Back To The Lowlands

The next day.

‘Tch. Where the hell did that bald bastard run off to again?’

Just like the saying that nothing is useful when you need it, once he actually tried to find him, Lord Bowery was a pain to track down. Left with no choice, he returned to the Lowlands slums and started asking around about the Sewer Tower.

Grimrow Court 2, No. 17.

On the outskirts of the Lowlands, Solomon’s old home, where cramped, narrow rowhouses were packed together like pigsties, as if laying bare the light and shadow of the industrial age.

He hadn’t come back for any particular purpose, either. It was more like he stopped by since he was here anyway.

‘The rent isn’t overdue… did he put down a jeonse¹, or something?’

There was no landlord banging on the door, no overdue notices. The door opened easily. No lock. There was no sign someone had moved in or broken in. It was exactly as he’d left it. It was sloppy enough to count as unguarded for a contract killer.

‘Bleak’ didn’t even cover it. In the room, there was nothing you could call a “trace of life.” It was nearly colorless. Nearly odorless.

And yet, whether he liked it or not, the life of a man named Solomon clearly existed there. He realized it. Even that was one of Solomon’s traits.

[Existence Unknown]

‘…’

The other traits he’d carved in when creating the character were the same.

[Bastard]

[Born in the Red-Light District]

[Foul Mouth]

His mouth was foul, and Maya had also called Solomon a rare filial son. The House of Bale. Bastard. Born in the red-light district. A filial son and his mother…. All of it was a past he had typed in and carved in with his own hands. Existing in the world regardless of his will, even now.

He had a past. Why did that fact feel so strangely new now?

‘…A past.’

After thinking, just as he was about to leave the room—

“Huh?”

A strange woman’s voice came from right next to him.

“Mister, you’re still alive?”

“……”

It was the next-door neighbor. Sitting slumped with her back against her door, smoking with a languid, worn-out expression.

“You’d been gone so long, I thought you were dead.”

She looked beyond just young, she looked almost too young. Regardless of her actual age. Her makeup was so pale it resembled an embalmed corpse. It made her already noticeable youthfulness stand out several times more. Even so, she still looked well past twenty.

[Insight Success!]

Soon, Solomon realized that makeup style was very much intentional. And then there were the bruises hidden beneath the heavy makeup.

“……”

After grasping that much, just as Solomon tried to walk away without answering.

“Mister, are you mute?”

The blond neighbor said, reeking of cigarette smoke. Solomon replied as if it was someone else’s business.

“Yeah.”

“……”

The neighbor sitting in front of the door blinked in disbelief. After blinking, she continued as if it didn’t matter.

“Since you’re here, wanna have a little fun before you go?”

“Fun?”

“How about 30,000 krona? Since you’re a neighbor, I can even knock a bit off.”

“No need.”

Solomon said flatly.

“I’m doing something more fun, more exciting, and more rewarding.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Sticking a knife in the back of someone’s head.”

“……”

“When you feel like putting a knife hole in someone’s back, call me. I’ll give you a neighbor discount.”

She looked at Solomon like she couldn’t believe him. She didn’t seem especially scared or startled, and she stood up, grinding the cigarette between her fingers into the ground.

“You impotent fuck.”

“?”

Before Solomon could answer bad words with bad words, she slammed the door and disappeared. So he turned away and kept walking.

Dawn Skylark Tavern. The hideout where Solomon received his first contract from a crime broker right after waking up in this world.

“Been well?”

“!”

The hog, Roach, was there as always, and at the table with him was a stranger Solomon had never seen before. Looked like a new partner.

“Who the fuck is this bastard?”

Before Roach could get a word in, the new partner snapped a sharp question at Solomon. Solomon wasn’t a Lowlands contract killer anymore. Knowing that, he ignored the provocation.

“Uh, uhh… he’s just an old partner….”

“What?”

Roach muttered in an uncharacteristically frightened tone. And before he could even finish muttering, Roach’s new partner, the man in the studded jacket, questioned again.

“Hey. Didn’t you say with your own mouth I’m your only partner? Don’t tell me my jobs are…”

“N-no, that’s not it. As I was trying to say, back then, a long time ago…”

“Hey, Hog. I told you not to talk back while I’m talking.”

“Ghk!”

Thud!

Thud!

He punched the hog, Roach, hard right in front of him. Solomon frowned slightly. He hit pretty rough. Even after getting punched out of nowhere, Roach smiled servilely and rubbed where he’d been hit. Ignoring Roach’s cringing, Solomon answered.

“I’m an old partner. I’m taking contracts somewhere else now.”

To the new partner who’d just shown the hog his fist without warning.

“So what’s an ‘old partner’ bastard doing crawling in here for?”

“I’ve got something to ask.”

“Get lost. I’ve got nothing to tell you.”

“……”

The Lowlands were a rough place. Even considering that, Roach’s new partner looked especially “rough.”

“I’m not here to steal contracts. Once the talk’s done, I’ll leave nicely.”

Even so, Solomon exercised the maximum mercy he could, putting polite thoughts and polite words into his mouth. After all, the one who’d have to face this guy going forward wasn’t Solomon, it was Roach.

“No. Get out. Now.”

“……”

“You know this? I’ve got anger issues. Especially since this bastard of a hog can’t even keep the clauses he agreed to when he signed with me. So you get why I’m this pissed right now, yeah? You were his partner too, so you know, don’t you?”

