"I'll take you myself."
Sebastian placed Osian in a top-of-the-line steam car.
Black and sleek, it looked quite luxurious for a car that was only meant to receive guests.
"Third son," Osian thought, "how much money does he have to spend on a car like this, even for a fixer? He's not the only one who struck it rich.”
In the case of Dyke Goldiron in particular, he didn't get rich simply by mining gold.
The money he made from the gold was enough to keep him afloat for the rest of his life, but he didn't stop there.
He used the money to invest in a variety of businesses throughout the city, multiplying his fortune several times over with a series of big wins.
He took even more risky gambles, and even succeeded.
He was an investment genius and a natural businessman, the heart of the beast.
"Let's go."Sebastian said, sitting next to Osian, and the driver pulled away.
Osian glanced outside at the passing scenery.
"Where did you say we were going?"
"Oh, yes. We're headed to the 29th District, where the Goldiron family's villa is."
"The 29th District......."
Having gotten a general idea of Tirna's neighborhoods, Osian's heart skipped a beat at the mention of crossing into the 20th.
"I've heard that the security gets heavier inside the 20th district, and they check IDs thoroughly. Is it that easy to get there?"
"Yes. Well, you don't have to worry about that."
Maybe it's the money.
The steam cars zoomed along the road without any traffic jams.
There were fewer people on the streets and less architecture.
Instead, a well-established forest loomed in the distance.
'A forest. No, a park.'
The 29th district was a huge man-made park and the mansions that dotted the area looked quite large and ornate.
'I've heard it's mostly the vacation homes of rich tycoons, but I can't believe they've built an artificial park of this size in one of the city's districts.’
I saw people walking around the park, and they were all dressed in luxurious clothes.
I wonder if it's about the size of Banpo-dong in Seoul.
While Osian was thinking about this, the car arrived at its destination.
"Here we are."
The place where the car stopped was in front of a mansion that looked magnificent.
Osian looked at it in disbelief.
I heard I was going to meet a rich man, but it's so big.’
I wonder how much this house costs.
Even though he had been paid a big amount of money by Mayor Albert, he could never dream of buying a mansion like that.
'You brought a fixer like me here?’
At this point, I'm wondering what the hell is going on, and I feel a little overwhelmed.
Sebastian, on the other hand, took in the sight of Osian and marveled.
‘It's amazing. Most people would be intimidated by a mansion like this.’
In the beginning, Dyke Goldiron deliberately built his mansion large and grand to dazzle his invited guests.
In other words, it was a building with multiple intentions.
But what about Osian?
‘He doesn't even move. He's just calm, as if he's in a place he deserves to be.’
I've seen this place so many times that I get nervous every time I walk in the door because I can't get used to it, but I don't see any of that in Osian.
'I thought the first time I saw him, but I wonder if he was born into a noble family somewhere.’
No one knows where or what Osian did before he became a fixer.
Osian himself would only say that he was a knight, but nothing else.
Perhaps he didn't want to talk about it.
Everyone could only infer from the way he looked and acted that he came from a very wealthy family.
Sebastian thought that was right, for how else could he be so nonchalant at the sight of a mansion like this?
"Not going in?"
Osian urged Sebastian.
"Yes, yes. I'll take you inside."
Sebastian led Osian to the interior of the mansion.
As they entered, they saw a large hall. It was gorgeous from the outside, but even more so from the inside.
The only word that comes to mind is literally smeared with money.
If the outside of the mansion shocked you once, the lobby was designed to shock you again.
Sebastian sneaked a glance at Osian's expression, figuring it was honestly surprising enough and he was even more surprised.
'I can't believe he hasn’t changed his expression since we got here.’
No matter how closely he looked, he couldn't see the slightest movement of his pupils or the corners of his mouth.
Osian was looking indifferently at a painting that had recently been purchased from an auction for over 1 billion, despite it being a masterpiece.
‘It looks expensive.’
There was no such thing as an expensive painting.
He just thought it looked expensive.
Eventually, Sebastian gave up trying to surprise him and led him to where Delan was.
Osian was curious about Delan Goldiron.
‘I heard he’s the third child, but I wonder what he's like.’
Dyke Goldiron has four children.
David Goldiron, the oldest son.
Second daughter, Marcy Goldiron.
Third son, Delan Goldiron.
And the youngest, Maria Goldiron.
They were all children of the same wife.
Considering that it was common for wealthy men to have multiple concubines, Dyke's paternalism was very unusual.
However, that didn't mean the siblings didn't get along.
With Dyke now incapacitated, the immense inheritance will undoubtedly cause chaos.
"Who the hell is that?"
Just then, a group of high-pitched voices emerged from the hallway opposite.
‘Oh no.
Sebastian muttered under his breath that he had run into the wrong person.
They might not have heard him, but Osian, walking close by, certainly did.
"Sebastian. What a coincidence we're meeting here."
"......It's been a long time, Miss Marcy."
