The Swordsman

“…Corpse Fuser?”

“It’ll be faster to see it for yourself.”

As he said that, Lord Bernier turned the page of the documents.

“Even you will find it strangely familiar.”

“…Me?”

A name he’d never heard. A face he’d never seen. And yet there was a ‘familiar’ face in there. At the seemingly contradictory description, Solomon swallowed a dry laugh.

It wasn’t a contradiction. It was literal.

The man called Dr. O’Neill had the ‘corpses’ of countless people stuck to his body like rags layered on rags.

Limbs sprouted like an arthropod’s, faces rose from his chest, and looking closer, you could see stitch marks where each piece had been sutured on like someone sewing patchwork.

Among the corpses fused into that body, there was one part that was distinctly “familiar.”

A blood-red body, swollen crimson as if it might burst at any moment, something no steroid injection could ever dare imitate.

‘Gilbert Graham.’

The Biotech Guild executive who was Solomon’s target for his first Downtown job. That man’s upper body was attached as one above Dr. O’Neill’s waist.

As if they shared a body like conjoined twins. And yet the countless sutures and threads said plainly that this was a kind of ‘surgical joining,’ and violence.

“So that’s why they call him a corpse fuser.”

And beyond Gilbert Graham, unknown limbs were grafted on all over. Disorderly, like malignant tumors sprouting across a body.

Worse, looking closer, what was attached to the ends of some limbs weren’t “hands or feet”… but human faces.

At that point, Gilbert Graham, whose upper body was at least intact, almost seemed like he’d gotten off lightly.

A crystallization of madness that the word ‘horrific’ couldn’t fully capture.

“…I’m starting to wonder how he ended up like this.”

“There are countless ways things can go wrong.”

Lord Bernier spoke calmly, his voice full of bourgeois pressure and refinement.

“But the virtue of a cleaner lies in ‘removing’ the problem cleanly. Isn’t that so?”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

An unspoken warning not to ask further. Solomon nodded calmly. Digging too deep into a contract’s background was never a good thing, and with the man in front of him, that was even more true.

“For the record, these documents cannot leave this room, so finish reading them here.”

As he said that, Lord Bernier sipped his cold coffee. Without a word, Solomon turned the next page and read on.

It was similar to hotel room service summaries. Target overview, expected escape routes, and so on.

“Hold on.”

After getting that far, Solomon stopped him.

“I want to talk about compensation.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that. You won’t be disappointed. No matter what it is… that you want.”

Solomon answered at Lord Bernier’s words.

“You talk like you know what I want.”

“In my experience, when someone brings up compensation like that, they’re usually after something other than ‘money.’”

“Does that include information?”

“Information! That’s one of the forms of compensation we can consider most positively.”

Hearing that, Solomon didn’t hesitate.

“Black Museum. Curator.”

“……”

The instant Solomon said those words, Lord Bernier’s expression hardened cold. ‘Frozen’ wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

“Where did you hear that name?”

Solomon answered without losing his composure.

“Am I obligated to answer?”

“Oh, right. My apologies…”

Lord Bernier answered with a bitter smile.

“To be honest, it’s difficult to give you a definite answer right now.”

“You can’t tell me?”

“Rather, you should complete this contract first, and then we can have a deeper negotiation. Considering the… ‘danger’ their name carries in itself.”

“Understood.”

In plain terms, he was saying to finish the contract first, then talk. That was enough for Solomon. At minimum, it was clear the man in front of him held “some kind of information” about them.

“Also, for this contract, a 「Swordsman」 from Sword Watch will accompany you.”

“…Swordsman?”

“Ah, don’t worry. It’s like insurance, in case something happens. And she’ll provide information as well.”

Solomon frowned.

[Sword Watch’s swordsmen are not like the nobodies who just patrol Downtown streets pretending to be guards…
Under the city government’s system, they are people who solve the city’s problems legally, in the open.]

They were like water and oil with Hotel Snark’s guests, who fundamentally operated in the shadows. At least, on the surface.

But surprisingly, water and oil had a way of sticking together more often than you’d think.

