Chapter 178: Devil's Snot (2)

There is a limit to the human ability to endure pain.

In countless heroic tales, a hero does not even flinch at a broken arm.

However, reality is different.

Humans are easily incapacitated by just a fracture in their bones.

Those who say this can be overcome with mental strength are only those who have never experienced it.

The place where this fact could be felt the most was none other than the Western Front.

The knights or noble's children who first came to this frontline thought.

It is a frontline that has Penicillin and divine power healing.

If the left arm is injured, can't we just amputate it at the scene and fight with the right arm?

Why must the amputation be done strictly after the battle ends?

Everyone must surely lack mental strength.

I shall overcome this and become a hero like Imperial Prince Edmund of the Southern Front.

Countless hot-blooded youths headed to the Western Front embracing that dream.

And the moment they performed an amputation on their limbs injured by the undead.

They came to realize why they didn't cut them off at the scene.

— "Aaaargh!"

— "It's a phantom pain patient! Bring a mirror!"

Humans are infinitely powerless in the face of pain.

It was useless even if the amputation was done while asleep using Opium and Ether.

Because the pain of the amputation came belatedly after consciousness awakened.

This was the reason those who had their limbs cut off could not return to the battlefield for a while.

Then one day.

A certain medication that arrived at the Western Front overturned the board.

Morphine.

With just a single injection of this, the flesh-burning pain faded away like a lie.

The medication returned a peaceful night to those suffering from hellish pain.

Thus, the sobriquet attached to it was none other than Tears of an Angel.

It was a medication that brought peace to countless soldiers.

"It doesn't hurt...... really......!"

"Hiss...... It stings a bit, but it's bearable."

"Is there no more medication? It's not enough!"

Of course, not everyone was gifted with tranquility.

For some, it was absurdly insufficient.

However, there was no one in denial of its effect.

There were many reviews saying the amount was regrettable due to the careful use by healers who worried about addiction.

But the dominant review was that it was at least far better compared to when they didn't get it.

"It can't even be compared to Opium."

"Opium was really unsatisfactory for a gun wound, wasn't it? Morphine is different. Really."

"Don't just drink alcohol because it hurts, go to the monastery and ask once."

In the face of overwhelming utility, people are bound to find out even without any promotion.

It took but an instant for the rumors of Morphine to spread among the soldiers.

Thanks to this, the soldiers on the battlefield could alleviate their worry about pain significantly.

However, light is always followed by a shadow.

There were those who uniquely and sensitively perked their ears to such rumors.

Those who make a living in the dark where the light doesn't reach.

They were the ones commonly called the underworld, or the underworld.

"They say its addictiveness is worse than Opium?"

"Then it'll make money."

It was a fact known to everyone that Opium was a lucrative source of income.

First, one can take excessive profit from Opium.

The junkies are desperate when they can't get Opium.

Supply is always bound to be lacking compared to demand, and no matter how much the price is raised, they will purchase it.

It is a business that leaves a lot compared to the original cost.

Moreover, the basics of business is 'consistency'.

How consistently a customer wants that product directly connects to the profit.

And Opium is the most consistent product.

There is no way a junkie could quit medication.

A dog is more likely to stop eating shit.

In all these aspects, Opium was a very excellent source of income.

But an item more addictive than that Opium had appeared.

"They say it even has fewer impurities than Opium, so an accident happens less often."

"That's good. It was troublesome since our customers would always just die out of nowhere after using weird Opium."

Even the occurrences of customers, who needed to buy the product for a long time, dying suddenly were rare.

The humans of the underworld had no choice but to lay their eyes on it.

And among those who smelled money from Morphine,

the one who moved the fastest was none other than the cartel of the south.

In the Imperial South, there is an organization named the Red Scorpion Trading Company.

Externally, it was a merchant guild that sold potions or medicinal herbs.

The merchant guild was merely a signboard for them to operate in the legitimate world.

In reality, it was a cartel that sold drugs.

Hmm-hmm~♪♫♫

A man walked down the corridor of the merchant guild.

A Half-elf humming a tune as he descended to the basement.

