I'm the Crazy One in the Family-Chapter 65: It’s Right in Front of You (2)

“Here’s the communicator, Big Brother.”

Daat brought a glass plate from one of the numerous drawers. When Keter infused mana into it, the glass plate emitted a blue glow and vibrated faintly.

“Keter, what’s that?” asked Luke, who was naturally curious and also interested in magic.

“It’s exactly what it sounds like—to summon people. Basically, it calls someone to come here right now,” Daat replied.

“Who is he calling? ”

“A man named Gyro, Big Brother’s subordinate.”

“Oh...”

Luke didn’t understand what that had to do with finding the current Sword of the South, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask further. He felt that he would come across as stupid if he did, so he decided to figure it out himself.

The eighth champion of the tournament and current Sword of the South was Zerphi Luban. He was the captain of the Order of the Storm, a prestigious order under the Luban family, one of the Masters of Swordsmanship. The usual first step to get a letter of recommendation would be to go meet Zerphi. But there was no way Keter would get the letter if he went to meet him without notice.

‘Would Zerphi even agree to meet us if we just showed up? Probably not, and Keter must know that, which means... This Gyro guy is the key. If we take him with us, there’s a higher chance Sir Zerphi will give us the letter.’

By this reasoning, Luke concluded that Gyro, Keter’s subordinate, must be someone extraordinary.

It’s fascinating that someone like that is part of Keter’s subordinate, but I guess it’s Keter. That’s just how he is—impossible to understand through logic.

“He’s not answering. Dork, interpret these coordinates for me.”

“Okay.”

Daat began transcribing the complex series of numbers written on the glass plate onto paper. Luke glanced at the numbers on the plate, but they were too long and too many of them for him to even guess how they pinpointed a location.

That’s probably going to take a while.

Standing around awkwardly, Luke decided to look around at the many drawers in the room.

Contrary to Luke’s expectations, Daat soon said, “Got it, Big Brother. He’s in the Red-Eyed Gang’s zone. Judging by how deep he is, it seems like he’s in the middle of a brawl.”

“A fight? Count me in. Let’s go, Luke. Time to make our debut in Liqueur,” Keter said.

“The Red-Eyed Gang? A debut? What are you talking about? I’m scared.”

“What, you don’t want to fight?”

“That’s beside the point. I didn’t know we would be teleporting, so I didn’t bring my bow and arrows. You have Amaranth, but I can’t even make arrows from my aura yet.”

“This is Liqueur: you can get anything with money. Dork, get some portable gear while I take care of business.”

Portable gear used by Imperial Army officers were not items available for sale. The empire strictly controlled them, and they were so tightly regulated that they didn't even appear in auctions. Of course, one might be able to find them in the black market auctions, but even a single sword would easily exceed one hundred thousand gold.

However, in Liqueur, they could be obtained for less than a quarter of that price.

“Authentic ones? Or counterfeits?”

“As many as you can find.”

“I’ll get it for you. But, Big Brother, you’ve changed so much recently. It’s like... you’ve become bolder, more open, somehow.”

“Ah, as expected of you, Dork. You noticed?”

“Of course. I’ve lived with you for years. It’s obvious. What happened in just four days?”

“They say people change when they have a near-death experience. Well, I almost died and came back.”

“Come on, I know you’re insanely powerful, but resurrection is a stretch.”

“I can resurrect exactly because I’m insanely powerful.”

“...That actually makes sense.”

Keter grinned and ruffled Dork’s hair again.

“I’ll be off.”

“Take my communicator with you.”

“Alright.”

Keter put the communicator handed to him by Dork and gestured at Luke.

“Let’s go, noble bumpkin. Let me show you around Liqueur.”

* * *

Luke felt his breath stop as he stepped out of the office. It wasn’t just his imagination—it was actually really difficult to breathe. On top of that, he felt a crushing pressure, as if his body weight had doubled.

“Ugh, Keter. Is it just me, or is it really hard to breathe and move here? Are you okay?”

“It’s normal. The air here has half the oxygen of the outside, and the gravity is twice as strong.”

“What? How is that even possible?”

