I Became the Narrow-Eyed Henchman of the Evil Boss

Orthes is alien.

It’s not about his alien status as a member of society of Mages. He didn’t possess any magic power, which prevented him from even entering the privilege of magic.

Such “magic-inept” people did exist at the bottom of society, albeit rarely.

Even if there weren’t cases like Orthes where magic power was actually 0, there were often those with extremely low talent for magic, lacking the sensitivity or control necessary to even use basic spells.

These societal dropouts found themselves in the role of a troubleshooter, the cheapest resource sent for the most dangerous jobs.

Orthes was alien even as a troubleshooter.

Most of the places he appeared and operated were in the extra-dimensional borderlands.

This means there are no records of his activities before those extra-dimensional borderlands.

Those troubleshooters operating in such dangerous lands were usually those who staked their lives on combat, those who had their lives mortgaged for money, or both.

After going through those various hardships, some troubleshooters chose to wash their identities and live unnoticed in the extra-dimensional borderlands, but there wasn’t anyone quite like Orthes.

A truly unknown human who seemed to have no “past,” no matter what means were mobilized.
That was Orthes’s alien quality.

Many rumors circulated. An old-era mage drifting in the extra-dimensional, an artificial human, a mere plaything of some mage.

However, none of the rumors reached the truth about Orthes, and he vanished after the last rumor of receiving some secret commission.

Thus, the “faceless Orthes” was destined to fade away, a common urban legend, a drunken joke among troubleshooters.

Today was no different. A day when color rain fell from the magic -colored storm clouds, dyed with magic.

Sipping a drink with the cacophony of raindrops crashing noisily on the seaside as an accompaniment, he reminisced about past wounds, thinking, “It’s about time to forget now.”

Someday, all past memories would be forgotten, fading amidst the faded memories. Just like how he could easily forget the drink he was having now.

…That’s what he believed.

“Hey, Knemon. You were here.”

*

Knemon was stunned. Having tied up all his connections, he was living like a mouse in his hometown. But suddenly, why?

“Uh, the messenger of the faceless Orthes!!”

Lampades’s face crunched up. Clearly not pleased with that title.

But what could he do? It was the truth. He was following Orthes for a purpose, but he was not a follower of Orthes.

Lampades was known for sticking to Orthes wherever he went. He mediated or negotiated with other troubleshooters on Orthes’s behalf.

On the surface, it looked like a friendly troubleshooter was taking care of the hapless Orthes. But Knemon wasn’t fooled.

Lampades was definitely Orthes’s right-hand man. The record of only those two surviving from the ruins investigation request they both took part in means just that.

Of course, Knemon’s speculations were different from the reality. Orthes figured it would be better to have Lampades manage opinions since he became grim whenever people saw his face, and so he just paid him some remuneration to ask for his help.

However, such inside circumstances were unknown in the troubleshooter industry, and Lampades himself had no intention of revealing them.

“I don’t know why you call me that. Orthes’s friend, Knemon.”

“Friend? What…!”

Before he could shout, Knemon’s anger quelled. After all, when he thought he “got along well” with Orthes, he had considered him a friend too.

He had escaped after witnessing the unfathomable madness hidden beneath those squinted eyes, but until then, he certainly thought Orthes was a comrade who would share his ideals…

Knemon, laughing hollowly, sat down and said.

“Right. Lampades. Is Orthes looking for me?”

“I warned you to be mindful of your words once, you know? Still into playing with fire, huh?”

Lampades snapped his fingers. His hair and other body hair stood on end as the spark sounds began to vibrate through the air. Parts of an antenna made from the pointy ears of an elf unfolded, tuning the current flowing through Lampades’s body.

Knemon read Lampades’s intent from the intensity of his magic power. It was a threat, not a readiness for combat.

If Lampades truly came here to fight, he wouldn’t be snapping his fingers to raise magic power but would instead use it to finish a spell and shoot it immediately. Troubleshooters who returned from the extra-dimensional frontlines would naturally possess such agility.

