Weapon Modification Ticket

“Oh, you’re awake.”

His eyes opened on their own.

As Solomon opened his eyes, a voice rang out that sounded deliberately indifferent.

‘This is….’

His head was spinning.

All around him, machines imbued with the essence of magitech belched steam. A stinging chemical smell was mixed into the air.

“I stitched your organs up, more or less. I tied off the blood vessels that were spraying like fountains too. Spleen, pancreas… you don’t want to hear, one by one, what burst and got crushed and how I fixed it, do you?”

Ignoring the doctor’s feigned indifference, Solomon checked his own body. The body that should have been soaked in blood had been washed clean, and not a single drop of blood had seeped into the freshly wrapped bandages.

“How long has it been?”

“Three days.”

“!”

Hearing that, Solomon jolted and pushed himself up. Blood seeped from the abdominal bandage that had looked fine. Pain surged again.

“What, didn’t you hear me say that I tied off the vessels that were spraying like fountains? It burst again!”

Watching that, the doctor flared up and added,

“There are nutjobs who chop off limbs to get a high-performance prosthetic, but nobody blows themselves up to install clockwork guts! Ah, still, if you do blow, make sure you ask. I’ll refer you somewhere good.”

He was an elderly man with hair gone gray.

“This is….”

“Where else, the best VIP ward in District 5.”

Only then did Solomon remember that he had passed through District 6 where the Biotech Guild was, and had barely managed to get himself treated at a back-alley clinic in District 5.

At the very least, Hotel Snark’s room service didn’t include emergency care.

“Yeah, you saw my work, right? Come by often whenever your organs burst. Just looking at you, it seems like it’ll happen a lot.”

“I’m grateful enough to cry.”

After taking the unknown packet of medicine the doctor gave him, Solomon left the facility without another word.

Fortunately, his clothes had been washed clean. His gear was no exception. Even the Ghost Whale bone blade, said to be worth over a hundred million krona, was the same. Even though it was valuable enough to blind anyone.

Solomon stowed the Nightfall automatic crossbow into his quick-loader belt and put on the Nightweaver Coat.

“That’s quite a good coat. Weartech, I’d say.”

The doctor said it like it was someone else’s problem. Solomon silently nodded.

“Your organs got crushed that badly even while wearing that coat. What? Did you get rammed by a heavy tank?”

“…Something like that.”

He was not entirely wrong. And Solomon had just come back from putting a knife hole into the back of that very heavy tank.

All over again, he thought he should be grateful to Maya.

Either way, Gilbert Graham was taken care of cleanly. And Solomon’s work was not over yet.

A lower elder of the Sewer Mage Tower.

Thankfully, compared to a monster like Gilbert Graham, he was not even worth being called a job.

In truth, dealing with the Sewer Mage Tower’s lower elder was not even something he could call ‘work.’

Three days after dealing with Gilbert Graham. When Solomon opened his eyes and returned to Hotel Snark, the familiar zombie hotelier spoke to him.

“Mr. Solomon, someone is looking for you in the tea lounge.”

At first, he thought it was the Faceless One.

It was not.

“It is the Sewer Mage Tower Master, Lord Bowery.”

“What?”

“Lord Bowery wishes to see you, Mr. Solomon. Shall I convey your refusal?”

“…No, it’s fine. I’ll see him myself.”

“Understood.”

Lord Bowery, master of the Sewer Mage Tower.

As he neared the tea lounge, a stench that made him want to vomit filled the place. It was not the smell of rotting corpses. It was a little different.

A stink so foul it was like being at the bottom of a sewer, one the Lowlands sewers could not even present a business card next to.

For the first time, he learned there were types of vomit-inducing smells. And that getting used to one did not mean you could get used to the others.

The man was there.

“!”

Black skin, and a closely shaved head.

He was a man with all kinds of piercings hanging from head to toe.

Not just his nose, mouth, ears, and tongue—

Even his eyeballs had bead piercings stuck all over them like barnacles, shining like pearls.

A man whose grotesqueness could not be fully described even by the word grotesque.

“Ow!”

“……”

“I heard one of our idiots committed an outrageous discourtesy.”

