I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 87: You Earn Money to Spend It (1)

After the sudden visit of the Godfather, Keter began doing the necessary things.

—Keter, Diamond-class approved.

—Luke Blendere, Diamond-class approved.

Using his authority as the branch manager, Keter granted Diamond-class status to both himself and Luke. It was a blatant overreach that would have sent the Mercenary Association into an uproar, but they weren’t going to come to Liqueur for an inspection any time soon. After all, Joyray had already been bribed by Keter.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“It’s not like carrying a mercenary recognition tag is going to hurt you. And since I’m already overstepping boundaries, why not go the extra mile?”

“I’m not sure if I should accept it. Diamond-class is top-tier in the mercenary world.”

“Then don’t take it.”

“No, I’ll gladly accept it. Thanks.”

Luke, who had intentions of leaving the Lillian Kingdom someday, thought a Diamond-class mercenary tag might prove useful in crossing borders.

The process went smoothly since approval was just a matter of Keter filling out paperwork. However, crafting the tags required more time, as they were handmade. His goal was to get Diamond-class tags, so they didn’t have any more business at the mercenary guild. However, Keter stayed and began to restructure a few things.

“Hansen, listen carefully so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

Standing next to Keter was Hansen. He was a previously unremarkable mercenary, but now he had been forcibly promoted to deputy branch manager after catching Keter’s attention.

“Just don’t do anything too outrageous, please,” Hansen pleaded.

“If the mercenaries complain, it’s all on you, deputy branch manager.”

The first change Keter made was to the guild’s rules: there were no age or species restrictions. Anyone who met the qualifications could become a mercenary.

“That’s it.”

“That’s all?”

“Want me to add more? Want me to add a clause that requires everyone to complete at least five requests per month?”

“No, I was just asking out of curiosity...”

“Let’s move on to guild policies. If a mercenary becomes disabled during a mission, they will receive compensation based on their class. Upon retirement, they’ll get a gratuity, and you’ll decide the amount, Hansen.”

“Wait, why am I the one deciding this?!”

“Because you’re the deputy branch manager. Make sure the amounts aren’t stingy, but not so high that someone could cash out and retire in luxury.”

“Does the guild even have the funds for this?”

“Yeah, more than enough. I checked the vault earlier—it’s piled up pretty high.”

“That’s probably the tribute meant for the Association. Even Cork never touched that, despite treating the guild’s funds like his own wallet.”

The mercenary guild was required to remit half of its annual earnings to the Mercenary Association. But that had been impossible for years in Liqueur, leading to a significant accumulation of funds.

Cork had avoided spending the money, fearing backlash from the mercenaries, but Keter saw things differently.

“Of course, they would riot if I spent it on myself. But if I’m spending it for their benefit, who’s going to complain? Compensation and retirement bonuses aren’t for me, are they?”

“That’s true.”

“On top of that, expand the guild facilities. There are too many mercenaries in Liqueur for such a cramped space. It felt crowded with just fifty people. Make sure it can accommodate at least two hundred, and hire a full-time physician and blacksmith.”

“S-sir, are...”

Hansen swallowed nervously, checked their surroundings, and whispered, “Are you planning to grow the mercenary guild and take over Liqueur?”

Thump!

“Ow!”

Keter thumped Hansen on the head with a knuckle and said, “Are you new to Liqueur? Even if we gathered every mercenary here, they would still just be a mediocre ragtag bunch. What matters isn’t the numbers; it’s the leader. To control a region, you need someone on the level of Maran or Balt.”

“But we have you, sir.”

“Nope, you don’t. You’re in charge here, Hansen.”

“I really can’t figure out what you’re planning.”

It was a natural reaction, given that they didn’t know Keter might leave Liqueur.

“Even if you’re not here, we should be fine since the councilman from the Mercenary Association is backing us?”

“Stop saying stupid things. I’m leaving, so just manage the guild properly. If everything looks good when I come back, it’ll be thanks to you. If it’s a mess, it’ll be your fault.”

“You’re dumping all the work on me and leaving?”

“That’s what a deputy branch manager is for. Don’t want to do it? Ah, if you don’t like it, you can always quit.”

“No, no. I really want to do it.”

If Keter had asked him to become deputy branch manager yesterday, Hansen would have refused. But things were different now, as Councilman Joyray from the Mercenary Association had appeared. This meant that there was a possibility of being able to leave Liqueur. Why else would a Councilman leisurely run a tavern in Liqueur? It was clear he stayed because leaving was an option.

When the time came, who would Joyray take with him? He would take the branch manager of the mercenary guild, for sure, and only the most exceptional mercenaries. Hansen wanted to leave too. He had family outside, and it had already been ten years. He worried about whether his family was safe and wondered how much his son had grown. That was why he accepted the position of deputy branch manager, knowing he would be taking on the responsibilities.

With his business at the mercenary guild concluded, Keter left with Luke. Word of Keter’s promotion to branch manager had spread quickly, and mercenaries actively or passively acknowledged him as they passed by.

Keter barely responded, stretching as he walked.

“Ahhh.”

“So tired. Can we rest for a bit before doing anything else?” Luke complained, looking weary.

A lot had happened in a short time, and even Keter was feeling the fatigue. But it was too early to rest—he had no intention of staying in Liqueur for long.

“If you’re going to rest, do it properly. What’s ‘resting for a bit’ supposed to mean?”

“Then I’ll take a proper break.”

“We’ll rest after finishing our tasks.”

“We’re still not done yet?”

“Just need to wrap things up. Meanwhile, you go do what you always do. Take a lap around the city.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Though he grumbled, Luke obeyed without much protest. Keter’s order to have Luke attacked was still ongoing, and there were still plenty of mercenaries waiting for their turn.

