I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 81: This is Compensation for My Commotion (1)

The document proving the successful completion of the guild's mission fluttered in Keter's hand, and Cork's face turned dark.

The mercenaries watched Cork’s reaction with tension. They knew their branch manager wasn’t the type to admit defeat gracefully.

Sure enough, Cork tightened his grip on his sword and said, “I can’t accept this.”

That single remark provoked insults from the neutral mercenaries.

“Pathetic! You got defeated because you were careless, and now you won’t admit it?”

“Keter completed an impossible mission without resorting to deceit or sabotage like you did. What excuse are you trying to come up with now?”

“Frankly, I don’t like the idea of the Solver becoming the branch manager, but you, Cork, are even worse. At least act like a mercenary!”

Clenching his lips at the fierce backlash, Cork exploded in a fit of rage.

“Shut up! Don’t spout nonsense! Keter cheated! He was in cahoots with the Red Comet!”

Hansen, who had observed Keter from the start, retorted, “Interesting theory. So you’re suggesting that a Named Monster made a deal with a human? You may not have seen it yourself, but Keter fought the Red Comet with his life on the line. What do you say to that?”

“He only pretended to fight! Isn’t it obvious? Does Keter look like someone who could defeat a Named Monster?”

“Have you ever fought Keter yourself? Because we have seen him fight. He is strong. Sir, admit your defeat and step down.”

“You traitor, Hansen! So you’ve been colluding with Keter too!”

Cork brandished his sword toward Hansen but froze in surprise. Behind Hansen, the mercenaries had begun to gather. Keter didn’t even need to say a word. The mercenaries had already made their choice. It wasn’t Cork who deserved to lead—it was Keter.

Realizing the shift, Cork was losing his temper.

How much did I sacrifice to reach this point... I’m so close to my goal... I could become the Mercenary King if I could just obtain the artifact!

“This should’ve been done from the beginning.”

A sinister aura erupted from Cork’s sword, exuding killing intent. Though there were over thirty mercenaries standing against him, they did not look confident at all. They knew all too well that if Cork, a Diamond-class mercenary, fought with everything he had, half of them would die.

The mercenaries, unwilling to risk their lives for Keter, began retreating step by step.

Eventually, a wide-open space formed, leaving only Keter and Cork standing face-to-face.

Cork sneered maliciously.

“Heh, a real mercenary proves themselves with strength, not tricks. Let me show you how I climbed to the top, Keter.”

Cork began to glow with dazzling light, a precursor to unleashing the full power of his magic tools.

Keter, however, only smiled faintly. His voice carried a mocking ease, as if he had been waiting for this moment.

“So you’re giving your all to entertain me until the end? How generous of you.”

This long-standing grudge could only end with one of them dead. Yet Cork wasn’t even granted that chance.

“You disgrace the position of branch manager, Cork.”

A deep, commanding voice cut through the tense atmosphere. All eyes turned toward the source.

Pushing through the crowd was a towering figure—a massive build in a kitchen apron that seemed out of place, with an eyepatch covering one eye.

People murmured, “The One-Eyed Joyray?”

“What are you doing here?”

The mercenaries hurriedly tried to dissuade him.

“This isn’t a place for a tavern owner! Go back now!”

“If you’re just passing by, keep walking.”

The unexpected arrival of Joyray disrupted the tense atmosphere, causing both the mercenaries and Cork to frown.

However, their expressions quickly changed at his next words.

“I’m not just passing by; I’ve been here the whole time. From the beginning to the end, I saw it all.”

Joyray’s presence was overwhelming. He stood a full head taller than most, his entire body reeking of the odor of raw meat. Yet no one had noticed him earlier.

Well, not entirely. Keter had known all along. He simply chose not to acknowledge it.

But Cork, eager to kill Keter as soon as possible, dismissed Joyray with irritation.

“Whether you were watching from the start or not, don’t overstep your place. Just stay out of this and keep watching.”

“I can’t just watch. I have my responsibilities.”

“And who the hell are you to interfere in this? Do you want me to take that last good eye of yours too?”

“Cork. You, of all people, should recognize what this means.”

Joyray reached into his coat and pulled out a badge, pinning it to his clothing. It had a golden edge and a silver center, engraved with the image of a blindfolded woman wielding dual swords.

“W-what? You... That’s... No, it can’t be...!”

Cork was in shock the moment he saw the badge.

“That badge...!”

Among the mercenaries, those who recognized it widened their eyes in disbelief.

Of course, only a few knew its significance. Most of the mercenaries were clueless, grumbling in confusion.

“What’s with all the fuss over some badge?”

No one offered an explanation. A handful of mercenaries, however, clasped their hands together in reverence, as if witnessing the arrival of a divine figure.

“Ah... So the Mercenary Association hasn’t abandoned us after all.”

“He is not just a mere tavern owner. He’s a councilman of the Mercenary Association! He’s been watching over us this entire time!”

* * *

A councilman of the mercenary guild was not just a designation of high rank within the guild. It represented the role of a representative of tens of millions of mercenaries, acknowledged by world leaders. These councilmen took over the position once held by the Mercenary King, acting as advocates for countless mercenaries worldwide.

There were only eight individuals, and even their identities remained shrouded in mystery. Yet, one of them had been hiding in plain sight, posing as a tavern owner in Liqueur.

The mercenaries were awestruck by the legendary councilman’s sudden appearance. Cork’s reaction, however, was even more intense.

“A councilman? There was a mercenary guild councilman in Liqueur? That’s absurd!”

The position Cork dreamed of—the Mercenary King—had long since been replaced by the title of councilman.

In other words, the man standing before him, Joyray, was the closest person alive to what Cork aspired to become.

