Otaku Translation: I! Anomaly Cleansing Agent! C133

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Chapter 133: The Flag Has Been Planted

"If something goes wrong this time, you will check if I’m cursed?"

After listening to the Black Goat's suggestion, Leon mulled it over for a moment before nodding in agreement.

The bureau had already taken possession of the anomaly Old Char had delivered, so they’d assigned Jerry—one of the senior agents—to keep an eye on the target. This rescue mission at Rose Manor should be as easy as walking downstairs to grab a package from the mailroom.

Infiltrate, retrieve the person, and come back to report. That was all there was to it.

If everything went smoothly, great—no need to dwell on it. But if even a task this simple went sideways, it would confirm what he feared most: he had some sort of "complication magnet" curse. In that case, a thorough investigation into his luck might be in order.

"Good point," Leon said with a shrug. "Let’s go."

Without waiting for the public carriage, Leon pulled out his wallet, counted his coins, then gritted his teeth and flagged down one of the horse-drawn cabs idling by the curb.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked cheerfully.

"Redwood Avenue. Can you take me there?"

"Of course! Redwood Avenue it is!"

The driver hesitated for just a second when he saw Leon’s dusty old coat, worried about dirt smudging the cushions inside his cab. But when Leon casually mentioned he was traveling straight across half the city—from the Old District all the way to Redwood Avenue—the man’s face lit up like a lantern. Who cared about dirty seat covers? After this fare, he could knock off work early and scrub the whole cab later if he wanted. A ride like this meant good money—and plenty of time to clean up afterward.

"Neigh~"

With a creak of the boiler valve and a whinny from the horse, Leon ducked into the cramped carriage, clutching his shopping bag. The tiny two-seater lurched forward eagerly, ready to begin its journey.

Feeling particularly pleased with himself after landing such a lucrative passenger, the driver leaned back against the small window at the front of the cabin and struck up a conversation.

"Sir, Redwood Avenue’s quite busy these days."

"..."

At the driver’s oddly familiar opening line, Leon froze inside the carriage. Beside him, the Black Goat seemed to have caught the same vibe because he visibly shuddered too.

Oh no. If memory served, hadn’t the exact same thing happened last time? When Leon ran into that blasted toad from The Scale of Gold, the coachman had started talking about crowds gathering near Redwood Avenue. Could it be…

"My aunt works as a ticket counter for the public carriages," the driver continued, oblivious to the tension brewing behind him. "She told me this morning that someone important has gone missing. Apparently, Redwood Street is swarming with people looking for them."

Finishing his story, the driver glanced at Leon through the rearview mirror and noticed his stiff expression. Uh-oh. Maybe this customer wasn’t much of a talker. Perhaps it was best to shut up before he decided to switch rides mid-trip.

But just as the driver prepared to end the chat, Leon spoke up, his voice tinged with unease.

"The 'important person' you mentioned… does it have anything to do with House Lion?"

"Yes, yes! Exactly! It’s House Lion!"

Relieved that his passenger had finally engaged, the driver relaxed and grinned wider. "You’ve read the papers recently, right? House Lion lost over two hundred men in a single night—all scum who didn’t deserve any better," he added quickly, gauging Leon’s reaction.

Leon nodded along, keeping his tone neutral. "Right. Scum."

Encouraged, the driver pressed on. "Anyway, their first heir got himself killed, and while the old Duke of Lionheart is still alive, he’s not long for this world after the shock of it all. I heard The Sun reported that before dying, the old bastard picked another fool to inherit the title—but guess what? That little punk disappeared without a trace early this morning. Left behind only a note saying he’ll return in a few days."

The driver paused dramatically. "House Lion and their noble relatives are tearing apart the city searching for him. They’re offering five gold coins for anyone who provides useful information. Verified tips only, but still—a hefty reward!"

"...I see."

Leon’s face darkened. He made a mental note to change carriages once they reached the next intersection. No sense sticking around to hear more insults while racking up additional fare charges. Still, despite the verbal lashing, he felt a wave of relief knowing the chaos centered around House Lion and not Marseille, his actual target. For now, things still looked manageable. As long as he slipped unnoticed into Rose Manor, grabbed the objective, and left quietly, nothing should go wrong… right?

---

"Lion wants to contact the Scale of Gold through us? Offering money for the whereabouts of the new duke?"

An elderly man adorned with a rose emblem on his chest set aside his financial reports and frowned deeply. "Ignore them. The Scale of Gold doesn’t deal with such matters. Besides, House Lion no longer has anyone capable of making decisions. With Thomas dead—the one who signed the contract on behalf of Bobby Lion—the alliance between our three families is effectively dissolved. Refuse any further requests outright. Don’t bother me with this nonsense again."

"Yes, understood."

The butler quickly tucked the letter bearing the lion insignia into the wastebasket beside him and opened the next envelope. After skimming its contents, he cleared his throat.

"This one’s from Mr. Simon. After we kidnapped Old Char’s daughter, his department store calmed down for a bit, but now they’ve resumed aggressive price-cutting tactics. Worse yet, they’ve targeted specific product lines that overlap with Rose Department Store’s main offerings. Mr. Simon writes to inquire how much longer we plan to deal with Old Char. If this continues, even absorbing House Lion’s shares won’t save him from catastrophic losses. He says he can’t sustain the investment and may withdraw entirely."

"Tell him to hold his ground," the elder snapped irritably. "Everyone rushed in when profits were high, and now they want to flee at the first sign of trouble? Tell him to tough it out."

"..."

"Well? Speak up."

"Mr. Simon... might genuinely be at his limit..."

The butler handed over a detailed financial report extracted from the envelope. "Based on my quick review, unless someone injects fresh capital, Rose Department Store will survive no more than fifteen days under current conditions. Beyond that, it’s likely not only Mr. Simon but also several members of our own family—including some of your in-laws—who will demand withdrawals."

"...Fifteen days..."

The elder stared at the glaring red figures on the report, his brows twitching uncontrollably. Anger simmered beneath the surface, but exhaustion ultimately won out. Leaning back into his chair, he sighed heavily.

"Retrieve the letter from House Lion. Let’s see how desperate they really are—and how much they’re willing to pay."

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