That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

”Are you really not going to stay at the club?”

”...”

Suzuki paused and glanced at the person who had just asked him the question. It was an Elf, her face partially obscured by a sleek, assassin-like mask, her bright blonde hair pulled back into a single, practical braid. Despite the mask, it was painfully obvious she was stunningly beautiful.

”Do I look like a man who is entirely controlled by his lower half?” Suzuki asked flatly.

”Yes.”

”...”

Wow. This woman is incredibly rude!

Suzuki instantly disliked her.

However, he simply sighed and ignored Anrietta. He knew exactly who she was. She was the leader of Dwargon’s Dark Ministry, feared under the title ”Head of the Night Assassins.” She served as Gazel Dwargo’s personal, undercover shadow and was a highly trusted member of his inner circle.

Usually, a shadow like Anrietta would remain completely hidden, observing her targets in dead silence and reporting their every breath to Gazel. Yet, applying those covert tactics to Suzuki was virtually impossible—and frankly, politically inappropriate.

He and Gazel had just signed an [Absolute Contract]. While the contract didn’t explicitly forbid espionage, Gazel and his ministers weren’t stupid. If they sent a spy to skulk in the shadows, a monster like Suzuki would undoubtedly notice. He might perceive the act as a blatant sign of distrust, which could completely fracture their new alliance.

And Dwargon absolutely needed Suzuki.

Whether it was Gazel or the Ministry of Finance, no one doubted his value. Suzuki’s ”Hub-and-Spoke” system granted them access to an instantaneous delivery service, allowing them to import vital goods at a fraction of standard market prices.

More importantly, it broke their reliance on the Kingdom of Falmuth. As long as Dwargon couldn’t feed its massive population natively, it was perpetually at the mercy of Falmuth’s extortionate import tariffs. Suzuki was their lifeline. Despite the catastrophic potential danger he possessed, his existence was vital to the nation’s survival—especially with the terrifying Eastern Empire looming just beyond their borders.

Dwargon was a powerful nation, hardened by eons of fending off global threats. Compared to a foreign army, Suzuki’s ”danger” was effectively null; he was fundamentally harmless because he was entirely motivated by profit.

This was precisely why Gazel hadn’t minded—and had actively encouraged—taking Suzuki to the Night Butterfly.

Gazel desperately wanted Suzuki to start a family within the nation.

As it stood, Suzuki had absolutely no ties to any faction. He was a ruthless, wandering merchant looking to monopolize the globe. He didn’t care about national pride, world conquerors, or kings. In his mind, everything boiled down to spreadsheets and efficiency. Gazel respected that, but it made Suzuki a massive flight risk.

But what if a man like that had a child with a citizen of Dwargon?

Knowing this, Gazel knew he had to set Suzuki up with someone reliable. Anrietta was a prime candidate: she was single, exceptionally beautiful, deeply loyal to the crown, and—crucially—an Elf.

If Suzuki were a monster, he would never have received such VIP matchmaking treatment. But because he was human, the political integration was seamless.

Of course, neither Suzuki nor Anrietta knew about the King’s secret matchmaking agenda. Anrietta simply assumed Gazel wanted her to guard their new VIP. If covert spying was off the table, the next best option was to shadow him openly.

”So, you walked away from the hostesses just to come look at... that slime?” Anrietta asked, utterly confused as she followed him toward the courthouse.

”Yep.”

”...” Anrietta stared at the blue blob in the distance.

”I smell the undeniable scent of massive profits radiating off him.”

”...Him? Does that thing even have a gender?”

”Biologically? Slimes are genderless. But internally, that slime is definitely a guy,” Suzuki said with absolute certainty.

”How can you possibly be sure?”

”Did you see the expression on his face when those Elves hugged him earlier? If that isn’t the soul of a desperate, middle-aged man, I don’t know what is.”

”...” Anrietta was at a total loss, but found herself reluctantly accepting his airtight logic.

Regardless of Suzuki’s commentary, the plot of the world continued exactly as it was meant to. Rimuru had arrived in Dwargon looking for trade, stumbled into trouble, and miraculously healed a group of critically injured miners with his overpowered potions. This earned him the profound loyalty of several talented Dwarven craftsmen, who had treated him to a celebratory night at the Night Butterfly.

