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“Camila swallowed a dry gulp. Her delicate neck heaved once, and her palms wiped the damp skin.

The cool breeze whisked away her cold sweat, but the fluttering scarf obstructed her view. As she awkwardly fiddled with the piece of cloth, Frederick, who was counting stacks of cash in the living room, called out to her.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little…?”

Camila vaguely stretched her words.

The place she was about to head was the black market. She had seen black markets a few times passing through Africa and the Middle East, but this was her first time actually stepping inside.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Frederick said.

“People often misunderstand because of the term ‘black market’; it’s not as dangerous as you might imagine. Brokers and dealers are just folks who make a living through commerce, so customer trust is crucial.”

“You seem to have visited the black market a lot.”

“I’ve been there plenty.”

Thud. Another bundle of cash was added on top of the mountain-high stacks of bills.

Frederick stuffed cash into his bag. Camila was curious about what he planned to do with so much money, but she didn’t ask about the funds’ purpose.

It was then that the cool air of the desert night tickled her skin.

-Knock. Knock.

A neat rap came from the entrance. As Camila hurriedly spread her palm to conjure a spark, Frederick stopped her.

“Relax. It’s just someone here to pick us up.”

“Here to pick us up?”

“An employee sent by the broker.”

Broker? When did the contact send a message? She cast a puzzled glance at Frederick.

Meanwhile, he checked the visitor’s identity through the peephole on the wall next to the door, then grabbed his sunglasses and money bag.

He opened his mouth as if he had expected this. “Didn’t you give a tip at the teahouse earlier?”

The door opened.

Standing at the entrance was a man whom Camila recognized—he was the employee from the shop they had visited just before returning to their lodgings.

The Arab-looking employee politely nodded his head in greeting.

“Good evening. Shall we go?”

He gestured courteously toward the hallway. “Mr. Victor is waiting for you all.”

—

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

Despite the name, the black market isn’t a real market.

Unlike the traditional markets often depicted in novels, which only open at specific locations and times, the term ‘black market’ refers to all markets where illegal transactions occur, beyond government control. Thus, it’s rare for these markets to have a fixed location. Once a base is established, it becomes prone to governmental crackdowns.

Of course, not every black market is formless. In neighborhoods where law enforcement is out of control, you can find vendors openly selling rifles and ammunition on market floors.

But today, she wasn’t there to seek out such trash.

“…”

The contact led us through the streets of the capital.

We passed through main roads, passed through alleys, descended underground, and repeated the process of going up and down buildings. After a dizzying tour around the capital, we arrived at a three-story building in the downtown area.

The building had an impressive Arab-style carpet and decor.

Armed guards were keeping watch at the entrance, while women inside what appeared to be offices were sorting counterfeit bills.

The door swung open, and a hulking broker appeared in the living room, waving his hand in a welcoming manner.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Frederick!”

The broker was an orc, with green skin and a massive muscular physique; his protruding fangs were a classic hallmark of the Green Skin.

As I sipped the tea that was offered, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sudden appearance of the orc.

“What’s this, Victor? Where did you pick up that weird greeting?”

Jammer-Victor. A former officer of the Kien Empire, now a weapon broker.

The orc grinned, displaying his fangs. “I heard it’s a common greeting where a place called Earth is. How do you like it? Does it suit me?”

His ridiculous response made me burst into laughter. Why ‘bonjour’ in the evening?

It had been over five years since we had first met, but I still hadn’t gotten used to Victor’s jokes. Still, since he had greeted me, it was only right for me to reciprocate, so I opened my arms and gave him a hearty hug.

That was a customary greeting among orcs.

“Good to see you, Victor.”

“Good to see you too, Freddy.”

Victor expressed his joy by patting my back twice with his pot lid-like palms.

“I was surprised to get word from Raniere. I didn’t expect to see you here, back in Grandpa’s hometown.”

“So, that makes it even more delightful?”

“Of course!”

His ancestors were nomads from the plains where the Paraanga Mountains were located. Although Victor was born in the Kien Empire, he never forgot his roots in the Mauritania Continent, even while receiving his paycheck.

Maybe that’s why he seemed quite happy to see me.

After exchanging warm greetings, Victor grinned and opened the conversation.

“Well then, we can catch up later. But why are you here?”

“Why? It’s about work, of course.”

I replied somewhat irritably.

“I’m here to track down someone who ran off to the Mauritania Continent.”

“Hm. I’ve heard about that. A hero has come here, right?”

Victor nodded knowingly. Now I realized one crucial fact.

Only a handful of people knew I was looking for Camila. Besides the upper echelons of the Military Intelligence Agency who ordered me and the information agent Francesca, no one else knew about my search for Camila.

Yet, Victor was already aware that Camila had fled to the Mauritania Continent.

This meant that other information agencies were also hunting for Camila.

“…”

I subtly shifted my gaze sideways.

