Chapter 782: Epilogue – Retired Old Man

Beep beep beep-!

Beep beep beep-!

Beep beep- click!

“Ughhhh…”

An old man groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, awoken by the sound of the alarm.

The world, much like the old man’s eyelids, gradually brightened from pitch-black darkness to a faint bluish-gray.

“Hmm…”

The old man, freshly roused from sleep, let out a tired sigh and checked his clock, which read…

[05:30]

The time was 5:30 AM.

A bit too early to be awake.

Especially for an old man who had both time and money in abundance, it was a particularly early time to rise.

The old man considered staying in bed a bit longer, but finding that sleep eluded him, he ultimately gave up and got out of bed.

Though he had less need for sleep due to his age, there was an even greater reason behind his waking.

After all, if he truly wanted to sleep in, he wouldn’t have set an alarm for this time in the first place. The reason the old man was up so early was…

“Habits really are terrifying…”

Habit.

The old man confirmed, once again, the terror of habits as he lifted his heavy body.

This habit took him back to his younger days, when he survived on nothing but potatoes.

Back then, in an effort to escape that kind of life, he had developed the habit of waking up early, both as a restaurant worker and later as a broker, and he had maintained it ever since.

Even though he no longer wished to.

It’s hard to explain, but he felt uneasy, almost irritated, if he turned off the alarm and slept in.

For reasons too complex to pin down, he could neither ignore the alarm nor allow himself to sleep late.

Thus, the old man nearly forced himself to set the alarm to wake up every day at 5:30 AM.

365 days a year.

“Hoo…”

Reflecting on such trivial thoughts, the old man, who didn’t have many days left to live, rose from his bed.

Then, to change his mood, he walked over to the window and pulled the curtains back.

Swish!

The sound of the curtains being pulled back accompanied the sight outside the window: workers trudging off to work in the city.

“Mmm…”

The old man, perhaps having grown old for nothing, let out a satisfied murmur as he watched the workers, already struggling on their way to work early in the morning.

Unlike them, despite having to wake up early like everyone else, he could at least enjoy the luxury of simply gazing down at the scene from his window.

This gave him a sense of satisfaction and superiority.

Clink.

To elevate that feeling even further, the old man poured some expensive liquor from a crystal bottle into a crystal glass. He raised it in a mock toast and took a sip.

It seemed like a good idea that, even after becoming one of Randa’s wealthiest, he hadn’t moved out and had stayed here in the T-District.

“Ahem…”

The old man shook off his thoughts of divine retribution with a cough, left the window, and headed downstairs.

Because he hadn’t moved, the house wasn’t the grand, imposing mansion typical of Randa’s elite. However, the familiar and cozy home, marked by his presence, awaited him.

There, he did what he did every morning: brewed coffee and prepared a simple breakfast.

Sizzle…

It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford to hire a maid, but perhaps due to the habits ingrained during his restaurant worker days, he still preferred to prepare his own breakfast.

Even if all he made was fried eggs, grilled sausages, toast, and some beans.

In any case, as time passed, the house began to fill with the delightful smell of food, and once the meal was ready, the old man placed it on the table before retrieving the newspaper from the doorstep.

While radios were all the rage these days for news, the old man insisted on reading the paper, perhaps wanting some peace and quiet in the morning.

“Huh…”

The old man let out a gasp as soon as his eyes landed on the newspaper’s front-page headline.

[War between Pinkman and the Fighter Crew Ends! Fighter Crew Triumphs!]

The article reported that the war that had begun months ago between the Fighter Crew and Pinkman had ended in Fighter Crew’s victory.

Below the headline was a photo of Joe, holding Pinkman’s president by the scruff of his neck amid the ruins.

“What a magnificent photo.”

The war, often referred to as the ‘Underworld War,’ was publicly known to have been a battle for control over the underworld. However, those in the know understood there was more to it.

It had been, in essence, a proxy war between the Royal Family and the Central Council.

The Fighter Crew, loyal to King Albert, versus Pinkman, backed by the Central Council.