“Nothing’s impossible in Liqueur.”

“And this place isn’t even on ground level...”

Keter’s office wasn’t located at ground level; it was in a tower that was easily over 50 meters tall. Around it, there were a bunch of strange-looking buildings. There was no discernible pattern—some buildings were round, others sharp and jagged. The colors didn’t match either, making it seem as though they belonged to entirely different dimensions rather than the same space.

The buildings were also densely packed, except for a bit of room around Keter’s tower.

The first word that came to Luke’s mind was chaos.

“Good grief... Can you even call this a city? It looks more like hell.”

“Don’t be shocked already; there’s more to see. Look down.”

Luke followed Keter’s suggestion and glanced down. Though the cluttered structures obscured much of the view, what he could see was appalling. The ground looked filthy, and a dense fog blanketed the streets.

Even from a distance, he could feel the damp, oppressive atmosphere. Countless people wandered the streets below, and they all looked vastly different.

“So this is a lawless city...” Luke muttered in awe.

Was this really where Keter had been born and raised?

The thought made Keter seem even more remarkable to Luke.

Noticing Luke’s expression, Keter grinned slyly and said, “Kid, let me ask you something. If someone eats the peel of an apple, can they say they’ve eaten the apple?”

“No. The peel’s just the skin of the apple. Even if there’s a bit of flesh on it, I wouldn’t call that eating the apple.”

“Exactly. That’s you right now. What you’re looking at is just the peel of Liqueur.”

Keter pointed down with his finger.

“The real Liqueur isn’t on the surface. It’s underground.”

"Come on, Keter. It’s still underground, how big can it really be?"

"It's much bigger than the surface."

Luke couldn’t believe what Keter was saying. An underground city larger than the surface? He thought Keter was surely trying to mess with him, so Luke decided to ignore it.

"Fine, whatever. But how do we even get down from here? There aren’t any stairs. Are we teleporting down?"

"You think teleportation is some kind of one-circle spell? We just go down."

"You mean... we’re going to jump?"

The height was dizzying. Even a knight, let alone a commoner, would think twice before jumping from this height.

"I’m going first."

Without any preparation, Keter casually leaped off the edge.

"What!?"

Luke rushed to the railing and peered down.

Mid-fall, Keter grabbed a rope hanging in midair with his bare hands. The rope stretched elastically, slowing his descent. At about ten meters above the ground, Keter let go of the rope and landed smoothly.

Thud!

A cloud of dust erupted as he hit the ground, drawing angry reactions from nearby passersby.

"Who’s the crazy bastard!?"

"Which son of a—!"

Covered in dust, they immediately drew their weapons and hurled curses that were almost too obscene to repeat. But as Keter emerged from the dust cloud, they froze. Then, as if their anger had never existed, they turned away.

"Oh, it’s Keter."

"Well, it’s fine if it’s Keter."

Upon recognizing him, some went back on their way, while others stopped to talk about him.

"I haven’t seen him around lately. I guess he’s back in action."

"I heard rumors that he had gone outside. But that couldn’t be true—nobody leaves Liqueur."

Keter looked up and gestured for Luke to hurry.

Luke swallowed hard. Sefira's aura training method significantly enhanced vision. This allowed him to clearly see the ground from this height, but vision and physical ability were two entirely separate things.

Can I even grab the rope like Keter did? Especially with gravity doubled? My body feels as heavy as lead.

Luke had to grab a rope that looked as thin as a thread while falling at high speed. It wasn’t just a matter of difficulty—he doubted his palms could handle it.

Keter didn’t even wear gloves. He must’ve protected his hands with aura. But if he used aura to shield his hands, wouldn’t the aura’s destructive power cut the rope instead?

A chill ran down Luke’s spine. In other words, Keter hadn’t merely grabbed the rope to slow his descent. He had simultaneously protected the rope from breaking and his palms from tearing apart.

Luke couldn’t even fathom how precise Keter’s aura control had to be to pull that off.

I can’t do it. This isn’t about confidence—it’s simply out of my league.

Luke took a deep breath. It wasn’t that he was giving up, but he wasn’t about to recklessly imitate Keter either.