There stood Camila, whose face was hidden beneath a hood, looking curiously at Victor.

“Wow. An orc…”

“…”

Seeing her expression, Victor lowered his voice, leaning in to ask, “Who is that girl?”

“…It’s a bit complicated.”

He seemed curious about Camila’s identity, but since she was someone I brought along, he didn’t press for details.

For a moment, Victor, standing a short distance from Camila, casually slipped some juicy information my way.

“The Empire is also putting in great efforts to locate the hero. I’m not sure about the Imperial Guard HQ, but the military has someone on it.”

“They dispatched an information officer from the Reconnaissance Command?”

Victor nodded heavily.

“That’s right.”

“Is this something that needs to involve the intelligence units? The Guard HQ should be able to handle it.”

“I don’t know the exact details, but the Ministry of Defense made the first move. The Duke mentioned that the hero had gone missing to the Crown Prince.”

“Hm….”

Hearing that the intelligence agency executives were rummaging through the Mauritania Continent in search of Camila, I fell into a moment of contemplation.

“We need to be careful.”

“Take care of yourself, friend. There’s no other customer willing to pay as generously as you do. Hahaha!”

Victor patted my shoulder and erupted into a hearty laugh.

Feeling a dull ache flowing across my shoulder, I chuckled and playfully punched him in the belly.

“Jerk, you’re still strong as ever. Anyway, thanks for the info. It’s time to get things rolling, right?”

“Absolutely.”

I handed him the money bag. After unlocking the bag and checking the amount, Victor nodded with a satisfied expression.

“I’ve checked the money. It looks suspiciously abundant for just the price of the goods…”

The broker, showing his fanged grin, began to smile widely.

“Follow me, my friend. I’ve got everything you’re looking for ready.”

—

“…Alright. Let’s take a look,”

Victor confidently said, lighting the basement.

Beneath a regular residential three-story building lay a staggering amount of firearms.

“Are all these rifles supported by the Ministry of Defense?”

“Some came from the Empire, and some were acquired from other countries. I’ve got some locally sourced items here, so feel free to browse.”

I slowly examined the displayed firearms.

True to a war-torn area, Victor’s armory was a hodgepodge of weaponry. While there were ‘authentic’ ones produced by the Kien Empire’s Royal Armory, there were also ‘knockoffs’ illegally manufactured in tribal smithies.

Victor spoke up.

“As you know, many items here are fakes disguised as the real deal. They are handmade imitations with engraved markings. But all the goods I deal in are authentic.”

“What’s this?”

I picked up a pistol while browsing the firearms. It looked just like the standard issue sidearm of the Imperial Army, but as I examined it closely, I noticed differences in the details.

Victor didn’t even properly inspect the pistol. He casually surveyed it from a distance and replied briefly.

“Oh, that one…

“He’s a friend who crossed the water from the East. From the Northeastern Alliance. They copied the Imperial Army’s firearms there.”

“Did you pay the licensing fee?”

“Do you think those little yellow monkeys paid it?”

That’s code for saying it’s an illegal replica.

Though it was an illegally produced item, its condition was quite decent. The Mauritania Continent was a area where Imperial Army firearms often circulated, so it was nice that compatible ammunition and parts were easy to obtain.

But there was one aspect I particularly liked.

The firearms produced by the Northeastern Alliance had no lot numbers. It wasn’t that someone had erased them; the factory simply didn’t stamp the numbers during production.

“This is good.”

I gathered as many firearms without lot numbers as possible. Just in case there were issues with any of the guns, I could remove good parts from others to reassemble them.

After I stocked up on guns and ammunition, Victor naturally showed me other items. Bulletproof vests, knives, grenades, and even combat rations and night gear. It was a lineup typical of a broker receiving support from foreign armies.

“Here, take everything!”

Victor happily offered the prime goods. And at prices much cheaper than black market rates.

The prices were so low that I was left wondering if he was losing money on the sales. They say cheap often comes with a cost, and I began to suspect he was clearing out defective goods.

When I shared those thoughts, he surprisingly got defensive.

“Hey. Do I look like someone who sells trash like that? You doubt me after I gave you a good deal?”

“You’re a stingy old man, and you suddenly drop the price, so it only makes it more suspicious.”

“Damn it. Thanks to you, I’m starting a new business in the North, and everything’s going well because of the connections you introduced. So I’m just returning the favor. If you can’t trust me, then pay full price and take it.”

As a side note, applying black market rates would mean I’d have to pay over three times as much.

While gathering my items, I couldn’t hide my doubts and continued questioning.

“Is that everything?”

“Actually, while I’m grateful and giving you a discount….”

As he answered, Victor suddenly looked around and lowered his voice.

“I have to ask something.”

“What are you curious about?”

“The woman you brought today. Who is she?”

His thick fingers pointed up to the ceiling. Just above the basement was the living room where we had just been sitting.

And there was Camila.

Victor, lowering his voice, began asking questions that made his intentions clear.

