Oberon

“…You seem to know this fairy well.”

“Of course I do. Oberon, that fucking bastard, makes my blood boil every time I think of him.”

Whatever bad blood they’d built up in the past, Violet was openly grinding her teeth.

Oberon. Oberon again. Solomon remembered what that name was supposed to mean and asked.

“Oberon, as in Fairy King Oberon?”

“Damn, this mortal bro knows how to hit where it hurts.”

At Solomon’s question, the hippie fairy ‘Oberon’ let out a hollow laugh.

“Yeah, I used to get called king back in the day. Ahh, the old days. The days I miss. The good times are all gone. Thanks to those damn Five Great Houses bastards who oughta get shoved into hell∼”

After laughing, like he was sinking into nostalgia, he let his shaggy hippie-grown long hair and beard droop. His chattering voice, with melody mixed in, was unexpectedly pretty good, no, quite good. It was more shocking because it was good.

“So, what is it this time, draggin’ an innocent fairy in to run some kinda damn errand hamster wheel?”

“No one’s more suitable than trash like you.”

“Man, big sis is prickly again. Whew, I’m stressed, makes me wanna chant some magic, now lemme see, where’d I put my spell…”

After saying that, the druggie fairy pulled something out and began chanting that ‘spell.’

Even by fairy standards it was small, so small it was hard to see, and it was a little bag. Like a drug bag for powder.

The fairy dabbed his fingertip into the powder, lifted it up, then put it under his nose and snorted it in.

“This right here is the spell of happiness! I’m the grand mage of love and peace! Ooooooh!”

“…Go to hell.”

It wasn’t a skill he’d practiced for just a day or two. And in some sense, it really did feel like chanting… in a way.

“I’ve seen every kind of magic from the bottom of the Nine Hells to the fairy realm, and I’ve never seen magic that tops this. Huh? The Five Great Houses of the Beginning? Let ‘em drop straight into hell!”

“Yeah, we’re talking about those Five Great Houses right now.”

“No way, did those idiots pick a fight with big sis’s workplace again or what?”

“…Yeah.”

“Man, this is all a tragedy that happens ‘cause they don’t know how to chant the spell of happiness. Those bastard morons who don’t know even the M in magic…”

While listening to Oberon’s endless nonsense, Violet cut in.

“Enough with the drugged-out bullshit. This man is going to go rob one of those moron great houses’ mansion.”

“Oh dear.”

“He needs a capable guide. Will you come with us?”

Maybe his skill really was solid, one way or another. An immediate answer came back without a second of hesitation.

“I might miss my mom’s funeral, but I can’t miss screwin’ over one of the great houses. Pick one of the two? Oh, sorry, Mom.”

“……”

Solomon truly had no words and shut his mouth. In many different senses, this was a fairy who seemed to have plenty of chances to disgrace his parents.

“So, which great house are we going to?”

The rotten fairy, shining with the triple title of druggie, trash, and unfilial bastard, asked. Solomon answered calmly.

“The Haunting House.”

“I don’t know what we’re stealin’, but let’s strip ‘em clean till even their mama’s soul cries bloody tears! I’ll lead the way! Big sis, you comin’ too?”

The fairy Oberon shouted, getting excited the instant he heard that.

“Talk like a person.”

Violet replied with a dumbfounded expression.

“If a Sword Watch swordsman infiltrates a great house’s territory, it won’t end with just a clash.”

“You were cussin’ like some badass who didn’t give a damn, but you’ve got a girlier side than I thought. The type who gets manners injected hard when it matters, huh? Win in the day and lose at nigh…”

“…Looks like you’re the one who needs manners injected.”

Sreung. Without a word, the sound of a sword hilt sliding out of its sheath rang out.

“I brought a few manners injectors for times like this.”

“No, big sis, that’s not… I mean, it’s just how I talk.”

“Well, I’m glad everyone looks so friendly.”

‘I’m not sure they’re that friendly.’

Leaving behind the two of them, more precisely the human and the fairy, the medium Adina said with a smile.

“Then, until then, I’ll leave this child with you for a bit.”

“I’ll express my thanks.”

“Let’s go, bro!”

“……”

Like a mother leaving her troublesome son at someone else’s house for a few days.

“May no threat in the world block your future.”

And in a voice more mysterious than ever, filled with the mystique of foresight.

The next morning, Room 204 of Hotel Snark.

Knock knock.

At the knock, Solomon got up right away. Yesterday had been a day where he hadn’t had a moment to breathe, in many senses. And as if his sleep had been any better. Of course not.

‘That goddamn drunken fairy bastard…’

Not only did he drink all the Clair Obscur vodka Solomon had saved to fall asleep, he scattered some unidentified glowing powder everywhere. He even kept drunkenly carrying on all dawn while Solomon slept, blubbering and laughing, to the point Solomon was about to get dark circles.

To make matters worse, the fact all that vodka fit inside that tiny body was, in a way, magic itself.

“Room service.”

“…Yeah.”

Solomon opened the door with heavy dark circles and a hollow-looking face. What was coming had come.

When the zombie hotelier saw Solomon, the collapsed flesh under his jaw twitched.

“You look unwell. Was your sleep uncomfortable?”

“An uninvited guest came.”

“Oh… I offer my condolences.”

Sure enough, the zombie hotelier stood at the door with a cart stacked with various things.

“Besides the mission details, items that will help with infiltration have been prepared. Please familiarize yourself with them well.”

“I’ll show my respect.”

The zombie hotelier wheeled the cart piled high with items into the room. Solomon immediately checked the room service contents, including the equipment list that would help with the mission.

The Five Great Houses. At least with Solomon’s current ability, facing them ‘fair and square’ would be suicide.

