Chapter 66: Tinnitus (4)

In the underworld, anyone who’s lived even a little knows the “Godfather” without question, just as they know Cabaro.

White dress shirt, black suit, and perpetually half-lidded eyes that look both open and closed.

A man who’s survived in the underworld far longer than even Cabaro.

Someone who possesses both wealth and wisdom.

He never coveted the positions of second or third; he simply guarded the Godfather’s seat, yet everyone respected him.

For starters, he was filthy rich.

Rich enough that even Duke Cabaro respected him.

The business acumen that had sustained his operations for so long, and the fortune he’d protected from every temptation—gambling and otherwise.

On top of that, he never touched the weak.

Strong against the strong, weak against the weak.

If someone had the qualifications or personal strength, he’d fleece them without mercy, but he never laid a hand on the worthless and powerless.

That’s why he earned so much respect.

His half-lidded eyes often gave people the impression he was sinister, but even that was something everyone defended as a misconception.

Naturally, the Godfather’s influence was immense.

Even the heirs couldn’t touch him lightly.

Back when he’d met Leo, hadn’t the Godfather ripped into him without holding back?

With eyes like those, you can’t dominate the underworld. You won’t even hold onto your heir position. Be grateful to the gods you were born the eldest. And so on.

That’s why the third-in-command had high hopes.

He’d properly put Evan in his place.

The one child who’d achieved the feat of earning an alias in just a few months—he’d crush him.

But…

“…Please rise.”

“Hah, haha! Of course! If Evan Alkart commands it, how could I refuse…!”

The Godfather rose with a smile that bordered on groveling, grasping Evan’s hand.

Evan looked down at him with an expressionless face.

Even though he’d forced a man far older than himself to his knees, not a single flicker of emotion crossed his features.

The third-in-command felt fear at Evan’s demeanor.

How… how is he staying so calm in this situation?

He knows exactly what kind of position the Godfather holds.

Is this really nothing to him?

Like Cabaro, winning a staring contest against the Godfather without a hint of amusement and turning him into a walking money vault?

‘No.’

In truth, Evan was desperately hiding his bewilderment.

‘This old man’s at it again.’

Do people in the underworld all have some kind of mental illness?

Evan knew full well how impressive the Godfather was.

For one thing, he was rich.

Not quite on a duke’s level, but easily comparable to a count.

He was pretty thorough about self-care, too.

But luck had never been on his side.

Mainly because he hadn’t been born with good blood.

Compared to others, he was small in stature and short.

His bones were twisted from birth, and he’d suffered hair loss starting in his thirties.

On top of that, erectile dysfunction had led to separation from his wife (technically widowhood), diabetes had caused his toes to rot, and hemorrhoids made sitting unbearable.

Truly a walking collection of ailments.

He’d avoided alcohol, tobacco, and drugs entirely—Evan sometimes wondered if indulging might have been better.

Originally, he couldn’t even stand straight and had to lean on a cane.

So Evan had treated him a bit.

Since Evan wasn’t a doctor, it was half amateur work.

No alcohol or tobacco—things he hadn’t done anyway.

No stress.

He’d always complained about chest tightness.

It wasn’t some issue of unfulfilled desires or whatever.

It was just pent-up frustration.

Evan brewed some tonics good for the body, and they worked surprisingly well.

Real tonics.

Not drugs.

He’d sweated bullets gathering the ingredients.

Evan had even soft-forged braces for him and started treating the serious illnesses first.

Diabetes that threatened his life right away, then various organ damage, and the hemorrhoids.

After that, he calmly addressed the erectile dysfunction and hair loss.

…But only on a subscription basis.

There was no helping it.

What was he supposed to do about lacking skill?

The medicine had to be taken every three months or so.

Fortunately, the diabetes and hemorrhoids recovered quickly, but the other issues were the problem.

He’d turned the sparse hair the man always hid under a hat into a thick mane.

And made that… thing that wouldn’t stand… stand again.

The condition was so severe that stopping the medicine would immediately reverse the effects.

‘Still… I feel like I gave him enough for a few years?’

“What brings you here?”

“Oh, brings me here? How could I possibly visit Evan-nim with mere business?”

The Godfather bowed his head as if merely laying eyes on Evan was an honor.

Evan looked down at him.

Did he change his hat this time?

The fedora seemed a little shorter.

Out of habit, Evan lightly tipped the brim.

The Godfather flinched and trembled.

“Your hair’s gotten a bit thinner again.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

Evan had just meant to ask if the medicine wasn’t working, but the Godfather seemed to interpret it differently and hastily bowed.

Ah.

I can see the bald spot.

“I lost the medicine, so…!”

“You lost it?”

This guy?

He’s not the type.

Or maybe…

“As I said, you’re free to research it with restrictions.”

Flinch.

The Godfather’s body shook.

Right.

So he secretly skimmed some.

Can’t replicate it anyway.

There are alchemists here.

But that’s the thing—call it a characteristic.

The transmutations Evan performs can’t be easily analyzed.

Even if someone looked, they’d probably never understand.

How the structure achieves this effect.

Someone with that level of skill wouldn’t join this place anyway.

Even if they tried, it wouldn’t matter.

The medicine Evan gave him was mixed in ways that prevented independent replication.

It would take decades just to analyze.

The chance they couldn’t even achieve basic [understanding] was too high.

“Just don’t waste the precious medicine you already have.”

