-56- Novice Mercenary

After sending the message, Yvette stood by the bank of the Lorn River for a moment, surprised that the first reply came from Welder. His response wasn’t even a text but an astonished and excited voice call: “Damn, Miss Mage, you’re not dead?”

“I ran into some trouble and had to keep a low profile for a while,” Yvette replied.

“So that’s how it is!”

Hearing that familiar, calm and detached tone from four years ago, Welder immediately relaxed, certain it was really her—his decision to confirm via voice call was not in vain.

Then, brimming with excitement, he said, “So, Miss Mage, how about our business? Are you still interested?”

“Sure. How many do you want?” Yvette asked.

“Well... let’s start with ten,” Welder said, biting his lip. One Arcane Wind Blade cost 50,000 credits; ten meant 500,000 credits, a sum few could afford. Even he didn’t have that much in liquid funds and would have to take a small loan to manage it.

But he dared not buy less, fearing that Miss Mage might vanish again like before, leaving him with no middleman business.

Meanwhile, Yvette made a rare purchase of Black Tower Pharmaceuticals’ remote encapsulation service, paying a 50,000 credit packaging fee. Counting the 500,000 credits transferred by Welder, her credit balance instantly swelled by 450,000, bringing a welcome sense of relief.

However, this was clearly unsustainable. Welder was just trying to secure a large order once, worried that future business might dry up. Given the scale of the gray market around Blackwater District, these ten Arcane Wind Blades would likely take two or three months to sell.

After ending the call with Welder, Yvette noticed a message from Mrs. Susan. It seemed she was preparing to set up a stall at the night market. After some excitement, she sent Yvette a few photos of her stall preparations, the backdrop still reflecting the style of the Light Apartments, and asked Yvette to visit when she had time.

She also sent a voice message and transferred 50,000 credits, expressing heartfelt thanks for Yvette’s role in the earlier Regar Hoffman incident. Apparently, through some unknown channels, she had learned how Yvette had spent money to reduce her husband’s sentence and had ensured a harsh punishment for Goss Groni.

This was somewhat unexpected. After a moment’s silence, Yvette accepted the thanks but declined the 50,000 credits.

For Mrs. Susan, who made a living selling at the market and had two children to send to school, 50,000 credits was a considerable sum. Yvette appreciated the gesture but refused to take the money.

She then inquired about Hans and Mary and learned the two children attended a boarding school—not as prestigious as Black Tower High, but if their grades improved, by the time Regar Hoffman was released and resumed his old work, the couple might have another chance to send their children to Black Tower Academy’s university department and reunite with old classmates.

Finally, Yvette fabricated a similar excuse for Rosalind and, knowing Mrs. Susan would be busy at her stall, took the initiative to end the conversation.

...

She folded away the holographic image projected by her ring and, in fairly good spirits, left the riverside of the Lorn River, heading toward a certain bar on Black Street.

---

Though she now had nearly 500,000 credits as startup capital, she had no intention of abandoning mercenary work.

Selling restricted spells might seem easy and lucrative, but the business couldn’t scale; once it gained notoriety, it risked direct crackdowns.

Mercenary work was different. In most countries of the Origin Civilization, including the New Eden Federation, mercenaries were a legal profession, with legitimate order platforms. Occasionally, even police departments would outsource some cases involving gangs.

Moreover, this dream state she was in was likely to last only three months, and aside from mercenary work, there was no faster way to make money.

“Since the dream is continuous, I’ll first establish a mercenary identity. Maybe each time I enter the dream, it’ll come in handy...” she muttered softly.

Pushing open the door of the “Floating Light Bar,” unlike other bars blasting deafening music, here flowed a more lyrical melody. Yvette had already gathered much information online and knew this place also served as a mercenary order posting point, so she wasn’t surprised.

She sat at the bar and saw a bartender in black formal wear, in his twenties, approach with a playful look.

“Little miss, you sure you’re in the right place? Minors aren’t allowed to drink, but you can order something else,” he said.

“A mixed coconut juice,” Yvette replied calmly. When the bartender prepared the drink, she didn’t take it with her hand but used wind magic to float the glass to her lips, took a small sip, and silently set it down.