“There’s no way that shabby tavern owner is a councilman!”

“Branch Manager of Liqueur, your denial changes nothing.”

Gone was the One-Eyed Joyray, the playful tavern owner who casually bantered with patrons. In his place stood the councilman of the mercenary guild, exuding an overwhelming presence as he strode toward Cork.

Even as Cork raised his weapon, his hands trembled violently. It wasn’t just the weight of Joyray’s authority.

Councilmen were still mercenaries themselves, but could a mercenary of such stature be anything less than exceptional? Cork knew well that only Orichalcum-class mercenaries, the highest rank in the guild, could qualify to become councilmen.

With a quiet motion, Joyray extended his hand toward Cork’s sword. It was a level two magic tool, enhanced with overflowing aura, but...

Crack!

It shattered like a brittle cracker in Joyray’s grip.

“...”

The sight was so surreal that Cork could only stare blankly at the hilt of his now-broken sword.

“You dared defy the mercenary guild’s traditions, and as a councilman, I couldn’t stand by and let it go. If you want to fight Keter, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“...”

Cork’s once-arrogant shoulders slumped, his will utterly crushed.

When Cork had faced an Amantir-class mercenary before, the sheer gap in strength had felt insurmountable. Now, standing before an Orichalcum-class councilman, Cork couldn’t even fathom the scale of the difference. It was like staring into infinity—a boundless, endless ocean.

“You don’t seem to have the guts for it,” Joey Ray said with disdain as he turned away and addressed the crowd of mercenaries. “As a councilman, I hereby declare: Cork, having been defeated in the Goddess’ Trial, is stripped of his authority as branch manager. By the rightful process, the victor, Keter, is granted the role of branch manager.”

This wasn’t a request for their opinion. It was a unilateral declaration. None of the mercenaries dared to object, and even Cork could only clench his fists and hang his head in silence.

But Keter wasn’t one to let things end so quietly.

“Hey. You mad?”

“...”

“What are you gonna do about it? What can you even do?”

Keter’s taunt was infuriatingly smug.

Cork’s response, however, was...

“...Congratulations.”

...resignation.

When Cork finally lifted his head, his face was calm and composed.

“I lost. I admit it.”

“No, you didn’t. You’re just surrendering because you know you can’t beat Joyray.”

Even as Keter goaded him, Cork didn’t lash out.

“I won’t deny that. Regardless, there’s nothing more I can do here.”

Making it clear he wanted no further conversation, Cork turned and walked away. His walk was that of a defeated man.

The mercenaries, thrilled by Cork’s retreat, celebrated as though they had won the fight themselves.

“Ha! Look at him scamper off with his tail between his legs!”

“Keter won!”

“Wait... hold on. Does this mean our new branch manager is... the Solver? That’s... uh...”

Though Keter was also smiling, it wasn’t the grin of someone savoring victory.

Cork really walking away so easily? As if. It’s as ridiculous as saying Taragon would brush off an artifact. Hah, looks like he’s hiding something. Even better.

Cork had yet to reveal his final move.

And Keter’s decision to let Cork walk away wasn’t out of mercy or satisfaction at revenge being complete. It was for an even more perfect, more satisfying revenge, because vengeance was best served when it was absolute.

Among the many present, only Joyray understood Keter’s true intentions.

“You’re planning to finish this for good, aren’t you?”

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Captain—or should I say, the father of mercenaries, Councilman Joyray!”

“Don’t be sarcastic. There are plenty of eyes watching and ears listening.”

“Bold words from someone who just helped Cork out.”

Joyray hadn’t stepped in for Keter’s sake; he had stepped in for Cork. If the fight had continued, Cork would have ended up dead.

Joyray was a mercenary himself, and he was a councilman revered as the Father of Mercenaries. While personal relationships mattered to him, his loyalty to mercenaries as a whole always came first.

No matter how despicable or corrupt Cork might have been, he was still a mercenary and the branch manager who had protected Liqueur for decades. Joyray wanted to save him.

He had conveyed to Cork that he would be able to live if he didn’t fight and conceded defeat. But Cork didn’t concede. Instead, he had just shown that he was going to fight to the end. If Cork had genuinely surrendered, he would have stood his ground and fought Keter to the last moment. If so, Joyray would have intervened to save him before his final breath.

But Cork fled. He swallowed his pride and hid his claws. A hidden blade was far more dangerous than one held out in front. In such circumstances, even Joyray could no longer protect Cork.

“What can I say? I’m the Father of Mercenaries. A father wants to save even his most wayward child.”

“I’m going to kill your son. You won’t stop me from killing him?”

“He’s a stepchild.”

With a resigned sigh, Joyray handed his badge to Keter.

“Cork has probably gone to the Mercenary Vault. He’s up to something there. That vault stores the branch’s funds and can only be accessed with the branch manager’s key or someone with higher authority. Take this. And try not to smash everything apart while you’re at it.”

“Oh, so with this badge, I can rob Mercenary Vaults worldwide?”

“It’s impressive how your mind works. Only you would think of that right now. Don’t get greedy. I can reclaim it anytime I wish.”

“Hmph.”

Clicking his tongue, Keter turned and headed in the direction Cork had fled.

Joyray sighed and offered one final piece of advice.

“Go ahead. But be careful. I don’t know what Cork is hiding, but he seemed confident enough to think he could handle even me.”

Keter waved dismissively.

“Trust in me, Captain. I’m looking forward to it.”

And Keter truly was. He hoped Cork had a secret trump card that would pose a real threat to him. Because the greater the challenge Cork presented, the sweeter it would feel to break him and crush him entirely. Keter was practically salivating at the thought, eager to savor his decades-aged main course.