“Dork, it’s your turn now.”

Dork was undeniably the key to all the final touches to Keter’s task in Liqueur.

* * *

“Dork, did you get the portable gear?” Keter asked as soon as he arrived back at his office.

Dork immediately handed him a palm-sized disc.

“Of course I did. Let me show you the armor first. Attach it to your chest and press the center with the white side facing inward.”

Following Dork’s instructions, Keter placed it on his chest and pressed the center. The disc emitted a bright flash of light.

Shhh!

With a sound, the disc expanded to fit Keter’s body perfectly, transforming into armor.

“It might look a bit bulky, but it performs as well as the ones used by the Imperial Army. To revert it back, insert a pin into this tiny hole right here.”

Dork pointed out a minuscule hole that would have been easy to miss. Using a pin seemed inconvenient, but nobles had servants, and knights had squires. Keter needed neither; he always carried medical needles.

Click.

When Keter inserted his needle fully into the hole, the armor disassembled from the back, reverting to the compact disc form.

“To remove the attached disc, turn it counterclockwise—oh, you already know?”

“Common sense.”

The portable gear also had an adhesive feature, making it easy to layer over clothing.

After removing the disc and tossing it back to Dork, Keter said, “You’ve got more, right?”

“Yes. They’re on the desk in the break room, along with the dagger and arrows you bought from the magic tools shop.”

“Good. Follow me.”

Keter tested every piece of the portable gear, including a helmet, gauntlets, and boots. There was even a full-body armor set. There were also swords, spears, maces, and axes, but one thing was missing.

“No bows? Couldn’t find one or didn’t?”

“They do exist, but I couldn’t get one. Even the empire rarely produces bows. But I did find a crossbow. It’s probably not what you wanted, but I figured it’s better than nothing.”

“You’re so great.”

While it was disappointing to lack a bow, having something similar, like a crossbow, was better than nothing.

“As expected of imperial craftsmanship. It’s on a different level from the equipment we used in Hacose Village.”

The portable gear received from the Flying Wolf Tribe in Hacose Village were bulky rods and quite heavy. On top of that, it required aura-infused strength to revert to their compact form. By contrast, imperial weapons were the size of a finger, light enough to carry in a pocket, and easily reverted to their original forms with simple operations.

What if this technology could be applied to Sefira’s bows? It wouldn’t just improve convenience. Carrying arrows is limited by volume, so one can carry about thirty at most. But with this technology, one could even carry hundreds. Just increasing the number of arrows that could be carried would significantly enhance an archer’s combat potential.

“Well done. I’m satisfied with all of it.”

Keter didn’t believe in praising with words alone. As a reward, he handed Dork a one-thousand-gold note.

“Wow, I don’t know if I deserve this.”

However, Dork was aware he had done a great job and accepted the reward without hesitation.

“Dork,” Keter called.

Dork, who was packing the portable gear into a bag, turned around and froze when he saw what Keter was holding out. It was a pair of daggers that were identical in appearance, but one was feather-light while the other was crafted from an ultra-dense metal. These weren’t just any daggers—they were Keter’s personal weapons, ones he had used for over a decade and had come to symbolize him as a Solver.

“Use them,” Keter said.

“What?”

“And this is yours too.”

Keter handed over another dagger, a level-three magic tool that had been resting on the desk.

Dork now held three daggers in total, completely bewildered by the situation.

“You know I’m only good with my head,” he protested.

“I know. But you should still learn to protect yourself.”

“Wait a second, Big Brother. You’re not serious, are you?”

“I’m dead serious. You’re coming with me into the outside world.”

“Oh, I figured it would come to this.”

“Not right away. There’s still stuff to wrap up in Liqueur. Besides, you’re way too weak right now.”

“Can’t I just stick with a bodyguard like before?”

“Not enough. Sefira doesn’t have anywhere as safe as this office.”

“Ugh, I hate physical work. It makes me sweat. But I guess I’ll have to learn if I want to stay alive.”

True to his nature as Keter’s subordinate, Dork quickly accepted his fate.

“As expected of my Dork. You’re my best ace. Go learn some dagger techniques from Grandpa Joyray. I’ve already arranged everything.”

“Joyray? The pub owner? He looks like he’s got some skills, but... couldn’t you teach me instead?”

“He’s not just a pub owner. He’s a Councilman of the Mercenary Association. Also, the dagger techniques I use originated from his Flying Sword Art.”

“Oh... Still, I would prefer learning from you.”

“Denied.”

“That’s a shame.”

Keter lightly patted Dork’s shoulder, and gave him a small grin.

“So, when are you leaving this time?” Dork asked.

“Let’s see... The Sword of the South is in three months, and it lasts a month. So, at least five months, I would say.”

“Should I tidy up the office while you’re away?”

“Don’t empty it out completely since I’ll come back eventually. I’m taking Popo with me, though.”

“I would have been offended if you weren’t.”

“I can’t leave behind a cute and talented little guy like him.”

As if understanding the conversation, a green slime slid down from the ceiling.

Keter patted Popo’s gelatinous surface and said, “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re excited too. Just wait a little longer. My house still isn’t big enough for you yet.”

The slime quivered in response, as if nodding.

After playing with Popo briefly, Keter began gathering wads of cash hidden throughout the office.

Dork helped collect the money and asked, “Big Brother, this looks like close to a million gold. What are you going to do with it?”

“Dork, aren’t you curious just how strong money can make a person?”

From Keter’s tone, Dork could tell one thing for sure: Keter had finally decided to unleash the spending urges he had suppressed for decades.

With a grin that radiated pure satisfaction, Keter declared, “I’m going to clean out every elixir shop in Liqueur.”