He wiped off the sweat dripping from his shiny bald head with a handkerchief.

"Damn it. The weather is so dirty hot."

The man's name was Salvador de la Cruz.

He was the boss of the cartel, possessing the sobriquet of Red Scorpion.

The tips of his pointy ears twitched in annoyance.

Oh, the sheer bizarreness of only having pointy ears jutting out above a smooth bald head.

It was an appearance that would make it hard for anyone seeing him for the first time to hold back their laughter, as it was reminiscent of a Goblin.

But the man did not care about such pointing fingers.

Because all those who had called him a Goblin up until now had been buried in the swamp and disappeared.

"Phew. The basement is a bit cool though."

Salvador shoved his handkerchief, which was drenched in sweat, into his pocket.

And he spoke towards a man inside the basement laboratory.

"So, how is the progress going?"

Salvador playfully said to the man wearing a white gown.

Opposite Salvador sat a haggard man.

His name was Lloyd.

A prodigy who once graduated from the High School Division's Department of Alchemy and worked at a Pharmaceutical Merchant Guild.

At the same time, a fallen alchemist who laid his hands on gambling, lost everything, and drifted into the underworld, a dime a dozen in the underworld.

Fortunately, his knowledge was welcomed by bosses wherever he went in the underworld.

As long as he set aside his conscience, there would be no reason to starve.

The problem was that even for someone like him, the task the boss had asked for this time seemed to be difficult.

"B-Boss. Well...... we lack too much of the core raw material."

"Lack? Didn't I procure an entire bag of Poppies for you several days ago?"

At that, the manufacturer replied with a crying face.

"It is absurdly insufficient to meet the amount of Morphine you demanded, boss. This is not something that pops out just by juicing a few Poppy fruits. It is structured so that you have to highly concentrate and refine a massive amount to barely get a minuscule amount."

"Fuck. Several of my subordinates almost died just trying to procure that single bag's worth?"

As a boss and not an alchemist, he was dumbfounded.

He had figured that this much Poppy fruit would at least be enough for 100 people to use for one month.

Because Opium was roughly like that.

But it seemed that was not the case for Morphine.

"About how many times the difference is it compared to Opium?"

"If it were Opium, it would have yielded at least 3,000 doses...... but with this amount, it would be 300 doses of Morphine."

"Damn it. Is the cost-effectiveness of this even right......"

Salvador bit down on his cigar in annoyance.

Then suddenly, noticing something strange, he spoke to Lloyd.

"Hey, wait. Didn't you originally say you could make at least around 600 doses?"

"In the past, I did."

"Then why is it 300 doses now? Is the remaining half by any chance......"

A gaze of suspicion headed towards Lloyd.

The fallen alchemist's complexion turned to a pallor as he waved his hands in denial.

"I didn't siphon it off!"

"Then what happened?"

"Beyond my thoughts, it seems this medication of The Black Saint is a bit difficult to copy."

Originally, illegal counterfeit drugs of the medications created by The Black Saint circulated frequently in the market.

For medications, only raising the purity is difficult.

Because it was quite an easy task to moderately mimic it without caring about side effects or impurities.

It was enough to yield a profit even taking the risk of the Merkur Trading Company unleashing their private soldiers to ruthlessly smash the counterfeit drug distributors when caught.

However, Morphine was different.

"They say a friend of mine in the Patent Office went to the slammer while siphoning the recipe off this time. So because I had to reverse-engineer it from the source, the quality has become very crude."

"Even though I went through the trouble to procure the original body for you?"

"Thanks to that, I managed to somehow pull up the purity."

Lloyd letting out a deep sigh.

The cigar of Salvador, who was listening, snapped with a Snap! between his teeth.

'Damn it. In that case, that fucking Poppy is the problem.'

Salvador ground his teeth.

How much trouble had he gone through to procure that single bag of Poppies.

These days, procuring Poppies itself was hell.

Recently, it was made into a principle to incinerate and undergo removal of wild Poppy colonies throughout the empire upon discovery.