The man called Lord Bowery, master of the Sewer Mage Tower, opened his mouth.

“Including you and the people ‘above’ you, I offer my apologies on behalf of the Sewer Mage Tower.”

“Apologies?”

“That’s right. Because….”

A comparatively polite voice, despite his looks that had nothing to do with common sense. And then.

“The bastards under me are hopeless sewer trash!!”

All of a sudden, he shot to his feet and raised his voice, enough that even the nearby contractors, who rarely got shaken, glanced over.

“I!! I!! Told them!! Not to cause trouble!! And they let it run right out their damn ears, I knew it!! I! Knew!! These idiot bastards!! Would!! Do!! This!!”

“……”

With his face turning red and blue, Lord Bowery shouted.

Whatever else, he was the master who ruled a mage tower. Even if it was a sewer, that didn’t change. Even so, Solomon kept a poker face.

“You think words like that are enough to smooth it over?”

“Oh my God, oh my God!! Of course not. Never, never!!”

Lord Bowery said with a laugh, behind that stale, unwashed stink, that stench like someone shoved their head into a bag of food trash.

“Yo, my bro, like I said, I came to show sincerity.”

“Sincerity.”

“You know, our idiot you were gonna deal with, damn shit! Things turned out like this, so I got responsibility too.”

Whether he was truly crazy or not was secondary. One thing was certain. At the very least, he wasn’t a ‘fool.’

“Did you come to brag that you cut off a tail that was going to be cut anyway?”

“As if!”

Lord Bowery laughed and shook his head.

“I’m a real man. And a ‘real man’ knows ‘how to pay a real debt’!”

“…What kind of bullshit are you chewing on?”

“A 20-foot black cargo box at Blackwater Port, South Block 7, Dock 17.”

As he said that, he held something out. A brass-colored clockwork device that looked like a pocket watch.

“There’s a real man’s real sincerity in there! I mean, like, real for real!”

It was not hard to realize it was a key.

Rolling dice on a table and proceeding by numbers is one thing. Holding a real blade and stabbing into the back of a living person is another.

You don’t know until you actually try.

Like not knowing what’s inside a box until you open it.

The cargo box in front of Solomon right now was like that too.

‘Real sincerity….’

Blackwater Port, South Block 7, Dock 17.

The wind carried a faint sea breeze. Just as Lord Bowery said, the cargo sat alone in a corner of the docks, and there was nothing else in sight.

The cargo box was tightly locked with brass locks in a hexagonal pattern. When Solomon checked his surroundings and brought the key to it, springs and gears meshed precisely with a click.

It was a mechanical structure where multiple metal blades interlocked and opened and closed in 360 degrees.

‘….’

Inside the cargo box was the very target, the Sewer Mage Tower’s lower elder.

More precisely, his severed head, sitting atop a heavy tower stacked from bundles of cash.

—With love.

For the record, the head was neatly tied with a pink ribbon, and a handwritten pink card was included.

‘How much is all of this?’

The cash tower looked to be about 0.5 meters in width, depth, and height. It certainly didn’t fall short of being called real sincerity.

‘Even taking it will be work.’

Since he even gave him the lock, he was probably telling him to consider using it as a safe outright.

Solomon looked toward where the rest of the body was, apart from the head.

‘Crows…?’

There, as if they had been put in from the start, a sizeable flock of crows was pecking at the corpse. Enough time had passed that they had eaten even the organs, leaving bones exposed.

“Kkaak.”

Then one crow saw Solomon, flew over, and perched on his shoulder. Holding something in its beak.

‘A bracelet?’

Solomon took it without a word. A black bracelet that looked unremarkable at a glance. But Solomon didn’t miss the flow of magical power he felt from it.

‘An accessory.’

This was a world inside a game. Equipment would not stop at the weapons and clothes you wore.

‘At minimum, a magic item.’

But in a situation where he could not even tell its rarity, let alone its performance or effects, was it right to put it on carelessly? There was no guarantee it was not a cursed item, either.

That was when.

‘Someone’s here.’

He sensed someone nearby.

A trap? No. Whoever it was, they didn’t particularly hide themselves, and simply walked up and revealed themselves before Solomon.

