Chapter 616: Ex Machina (3)

Lennok, not content with merely finding a secret compartment in Langmuir’s study, took out a cell phone from within and began to examine it.

Langmuir, rising from his armchair, tried to snatch the phone from Lennok’s hand, but he merely struggled as if blocked by an invisible barrier.

“What… what is this?!”

Meanwhile, Lennok held the old portable communicator he had acquired and pressed the power button.

Click. Seeing the screen remain dark, he flipped the phone over to check the battery. Lennok stroked his chin, a look of intrigue on his face, as he noted the empty battery compartment.

“An analog phone, difficult to hack. No battery, and no signs of tampering with the screen. If it had been modified, it would be impossible not to touch the display.”

…

Langmuir seemed about to speak but then closed his mouth, perhaps thinking that any comment would only give Lennok more clues.

Lennok ignored Langmuir’s reaction and calmly ran his fingers over the phone’s surface.

“A portable communicator from Taylor Workshop, with only the screw components replaced. And yet, the battery, screen, and antenna are completely non-functional…”

Lennok pulled a small screwdriver from his pocket and carefully aligned it with a screw, then slowly began to turn it.

“It’s merely borrowing the form of a phone. It’s easier to think of it as a storage device with something hidden inside.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lyman.”

Langmuir glanced at Lennok, clearly agitated.

“It’s just an old phone I used for work ages ago. I’d completely forgotten that such a compartment even…!”

“Ah, found it.”

Lennok said, turning the screwdriver quickly with practiced hands.

“The sound of the irregularities rubbing together changes subtly with the speed of the screw.”

…

“Quickly, then slowly… it varies with how much it turns, but if you maintain a consistent variation in sound and turn it all the way…”

Click!!

Lennok, having instantly disassembled the back of the phone and retrieved its contents, spoke.

“A device that only opens when the four screws inside the battery case are turned simultaneously at a specific speed… It’s simple, yet a difficult trick to figure out.”

During his research into Kaiser’s pocket watch, he had memorized all the products and components produced by Taylor Workshop, which was why he could focus on the screws. If he had to find the clue from scratch, Lennok would have struggled considerably.

But Langmuir’s expression, as he watched Lennok, was strangely contorted, as if he were seeing a ghost.

“First, would you care to explain this item?”

Lennok asked with a smile, shaking the item he had pulled from the phone’s hidden compartment.

A small bullet, thoroughly stained with dried blood.

“It seems quite related to the evidence I disposed of for you last time.”

…

Langmuir refused to answer further.

He desperately avoided Lennok’s gaze, trying to ignore his questions.

Lennok watched Langmuir for a moment, then nodded as if resigned.

“Was one time not enough? Let me try a little more.”

He then went into the secret storage room behind the study and brought something else out.

Lennok placed a dusty, old candlestick on the table and spoke.

“This candlestick. At first glance, it seems ordinary, but the part that catches the melted wax is subtly off-balance.”

“…Stop.”

“That’s because the tip has been subtly filed down, shortening its length. Don’t you think there’s a reason why the originally sharp end was deliberately blunted?”

“Stop it!!”

Lennok quietly set the candlestick down, watching Langmuir, who had lost his patience and yelled.

“The items in that storage room. Aren’t they all evidence of someone’s murder?”

Lennok asked with a smiling face.

“Entrusting the disposal of evidence from a powerful figure’s child, deliberately shifting responsibility. Is this how the Machine Head faction controls its committee members?”

…

Why would he keep evidence related to someone else’s crime hidden in a secret compartment behind his study? Most likely, the owner of this evidence wasn’t Langmuir himself, but someone of a much higher standing.

Lennok had searched the study of Committee Member Langmuir, who had tried to pin responsibility on him, and in one swift move, uncovered the dirty secrets of Langmuir’s faction.

“I thought there might be some friction between us, but I suppose this is enough.”

Langmuir, as a committee member of the Machine Head faction, was likely tasked with hiding evidence of a crime committed by a higher-up. The moment it was revealed that this fact had been discovered by an outsider, Langmuir’s standing within his faction would sharply diminish.

“I’ll reopen your communication line.”

Lennok found Langmuir’s personal cell phone on a table in the study and tossed it to him.

“If you’ve requested reinforcements or external help, cancel it all. What happened today ends here.”

…

Did Langmuir sense something in that calm voice? Langmuir, with trembling hands, picked up the phone. He swallowed hard after confirming that the communication network had been restored to normal.

