Surviving a Shounen Manga

Mr. Capone, I Presume?

“And the next one is… haah.”

The man let out a long sigh as he looked at the variegated heaps of ore piled high on the long table.

Each stack of ore, arranged by color, was emitting a brilliant light.

White, black, blue, red, green, purple, yellow.

Each time he looked at the stacks standing high like mountains, his temper frayed a little more.

How long would it take to finish going through them all?

At first glance, it looked like everything was already sorted, but the reality was the opposite. They were all lumped together haphazardly.

The reason why there seemed to be stacks of the same hue was because the metals were in a state of ‘shape mimicry’. They weren’t actively disguised, the chunks of ore merely changed colour depending on what was next to them.

Luckily, this was still not the worst situation.

Because the worst would be if the ores transformed into whatever metal was next to them by ‘spontaneous transmutation’.

But perhaps that had happened already. The metals had apparently been sent over without spending even a smidgen of effort into identifying them first.

The man yelled at the personnel around him.

“People! Divide them into single pieces!”

“Is there enough space for that?”

“Make space then! Do I have to explain every single thing!?”

The man shouted, struggling to contain his irritation.

Unlike weapons and other gear, these naturally occurring metals, which could be considered raw materials, were difficult to properly identify unless one was an expert.

Moreover, all the goods coming from Northland these days were made of new metals, with mutated attributes… Without proper experts, classifying them was a nightmare.

Was there even anybody who could be called an expert on this topic?

The man asked one of the personnel who’d approached him.

“Where are these from?”

“They’re a mix of goods from ten different districts… We’ll have to check one by one and compare them.”

“Hm. What about the goods manifest?”

“Yes, here…”

The man took the paper and immediately began massaging his forehead.

“Haah…”

Labrium x 97

Sordium x 82

Plutonium x 77

Martium x 69

⦙

As expected, it was all these damned metals.

The reason why the self-professed non-expert immediately became annoyed by just looking at the list of names was simple. Because he’d never even heard of any of them.

In other words, they were all ‘new metals’.

“What insanity is this? Who’d want to buy these? Is there even a single person in Westland who can make proper use of these?”

‘Special ability design’, the art of infusing specific ‘functions’ or ‘abilities’ into metals, manastones, and artifacts that could accept such ‘power’, was the domain of the rare breed of people called ‘designers’. There weren’t many of them in the world.

Even among the designers, about seventy percent could only handle the basic materials, meaning the metal ‘cetium’ and the ‘ash stone’ type of manastone.

Of course, only being able to handle a lot of different materials didn’t make one a good designer. There were many other metrics, such as how diverse infusions they could achieve, how long the infusion would last, and how strong the resulting ability would be.

But either way, it was a fact that you couldn’t deal with new metals unless you were a good designer, and it was also a fact that most of those great designers were in Northland.

This was just basic common knowledge.

Then why exactly was this list full of nothing but new metals?

This was pure lunacy. Just buying whatever was new.

‘Where’s the sense in this?’

If somebody tried their hand at multi-ability design using poorly understood raw materials, there was a chance that the material properties might transfer to the designer’s own body. Literally a part of their body would transmute into metal. Losing their designing ability was also a common result.

Facing such high risk, which designer would willingly buy unknown new materials to experiment?

Those who’d smuggled these in had to be completely brain-dead.

And more importantly,

“Damn it, why me…”

The man wondered why he had to be the one to perform the inspection process.

Shouldn’t he just be in charge of managing and protecting the contractors?

At some point, people began to pay protection expenses with contraband instead of cash, and business partners started asking the organization to arbitrate disputes. So the organization had expanded into item identification and verification as well; and now if more than a certain percentage of incoming products were defective, the organization would handle registering a complaint to the supplier.

Even though it was all by Capone’s orders, the chief smuggler couldn’t head or tail of it.

Wouldn’t it be better to completely take over the smuggling route, end to end?

Wouldn’t it be much more profitable to take a flat commission on sales instead of these protection and brokerage fees?

“Haah…”

The man shook his head. Because he remembered Capone’s command.

– Never steal somebody else’s food.

Mr. Capone’s down-to-earth food metaphor didn’t leave any wiggle room for clever rules lawyering.

The chief smuggler struggled to shake off his frustration and took out a pair of white gloves from his sleeves. It was an item with ‘nullification’ ability that blocked ‘property interference’ of metals.

Without it, who knew what kind of side effect would occur if he carelessly touched these new metals.

“Hey, you guys! What’re you doing! Put on your gloves first!”

“Aah! Yeah! Sorry, sir.”

“Huff…”

The man was about to start sorting through the stacks after his throbbing head had cooled down a little.

“T-, trouble!”

But suddenly a shout came from above.

When he glanced back, he saw a guy running down the stairs in a hurry.

“I-, intruder…!”

“What?”

At that moment,

“U-, ugh!”

Bang-thud-crash–.