Foraging was only permitted to 'adventurers with registered qualifications.'

The first discoverer of a colony was given a massive reward money for reporting it.

Conversely, if caught trying to secretly sell them to an herbalist without reporting, a felony on the level of summary execution was handed down.

Furthermore, large-scale cultivation was only possible for an absolute minority of nobles who received permission in the territory of the Eastern Region.

Even if one tried to secretly smuggle it in, piercing through that three-layered net was no easy task.

Thinking about how much premium he had to add, his stomach still churned even now.

"But, even with this, it's absurdly insufficient? Merely 300 doses?"

300 doses seemed like a lot at first glance, but it was an absurdly small amount.

Because it was an amount that 10 junkies would completely use up in one month.

The problem was the fact that the cost to smuggle the raw material and manufacture/distribute it did not just pop out of the ground.

"What good is the money offered by merely 10 people?"

"Honestly, even when I think about it, I don't think it'll make ends meet. It still has to be cheaper than the original sold by the Merkur Trading Company, doesn't it."

The Empire extremely raised everything from the cost of making Morphine to the cost of distributing it.

The problem was that the Merkur Trading Company, which sold the original, went one step further and lowered the selling price to a razor-thin level.

As if Director Schun had no intention of earning money with Morphine.

People considered that the saint had made Morphine with that much of a good heart.

However, from the stance of the underworld, it was an incredibly stomach-ache inducing deed.

"When assuming we are competing with the Merkur Trading Company, there is no answer other than selling at a small margin and high volume. But I don't think it will be a competition."

"Ugh......"

In many ways, the cost-effectiveness didn't match.

Even so, Salvador didn't want to give up on Morphine.

"Couldn't we sell it expensively if we sell it to junkie Young Masters? Those humans would absolutely not be able to procure the original, right."

"Certainly...... For those kinds of humans crazy for stimulus, there's no reason they couldn't use it."

Salvador let out a deep sigh and said.

"Then make at least the 300 doses for now. I'll somehow pierce through a connection next month and try to procure a bit more Poppy."

Several days after giving that order.

Salvador was inspecting the products in a secretly purchased hideout.

He intended to release those 300 doses of Morphine made in the Southern Region to the wealthy people in the Capital.

Trying to sell it in the south would only result in petty cash anyway.

Because the real money was in the pockets of the noble's children in the Capital, who had loose spending habits.

It was around the time he was packing the products into boxes like that.

Knock, knock.

"......Boss. It's a guest."

"A guest? At this time?"

Salvador frowned.

"Who is it."

"It's me, you pointy-eared bastard."

Slam!

Someone flung the door open.

And the moment he saw the person walking in from beyond it, Salvador's face stiffened rigidly.

"If you're going to come and do business in someone else's business sector, isn't it our courtesy to say hello?"

The uninvited guest casually tossed something with a Thump.

It was Salvador's bodyguard.

The uninvited guest, who had thrown the limply hanging men into the corner, threw his body onto the sofa.

Salvador glared at that uninvited guest and growled lowly.

"......Wangcho."

"Call me Tao Chen, you bastard. Am I your friend?"

A scar-covered man with twitching Hyena ears.

Tao Chen.

He was a man called Wangcho among those who knew him.

"It's been a while, Carlos."

"Call me Salvador."

"Why? Because you're in front of your subordinates, did you not tell them you were a greenhorn under the old geezer of Smoke Alley?"

"......"

"Huh? Look at that facial expression. I guess it's true?"

"Tsk."

Salvador clicked his tongue without hiding his uncomfortable feelings.

Whether he did or not.

Wangcho maintained his sarcastic stance and spoke.

"Hey, but didn't you hear that Smoke Alley is mine now?"

"I know."

"Then why didn't you contact me in advance? That old geezer might have let it slide even if you didn't, but I won't, you know?"

"There's no way you would have granted permission."

"Exactly! You know well!"

"Tsk."

Salvador hated Wangcho.

No, not just Salvador, but all the drug cartels of the Empire would.

It was natural because......

'The distribution network became a mess because of that bastard.'