“I… I will keep that in mind.”

His voice trembled slightly at the end.

Right.

Don’t get caught.

The Godfather withdrew, openly drained of energy.

A slight worry crept in.

He wouldn’t get disappointed and stop the sponsorship, would he?

‘Tch.’

It’d be troublesome if this guy dropped out.

He was one of Evan’s major sponsors.

Quite a lot of money came in under the guise of “pocket money.”

Evan remembered his share being pretty significant this time.

If he pulled out, the pocket money would shrink, right?

Would Duke Cabaro just cover it?

Not sure.

Screw it.

Whatever.

I’ll figure it out somehow.

“My skills have improved a bit this time.”

The Godfather slowly raised his head.

Unhidden anticipation gleamed in his eyes.

It’d be a problem if he got his hopes too high.

‘I’ll remake the medicine this time…’

Actually, he hadn’t developed anything new for that.

He barely remembered how he’d made it.

Better leave that to Aegis.

“Do you want to grow taller?”

“Taller?”

“Yes. Since I’m not particularly tall myself, I looked into it a little. Turns out there’s a way to increase height.”

Aegis shot him a look.

When the hell did you research that?

He hadn’t researched it.

He just knew transmutation could do it if you [understood] the principles.

Transmutation allows decomposition and reconstruction as long as there’s [understanding].

Meaning bones, flesh, and muscle could all be lengthened if desired.

He could take someone in the late 150s and make them early 160s.

And fix the ankles strained from always wearing lifts.

“R-Really?”

“Yes. Though it won’t increase dramatically.”

“That’s more than enough! Oh, now it’s not just medicine—it’s the human body itself…!”

Thud!

The Godfather dropped to his knees without hesitation.

“Ohhh! Thank you! Drug Lord Evan…!”

“Don’t call me that.”

Evan’s face hardened.

***

“Ohhhh! Drug Lord Evan! I will follow you!”

Evan had instantly turned the Godfather to his side.

The third-in-command quietly retreated, unable to hide his terror.

Even the respected Godfather was toyed with after a few words.

Worldly wisdom unbelievable for his young age.

He… must not stand out.

That was the choice he made.

He’d wait quietly until Duke Cabaro returned.

With the third-in-command gone and the Godfather departed, silence returned to the carriage.

Evan sat down.

“…?”

“…??”

Eyes poured onto him.

Looks that seemed to ask what on earth this situation was.

Evan scratched his cheek.

“Where would you like me to start?”

“First… why is that man acting like that?”

Evan explained simply.

Starting with how he’d treated the illnesses the man suffered from.

“…Wait, you cured all of that? Why not just resurrect him at that point?”

Is that how it works?

“Still, my skills are lacking. And it’s not a perfect cure.”

“Not a perfect cure?”

“It’s… subscription-based.”

It wasn’t something you took discreetly and consistently.

Effects showed in days.

And disappeared just as fast.

‘…You’re insane. How the hell do you even make that stuff?’

“Huh? Somehow…”

“No, not somehow! How do you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Grrgh! Never thought I’d say this in my life…! You’re such a jerk!”

Aegis’s hands shook.

As if she wanted to grab his collar and shake him again.

Evan subtly backed away.

“Besides that, what else have you made?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Is it because there’s too much?”

“No… it’s not that. Most of what I make is custom. The very concept of standardization doesn’t exist.”

So Evan’s creations required a lot of hands-on work.

They couldn’t be mass-produced.

That’s also why they couldn’t be analyzed.

Since they were tailored to individuals rather than standardized.

Even if analyzed, there’d be no test subjects, so confirming success or failure would be impossible.

“Though one I remember… a diet potion, maybe? That’s somewhat standardized.”

“Diet potion??”

Aegis’s eyes went round. A more intense reaction than anything she’d shown so far.

“That’s real?”

“Huh? Yes. It amplifies appetite suppression and fat breakdown early on, then afterward…”

“Why aren’t you selling it??”

“It… doesn’t sell?”

Truthfully, Evan felt wronged.

He’d worked hard on it, but no one bought.

Probably because the wealthy managed their bodies meticulously anyway, and high realms made it unnecessary.

Then he’d have to target others.

Would it even work?

Not everyone in the underworld was rich.

Low-realm commoners, struggling commoners—there were all sorts.

That’s why the diet potion flopped.

“Do we even need diet potions?”

Especially for those who earned their living through strength.

Look at her.

Felix hadn’t even asked if he needed one.

“…Luxury? No, how much could it—ah.”

Aegis understood immediately.

She’d run away, but as former royalty with an elder title, money had never been an issue.

You’re loaded, huh?

I get it.

“So you’re really doing it tomorrow?”

“Yes. So I have one request.”

“A request? What? I can’t help with killing people.”

“I’d never ask that.”

Evan stated firmly.

He slowly opened his mouth.

‘…For real?’

***

The next day.

Before departure, the final crisis.

Evan, dressed in thoroughly sterilized clothes, looked down at the Godfather lying on the operating table (presumed to be a bed).

“We will begin the procedure.”

There’s actually a secret.

I don’t have a medical license.

Apparently this world has licenses for doctors too.

I don’t have one.

Meaning if this fails here?

I’m screwed.

‘Damn it. Should’ve been more careful.’

Evan carefully gathered his mana.

‘Please.’

Don’t break or disappear!

Please let it succeed on the first try!