The guy rolled down the stairs.

And,

“You there?”

A large figure slowly walked down the stairs.

…

This was his first time seeing the newcomer.

That size… and that jutting chiseled jaw would’ve surely left an impression on him, but the chief smuggler couldn’t remember ever seeing it.

In addition,

‘Is that a detachable machine gun?’

There was a mechanism on the newcomer’s arm. There was no way he’d forget somebody who used such an old-fashioned piece of equipment. In this day and age, using a relic like that…

“Huh?”

Wait.

He tilted his head.

‘Isn’t it a bit different?’

He’d thought the metal covering the newcomer’s arm was plain steel, but from the traces of light running through it, it seemed a little different. It felt a lot rougher, to be entirely honest…

‘Ah, maybe?’

The man shook his head.

Oddly enough, the material resembled one of the new metals he’d just been trying to identify.

But… that didn’t make any sense.

That was then.

“I heard one of the three smuggling chiefs is here? Who is it?”

The man burst out laughing at that sudden remark.

The fearless intruder was apparently looking for him.

“Here I am.”

Then,

“Huh? Really?”

The squat-jawed guy asked in a questioning tone.

How outrageous.

Was this bravado?

“Your eyes must not work right.”

“If you’re the chief, why’re you doing manual labour? Isn’t the chief supposed to control he subordinates without getting his own hands dirty? Rather, a lot of these kids are taking it easy, aren’t they?”

“…”

The man again felt the headache that he had temporarily forgotten.

Reminding him of that niggling pain… This bastard…

Why should the subordinates relax while the chief executive had to work? At the very least, shouldn’t it be more efficient to educate the subordinates first and then supervise them?

Capone had answered his question with a single sentence.

– Just do it.

The man woke up from brief recollection and focused back on the suspicious squat-jawed newcomer.

“By the way, who exactly are you? Since you’re looking for the smuggling chief, you should already know this is Mr. Capone’s territory… Are you from Northland?”

Sometimes there were people like this.

They’d come directly to the management organization to make a deal rather than the actual vendors.

Clever types who thought it’d secure them a better position in future transactions.

Mr. Capone’s gentle touch sometimes caused problems like this, making these scavengers flock here thinking them easy prey.

“You don’t have to worry about that… Do you know where I can find Smuggler Capone?”

“Huh? Hmph…”

The newcomer was rasher than he’d thought. Extraordinarily so.

He’d come to meet Capone directly.

“I don’t know what your purpose is, but you know how crazy it sounds, right? As long as you come down here right now, hand over that mechanical arm and surrender, I can spare your life.”

“Hey, you’ve got eyes, huh? What do you think, is this gun good or what?”

“I didn’t say it’s good. I just think I need to take a closer look at it. Anyway, don’t even think about running away. There are dozens of cameras at the entrance. They’ve already taken your picture.”

“Oh, you mean up there? But that place isn’t there anymore, you know?”

“What?”

“Anyway, how should I say this? Hmmm…”

Squatjaw seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then –

“You guys are mafiosi too, so you’ve all already got a tattoo or three, right?”

He asked some fool question.

“What?”

“I’m going to engrave something on your bodies, but if this is your first time… it’ll hurt a bit.”

He was an absurd character.

“What the hell are you trying to say?”

Just then, the guy pulled out a brush from his waist.

Its material was clearly caught in the chief smuggler’s eyes. It was a plain steel brush.

“I try not to use this much, you know? Because it’s a villain’s ability. The more you use it, the more detestable it looks.”

“… You’re plain crazy, I see.”

Wasn’t that a natural conclusion?

Why would a guy with a laser cannon for an arm wield a steel brush?

The man didn’t feel the need to continue the conversation with Squatjaw any longer.

He usually didn’t make a habit of beating down the visitors from Northland, but he thought he should make an exception this time.

So,

“What’re you all standing around for? Catch him! And be careful you don’t mess up the table, got it?!”

While he was giving orders to his subordinates –

Swoosh–.

Suddenly, Squatjaw jumped off the stairs and appeared in front of him.

The man’s blood ran cold.

It was fast. So fast that he didn’t even see the guy move.

How unexpected.

“You first. So, what tattoo would you like? Chief?”

“… Wh-, what?”

Looking down at him, Squatjaw grinned.

The reason for attacking the chief smuggler was, of course, to bring out Capone.

The smuggler called Jean had told me that Capone was known to stay in Gibrante, but he never showed his face in public. So hardly anyone knew him by sight.

So, in order to meet him, I had to break through his entourage first.

There were three reasons why I thought I had to deal with this guy first before the full-scale ‘war’ began.

First, creating weapons and equipment needed materials.

I’d been mistaken to think getting Cormier’s help would solve everything.

The weapon he’d offered me on the second night was no different from a regular mechanical pistol. When I’d asked why that was –

“Didn’t you ask me to make combat gear?”

“You call this combat gear?”