Because the existence of Wangcho itself was a huge obstacle to the drug distribution network.

*

Originally, E-Sector in the center of the Capital, Smoke Alley, was a land ruled by some old geezer.

Salvador was a case where he learned how to handle drugs under that geezer and went independent to the south.

The days when the geezer was the owner of Smoke Alley were good.

Because it was a symbiotic relationship where they respected each other's territories and exchanged goods.

But one day, a massive accident erupted in the Capital.

The newborn babies of nobles died consecutively due to a spice called star anise.

The problem was that the organization that executed the switch of that star anise with poison star anise was Smoke Alley.

For the miser geezer's part, it was something done to touch a bit more petty cash.

But that had unintentionally touched the reverse scale of the nobles.

Not long after that incident, both the geezer and his organization disappeared without a trace.

There was no omen whatsoever.

They just woke up from sleep to find the organization had mysteriously vanished.

'I was really happy back then.'

Salvador considered that an opportunity.

Smoke Alley was a prime piece of land.

Situated in the center of the Capital, all drugs traveling from south to west, from east to north went through that place.

It was to the extent that the other cartels from the east, west, south, and north prepared for an inter-organizational war to claim that place.

However, there was a person who moved even before they could take action.

At the time when each cartel received the news and was gathering their soldiers.

That person swallowed up the E-Sector in a flash, as if he had prepared in advance.

And that person was none other than Tao Chen, Wangcho.

'This Hyena-like bastard......'

Just thinking about that time made his anger flare up.

Salvador should have somehow eaten up Smoke Alley back then.

Because after Tao Chen seized that place, the nationwide drug distribution network became a mess.

To distribute drugs from the Southern Region to other regions, one had to go through the Airship Terminal, but the security checkpoint was too strict.

So it was usually the unwritten rule to go through the central land route which was dangerous but swarming with demonic beasts.

And what served as the waist connecting them was Smoke Alley.

But Tao Chen didn't act as a middleman even holding that prime piece of land.

It was rather the exact opposite.

He blocked all drugs passing through Smoke Alley.

Inspections became terribly strict, and selling drugs directly to civilians was strictly prohibited.

In the midst of that, he himself supplied all the medications made in Smoke Alley solely to the Merkur Trading Company.

When the waist was blocked, the cartels nationwide groaned.

The southern products could not go to the west, and the eastern products could not go to the north.

The logistics of the underworld were completely frozen because of this single Hyena.

'If only that crazy Hyena bastard wasn't there......'

It was also the reason the cartels nationwide were desperate to slit Wangcho's throat.

However, the problem was his standing and backer.

Right after eating up Smoke Alley.

The organizations headed their gathered forces to the Capital as a last resort.

It was to wage a back-alley war with Wangcho.

But the standing of Wangcho's organization was strange.

In back-alley wars, just a Rank 1 superhuman was a sufficient disaster.

Because Rank 2 was the domain of Sir Knights and black sorcerers, making it unworthy of consideration among the dead-end lives of the underworld.

But by Wangcho's side, there was a monster equivalent to a Rank 1 superhuman whom he had procured from who knows where.

— "Where did that crazy bitch appear from!"

— "Fuck! It's The Red Plague! Run!"

The action captain who suddenly popped out, The Red Plague.

With that woman's appearance, the cartels had no choice but to step back from the turf war.

At the time, The Red Plague was not a Rank 1.

But her innate magic and fighting aura were the problem.

An innate magic that would suddenly turn some part of a person's body into a cripple just from grazing it.

Since she freely wielded fighting aura on top of that, she was no different from a tyrant of the back alley.

'Even I wouldn't be able to counter that.'

If an organization boss who was Rank 1 stepped forward, they could have killed her.

Instead, as a price, that boss would end up with a lifelong disability.

Since they didn't know the countermeasure against magic.

Even that was an estimate made under the premise that Wangcho would not participate in the fight.

Her existence was a venomous insect and a plague in the war.

So the cartels gave up on the recapture of Smoke Alley.

Instead, they considered the side of asking their backers.

But even that was dismissed not long after.