Osian recognized Marcy Goldiron, Dyke's second daughter
The fancy dress, hat, the rings, bracelets, and necklaces were all beautifully jeweled and looked expensive.
She was beautiful, with long brown hair, but she wore a lot of makeup on her face, which seemed to be working against her.
She spoke as if she were close to Sebastian.
‘She did this on purpose.’
The emotion in her eyes was disgust and contempt.
"Your master is alone right now, and I don't know what the hell you, his so-called servant, are doing here."
"Mr. Delan told me to bring a guest, and I was on my way."
"Hah. A guest? That's not what he is. What kind of guest is that, with our father lying on the ground?"
Despite the words, there were quite a few people around Mercy.
There were of course the servants attending to Mercy herself, but it was the people behind her that caught Osian's attention.
‘Who are they?’
Not the fixer and certainly not someone who worked for the manor.
Otherwise, there was no way he could have smelled the thick odor of blood.
'I don't know if he's a fixer or not, but I do know he's here for the same reason I am.’
He was a man with a shaved head and a somewhat stern demeanor, standing over 190 centimeters tall.
He looked at Osian, and one corner of his mouth curled up.
His expression was full of provocation however Osian simply ignored him.
He looked strong, but not strong enough to intimidate him.
"Sebastian, I still don't understand why a stinking orc is still staying in our manor. Perhaps you can explain."
"Lady. That's because......."
"Or do you not even have the brains to explain such things?"
Mercy didn't hesitate to make an openly insulting remark toward Sebastian.
Her tone was almost venomous, as if she didn't like the fact that Sebastian was an orc.
Then Mercy looked at Osian and her eyes widened.
"Oh."
She hadn't paid attention to him, thinking it was just because Sebastian had brought him, but that was not the case.
A subtle flush crept into her cheeks at the sight of Osian.
"Excuse me, sir, but what is your name?"
The question was asked in a completely different tone of formality than she had used with Sebastian.
Osian looked at her and opened his mouth.
"Osian."
"What? Do you have a last name.......?"
"No, I don't. Just Osian."
"Well, then, what brings you here with that orc......."
"Could there be any other reason why a fixer would be here?"
"You are a fixer?"
Mercy looked back and forth between Sebastian and Osian in disbelief.
It was obvious that Sebastian looked more like a fixer and Osian was more of a master.
"What, you're a fixer?"
It was then that the man behind Mercy spoke up.
"I see. I thought you were sent by some prestigious organization, but a wandering fixer without a proper affiliation. What kind of lowlife is allowed to enter Goldiron Manor?"
"Who are you?"
"Me? Don't you know who I am? I'm Homer Lewis. I'm a second-rate mutant with the [Supreme]."
The Supreme?
Osian wondered what that was, then remembered a story Ronan had once told him.
‘You said it was an organization of mutants.’
In the past, when mutants first emerged on this world, they were discriminated against and persecuted.
They were superior to humans, but humans feared them and discriminated against them.
However, as the years passed and their numbers grew, mutants were soon embraced in Tirna as a symbol of innate talent and the organization that such mutants came together to form was the Supreme.
They were born superior to humans, hence the name.
"So a fixer like you is of a different class."
Homer frowned at Osian but Osian looked at Homer and asked.
"You don't look that strong."
He didn't just say that, he meant it.
Osian didn't know what kind of second-rate Homer was talking about, and he wasn't sure if the Supreme Organization was that great.
What he did know was that the man in front of him, Homer Lewis, was weaker than Bola, the Uluaz thug he'd defeated, no matter how good he looked.
"What the fuck did he just say?"
Osian's words brought Homer to his feet.
His fingers twitched as he strained at his hand, and something threatened to jump out.
Mercy, the most vocal person in the room, should have stopped him, but she didn't seem inclined to.
As much as she liked Osian's appearance, he was brought here by Sebastian, Delan's butler, and there was no harm in cleaning up after him.
"No disturbances in the mansion."
Sebastian stepped forward to stop Homer, but Homer scowled, his eyes narrowing.
"You filthy orc, you used to pick up filth from the streets, and you think wearing a suit makes you stronger, do you want me to slice your smug little head off, you inferior race?"
It was Osian who responded to the unbelievable verbal assault.
"Not you."
Osian reached for the sword at his waist.
Homer's words were well over the line, to say the least.
A fight was about to break out.
"Don't fight!"
A wall of shadows suddenly rose between them.
"Everyone should get along!"
The words shattered the simmering atmosphere.
The voice belonged to a brown-haired, doll-like girl, a girl who looked like Marcy, but much younger, in her late teens.
She was Maria Goldiron, the youngest of the Goldirons.
At her side was the warlock who had apparently created the wall of shadows.
"Hm."
Osian smirked at the warlock.
The warlock looked at him, and the pupils in the ram's horn mask on her head grew larger.
Elise Denarova, the eccentric warlock girl he had met before had also come to this manor.