“Midnight, 12 o’clock. Rendezvous at the ‘Crossroads of the Dead’ in Downtown District 4.”

Downtown District 4, the Street of the Wandering. A place where guilds of ghosts and mediums gathered. In a sense, it was also the physically closest place to Ghost Town within Guild City.

“How do I identify the swordsman?”

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

At last, Lord Bernier slipped the stack of papers into his coat and stood.

“Just as you look like a cleaner at a glance—”

He continued as he leaned on the mahogany cane that hid a blade.

“She, too, looks like a swordsman at a glance.”

Downtown District 4. Street of the Wandering. Crossroads of the Dead.

A Sword Watch’s swordsman was there. Just as Lord Bernier said, she looked like one at a glance.

“So you’re the hotel’s contractor.”

A business suit so immaculate even the tie had no flaws. On the sword belt at her waist, no less than three blades were mechanically secured.

Distinctive features included a pink streak woven as highlighted strands through her long black hair, and the fact she wore sunglasses even past midnight.

“I’m Violet, a First-Class Swordsman of Sword Watch. The higher-ups ordered me to monitor you and provide support.”

“…You’ve got the wrong person.”

Solomon played dumb like it wasn’t his problem, and Violet snorted.

[Deception failed!]

“Deny something worth denying. It’s written all over your face that you’re a fixer from that hotel.”

“You don’t seem like you’re in a position to talk either.”

“I wear it on my face because I need to. Got a problem with that?”

“Well, aren’t you something?”

“Yea. I kind of am.”

Just like she said, Solomon was no exception. He looked the part too.

‘…Do I need to be more careful about standing out?’

After thinking that, Solomon spoke. There was no need to drag it out. He had work to do.

“You said you’d provide information on the target.”

“Dr. O’Neill. The Corpse Fuser.”

Violet nodded as she answered.

“He’s hiding in a warehouse site owned by the Necropolis Guild. A few of the guild’s necromancers are cooperating with him.”

“…Necropolis Guild?”

“Yeah.”

Solomon frowned. Necropolis Guild. The Necropolis Guild. Much like Solomon and Violet themselves, it was a name that let you infer a great many things the moment you heard it.

He didn’t know what the bastard had done, or what he was cooperating with the Necropolis Guild for. Even so, Solomon didn’t bother asking. Like the client said, his job was to solve the problem, not uncover every reason behind it.

“What else do we need to watch for besides the Corpse Fuser?”

Knowing exactly what he had to deal with was a separate matter.

“Several necromancers, piles of zombies and skeletons armed with automatic crossbows, and a few troll zombies.”

“…Goddamn. That’s a lot.”

Just hearing it, walking in openly sounded like suicide.

“I wanted to handle it quietly without being noticed, if possible.”

Bad news. Security was tighter than expected, and the enemy wasn’t something to take lightly.

Silently, Solomon activated the Black Bird Spirit bracelet and sent several crow-shaped dark spirits flying out. A view of the skies far above, a place his own eyes could never reach, overlaid his vision. And not just one, but many.

“Oh. You can command dark spirits. And you can even synchronize vision. You’re better than you look.”

Seeing that, Violet raised her voice in surprise.

“Where exactly is the warehouse?”

“Fly northwest from above. You’ll soon see the cemetery area.”

“Got it.”

“That cemetery area is the Necropolis Guild’s warehouse.”

“A warehouse… don’t tell me…”

“Whatever you’re thinking, assume you’re basically right.”

Without a word, Solomon frowned and scanned the cemetery area through the crows’ eyes.

‘It’s ridiculously wide.’

Even on the map, District 4 was unusually large compared to the others. The reason was exactly what he suspected.

“Some gravediggers are walking around.”

“Look closely at their faces.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see it says necromancer.”

“…It does.”

Solomon didn’t deny it.

“Other than the necromancers, nothing really stands out. I don’t see any undead either.”

“Idiot. You command birds, and now your head’s become a birdbrain too. What do you think they use a warehouse for?”