But when Rimuru was busy thoroughly enjoying the Elven hospitality, a massive conflict erupted, resulting in a chaotic trial overseen by the King of Dwargon himself.

During the trial, Rimuru seemed like a comical afterthought while Gazel dictated the flow of justice. But in reality, Gazel never ignored the slime’s presence. In fact, out of everyone in the room, the Hero King was the most intensely wary of Rimuru, despite the slime’s naive, bouncing demeanor.

Why? Because Gazel’s [Dictator] skill completely failed to read Rimuru!

Why is it like this? Gazel had wondered. The only logical conclusion the King could draw was that Rimuru was far stronger than he appeared—likely hovering near, or already at, the level of a Demon Lord.

”...”

When the trial concluded, four brilliant craftsmen—Kaijin, Mryd, Garm, and Dord—were exiled from Dwargon. Without hesitation, they swore absolute loyalty to Rimuru. Simultaneously, Gazel exiled his arrogant minister, Vesta, covertly ordering him to follow the slime and learn true humility.

As the trial wrapped up, Suzuki didn’t waste a second. He walked over to the King. ”Gazel, I’m heading out.”

”Are you going to follow that slime?” Gazel asked, raising an eyebrow.

”Yeah.”

”Why?”

”Like I told your shadow: I smell money.”

”...You absolute merchant,” Gazel sighed, looking at Suzuki speechlessly.

”Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. There is a lot of corporate restructuring I need to do here, and your nation’s economic potential is massive.”

”Get out of my city before you drain all the wealth from my treasury,” Gazel rolled his eyes, making a shooing motion with his hand.

”Alright, alright. Don’t miss me too much.”

Suzuki left without a hint of hesitation. Gazel watched his new business partner walk away, letting out a helpless sigh as he sat on his quiet throne. For the first time in centuries, the Hero King felt a strange, unfamiliar sense of genuine camaraderie.

”Alright, everyone! Let’s head back to our village!”

Rimuru bounced happily, absolutely thrilled that he had just secured a team of master-class Dwarven talent.

”OOOOOOHHH!” Kaijin, Mryd, Garm, and Dord roared in unison, completely fired up for their new lives.

They were just about to set off down the mountain path when a smooth, polite voice interrupted them.

”Excuse me. You there. The slime.”

”Eh?” Rimuru blinked, turning his gelatinous body around.

”Are you interested in doing some business with me?”

”...”

Standing before the group was a ridiculously handsome young man. He was dressed impeccably, exuding the crisp, dominating aura of a modern, highly successful CEO—the exact type of guy who made office ladies swoon back in Tokyo.

Rimuru had to admit, seeing a guy who looked like he just stepped out of a high-end Ginza boardroom standing in the middle of a medieval Dwarven mountain was profoundly bizarre.

But then, the man did something even more bizarre.

He reached into his tailored jacket, pulled out a crisp, rectangular piece of cardstock, and bowed slightly at a perfect 45-degree angle.

”Please, take my business card.”

”Ah! Oh, excuse me! Please accept my business card as well!”

Despite the fact that Rimuru was a literal blob of slime without arms or pockets, thirty-seven years of deeply ingrained, corporate Japanese salaryman muscle memory instantly took over. He frantically rapidly-synthesized a perfectly sized business card out of his own gelatinous mass and extended it forward to complete the exchange.

As Rimuru held out his makeshift card, he paused. He looked up at the impeccably dressed young man, his nonexistent heart skipping a beat. His voice trembled violently.

”Y-You’re from... Japan?”

”As expected. You are too, right?” Suzuki smiled warmly.

”...”

”HUWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

For the very first time since reincarnating into this brutal fantasy world, Rimuru Tempest wailed, crying massive, comical tears of absolute joy at finally meeting a fellow countryman.

Meanwhile, Kaijin, the Dwarves, and Anrietta just stood there, staring at the crying slime and the bowing CEO in stunned, absolute silence.