It was a dramatic and secretive tale sure to make many gossip mongers salivate.

Slurp.

But the old man merely took another sip of his coffee, showing little interest despite the sensational story.

Perhaps it was because of his past, having met and worked alongside ‘him,’ that such an article stirred little emotion in him.

And so, he continued to enjoy his quiet, leisurely morning.

Beep-!

The doorbell rang.

“Ah.”

The doorbell shattered the morning’s tranquility.

Instead of getting upset at the noise, the old man rose from his seat and answered the door, as if expecting the visitor.

“You’re a bit late today, Al.”

“My apologies, sir. I was picking up some groceries…”

The man standing at the open door, his skin a deep red, apologized.

Appearing to be in his middle ages, his arms were full of brown bags overflowing with groceries.

The old man—no, Forest—welcomed the man by opening the door wider.

“Well, go ahead and put them away.”

“Yes…!”

***

As the refrigerator door opened, the sound of groceries being placed inside filled the house.

Upon Forest’s request, Al had bought quite a bit of food, though it didn’t take him long to put everything away.

After all, this was something Al had been doing for years, ever since he was young, now long practiced.

In another way, it could be seen as unfortunate.

Despite having once been a restaurant owner and Al his employee, things still hadn’t changed, even now that Al had struck out on his own.

And yet, for some reason, there was not a trace of complaint on Al’s face. Instead, he wore a contented smile.

Slurp.

Forest observed Al while sipping his coffee.

“You really are a peculiar one.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Perhaps time really had passed, for Al, who used to tense up whenever Forest said anything, was now relaxed enough to respond with a playful smile.

“I’ve been retired for years, yet here you are, doing menial chores with a smile on your face.”

“Haha, given all you’ve done for me, this much is nothing.”

Laughing, Al finished putting away the groceries and then sat down across from Forest.

Forest gazed intently at him.

The ‘gratitude’ Al referred to was that Forest had hired Al and several other Red One kids when they had nowhere to go.

During a time when redevelopment was booming, Forest had made a fortune, and to guard against future uncertainty—when he might no longer be able to broker deals—he had opened a restaurant, in part to erase the inferiority he had felt as a worker. It was during this time that he took in Al and the other Red Ones, providing them with daily wages and a place to sleep.

Though it had originally been done to get cheap labor, looking back, it had likely been one of the reasons Forest had been able to thrive as a broker for so long, even as a has-been.

In a line of work where rival brokers would steal client information or poach contracted agents, Forest’s loyal workers had ensured his safety from such threats.

Thanks to them, he had been able to continue his brokerage until he finally met ‘him.’

And yet, in the present day, Al’s devotion now worried Forest.

A broker stood at the intersection of the light and the dark; though they operated in both spheres, they leaned more toward the shadows.

And in the shadows, excessive righteousness could become its own shackle.

Forest was not telling him to lie or to cheat out of contracts, but he needed to be prepared to employ and counter such tactics.

In short, being too honest did not suit the broker profession.

“Honestly, there’s another reason I’m still doing these chores.”

Perhaps sensing where Forest’s thoughts were going, Al leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Oh?”

“When I’m here with you every morning, everyone else thinks we’re discussing something secret and important.”

“…”

“As you know, such misunderstandings can be powerful weapons.”

“Ha…”

Forest snorted at Al’s cunning.

“Sounds like the brokers in this city have really shrunk, being so afraid of a retired old man.”

“There would be some inaccuracy in calling you fully retired.”

“Ah, look at you, talking back now? But I guess that makes sense, considering you’ve been a broker for more than twenty years.”

“Please take it as honest advice. After all, how many retired old men have Randa city councilors, the Pater Church, and… Tracto Church coming to visit them?”

Tap. Tap.

Forest rapped the table twice and shook his head.

“Let me correct you. The Selectors are not a religious group, and Tracto Church isn’t even their formal name.”

“Perhaps not officially, but you know as well as I do that it’s only a matter of time. The tide has shifted.”

Even though Al gestured an apology, he firmly challenged Forest’s view.