“You have completed the contract, Mr. Solomon.”

“That elf from then….”

“My introduction is late. My name is Yuria.”

An elf in a black suit with a monocle. An associate of the Faceless One he had spoken with at Hotel Snark. To be honest, even one listening device in his head was enough to make him sick of it.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Because I saw it in a dream.”

“…?”

Yuria answered calmly.

“For the record, it is fine to put that bracelet on.”

As if she were reading Solomon’s thoughts.

“As long as you live in this city, the more eyes and ears you have, the better.”

“Eyes and ears?”

“It is a bracelet of Black Bird Spirits. They may look like mere flying beasts, but they are dark spirits that can do far more.”

“Dark spirits….”

Solomon expressed thanks without resistance and put on the black bracelet.

Pudeudeuk!

Then the crows, in the middle of pecking at the lower elder’s corpse, all took off at once.

Before he could even think they had flown up, the crows that should have been flapping their wings vanished from sight.

‘Where did they go?’

Only a few feathers drifted in the air. Even the feathers melted away like snow the moment they neared the ground. Right after, he understood instinctively.

They had returned to the ‘bracelet.’

‘They’re definitely not ordinary crows.’

“It will take some time to get used to them. They’re not ones you can handle easily.”

“…I’ll try.”

“What will you do about Lord Bowery’s sincerity over there?”

Yuria took her eyes off the bracelet and looked toward the heaps of bundled cash stacked high.

“…Not sure.”

“At Shylock Bank, there is a contractor’s secret account that Hotel Snark guests can open.”

“A contractor’s secret account?”

“Yes. You just need to mention Hotel Snark.”

She continued.

“For work going forward as well, it would be better to use that bank.”

“I’ll remember.”

“Oh, and this is a separate completion reward I am giving you.”

Before Solomon even had time to tally what he had gained, Yuria said it.

“It is a special modification ticket for an automatic crossbow, usable at the Deadlock Guild’s weapon workshop.”

“…You sure give a lot.”

“It is a promissory note bound by geas, so you need not worry about nonpayment.”

[The Deadlock Guild is a workshop consortium of stubborn dwarf masters. They are so stubborn that no matter how high a price you offer or what compensation you propose, they won’t budge.]

A ticket that let you receive ‘special modification’ service from masters that stubborn, no questions asked.

“Before the next contract, please use it on the Nightfall automatic crossbow you are using now. It’ll be useful in many ways.”

“…Next contract?”

“Yes. Whether you take it is up to you, Mr. Solomon.”

Yuria, the monocled elf, answered calmly.

“I am only here as a broker to talk. Of course….”

Was she a crime broker like Roach as well? It wasn’t even surprising.

“It’s awkward to say this myself, but the ‘luck’ of getting a contract from me doesn’t come often.”

It wasn’t an opportunity that came any old way. Luck. She said without blinking.

“Can I hear the contract details in advance?”

“Unfortunately, you cannot.”

“…Payment?”

“My payment is always the same.”

Always the same. Was she talking about the weapon modification ticket she just gave him?

“What the party needs most.”

“You’re saying I needed this ticket?”

“Yes.”

Yuria nodded, her monocle glinting.

“I’ve never really thought I needed it.”

“I did not say that you need it right now.”

“…Did you open some kind of fortune-telling shop in the past?”

“It is still in business.”

Yuria said. Solomon fell silent, dumbfounded.

“I’ll take the contract.”

“Good. We will discuss the rest at the hotel.”

“…What about this head and the leftovers, and the cash bundles?”

“Later, the hotel will send someone to handle it.”

With that, she turned. Her golden long hair fluttered over the black business suit, her milky nape showing, and beside it the elf ears standing perked up.

Solomon followed behind her without a word.

‘Cash bundles, the Black Bird Spirit bracelet, the Deadlock Guild’s modification ticket for an automatic crossbow….’

Above all, the 「Master of Ambush」 trait he had gained after taking down Gilbert Graham that day.

The gains Solomon had obtained were work even to count their value one by one.

After walking along the docks for a while, Yuria spoke, her back looking utterly defenseless.

“How much do you know about the elf mafias?”