He called a number listed in his contacts, connected the phone, and began to manage the situation exactly as Lennok had instructed.

“It’s me. There seems to have been a signal error while we were testing and inspecting the mansion’s internal systems.”

[…]

“Yes, recall all agents currently deployed and have them stand by until further notice.”

After hanging up, Langmuir made similar calls to a few more places, then looked back at Lennok with a tense expression.

“I’ve contacted all the District Police, Special Forces, and Mechanized Troops I requested as reinforcements. There won’t be any late arrivals at this mansion now.”

“You made a lot of calls in such a short time.”

Lennok smiled faintly.

“It seems you value your life that much.”

“The agents I sent you were members of the Sidesquad, elite guards assigned to Ex Machina.”

Langmuir struggled to his feet and sat back in the armchair, replying.

“If someone can deal with them and then come for me, how can I not think you’d kill me?”

“But it seems you’re now willing to cooperate.”

“If you intended to kill me, you would have taken my life the moment you entered the study.”

Langmuir looked up at Lennok, shaking his head with a weak voice.

“I understand now that you’re not just a skilled artisan. And now that my vulnerabilities have been exposed, I also know that you stand above me.”

Did he just admit that the situation had completely flipped the moment Lennok invaded his mansion and found his weaknesses? It was a completely subservient posture, utterly unlike the stern attitude he had displayed moments ago, when he was reprimanding Lennok about his elimination from the Selection Ceremony.

True to a committee member who had served on the Supreme Council for a long time, his shift in attitude was remarkably swift.

“From now on, I will never again question your person or your decisions. Furthermore, I will do my utmost to ensure you can continue your work as an artisan in the workshop district.”

…

“If you still harbor any aspirations for the Meister title, I will be the first to recommend your name to the Machine Head faction when the Selection Ceremony reopens. I swear this on my position as an Ex Machina Committee Member.”

Langmuir, having quickly mentioned his past mistakes and the privileges and compensation Lennok would receive in the future, looked at Lennok, gauging his reaction, and asked.

“If there’s anything you want, tell me now. What can I do?”

“It’s not difficult.”

Lennok said, manipulating his magic to project an image before Langmuir’s eyes.

Flash!!

The last page of Kaiser’s research log. A blueprint for a massive room, only visible through a specific serum.

Lennok, having chosen a fragment of the blueprint and projected it as a magical hologram so that the entire design couldn’t be guessed, asked Langmuir.

“I’d like to ask where in the Machine City, Machina, you think this blueprint might be located.”

Days had passed since Lennok reopened his workshop, which he had closed after being eliminated from the Selection Ceremony, and began accepting customers.

The number of customers seeking out Lennok’s workshop had dramatically increased, incomparable to before.

Although his evaluation had been withheld and he hadn’t achieved a direct outcome, word had begun to spread that all the judges had highly praised Lennok’s modification skills.

So many customers started flocking in that he now had to set a limit on daily clients and assign numbers on a first-come, first-served basis.

“It’s a common occurrence for popular workshops.”

Mouser, now naturally settled in Lennok’s workshop, nodded while picking at his teeth with a toothpick.

“This old workshop district, where washed-up artisans like me gather, rarely sees this kind of thing, but it’s commonplace in the mid-tier workshop districts where Meisters and young talents are.”

The workshop district where Lennok conducted his business was a street where artisans gathered, but such districts weren’t the only ones in the Machine City.

The workshop districts were categorized and their importance divided based on the artisans’ skill levels and their location within the city.

Among them, the workshop district Lennok was currently in was close to Machina’s outskirts, a district, as Mouser said, where washed-up artisans gathered.

“It seems you have experience with this, Artisan Mouser.”

“I ran a business like that when I was young too.”

Mouser replied, then looked at Lennok as if remembering something belatedly.

“But didn’t you have something else you needed to do, besides your artisan work?”

“Ah, I found someone to handle what I originally intended to do.”

Lennok answered calmly.

“Thanks to that, I think I can continue my artisan work for a while longer.”

“You’ve made friends so quickly? You’re quite sociable, unlike what your appearance suggests.”

…

Rather than making a “friend,” Lennok had simply assigned the task to an Ex Machina Committee member, but he didn’t elaborate.

Within Ex Machina, the Machine Head faction was a group of intellectuals, largely composed of scholars.

