Chapter 58

The dark, damp underground sewers feel like the entrails of a monster called Dresden. Moving through them, we are essentially swallowed food particles flowing through a giant beast’s intestinal tract.

Thanks to the freezing cold and the purification slimes, it isn’t quite as overwhelmingly foul as I expected, but the smell is still intense. Yoshioka has been breathing through his mouth while holding his nose for a while now.

“Senior, you have the ‘Dog’s Nose’ skill; how are you even okay right now?”

“It’s better than an old-fashioned pit latrine. The campsites up in the mountains are ten times stinkier than this.”

Of course, these days most mountain huts have switched to bio-toilets and are much cleaner, but the point stands.

“I never imagined there could be a place smellier than the Shibuya Station restrooms,” Yoshioka muttered.

“That’s nothing compared to this.”

Granted, the smell of places like Shibuya or Shinbashi is something else, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect much from a pampered city boy. Then again, even Emma looks like she’s about to lose her lunch. Lady Clara,¹ however… seems remarkably unfazed. She’s surprisingly tough.

Leaving the actual labor to the cleaners, we began inspecting the sewers under Pops’ guidance.

“Watch your step. All sorts of things end up down here.”

Despite the periodic cleaning, there’s a lot of debris. Filthy bundles of straw and stones used for campfires are piled up here and there.

“Are these the remains of the residents’ daily lives?”

“Yeah. Don’t trip. And keep your cool if you see a corpse—don’t start screaming.”

At first, I thought it was just a bit of dark Saxens humor from the old man, but it turns out the presence of bodies is a grim reality. Most of the vagrants living in the sewers are people who became too sick to work. When they die, they are often just left where they fall.

We’ve passed several vagrants already. Even with soldiers approaching, they remained lying down, making no move to hide, merely watching us with hollow, glazed eyes. They likely know their time is up. Anyone still capable of moving usually flees the moment they spot a uniform.

“What do you do if you find a body?”

“Feed it to the slimes in the water. Most of the time, the clothes have already been stripped off anyway. The workers just dump the remains in the water, and that’s that.”

The nature of the work is heavy, but because it pays 750 Marques a day, there’s no shortage of laborers applying for the job.

“This is depressing work,” I remarked.

“That’s the soldier’s life for you. Still better than a battlefield, right?”

I’ve never seen a battlefield, but I imagine he’s right.

“Captain! We’ve found a fresh one!”

A soldier walking ahead called out loudly. Honestly, I could have gone my whole life without seeing this.

“Another vagrant died of illness?” Pops asked, but the soldier’s reply was vague.

“Well, probably. But the clothes are already gone, and he’s already been dumped in the water.”

Apparently, this happens occasionally. After stripping the corpse of clothes and belongings, some people go through the extra effort of tossing the body into the water. I suppose you could call them “thorough” thieves.

“I will confirm the body.”

No one was particularly eager, but Lady Clara’s word was final, so we headed to the scene.

Gross! I really wish I hadn’t looked.

The skin of the body was half-melted from the slime’s digestive secretions. It looked like an anatomical model from a science lab slathered in thick lotion. Yoshioka and Emma couldn’t take it and began retching. I was pretty close to the edge myself. If I hadn’t encountered several rotting deer carcasses while hiking, I probably would have joined them.

In this state, a proper autopsy seemed impossible. The only saving grace was the lack of a rot smell. However, my sensitive “Dog’s Nose” could clearly pick out the scent of blood seeping from the remains.

Wait… that’s strange.

The scent of blood isn’t just coming from the corpse; it’s coming from the walkway too. I pulled a flashlight from my pocket and shone it on the path.

“What is it, Kota?”

“Ah, just as I thought. There are bloodstains here.”

Though they were already dry, there were clear traces of blood left on the walkway. Lady Clara knelt down beside me to examine the floor.

“I see. So it wasn’t just a matter of dumping someone who died of illness; they killed a living man and stripped him of his belongings…”

“And that, unfortunately, is not uncommon down here,” Pops added.

According to Pops, they find at least one murder victim a month. But the actual number of incidents is likely much higher. There’s no telling how many bodies are dissolved by slimes without anyone ever knowing.

Honestly, at this point, I just wanted to get back to the surface and breathe some fresh air. The atmosphere down here was suffocating.

…Maybe I could secretly catch a whiff of Lady Clara’s scent to calm my nerves? I focused my senses on her as she examined the bloodstains right in front of me.

“Wait… Lady Clara, are you wearing perfume?”

“No, I don’t use such things. Why?”