“That’s unfortunate. My condolences.”

It seemed the man had various reasons Solomon didn’t know for being angry. Solomon glanced at Roach’s face. Besides the fresh hit, the big-bodied man was covered in bruises all over.

Like the woman he’d seen earlier at Grimrow Court 2, indiscriminate violence in the Lowlands wasn’t anything new. If anything, it was fortunate it stopped at bruises.

Whether Roach really deserved to be hit or not, Solomon couldn’t know. Honestly, he didn’t care, let alone defend him. To begin with, the fat bastard in front of him had done things to Solomon that went beyond “deserving to be hit”, things that deserved being hung on a butcher’s hook.

“Like I said, I’ll leave immediately after I ask a few things.”

“This mute bastard still doesn’t get it no matter how I fucking say it.”

“……”

“Uh, uhm, Solomon….”

Seeing Roach hesitate and panic, Solomon clicked his tongue silently. It wasn’t enough to call it old affection, but still, it didn’t feel good to watch.

“Alright. I’ll leave quietly.”

“Yeah. Now you’re finally listening. Guess you weren’t a total mute bastard after all.”

In that state, Solomon turned his back without a word and left the Dawn Skylark Tavern….

…As if something like that would’ve happened.

Bang!

Instead of turning around and leaving quietly, Solomon grabbed the new partner by the back of the head and slammed him into the table.

Chiiiik!

It went beyond just slamming him down. Solomon shoved the man’s face straight onto the heated grill for steak and waited until the sound of meat sizzling began.

“Kkeuaaaak!!”

“Hm, where’s that dog barking? As you can see, my ears are a bit bad.”

“Uaaagh, aaaagh!!”

The man’s thrashing body resisted violently, then collapsed. The table, the iron steak grill, plates, and everything else crashed apart with a clatter.

“Waaaah! A fight broke out!!”

“Fuck him up already!!”

The tavern patrons weren’t panicking at all. They were cheering like it was an unexpected festival. As if it was nothing new, they whistled and excitedly made space. Before long, the ‘ring’ held only Solomon and the leather-jacketed man, whose head was partially cooked medium-rare and sizzling.

“Y-you fucking lunatic bastard…!!”

The man in the leather jacket yelled, his face roasted red at a medium-rare level (it wasn’t a metaphor). Since he was Roach’s new partner, he was probably a contract killer too.

‘Let’s see.’

Solomon didn’t drop his guard, watching his movements carefully. Thankfully, he didn’t go berserk and pull a blade right away.

Kwa-jik!

Reading the incoming punch, Solomon twisted his body and caught the man’s shoulder and wrist as they cut through the air, wrenching them in opposite directions. Another scream rang out. With a “Kraaagh!” he struggled, begging to be spared even while restrained. Again.

“What, you didn’t like the doneness? Want me to cook you more?”

“W-wait!”

“Want me to roast you more at medium? Got any particular part you want cooked extra?”

“Kraaagh, I—I said I was wrong!! L-let go and have your talk first!!”

The situation settled more easily than expected.

[Hotel Snark is like the major leagues that countless troubleshooters and contract killers in this city admire. When a major leaguer comes down to the ‘minor leagues’ for no particular reason… it’s a kind of disaster.]

Ignoring the narrator’s nonsense, Solomon loosened his restraint around then. That was when.

“■■■—!”

The moment the restraint was gone, a warped pronunciation burst from the man’s mouth. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was. A spell.

A kind of power you would never easily find in the Lowlands.

‘A mage?!’

Before Solomon could react at the spell being chanted, the spell took ‘shape’ and began to exert its power.

Seureung.

From the shadow beneath Solomon’s feet, a sharp black spike shot up like a flash. The frenzy that had filled the tavern froze like it had been a lie.

‘Shadow magic—’

And it was clearly a lethal spell.

Realizing that, Solomon avoided the strike without much difficulty. Like before, it was enough to just lightly twist the angle of his body.

At the same time, unless you had Dexterity as high as Solomon’s, it was a strike you couldn’t possibly survive with certainty. This was worse than pulling a blade in a rage.

Of course, if you were talking about who was in the wrong, Solomon wasn’t exactly in a position to lecture anyone after slamming his head down and cooking his face like that.

“Fine. So you wanna do this?”

“You bastard…!”

Even so, the situation was resolved faster than expected.

“Oh.”

Because a familiar voice had reached him. Along with a stench so distinctive you couldn’t possibly not recognize it.

“O-o-oh, oh.”

Solomon turned his head slightly. As if he’d been waiting, a hulking man stood at the entrance of the Dawn Skylark Tavern.

Trailing an army of homeless stink and sewer reek that made you want to vomit.

“What… am I looking at right now? M-my eyes… huh? Yeah? Am I seeing this right?”

Black skin and a tightly shaved head.

Bead piercings studded across his eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and tongue like barnacles, even on top of his eyeballs.

“L-lord…!”

The man who’d just cast a lethal spell at Solomon blinked. Toward the head of the mage tower he belonged to and served.

‘Speak of the tiger and it appears.’

The Sewer Tower’s lord, Lord Bowery, so bizarre that the word ‘grotesque’ couldn’t fully describe him.

“Mamma mia!”

The man Solomon had been searching for was right there.