Forest couldn’t find a way to refute him.

As Al said, it was clear that the Selectors would inevitably become a religious organization.

Even here in the United Kingdom, their faith was steadily taking root and spreading.

After all, why wouldn’t it? They had stopped a devil who descended upon the capital and saved the world. It was surprising that they hadn’t formally become a religion yet.

Without Marie’s tireless efforts to uphold his legacy, it might have been impossible.

However, despite her work, she could not completely prevent the formation of the Tracto Church, which worshipped him.

It was much like how a salmon could swim against the current, but it could not change the current itself.

There was already a shift within the Pater Church as well, where they were beginning to call him a Messiah sent by God, or even the Son of God.

“That event was pivotal.”

Al carefully brought up ‘that event.’

What was referred to as the ‘second miracle’ had occurred in the Central Continent.

It took place when a Holy Knight, who had lost his Holy Power, tried to stop a Dark Sorcerer from pillaging a village.

Without Holy Power, the knight was nothing more than a disciplined soldier, and he was no match for the sorcerer.

And yet, the knight continued to stand against the sorcerer, praying in his name. In doing so, the knight received new power and defeated the Dark Sorcerer.

This new power couldn’t nullify dark magic like Holy Power could, but it granted a much greater boost to physical abilities.

The Pater Church began calling this new power ‘Divine Power,’ and they planned to make it the new root of their beliefs.

As a result, the Pater Church inevitably started to elevate him to a status just below, or equal to, God.

“Hoo…”

Forest took another sip of coffee and let out a deep sigh.

That event still left his mind in turmoil.

It had really happened, so it was not for him to critique, but the fact that ‘he’ had done something so out of character bothered him.

After all, he had borne the weight of the world upon his shoulders and rejected worship, so why would he do such a thing…? It just didn’t sit right.

Then again, what did a mere mortal like himself know anyway…

Perhaps sensing Forest’s unease, Al apologized.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, sir.”

Forest looked at Al, the man who had been selected as the representative of Randa’s Red Ones, the man who had become a respected broker, a restaurant owner, a husband, and a father to a boy.

And in Al’s apologetic demeanor, Forest could still see shades of the boy he once was.

“Huh… It was a good decision to stop you from calling me master and have you address me as ‘sir.’”

“Huh?”

“You’ve learned how to use me and even talk back to me. I suppose you’ve finally grown up.”

“Haha, you flatter me.”

“I don’t think there’s any need for you to come by in the mornings anymore.”

“No, sir! Please, I beg you!”

Realizing he couldn’t afford to lose the resource of meeting with Forest every morning, Al begged quite sincerely.

As Forest, now an old man, saw this, he smirked mischievously.

“You don’t need my help anymore, do you?”

“No, no! In fact, I have something I’d like to consult you about.”

Years spent getting to know Forest had taught Al well. He smoothly pulled out some documents from his bag and presented a matter for Forest’s advice, skillfully appeasing the cantankerous old man.

Knowing full well what Al was doing, Forest gave some unhelpful advice anyway, restoring some of his sense of importance.

It seemed that growing old really did turn people into children.

“So, that’s my opinion. What do you think?”

“Your thoughts are excellent! Long live the sir! Long live, long li-”

“Enough. Past the first refrain, it gets annoying.”

“Y-Yes, of course… Ha, ha.”

“? Why are you laughing all of a sudden?”

“No reason, it’s just… you seem more energetic than usual today.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You finished all your food, and you seem to be in a good mood… It’s actually a relief.”

At Al’s comment, Forest realized that he had indeed cleaned his plate completely.

Up until now, he had felt sluggish and had left food behind.

The sudden change puzzled him, but he chose to see it as a good thing.

Though it wasn’t urgent, he did have some ‘slight’ business to attend to today. Having a bit of extra energy would certainly be a good thing.

“Well then, Al…”

“Yes, sir?”

“It’s time for you to go. Do the dishes on your way out.”

“Yes, of course!”

Al immediately stood up and began washing the dishes from Forest’s meal.

It had been a pleasant morning.