The bartender’s expression shifted. He glanced at the mage’s ring on her hand—the Black Tower S3—and his tone grew serious.

“Miss Mage, are you... here to take orders?”

In the Origin Civilization, mercenaries generally sought contracts through online channels, typically supported by the eight super-corporations within their territories. One side placed an order, the other accepted it, and the contract was considered established—legally and openly, akin to hiring a private detective.

But reality was never that simple. Many contracts were illegal; you couldn’t just post an order on the platform asking mercenaries to kill someone—police would be knocking on your door the next day.

So negotiations happened offline first, then the deal was disguised with a flimsy excuse online, using the platform as transaction security. If the contract wasn’t completed within the specified time, the deposit was compensated.

Places like Floating Light Bar played a role here: they often posted gray-area contracts for others and, once finding a mercenary, arranged the platform transaction as a middleman’s middleman.

“You can call me ‘Nameless,’” Yvette gave the nickname she’d registered on the mercenary platform.

“I’ve just arrived in Agasha and want some orders. I know Floating Light Bar offers this service.”

“I see,” the bartender nodded. “Then, Miss Nameless, let me introduce myself: I’m Cartes, the middleman here at Floating Light Bar.”

After Yvette nodded, he asked, “Miss Nameless, what’s your mercenary account and how many points do you have?”

On the platform, transaction amounts convert into mercenary points at a rate of one ten-thousandth; for example, completing a 1,000,000 credit order earns 100 points. These points, along with completion rates, help gauge a mercenary’s skill level.

After Yvette gave her account, Cartes searched it and immediately frowned.

“Miss Mage, are you sure you’re not joking with me...”

---

He had just found this account named Nameless—brand new today, no information at all. How was he supposed to assess her? Only because she showed a bit of skill and was a young female mage did he hesitate to wave her off. New mercenaries like this usually start with legal jobs to build experience; jumping straight to gray-area contracts would hurt his reputation as a professional middleman.

“I can put up a large deposit, over 100,000 credits,” Yvette said.

“No... Miss Mage, that’s not how it works,” Cartes sighed. “We middlemen care about reputation and completion rates. Even if you can afford the deposit, a failed job is a failed job. Clients don’t place orders just to earn deposits back... you understand?”

Yvette was silent for a moment, then asked, “Do you have any long-standing, hard-to-complete contracts?”

Cartes immediately understood her intent. She wanted one of those orders published long ago, left unclaimed due to insufficient funds or difficulty, to prove her strength.

That was a good idea. The key was, these contracts had been sitting for a long time; mercenaries knew they were risky, and failure wouldn’t harm the middleman’s reputation.

“There is one such contract, but I doubt you’d dare take it,” Cartes said with a sly smile, seemingly eager to see how this arrogant mage would react.

“You tell me,” Yvette said flatly.

“You know the ‘Werewolf Killer,’ right? The infamous serial killer who shocked all of Agasha, who last month had a 1,000,000 credit bounty posted by the AJSP.”

Yvette didn’t know but nodded for him to continue.

“A fearless female reporter wants to investigate the Werewolf Killer’s true identity but fears being targeted. She posted a contract seeking a bodyguard during her investigation: 50,000 credits for five days, with extensions at 20,000 credits per day.”

Cartes clicked his tongue. “The pay’s not enough for the risk, and no one knows the Werewolf Killer’s level. Nobody wants to take it. The contract’s about to expire in a couple of days. If you’re confident, go be that reporter’s bodyguard. And if you’re lucky enough to kill the Werewolf Killer, you get the 1,000,000 credit bounty. So, do you have the guts?”

“I’ll take it. Send the transaction to the mercenary platform,” Yvette said.

“...You’re serious?”

Cartes was stunned. Her response was so natural he thought he’d misheard. But seeing the calm determination in the silver-haired girl’s eyes, there was a strange charm that made him instinctively agree.

At the same time, he recalled the propaganda booklet of the infamous cult “Holy Spirit Sect,” which described the necessary conditions for “Vengeful Spirits” to arise. Muttering anxiously, he said, “I’ve said all I can. If you die, don’t come back as a ghost to haunt me...”