Comparatively, among Machina’s leadership, they were the faction most likely to investigate the blueprint and yield meaningful results.

While leaking the blueprint externally carried risks, if he didn’t account for it, Lennok would eventually have to do all the legwork himself.

Now that the possibility of accessing the heart of Machina through artisan work had significantly increased, there was no need to discard the reputation he had built under the name Lyman.

Devoting himself to artisan work by day, and simultaneously gathering information from committee members like Langmuir by night.

This had been Lennok’s basic course of action in the Machine City since the Meister Selection Ceremony concluded.

Mouser, his face flushed with drink, sprawled out near the workbench, scratching his belly.

“I’m going to sleep a bit more and then work, so don’t wake me. I’ll make the parts you mentioned by midnight tonight.”

“Understood.”

After only a few days of going in and out of the workshop with Lennok, he had rapidly grown familiar, treating the workshop as his own home.

Lennok, for his part, had no strong objections, as Mouser helped him modify and maintain his equipment.

However, customers who came to entrust Lennok with their equipment often found Mouser’s behavior strange and would sometimes ask about him.

“Is that artisan all right?”

“He seems exhausted from working late into the night.”

“Even so, he smells quite strongly of alcohol…”

…

Sharp customers sometimes stumbled upon fragments of the truth, but since artisans liking alcohol was such a common thing in Machina, no one really made a fuss about it.

After that, Lennok continued his steady business, repairing customers’ equipment and half-intuitively guessing their personal affairs.

Although he occasionally touched upon sensitive secrets or personal matters of various professions, the customers who came to him seemed to do so specifically because they expected such consultations from Lennok.

After each repair and modification, the app where customers left workshop reviews was filled with various praises for Lennok’s service.

[9.5/10: Repairs are fast and the artisan is smart.]

[9/10: Prices aren’t excessively high and the service is attentive.]

[10/10: The iron the owner kindly touched was so delicious.]

[Master, I think the organic beings’ eating habits have become a bit strange lately.]

Without waiting for a reply, Davi neatly pressed the report button on the suspicious review.

“I broke my cash register fighting with a business partner, but they strangely wouldn’t let me fix it.”

“Did you perhaps lose some investment money before starting the business? There’s a slush fund hidden inside.”

Rumors and reviews grew increasingly popular day by day, to the point where customers now volunteered their situations without Lennok even having to speak first.

“The motorcycle I bought recently keeps stalling in the middle of rides. I pushed it here myself, could you take a look?”

“The internal engine parts have been cleverly mixed, old and new. Next time you visit the seller, you should bring a lawsuit with you.”

Of course, with so many customers coming, it was rare for him to handle only powerful artifacts.

Opening equipment parts to reveal hidden compartments, resolving fraud suspicions for buyers, fixing broken radios or cell phones—these tasks were countless.

But instead of complaining or refusing customers, Lennok diligently processed every request that came his way.

‘It’s inevitable that attention would be focused on me right after the Selection Ceremony. There’s no reason to cause unnecessary trouble with customers.’

If he thought of it as honing his lacking modification and maintenance skills in practice, it wasn’t bad at all.

Information regarding the blueprint recorded in Kaiser’s research log was currently being gathered through Committee Member Langmuir and the Machine Head faction.

He didn’t expect to resolve all mysteries immediately upon arriving in Machina.

‘Machina’s district divisions and movement methods are completely different from Vulcan’s. The entire city constantly shifts and moves like a living organism, so I need information here too.’

It was different from Vulcan, where light and shadow were divided and outlaws ran rampant.

Knowing that the Enforcers, an overwhelming military force, could patrol all districts of the Machine City,

He needed to gather as much information as possible and make contact with people from various professions, all while avoiding getting caught by them.

For now, he had no choice but to continue his artisan work and build a foundation for accessing the heart of the Machine City.

As Lennok thought this and sent off the customer who had been scammed with a bike, having adequately fixed its engine.

Clank!!

From the far end of the spacious workshop district street, heavy footsteps echoed.

Dozens of soldiers in dark crimson uniforms marched in formation, rapidly traversing the street and approaching him.

The chilling aura was such that other customers waiting in line instinctively recoiled.

The formation of soldiers, having swiftly approached Lennok’s workshop, parted, and from within, an old woman with sparse white hair, hands clasped behind her back, emerged.

The old woman, with striking, piercing eyes, openly surveyed the workshop’s interior, then sharply frowned.