“……”

“Think. Use your brain. What’s that head on your shoulders for?”

“It’s decorative.”

“For decoration, it’s a pretty stylish one. I’ll compliment you on that.”

As blunt as she looked, her mouth was rough too. Solomon frowned and thought about the “warehouse’s purpose.” It was hard to accept that it was a cemetery, but the rest wasn’t hard to imagine.

“Can you identify gravestone positions with those birds?”

“I’d have to fly lower.”

“Necromancers have a good nose for dark spirits, so be careful not to get spotted flying too low.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Violet, the Sword Watch’s First-Class Swordsman, warned him. Solomon nodded silently and focused on controlling the crows’ movements, joining the flocks loitering around the gravestones without drawing notice.

“Kkaaak, kkaaak.”

“?”

Then, out of nowhere, a bird cry popped out. Not from the crows, but from Solomon’s mouth.

The sound burst out on its own like a hiccup. Solomon fell into awkward silence, and Violet asked back with a look of disbelief.

“What was that? You eat crow meat or something?”

“N-no, that didn’t come out of my mouth…”

“Not?”

“…I got a bit too immersed.”

Solomon added belatedly. Synchronizing his senses with the Black Crow Spirits wasn’t a one-way street. Paradoxically, after days of training, his synchronization had gotten too high, and this was the result.

“You must really love animals.”

“…Thanks. That really moves me to tears.”

“I’ll tell you exactly where O’Neill is hiding.”

In the brief silence, Solomon focused on the crows’ vision. He lowered altitude, blended into the nearby flocks, and began searching for the gravestone name Violet had mentioned.

Fortunately, without standing out, among the crows swarming the gravestones, Solomon found the ‘warehouse’ where the target was buried.

“…I found the gravestone that says Saint Augustine the Third.”

“Good. You found it. There’ll be a hidden mechanism under that gravestone leading to an underground crypt.”

Violet nodded. Through the crows’ eyes, Solomon studied the gravestone and the overhead view of the area, thinking carefully.

‘…This is better than it sounded at first.’

The undead weren’t roaming around with eyes wide open. They were stored away in the warehouse, waiting for the moment they were needed. And the necromancers patrolling the cemetery… the warehouse area weren’t moving as one group either.

Even if he was spotted, considering the buried undead could rise, there was surprisingly some room to maneuver.

To Solomon as he was now, it looked like there were plenty of gaps to slip through. After assessing the situation more coolly than ever—

“I’ve got the situation, roughly. The Black Bird Spirits will keep watching, and if needed, I can use them to draw attention.”

After speaking, Solomon got to his feet. Watching him, Violet grinned.

“Yeah. I can really feel that I’ve become an adult too.”

“What kind of bullshit are you about to say now?”

Solomon asked back, dumbfounded.

“Adults like numbers.”

“That again…?”

Solomon spat out a curse under his breath. Violet shrugged and answered.

“Adults never ask about a new assassin’s essence. What floor do they stay on? What room? What’s their contract success rate? They think those questions are enough to know everything about Snark’s contractors.”

“Yeah. Someone said the exact same nonsense, not a single word different.”

“So what. No matter what anyone babbles, I’ll say what I’m going to say.”

Violet replied without even blinking.

“The point is, you’ve got some promise as a fixer. I apologize for underestimating you just because you’re a first-floor guest.”

“I’m so thankful, I could die.”

“For the record, unlike those from the first floor, a First-Class Swordsman is a killer-high rank, so don’t get it twisted.”

“…Killer, huh.”

“Hmph. You can cry a little more, if you’re moved.”

She went her own way in more ways than one. Solomon shrugged and stood.

“I’ll handle it, as quietly as possible without being noticed.”

Dr. O’Neill. He had found the location of the warehouse where the target was hiding. All that remained was to go there without catching anyone’s eye and carry out the contract.

“Should I wish you luck?”

“Don’t you dare curse me.”

Watching him, Violet snickered. Solomon answered like it wasn’t his problem and started walking.

Not for some luck he might stumble into, but to secure results with his own two hands.