Because Wangcho's backer was also a formidable big shot.

Especially in the Southern Region, the status of Director Schun was massive even back then.

If a drug cartel were to touch Director Schun, who brought peace to the Southern Region?

Salvador too would have mysteriously disappeared without a rumor like the geezer of Smoke Alley.

Therefore, even while considering Tao Chen an enemy, the cartels were in a situation where they didn't dare to touch him.

And returning to the present once again.

"What business do you have coming all the way here? If by any chance you have a complaint about this deal, I will share that much profit with you. Please just turn a blind eye this one time."

Salvador folded his pride and asked Wangcho.

Even so, he did not forget to check on Wangcho's party.

'As expected, it seems the information was right that he hasn't been keeping The Red Plague by his side these days.'

Salvador hadn't invaded Wangcho's sector without thought, either.

He came because he heard that The Red Plague was not by his side.

If she wasn't there, Wangcho wouldn't be able to easily attack Salvador either.

If he brought gang members along, it would result in killing Salvador eventually.

Wangcho would also have no choice but to suffer irreversible and severe losses.

Just like how The Red Plague was that kind of existence to the bosses.

That was why Salvador was confident.

Confident that Wangcho wouldn't attack him.

Because the Wangcho he knew was a cunning human with clear calculation of profit and loss.

"Let's just let this slide amiably. As civilized people."

"Civilized my ass."

But Wangcho's stance was strange.

"Does it look like I came here for a negotiation?"

"Then did you come out for a stroll or something?"

"No. I came to give you a piece of advice. Looks like you've been acting up making a Morphine copy lately. I won't say anything about you playing with Opium dregs, but you shouldn't have touched Morphine."

"What does it matter to you?"

"Because of you, I was almost totally fucked."

"What?"

"You guys shoved fake patients into the Meyer Infirmary to analyze the component of the counterfeit drug and siphoned off a few bottles of Morphine, didn't you?"

Salvador's pupils trembled minutely for a moment.

It was just as Wangcho said.

To make a copy, they had to siphon off the original.

So they put fake patients in the infirmary, and siphoned off some of the medication.

And they pinned that suspicion onto Wangcho.

Salvador considered that it had worked without getting caught easily.

However, Wangcho seemed to know the truth perfectly well.

"You fu—cking bitch. Do you know how much I had to run around in the Capital because of you? Well, your manipulation was so crude that it was obvious."

"......What?"

"You cripple bastard. A production serial number is engraved with magic on every Morphine bottle. The church and the merchant guild also have a double ledger. Even if you try to pin it on me, it'll all come back to you if they do a tracking anyway."

"......!"

"How are you still using the method you used on the geezer."

Salvador jumped to his feet.

His hand headed for the Magic Gun inside his coat.

It was no longer a situation where he could weigh this and that.

The only thought in his head was to kill Tao Chen here and escape.

"You little rat......!"

Craaash—!!

But before Salvador could even draw his gun.

The iron door of the hideout was torn off.

Heresy Inquisitors and Knight Order forces, fully armed with black uniforms and heavy armor, came pouring in.

Dozens of blue-glinting blade tips and gun muzzles aimed at Salvador and the gang members.

"This is the Narcotics Control Bureau! Everyone drop your weapons and raise your hands! Any bastard that moves will be immediately shot dead at the scene!"

The Narcotics Control Bureau.

A department established at the same time Morphine was introduced to the world.

Along with the Tax Agency, it was a department that the Imperial Court permitted to draft and arm the Knight Order.

The knights and Heresy Inquisitors that stormed the scene were all at the level of mastery of Rank 1 or above.

Before that overwhelming martial prowess, the gang members dropped their weapons one by one.

Salvador ground his teeth tightly and glared at Tao Chen.

"You ratting bastard...... Where did you sell off all that talk about wildness and pride."

"I sold them off a long time ago, so I don't remember. It's for certain, a house cat's life is better than a stray cat's. You should've met a good owner too."

At that ridicule, Tao Chen giggled and patted Salvador's shoulder.

"It was dirty meeting you, and let's never see each other again."