“So, who is she? A colleague? You can’t possibly be seeing another woman while you have Miss Ranieri, right?”

“Be quiet.”

Thanks to my connections, I was able to acquire the items needed for the operation at a bargain price.

With my hands full of gear, we exited the basement and returned to the living room.

“Anyway, Freddy. Did you find everything you needed?”

“Yeah.”

I replied while sipping tea that Victor had personally prepared. The rich aroma of the traditional tea was quite impressive.

Camila had stepped out, saying to relax and talk.

Victor plopped himself into a prime seat. Then, comfortably settling in, he rested his arms on the money bag.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the customer service here. Now, let’s talk business.”

“……”

“What information do you need today?”

His thick green hand tapped on the money bag.

They say it’s suspicious to have too much money for the price of goods. It seemed he figured out I was there for information just by looking at the amount.

“I need information about a person.”

“Personal data? Hmmm….”

Victor crossed his arms and hummed in thought.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about heroes. If I did, I would have told you already.”

“No, not Camila.”

“Who are you talking about? Name him.”

I lit a cigarette.

“Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan.”

When the name came out along with the pale smoke, Victor’s eyebrows twitched.

“…That warlord leader?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would you be interested in someone with a bounty on his head?”

“Why do you think?”

It meant that I needed information for the Information Agency’s work. It also signified not to pry any further.

Thankfully, Victor didn’t ask for specific circumstances.

“I see the picture clearly now. It’s because of the warlords split into three factions.”

As he said, the warlords here were largely divided into three tendencies.

Self-sufficient or Mauritania-centric warlords, warlords friendly to the Second World, and warlords friendly to the First World. It’s a kind of political opposition structure based on ideological tendencies.

Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan’s faction was the latter. They maintain a moderate friendship with democratic nations and have conflicts with other warlords. Of course, nobody here was unaware that this ‘conflict’ meant armed clashes.

“Hmm….”

Victor wore a serious expression as he pondered.

Understandably, the Kien Empire Ministry of Defense supports the pro-dictatorship warlords.

In other words, they were practically Victor’s financial lifeline.

“Freddy. I don’t know exactly what business you have that involves poking at them, but if Hassan’s faction increases its power, it’s gonna mess with my business.”

“So?”

“I have one favor to ask.”

Victor said.

“When I ask for help, don’t ask why, just help me once. Just once.”

“……”

“Can you promise that?”

As I met Victor’s intense gaze, I solemnly nodded.

“…Sure. I promise.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

Victor gulped down the tea in one go and slammed the cup down onto the table.

“Alright. I’ll share all the information I know.”

*

After the information exchange was done.

By the time we left the building, the bright moonlight was illuminating the desert. I called out softly to Camila, who was sitting in the yard.

“What are you doing?”

“…Huff!”

I barely caught the sound of her swallowing a gasp.

Startled, she shook herself, hastily hiding something she was holding wrapped in paper.

“Is everything done already…?”

She seemed suspicious.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at Camila.

“…Did you eat something while I was gone?”

“N-no! I didn’t eat anything!?”

She hurriedly exclaimed, yet the scent of strong spices was clinging to her.

Recognizing the familiar aroma, I gave her back a playful slap. Camila’s tearful voice pierced through the desert night air.

“Geez. You’re so reckless…eating whatever you find without knowing what’s in it! It’s infuriating.”

“Waaah….”

“Since we have work to do, stop eating and follow me quickly. We need to get up early tomorrow.”

With her teary blue eyes lifted, Camila asked.

“So it seems like you got the information you wanted. By the way, what work do you have…?”

“We have a mountain of work ahead. We have to prepare a lot before we meet the warlord leader.”

So we needed to be busy starting tomorrow.

However,

“Before that, there’s something you need to do.”

“Me…?”

Camila’s face, once gloomy, lit up.

“I’ll do it!”

“Without even hearing what it is?”

“You won’t ask me to do something dangerous, right?”

“You might regret this…?”

“Don’t worry, just trust me with it!”

*

A little later.

“KYAAAAH!”

Camila, who had gone into the bathroom to check the mirror, charged out like a tiger and grabbed my collar.

“W-what is this?”

“What do you mean?”

“My hair! What happened to my hair?!”

Camila waved around her chopped-off hair, shouting.

The butchered hair was in such a state that “mangled” seemed like an understatement.

So, with scissors in hand, I awkwardly scratched the back of my head and chuckled.

“Well… I was just trying to give it a nice cut, but I’m not very skilled at it…”

“……”

“It’s the scissors’ fault, I promise.”

“…Is that even an excuse?”

“I’ll go buy a hair clippers. Camila, you have a lovely head shape, so even if it’s shaved, it should look good—ugh!”

“You jerk…!”

After her hair was butchered, Camila shoved me into a corner and started pummeling me.

That day at dawn, I learned that Camila had talent in hand-to-hand combat.

 

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