Knemon raised both hands. He had no intention of fighting.

“Even if Orthes isn’t your master, it’s true someone sent you to me. What’s the business?”

He asked, but Knemon had already guessed. The pivotal reason why he and Orthes had parted ways. It must be because of that artifact they dug up then.

“They say they want something from you.”

“Ah…”

Knemon sighed. Could it be that Orthes came back to obtain that again?

“They prepared a sufficient reward.”

“For that, a sufficient reward would be impossible.”

“I don’t even know what it is or care. I just need to take you to Orthes, that’s all.”

Huff. Exhaling a deep sigh, Knemon struggled to open his mouth.

“Do you even know what artifact Orthes wants again?”

“I wouldn’t want to know what that is. All I know is that I have to bring you before Orthes.”

A firm resolve was evident. A determination reminiscent of Orthes during his troubleshooter days. No matter what resistance, it seemed his will to hand over that artifact to Orthes wouldn’t fade.

However, at the same time, Knemon sensed the hesitance unique to those forced to obey commands from Lampades. It was unexpected for Knemon, who remembered the past Lampades.

‘If I tell him the truth, he might waver.’

If it’s the same dead end anyway, wouldn’t it be better to at least talk before meeting the end?

Knemon gestured to Lampades.

“Let’s come inside and talk first.”

Knemon, raising his hands, didn’t appear to be trying to activate hidden magic circles or enchantment wares. He was a completely different presence from the one he carried as a troubleshooter.

Lampades entered without easing his tension.

“Do you know why I parted ways with Orthes?”

“I don’t.”

Once Lampades entered, Knemon closed all the doors and began manipulating the control panel. Complex button sequences were executed, and as a lever was lowered, a thud echoed from the living room.

It was the sound of a secret door opening beneath the living room carpet.

“…You live quite complicatedly. Is there a need to have a secret vault like this instead of just using magic?”

“To the eyes of the faceless one, everything is visible.”

Lampades didn’t bother to ask what was visible. He vaguely sensed that Orthes’s faintly glowing eyes could detect magic power.

‘But is there really a need to go this far and prepare a purely magic-less security device?’

In the middle of those doubts, below in the basement lay an artifact that Knemon had preserved like his life.

“…?”

However, the appearance of the artifact did not seem to possess value worthy of Orthes’s envy or Knemon’s concern.

“Am I seeing correctly?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

A translucent container filled with some liquid, topped with a lid adorned with a loop.

“It’s a bubble-blowing ring.”

‘Is this guy insane?’ Lampades frowned.

Ignoring Lampades’s incredulity, Knemon cautiously approached the bubble container. Carefully, he twisted the lid to extract the bubble-making ring.

And with utmost care, he blew just a little breath into it.

From behind Knemon, Lampades muttered, ‘That guy must be crazy for sure,’ but was startled immediately after.

The tiny bubble popping caused the objects right in front to vanish as well.

A breeze swept through the basement. The air shifted toward a vacuum created as the air was deleted.

Lampades saw the stone wall that had stood before Knemon now caving in like a circular shape. It seemed more like it had simply vanished rather than physically eroded.

“This is a destructive weapon we found in ruins deeply corroded by the extra-dimensional.”

“Is it an artifact that erases the shapes reflected in the bubble?”

Knemon nodded gravely. He recalled what Orthes had said after discovering this terrifying destructive weapon.

When he finally had the strength to topple the mage towers and rejoiced, Orthes had whispered coldly.

“I have no interest in such trivialities.”

Frightened by the obsession and madness reflected within, Knemon abandoned being a doomsday cultist.

Lampades unconsciously swallowed. What could the faceless Orthes do with this?

What on earth did he intend to do with the bubble that erased reality?

*

“So, what will you do when Knemon arrives?”

“First, I’ll give him the keyboard and ask him to list the mage tower that has violated the relic prohibition limit. I’ll think of how to expropriate it on the fly.”

Meeting that friend Knemon would take at least a month, so wouldn’t he come up with a decent idea or two in that time? Orthes joked.

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