"Do not think this is the end, Tao Chen."

Salvador ground his teeth.

"I will be released soon. Once they know who my backer is, even the Knight Order bastards won't be able to act rashly. This deal too......"

"Oh, that? Are you talking about the junkie Young Master who came up from the Southern Region pushing for this deal?"

Tao Chen snorted.

"That Young Master, he's already been dragged to the monastery. These days junkies go to the monastery whether they're nobles or whatever, this is why country bumpkins really don't know anything about how the world turns."

"What?"

"He must be praying in repentance while getting hit with cold water every day, unable to even support his own body, so he'll surely take great care of your back."

The composure finally disappeared from Salvador's face.

*

The place Salvador was dragged to was the underground interrogation room of the Capital Security Bureau.

Salvador, tied to a chair, carefully observed the investigator sitting opposite him drafting the written statement.

Although even his backer had disappeared, he couldn't give up so obediently.

He tried rolling his brain, which was hardened by a long underworld life.

It just so happened that the investigator seemed to be from the Southern Region judging by his skin color and accent.

So he decided to use a method that worked in the Southern Region.

Salvador whispered in a sly voice.

"Look here, investigator. Let's go about this flexibly. Do you happen to have a target you want to take out in your hometown? Or perhaps your main estate is doing some business lately......"

It was the moment Salvador was slyly trying to make a proposal.

The investigator put down his pen without a word, then pulled out a pure white handkerchief from his pocket.

He carefully covered the 'recording magic tool' flashing in the corner of the desk with the handkerchief.

The corners of Salvador's mouth went up.

'As expected, in the south it wo—'

Thump—!!

Salvador's head snapped at a 90-degree angle.

His mouth burst, and the fishy taste of blood rushed in.

With a pain like his jaw was going to fall out, Salvador groaned and raised his head.

The investigator was adjusting his gloves and looking down coldly.

"You've lived in a world where money and violence solved everything up until now, so the world must have seemed really funny and easy, right?"

"Ptooey......! This crazy bastard......!"

"Seems you still don't grasp the situation, but I will explain it just once."

The investigator said while roughly wiping Salvador's blood.

"You saw the Heresy Inquisitors, right? Those people are the types who might actually take you out if you do any bullshit here. It would be best for you to just go along nicely while I'm the investigator."

"......Why are those people in an imperial institution?"

"It's what they call dual surveillance."

The military surveils the church.

And the church surveils the military.

The Narcotics Control Bureau, composed of personnel drafted from both organizations, was structured so that neither side could accept a bribe.

Of course, even if that weren't the case, this investigator had no reason to lay his eyes on a bribe.

"Besides, the bonus Lord Saint slips us is probably more than the money you slip the bureau?"

"What?"

It was unbelievable.

Usually, a Pharmaceutical Merchant Guild tends to lobby the regulating institution so they can release their medication to the market as much as possible.

However, the moves of the Merkur Trading Company were the opposite.

They were lobbying to regulate them even better.

"You know, I really like my current affiliation that reliably ensures I'm leaving work on time and gives generous allowances. So don't spout nonsense and let's go along amiably. I also don't want to clean an interrogation room where the Heresy Inquisitors have had a go."

Saying so, the investigator pointed to the red grime in the corner of the interrogation room.

Salvador's complexion turned to a pallor.

The torture of the Empire's intelligence institutions was terrible too, but the Heresy Inquisitors were on a different level.

From what was heard, they were an organization that could endlessly inflict pain using healing magic, so one couldn't die even if they wanted to.

"Or should I change the person in charge?"

Shake, shake.

Salvador shook his head.

The pride of a cartel boss was nowhere to be found.

Through the slightly opened gap of the interrogation room door.

Because he made eye contact with pupils dyed with fanaticism, looking as if they would smash Salvador's crown of the head with the scriptures at any moment.

Only then did the investigator pull back the handkerchief covering the magic tool and sit down in his seat.

On the day marking one month since Morphine was introduced to the world,

this was the ordinary daily life of the Narcotics Control Bureau.