“Isn’t it?”

What a shameless thing to say, right?

Cormier had said that in order to produce a weapon of the ‘required level’, he needed suitable materials, and he entrusted me with the procurement of them all.

All he had on hand was useless scrap metal stored in the warehouse, nothing else.

Also, the production deadline was already tight, how could he waste his time scrounging for materials?

Well… that was true enough.

So, I had to rob someplace… but obviously not the small business owners nearby.

So, I’d immediately targeted these guys.

I was going to rob this whole operation.

Second, balancing the number of participants in this war.

It was a simple calculation.

Firstly, there were two more leads compared to the original.

Me and Gronyan.

Common sense dictated that two should be subtracted from the original list to preserve the balance.

By making Cormier my colleague, I hoped to limit his appearances as much as possible. The author might take it the wrong way, but there wasn’t much I could change.

Even considering Cormier, one more needed to go.

So I’d decided. To subtract Capone.

Third, the title of ‘King of Smugglers’.

Also the nickname, ‘Ruler of Gibrante’.

Weren’t they fancy?

I thought that it’d be more impactful to greet the visitors arriving six days later with the name of ‘Smuggler King’ or ‘Gibrante’s Ruler’ instead of plain old ‘Squatjaw’. The readers would lap it right up.

And the basis of all these thoughts was the confidence that I could overwhelm Capone.

Why? Simple. Because Cormier was in my corner.

2vs1.

It was simple arithmetic.

“Hmm.”

I was lost in thought as I looked at the thirty or so gang members lined up in front of me.

Capone’s whereabouts were unknown. The smuggling chief also received his orders in writing, and it’d been a while since the two had met in person.

That wasn’t a lie either.

Those suffering from [Scribe’s Shackles] were obedient from the depths of their minds, and wouldn’t dare lie to the caster.

There was only one conclusion that I could reach.

The statement that smuggling chiefs were Capone’s closest confidants, was in error.

It honestly didn’t make sense from the start. ‘That Capone’ shouldn’t have such clumsy subordinates.

It’d taken less than ten minutes to subdue them.

Of course, they couldn’t run wild because of how enclosed and full of pricey stuff this place was, and once I’d made a puppet of their leader, the rest had fallen like a house of cards.

But nonetheless, it was too easy.

This probably meant that Capone’s real troops weren’t here.

A ‘real contender’ would have associates of the appropriate level.

But the sad thing was,

‘Everything here seems real…’

The various weapons, equipment, and materials gathered here were clearly not fake. Moreover, the amount was enormous.

Could I make use of these clumsy folks? I had things that I wanted them to do.

‘… No idea.’

I thought about it for a while, but came to one conclusion.

I had no way to tell.

So I gave up trying to analyze the current situation. After all, thinking by myself couldn’t give me an answer.

I had to consider what to do next.

Now what?

Of course, I could continue with my plan.

The first smuggling den didn’t yield much? Then I should just head straight for the second.

However, the reason I hesitated was the thought, ‘Will the second one be any different?’

“… No Idea.”

I shook my head.

I had no other choice. I could only run around until I found something.

Jean had said that there were three chief smugglers in total.

As long as I robbed them all, I might get a good result.

After tidying up my thoughts, I immediately got up from my seat.

Pointing to the table littered with all kinds of metal ores, I ordered the chief who was standing by.

“For now, sort everything on the table. You can’t do it by colour, you have to do it by type. I’ll come and check it out later. You… you’re the one responsible for completing it.”

“…”

The chief’s face looked unsightly for some reason, but I ignored him and headed for the second smuggling chief.

The next day.

“Mr. Capone, I’ve brought them.”

“I’ll leave the metal here.”

“I’ll put the attachable gear here. Mr. Capone.”

The front of Jean’s warehouse was crowded.

“Ah, okay, leave those and go.”

“We’ve set aside a few pieces of metal. These show transmutative phenomena.”

“Yeah, well done. Good job. From now on, you’ll be the one taking care of it all.”

“…”

“What’s with that face?”

“I… I’m the chief, right?”

“Yeah, that’s why you have to supervise everything. You’re the chief.”

“No, that’s not… Shouldn’t this kind of manual labour be left to the kids…”

“Just do it.”

“…”

That was then.

“What’s all this?”

Cormier approached me, mouth open.

Then he looked at me with suspicious eyes.

“You… I see now. Mr. Capone, I presume? Capone the Smuggler?”

Well.

I scratched my head at Cormier’s words.

After robbing the three smuggling chiefs in one night, once the morning dawned –

I received three things in total.

1. A huge number of Northland specialties (weapons, various equipment, metals).
2. A total of hundred members of Capone’s organization.
3. And a new name.

It’d been five days since I came to Gibrante.

For some reason, I was now being called Mr. Capone.

Editor’s Notes:

None for this chapter.

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Well, my vacation is over and I’m back to translating. Hope you’ve all had a good one!

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