Merrywick corrected the young aristocrat, saying, "Sector-4 doesn't wholly consist of red-light regions. Plenty of other businesses flourish there, and 30% of the population of this district live in those areas."

Alfie Declan saw no shame in his slip-up. 

"Yeah, yeah, what you added didn't exactly put any class to that sector now, did it? It's a home for lowlives. What's your business there?"

"I wish to purchase a property, preferably cheap and small. A non-residential building would be best suited for my purpose."

Alfie took a moment to process the information. As the son of an aristocratic family, he had only seen people who wanted nothing more than to settle down deeper into the city, in Sector-1 and Sector-2 where protection from rogue mages, mutant beasts, and sources of spiritual pollution was adequate. A commoner like Merrywick who had just become a mage would have little trouble in ensuring a spot for himself there. So why was he planning to move outside the main city?

Sector-4 consisted of the most crime-ridden regions surrounding Bastion District. Slums, gambling dens, markets of hazardous products and services, brothels, factories that mass-produced dirt-cheap chemicals and artificial food, and anything borderline illegal could be found there. Not only the poorest citizens of the district lived in these regions, but rogue mages, runaway criminals, street gangs, and all sorts of unorthodox cults operated within the web of clumped, decaying buildings and narrow, vandalized streets.

"What would that purpose be?" Alfie finally asked. "A building? I'm assuming you don't plan to live there."

Merrywick chuckled. "Let's see what type of property I can buy. How I use it will depend on that."

"For something so simple, it's better not to bother my father," Alfie said cautiously. Turning towards his bodyguard, he issued an order. 

"Weren't you telling me the other day that you had connections in sector-4, Eyreen? Call up your man. You heard what he needs."

Before she could protest, Merrywick added his part. "Money won't be an issue as long as my requirements are met. Please assign someone capable of swift operation, if possible."

Eyreen scanned his face for a moment before nodding and began to fiddle with the comcell on her wrist.

"So are you coming to the party, or what?" Alfie Declan offered again. 

"I'm afraid I'll have to decline today's offer," Merrywick said in an apologizing tone. "The Church of Sunbreaker has issued me a summon, not to mention, the legal matters associated with the accident haven't yet been entirely settled. I'm sure you understand, Lord Declan. Commoners like me don't get the same privileges as aristocrats when it comes to dealing with authorities."

Alfie Declan seemed to briefly consider whether to offer some help, but chose not to, in the end, deeming it below his position to come off so desperate. It wasn't a bad trait to have in the field of negotiation. 

Eyreen looked up from her comcell and said, "Give me your ID. Someone will contact you within 10 hours with a list of choices. You can choose one on the spot or go visit the properties in person."

Merrywick nodded in gratitude and looked back at Alfie. 

"Since those properties are going to be situated inside sector-4, can I ask you for assistance in claiming possession after the purchase? I'll definitely owe you a special favor if you can help me with unsavory situations pertaining to the possession of the property, Lord Declan."

Grimacing, Alfie nodded slowly. "I'll do what I can. I can't guarantee anything right now, man. You know how chaotic those areas are, right?"

"I do, and thank you for the promise," Merrywick said, forcibly concluding the agreement there. Alfie Declan left the burial ground with a frown on his face, not quite certain whether he had made a good choice in agreeing to Merrywick's proposal. It almost felt like he had been tricked into entering a deal he had no interest in. 

"How did that guy change so much in a couple of weeks? He doesn't even give off the impression of the Merrywick I used to know..."

From a good distance away, Merrywick noticed the suspicious gaze directed at him by the young man's bodyguard, Eyreen. He smiled warmly in return and walked back to the small gathering of his friends. 

"What were you two talking about for so long?" Joseph said immediately, voicing the question in everyone's mind.

"Well, now that I'm a mage with decent potential, isn't it more prudent to step into politics as early as possible? Earl Declan's son is an old acquaintance of ours. Who's a better choice than him if we want to climb the ranks?"

Harriett clicked her tongue disapprovingly. 

"He's only here because his Progression System is bronze rank. I heard his father gave him an ultimatum a couple of days ago. Probably told him he needs to show considerable influence among his generation of aristocrats if he wants to inherit his father's title. It's not like the Earl is lacking for suitable heirs."

"Do you really want to start meddling in politics instead of pursuing magical expertise, Merry?" The red-haired girl nudged him with an elbow, looking uncomfortable with the notion. 

"You have a silver rank progression System. Why would you want to waste your potential sitting behind a desk?" 

Merrywick couldn't help laughing. 

"Do you think officials of the government or the Church lag behind when it comes to progression? Sure, they may not be out there all the time, fighting mutant beasts and exploring sacred sites. But resources eventually end up in their hands, more than enough, usually."

"All officials? I think you're talking about just the corrupt ones, Merry." Joseph snorted. "Honest officials...ah, fuck, that was an oxymoron. Who am I kidding, haha!"

The atmosphere became lighter, removing the last vestige of sorrow from the surroundings. Perhaps his friends were under the impression that he wanted to busy himself by focusing on his career as a mage in order to suppress the grief of losing his parents. They continued to crack light jokes while leading him out of the burial ground. 

Steffen, Helen, and Sartre were waiting outside for Merrywick. Seeing his jovial countenance, Helen exchanged a quick look with both men. Merrywick had already noticed the quick, silent mode of communication between her and Steffen in the past. But recently, he felt that their gazes held a hint of caution around him whenever such exchanges took place.

Had the changes in his behavior been too drastic? 

Merrywick couldn't do anything about that, if so. The need to maintain a cover of normalcy was hardly equal to the demands of the situation.

Once he sent his friends on their way home and walked over to them, Sartre handed him a small stack of documents and a data card. 

"Your parents' bank accounts have been merged under your name. Steffen couldn't find buyers for the apartment, so he bought it himself. As for their business and company shares, you can check the data card. The total amount of money directed to your new bank account will take a while to be fully transferred."

Merrywick chose not to check the documents in a display of respect and trust, which made all three of them crack a stiff smile. 

"Until your enrollment into the university, you can stay with any of us," Helen said. "I'll recommend my house, since Steffen's children are always making way too much noise, and Sartre's home has that terrible odor I can't stand-"

"Hey, you can't say that!" Steffen said, though his tone suggested that he agreed with her criticism.

Sartre just harrumphed. "Bad odor my ass! It's the smell of dark olive extract. My wife loves it!"

"Do you?" Helen said.

"....Yeah!"

Merrywick cleared his throat loudly to get their attention.

"Hey, I have to return to the hospital. Where I'm going to live after that is a matter for another day. Besides, I'm not even enrolling in the university."

"WHAT?!" 

All three of them simultaneously displayed the same response, their befuddlement apparent.