I’ll land in my own way.

Relying on his misfortune-detection ability that he hadn’t even named yet, Luke leaped toward what the ability marked as the path of survival.

Unlike Keter, who had free-fallen nearly fifty meters, Luke slowed himself by landing on the edge of an opposite building right after jumping. The doubled gravity drained his stamina four times faster, but stopping wasn’t an option. He kept jumping. Though it took considerably more time, Luke eventually made it safely to the ground.

Crash! Clatter!

As Luke descended, the areas he touched crumbled, scattering debris to the streets below. Some pieces were massive enough to kill someone if they hit, but no one on the ground seemed to care. They simply dodged the falling rubble without a word.

It wasn’t negligence—it was the mindset of this city: if one couldn’t avoid it, that was on them, not the person who dropped it.

“Huff... Huff...”

Luke, barely having landed on the ground, felt like his heart was about to explode.

Just this much running, and I’m already at my limit? My throat is so dry.

On top of that, the air here was suffocatingly unpleasant. It was sticky, clinging to him like a damp film, and the stench was unlike anything he had ever smelled before. It numbed his nose almost instantly.

Already parched, Luke turned to Keter as soon as he approached and said, “Keter, let’s get some water first. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“The water stand is over there,” Keter said, helpfully pointing.

The stand Keter pointed at looked less like a shop and more like a prison. It was surrounded by metal bars and thick glass, with a small hole at the center for transactions. Luke walked up to the stand. Behind the small hole, a bizarre-looking old man stood silently, staring at him.

“Could I get some water, please?” Luke asked.

The old man finally opened his mouth.

“Pay up first.”

“Oh, right. Just a moment.”

He wants the money before even showing the goods? That’s strange.

Luke didn’t understand, but he recalled the saying, “When in Samael, do as the Samaels do.” Perhaps Liqueur had its own set of laws.

Luke, having brought plenty of money from Besil, handed over a silver coin. It was an excessive amount to pay for water, but he didn’t have any smaller coins on him.

The old man snatched the coin with his long, bony nails and said, “More.”

“What? Excuse me? I just gave you one silver.”

In most cities, water from an inn costs a single bronze, two at most if it’s expensive.

“Two more silvers,” the old man demanded.

“You’re telling me it’s three silvers for a single cup of water? Where’s the price list?”

“Heh heh heh, you must be new. Liqueur doesn’t have price lists. If you don’t want to buy water, get lost.”

“Fine. Give me back the one silver I already gave you.”

“Huh? What are you talking about? I didn’t take anything from you.”

“You’re kidding, right? I just saw you take it!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you’re not buying, move along.”

The old man’s shameless attitude made Luke’s face turn red with frustration. Just then, a swordsman casually stepped between Luke and the stand.

“One cup of water,” the swordsman said, tossing three copper coins through the hole.

Without hesitation, the old man handed over a wooden cup filled to the brim with water. The swordsman drank it all in one go, then turned to Luke and smirked.

"You there. You're kind of cute. If you want water, there's a little left in my cup. Wanna drink it?"

Luke froze in shock.

Hearing such a thing from a man he'd never met before—a man who looked absolutely filthy, no less—left him speechless. His emotions surpassed anger and turned into something indescribable.

As Luke unconsciously let his killing intent leak out, the swordsman chuckled.

“Cute,” he muttered and walked away.

"Hey, why did you give him water for just three bronze?" Luke demanded, his voice filled with frustration.

The old man casually retrieved the cup and replied, "I told you, everything in Liqueur is market price. You're an outsider, so unless you pay three silver, you won't get water. It's the same everywhere in the city. In fact, I’m probably giving you the best deal you'll find."

Luke was seething with anger. His fists clenched tightly, and for a moment, he was tempted to smash through the thick glass and metal bars and grab the old man by the collar.

But he was a knight. No matter how furious he felt, he had been taught not to resolve things through violence. With a deep sigh, Luke reached into his pouch to pull out two more silver coins.

"Hey, get me a cup of water too," Keter suddenly interjected, appearing out of nowhere.