“Dreadfully old. And the storage conditions are simply atrocious.”

…

“The drains are clogged, so water barely flows, and the furnace ventilation is practically useless. The workshop’s soundproofing has been gnawed through by rats.”

The old woman continued to circle the workshop, pointing out various structures and facilities around it.

Dozens of soldiers silently moved with her, guarding her without a single word.

To anyone passing by, it was clear that the old woman was being treated as a very important dignitary.

Instead of immediately responding to the old woman, Lennok carefully observed the attire of the soldiers guarding her.

‘Their uniforms are different from the shadow agents who came to the workshop before. These are soldiers from the surface.’

Although it was difficult to tell due to their faces being half-hidden by thick helmets, they lacked the stealth or chilling killing intent of the agents who had attacked Lennok’s workshop.

It was correct to view them as a different military force, distinct in assignment from the Sidesquad agents Committee Member Langmuir had sent.

Having finished his thoughts, Lennok slowly opened the workshop door and poked his head out.

“…Who are you?”

At Lennok’s words, the old woman spun her head around as if she had been waiting.

“Are you the arrogant brat who made the elders nervous during the Selection Ceremony?”

…

The old woman, who had immediately started reprimanding Lennok, strode into the workshop and openly frowned at the scattered machinery and parts.

“Even if we overlook the lack of organization, the workshop’s internal layout is a mess. If you place the workbench in the middle like this, the heat will inevitably cool down before it reaches the furnace. And why is the auxiliary workbench placed in such a ridiculous spot?”

The old woman continued to grumble, criticizing the workshop’s interior design, until she saw Mouser sprawled out behind the auxiliary workbench and her eyes widened slightly.

…

The old woman, watching Mouser, who was snoring happily in a completely relaxed posture, with a look of disdain, grabbed a liquor bottle lying on the workbench.

She inverted the half-empty bottle and poured the alcohol not into Mouser’s mouth, but directly into his nostrils.

Mouser, who had been sleeping with a somewhat contented expression, startled awake and shot up as the alcohol hit his windpipe.

“Gah! Cough! Who the hell pours precious liquor into someone’s nostrils instead of their mouth?!”

“It’s me, Mouser.”

The old woman jabbed Mouser’s stomach with the inverted bottle, watching him spring up with a look of indignation.

Only then did Mouser recognize the old woman’s face, and his eyes widened.

“Na, Narcissa…?”

“Old man. Why are you freeloading in this brat’s workshop?”

At the words of the old woman called Narcissa, Mouser wiped his alcohol-drenched face clean and slapped his cheeks.

Mouser’s expression, after wiping his face, had somehow returned to that of a stern artisan.

“That’s what I should be asking. What brings you all the way here, when you rarely show your face in Machina’s central district?”

“This brat’s workshop becoming famous has led to the Lower Workshop District exceeding its capacity for several days.”

Narcissa nodded with an expressionless face.

“There’s still over a month until Machina’s District Relocation Cycle. At this rate, it wouldn’t be strange for the barriers within the workshop district to fail under the strain and collapse.”

“So… problems arose because too many customers are coming?”

At Lennok’s casually uttered words, Narcissa sharply turned her head to look at him.

“You’re an artisan doing business in the Lower Workshop District, and you didn’t know that? This is a problem.”

…

“The number of people each district and zone can accommodate at one time is strictly controlled. Since the barriers dividing the zones extend dynamically, if the capacity is exceeded, the barriers could break, and the district divisions might disappear.”

Did she mean the very reason for controlling capacity was to prevent the barriers from collapsing? However, Narcissa’s words seemed to express more concern about the damage to the barriers themselves than about casualties or property loss.

Could the massive mechanical barriers used to delineate each district in Machina hold a more significant meaning than he had thought?

As Lennok became lost in thought about it, Narcissa pointed at him and spoke again.

“After investigating the circumstances, it seems your name became known immediately after you were eliminated from the Selection Ceremony, and your customer base grew significantly. Moreover, I’ve heard you’ve accepted almost every customer who came to you without refusal.”

“That’s true, but.”

“At this rate, instead of the number of customers decreasing, people will continue to flock to this district’s space, and the load will gradually begin to break it down.”

Narcissa said, gazing intently at the old workshop with her arms crossed.

“Therefore, the higher-ups have decided to relocate this brat’s workshop to an Upper Workshop District.”