Maybe I imagined it? I could have sworn I caught a faint, floral fragrance.

Identifying the body seemed like a lost cause. All we knew was that the deceased was a human male, between 30 and 45 years old, with black hair and brown eyes. On Lady Clara’s orders, we began questioning the vagrants. However, the healthy ones tried to flee the moment they saw soldiers, and the sick ones who couldn’t move knew nothing. The investigation hit a wall.

The soldiers spent the rest of the morning asking the vagrants if any of their companions who had gone missing in the last two days matched the body’s description. By the time we finished, it was noon.

Since the cleaners needed a break anyway, we all headed back up to the surface. The soldiers were already muttering about how this case would likely go unsolved. There are no security cameras here, and when the victim is a vagrant, the guards don’t usually exert much effort. Even if we were lucky enough to find a witness, finding physical evidence to prove a crime in this world would be nearly impossible. There’s no DNA testing here.

“Lady Clara, given the location, finding the culprit looks like a tall order,” I said.

“Indeed. If only we knew the man’s name, at least.”

The soldiers were rationed bread and cheese for lunch. A nearby street stall was selling soup, and some soldiers whose rations weren’t enough were buying bowls. A wooden bowl of soup cost 12 Marques. Fiene showed me hers; it was packed with root vegetables like carrots, turnips, and potatoes. The seasoning was simple salt, but the sight of the steaming soup in the freezing cold looked incredibly appetizing.

But my appetite was at zero after being forced to observe a corpse in detail. Yoshioka and Emma were still looking pale, too.

I’m impressed Fiene is so unfazed. Is it because she’s in a growth spurt? Well… she certainly has plenty of room to grow. Hang in there, kid.

Meanwhile, many of the cleaners had brought their own lunches, but others just sat there during the break with nothing to eat, looking miserable. I wanted to give them something, but there’s no end to charity once you start.

In the Tannishō,² it says, “This compassion is never consistent from beginning to end.” It means that human power is small; no matter how much you pity someone, that kind of compassion is rarely steadfast. I suppose that’s why we’re told to lean on the power of the Buddha? I’m not a Buddhist, but I think the sentiment rings true.

No matter how much I pity these people, I know that once I’m back in the barracks, I’ll secretly pull some snacks out of my Spatial Storage to munch on. If I’m hungry enough, I might even face-plant into a Club Harrae baumkuchen.³ In those moments, these people won’t be in my thoughts. Even if they were, I’d probably shake the thought away. Unless you live like Mother Teresa, that’s just how it is—and living like a saint is definitely beyond me.

As a small gesture, I took some palm-sized stones and placed them in the fire the soldiers had started.

“Kota, what are you doing?”

Pops was immediately curious.

“I’m making warm stones. If you wrap these heated stones in cloth…”

Presto: a primitive hand warmer.

“Oh! That’s warm. Maybe I’ll try that too.”

Starting with Squad Leader Barre, the soldiers began making their own warm stones one after another. I called out to the cleaners as well.

“Anyone who wants to heat a stone, bring one over. Just be careful not to burn yourselves.”

The sky outside was below freezing. In the end, every single cleaner there went to find a stone to heat up. If they tucked one near their stomach before sleeping, it would help them stay warm. I’ve heard that raising your body temperature boosts your immune system. As long as they stay healthy, there’s work to be had, and they won’t starve in the capital.

“Boss! Hey, Boss!”

A scruffy little man called out to me. He didn’t look like one of the cleaners hired today.

“Yes?”

“Can I get one of them stones too?”

He wanted a warm stone.

“Sure, take this one. Do you have a cloth to wrap it in?”

I used a couple of wooden sticks like chopsticks to pick up a stone and dropped it into his grimy-looking scarf.

“Hehe, this’ll do nicely. Nice and toasty.”

The man’s hair was heavily streaked with gray; he looked to be at least fifty.

“Well look at that—isn’t it Holger?” Pops interjected. A friend of his?

“Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Aye, I’ve been spending my time over in the East District. Just made my way back to the South, so treat me well, yeah?”

This man, Holger, apparently makes a living as a “Treasure Scavenger.” It’s a general term for people who dredge sewers and rivers for valuables. Apparently, you can find unexpected treasures like expensive rings in the sewers. Holger’s business was scraping together enough of those to keep his belly full.

Also, because of his “profession,” he had connections in the underworld and ran a side business as an informant.

“An informant, huh? Well then, Mr. Holger… would you happen to know the name of the man who was murdered?”

“Well now, I might at that.”

Holger smiled with a mouth missing several front teeth. There was something strangely likable about his face.