But this mission didn’t require that. If it went well, they said it would be a peaceful mission where no one got a hole punched in the back of their head.

The items the City Council provided for carrying out the mission had been prepared for exactly that purpose.

The first thing that caught his eye was two types of vials.

A small glass vial kit. Ampoules containing blue and purple liquid were sealed in sets of five each, along with labels listing their effects and usage.

‘The blue one is a top-grade invisibility potion.’

It wasn’t a degraded level 2 spell used as a stealth coat. It wasn’t even the original level 4 invisibility spell. It was a level 6 enhanced invisibility spell with the ‘top-grade’ modifier attached.

‘The purple one is Doom Poison.’

From the look of it, it seemed meant to be applied on the spot to a weapon or crossbow bolt. Doom Poison. From the name to the color, it was desperately advertising that it wasn’t an ordinary poison.

They said it was a ‘peaceful’ job where no one would get a hole punched in the back of their head if things went well. Solomon pushed down a burst of laughter and kept checking the gear they’d given him.

‘Ancient Webweaver Kit?’

A toolbox with the exact same name and the same items as what Solomon already had. But it wasn’t hard to guess the value of the two extra syllables attached to it.

[How strange. The wheel of history moves forward, yet in this world, so many things claim they become better the more that wheel rolls backward.
Myths, legends, epics… and of course, you can’t leave out the ancient ones.]

Ancient hook wire, ancient automatic spider seven-type set, ancient portable cutter… At this point, it felt like he was going to go ancient himself.

You could call it a historical upgrade of the Webweaver Kit he’d received before. Either way, he could only hope it lived up to the name.

‘And lastly…’

A stone engraved with unidentified pictographs.

“Oh, it’s a Rune Stone of Grand Explosion.”

That uninvited-guest fairy walked up as if he’d been waiting and said it.

“Grand… what?”

At a name that sounded blatantly flashy and ominous, Solomon frowned.

“I think I misheard.”

“You heard right. You didn’t think those bourgeois bastards would leave evidence saying ‘please arrest me,’ did ya?”

The fairy Oberon snickered.

“Even if you fail, this explosion can blow it all away, that’s the idea. I like it. Nice and fiery.”

[The best way to solve a problem is to remove the problem itself.
And this Rune Stone of Grand Explosion… looks like it can remove a whole lot of problems.]

“This is ridiculous.”

Solomon stared at the rune stone, truly dumbfounded. Now that he looked, the marking was strangely glowing a deep red. In every way, it didn’t seem suitable to be left lying around in a room, and carrying it on his person was even worse.

“Wow, there’s even an instruction manual written here! Let’s see, it says it’s set to explode ‘conscientiously’ when the mission fails?”

“Mission fails? How the hell would they know that in the first place?”

“That’s the awesome part about Gias.”

Oberon snickered and pointed at one of the documents left with the room service.

“I told you. It blows up conscientiously.”

“…What?”

The talk about conscience wasn’t just talk.

──
Before commencing the mission, the mission principal (hereafter “Removed”) forms the following Gias with the contractor of Hotel Snark (hereafter “Contractor”).

1. “Removed” shall not, for any reason, cause harm to the “Contractor” during the execution of the mission.

2. The “Contractor” is obligated to carry the Rune Stone of Grand Explosion during the mission… (omitted)
   The Rune Stone of Grand Explosion shall detonate only in response to the ‘Contractor’s strong thought that the mission has failed.’

3. The protection clause paid as a success reward is not included in this Gias.
   ──

Literally. Rather than lie, Solomon’s conscience would instead trigger a blazing grand explosion and ‘remove’ every problem. Physically.

“…I feel like I’m going to get cancer.”

“What’re you worried about? They said they’ll fix it later.”

And finally, in order to begin the mission, it said he had to carry out the vow by dripping blood onto this contract that reeked scam.

Solomon held down the bile rising up and kept reading.

──
Covert Infiltration and Asset Retrieval

Retrieval Target: The soul of corpse fuser Dr. O’Neill…
Retrieval Location: Uptown, Ancient Moon Street, a secret grand mansion owned by the Haunting House
──

The retrieval location was a secret grand mansion owned by the Haunting House. A mansion of the Five Great Houses. Among them, the Haunting House, represented by mediumship and necromancy, literally a mansion of spirit binders.

Though the location explicitly written was ‘Ancient Moon Street’ in Uptown, the reality was different.

──
If revising the location into coordinates of the Spirit Realm (Ling Realm), refer to the following.
Ghost Town… Dorset Square… Baskerville Street 221B…
“The Black Hound Wraith’s Mansion”
──

From the nature of its existence, it looked far from a mansion that existed in a normal form.

A gray zone between life and death— a ghost mansion built atop Ghost Town. Exactly the same way as Hotel Snark.

That was the destination Solomon would now go to carry out the mission. And the information stopped right there. At this point, he wondered if there was even a 100% guarantee that O’Neill’s soul-whatever was really there.

Going through Ghost Town, then infiltrating a great house’s mansion, the great house that understood and handled souls best in all of Guild City, and stealing a ‘caution item.’ Looking at it like this, the chance of success didn’t look very high.

The Rune Stone of Grand Explosion, blazing hot and asserting itself, was proof enough.

And the partner who was practically the same as entrusting Solomon’s lifeline to that mission was…

“Hey, if it feels like your conscience is about to make that Rune Stone of Grand Explosion go off, tell me in advance.”

“Why?”

“Are you even asking that? A fairy who wants to live has to live. Did your conscience blow up or what?”

“…I don’t know about conscience, but it feels like my outfit’s definitely going to blow up.”

He felt like he might tear up.