the best path to becoming a good person.

Of course, he knew this wouldn’t be done in a day, so Oliver spent a long time talking to people.

What’s your name, how old are you, what are you doing and learning now, how’s life? Such questions were asked until the people’s sense of tension and caution loosened, allowing for deeper conversations.

Why did they join The Selectors or Fighter Crew, what was their past like, who’s in their family? And lastly, what do they think of Oliver?

Honestly, this was no easy task.

The members of The Selectors were armed with reverence and faith, while the Fighter Crew was driven by admiration and fear of the strong. This made genuine conversations difficult.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault; it was just a natural phenomenon.

But despite all that, genuine conversations were still hard to come by. As time passed, those who had heard Oliver’s questions would answer with well-polished replies, making things even harder.

This wasn’t what Oliver wanted—he desired honest conversations (accurate samples). But instead of complaining, he utilized the Warlock’s Eye and the depth of conversations to draw out people’s genuine feelings.

As a result, although not perfect, he managed to achieve satisfactory results.

There were people in The Selectors who didn’t see Oliver as a god, some who respected Marie even more, and some who gradually felt discomfort revering Oliver as a living god, and there were others who didn’t care whether Oliver was a real god or not.

The reasons for belonging to The Selectors despite not believing in Oliver as a god were varied. Some followed Marie, some did it for survival, and others just found meaning in the act of believing itself.

One example was an elderly woman with five grandchildren.

‘It doesn’t matter to this old woman whether Mr. Dave is a real god or not. What’s important is that we were saved by Mr. Dave’s will, and I believe in that.’

The Fighter Crew wasn’t much different. Unlike Joe, Oliver hadn’t had a proper conversation with the members of Fighter Crew, but he was able to have relatively serious talks with them.

To them, Oliver was a big shot who held his ground against the Crime Firm, and now he was even more than that. He had taught them dark magic and was their ultimate success model.

‘I acted a bit cocky when we first met, but now I consider myself lucky to still be alive.’

Sam, Joe’s friend, said.

‘I see Mr. Dave as my benefactor. He helped us when we were stuck fighting the Crime Firm because of the Flesh Cook and gave us good jobs. I’m always grateful. Just say the word.’

Owen, whom Joe treated like a younger brother, expressed his simple gratitude.

Oliver also spoke with various other people, such as Milo Kimble, Murphy’s youngest brother.

‘Thanks for teaching the kids, but I’m here to learn dark magic directly from you, Mr. Dave. So don’t feel pressured, just make sure to teach me some dark magic. I’m dropping a hint, so please be mindful.’

Oliver continued to have calm, one-on-one conversations with everyone. Asking about their lives, their desires, and what they thought of Oliver. As the days went by, the number of people he talked to gradually increased, though it was still just a small part compared to how many were left.

‘Let’s talk to Lawrence, who likes Marie, and Joe’s sister Nora later.’

Then, one day, while Oliver was busy conversing with people, Kent came by.

***

“Mr. Kent?”

Kent suddenly appeared just as Oliver was wrapping up his last conversation for the day.

The man who had helped Oliver after he left the Joseph Family, guided him on where to go, and now served as the head of the “Poor Brothers,” a large gang of beggars, and the director of the “Poor Brothers” welfare center in W-District.

Thud, thud, thud.

With one leg slightly impaired, Kent entered the room, using a Quarterstaff clutched in his Golem prosthetic hand for support.

To someone who was seeing him for the first time, they might think he and Oliver were similar, but strictly speaking, it was Oliver who resembled Kent.

After all, Kent was the one who first wielded the Quarterstaff.

Not that the main parties themselves cared about that.

“What brings you here?”

Oliver stood up suddenly to greet Kent whose visit was unexpected.

“Sorry for showing up like this. Was it a bad time?”

“No, not at all.”

As soon as Oliver responded, he led the man he had just finished talking with outside.

The man politely bowed as he left, and Kent watched him go before commenting.

“The rumors were true.”

“What?”

“They’re saying Lumberjack Dave is having personal talks with his members in X-District to instill loyalty, preparing for a full-scale power expansion.”

Oliver was left speechless at the absurd rumor. It was a distinctly Randa-like situation. Seeing Oliver’s reaction, Kent continued.

“Just kidding. While the rumor has spread, I don’t believe it.”

Oliver wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or confused, but he decided against nitpicking. This was Kent, after all. Instead, Oliver invited Kent to sit down.

“Did Forest send you here?”

Oliver, perceptive as he was, guessed accurately. Forest had sent Kent out of concern for Oliver, who had been conversing with people nonstop for days. Forest was aware that Oliver was still just a boy.

Kent gave a vague response.

“I did hear about you before coming here. They say you’re using business to help people? That’s quite impressive.”

Kent genuinely praised Oliver, but the compliment was even more uncomfortable and confounding than the unexpected visit. After all, as mentioned earlier, Oliver’s actions were rooted not in altruism, but in selfishness.

To become a better person, he engaged in good deeds.

Not wanting to deceive Kent, Oliver confessed this fact honestly. Kent, however, merely chuckled as if Oliver’s words were nonsense.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Pardon?”

“Even I would still be taking homes from the weak if my wife and kids had lived. Running the welfare center is just a way to wash away some of what I’ve done. Whatever the intention, helping others is what really matters, isn’t it?”

Like washing away Oliver’s unease, Kent’s words were light and refreshing as if it were no big deal.

“You’re very thoughtful and tend to overthink things that are actually quite simple. It’s okay to be a little selfish. Without that, would you even be human?”

Kent again emphasized that Oliver’s worry wasn’t as big of a deal as it seemed. It was highly encouraging.

“Well, from what I can see, things seem to be going well, but may I ask a question? Actually, Forest kept nudging me to ask you.”

“Of course, go ahead.”

“Do you have any business plans once all these conversations wrap up? Honestly, I’m a bit curious myself.”

A natural reaction. Oliver, who was originally a business-focused person, had mentioned that he was concentrating on nothing but conversations. Anyone with a hint of curiosity would wonder what his plan was.

“I do have an idea. I’m thinking of creating something that makes the most use of my environment.”

“What is it?”

“I’m considering establishing a school of dark magic at the Tower of Magic.”

“What?”

***

The head of the administration responded just like Kent did when he heard this.

“What?”