Someone’s Story

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Rule 14. The 14th floor does not exist in Hotel Snark. (This may differ depending on customer rank.)
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Back then, the hotel’s rule booklet said exactly that.

Officially, Hotel Snark had no 14th floor. Yet the man before him said he lived in Room 1408.

“Well, look who it is. It’s the guy whose face is just overflowing with rot!”

“…….”

The Faceless One. Oberon spoke to him like it was nothing surprising.

“You said it was a job just now.”

“Yeah.”

“And that job, could it be….”

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re right. The City Council was practically smashing their heads into the ground begging me to take yours.”

The Faceless One shrugged.

“Honestly, they probably realized they’d fucked up.”

“They realized they’d fucked up?”

“They couldn’t have expected things would get this deeply tangled up with the Great King.”

“…….”

Solomon silently looked at the corpses strewn around. Maggots, already hatched out of their eggs, were writhing.

While they died without even being able to handle themselves, Solomon survived. For now.

“Well, either way….”

That was when it happened.

“Ah, fuck.”

The Faceless One’s expression hardened.

“!”

Writhe.

Before Solomon could even register it as stiffening, the skin of his face writhed, like something living was moving under it.

Buuuuung!

A swarm of flies that had no business existing burst from inside his mouth, tearing and forcing their way out through his throat, eyes, nose, and ears.

The Faceless One’s ‘face’ peeled off entirely under the army of flies surging out from within.

And what remained there was…

“Same as ever. The Great King’s grudge-holding is something else.”

“!”

There was nothing.

Where a human face should have been, there was nothing. That didn’t mean he had no neck. Like an eggshell, the ‘outline’ of a face existed, but the inside that should have been there was hollow.

“That face….”

“Oops. My mistake.”

Even so, the Faceless One didn’t panic. He lightly turned his head away.

“Sorry you had to see something ugly.”

“!”

In the brief moment he turned away. In the brief moment he turned back, an unfamiliar voice rang out, along with a new, unfamiliar face.

The young man’s face he’d shown a moment ago changed into someone else’s face, older.

Just from that, it wasn’t hard to guess why he was called the ‘Faceless One.’

“What’s this, showing off your face? Must be nice, having skin that thick.”

“Can you rest that mouth of yours for even one second, Oberon?”

“Regrettable. My mouth floats even if you throw it into the sea off Avalon.”

“…….”

Unlike Solomon, who was stunned, Oberon was relaxed, not blinking once. At that, the Faceless One grumbled as if sick of it. Solomon didn’t press further and stayed silent.

He’d not only stabbed a blade into the Great King’s back, he’d been exposed to that grudge and still lived just fine. That alone let Solomon roughly guess how strong the Faceless One was.

And also, what Beelzebub’s status meant, if even someone like that couldn’t do more.

Even the man in front of him, in other words, even Hotel Snark’s highest-ranked contractor, could only drive him off.

Without a word, Solomon pulled the Rune Stone of Grand Explosion from his chest. The thing that now should be called a nuclear-explosion rune stone.

“No, look at this conscience-less guy. You were really thinking of blowing that shit up right there?”

“…….”

“Thinking about it pisses me off again. I definitely said let the fairies who’ll live, live, yeah?”

“…The ones who’ll live have to live too.”

Honestly, even with ten mouths, he wouldn’t have an excuse.

The moment he pulled it out, Oberon flew over and snatched it away. Solomon didn’t bother stopping him. If anything, there was no reason to refuse someone taking care of that headache.

“So, what are you going to do with it?”

“What do you mean what? I’ve got to keep my promise to the girl. I’ll handle this one, so don’t forget your part either.”

“I’ll remember.”

At Oberon’s words, Solomon nodded in agreement.

“It was filthy being with you, and I’ll see you again. Adios.”

“…….”

With that, Oberon flew up alone, carrying the Rune Stone of Grand Explosion and scattering fairy radiance far away. And on top of that, his hippie-style long hair and Jesus-like thick beard streamed behind him.

Solomon was left behind. Along with Dr. O’Neill’s soul, his job target and retrieval item.

“…….”

— …….

‘This is awkward.’

Being left alone with someone whose end he’d personally put on display wasn’t, honestly, a pleasant thing.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.”

The Faceless One said it to the two of them (and the soul) as that awkward air settled in.

“And the doctor there, too.”

— You’re going to drag me to the assassins’ hotel?!

“Do you have any reason you can’t?”

— D-Don’t be ridiculous! I…

The Faceless One shrugged at Dr. O’Neill’s protests.

“Sure. You want to keep wandering Ghost Town and meet a Great King who’s properly heated up? Do what you want. I won’t stop you.”

— …….

A brief silence settled. What answer would come after it didn’t need to be said.

Hotel Snark. The assassins’ hotel straddling the border between life and death.

In the suffocating toxic miasma that filled Ghosttown, it was practically the only place you could safely take off a gas mask.

“Welcome, Mr. Solomon, and…”

— …Dr. O’Neill.

In the end, Dr. O’Neill, killed by Solomon’s hand, was there as a soul wandering this world.

“Dr. O’Neill.”

A ghostly hotelier, similarly bluish, politely paid his respects.

“Welcome to Hotel Snark. Are you perhaps a new contractor taking a medium’s request? Our hotel has prepared customized rooms for guests who are evil spirits or in a soul state.”

— I-I…

From behind them, the Faceless One added.

“Not now. You’ll have a chance to talk later.”

“Understood.”

“And I have something important to say for a moment, so clear out the other guests from the lounge for a bit.”

“With all due respect…”

Clear the lounge. Despite the outrageous request, the ghostly hotelier asked back in a cautious voice.

“O Faceless One. May I ask which ‘face’ is issuing that command?”

“…….”

The face issuing the command. At the question whose meaning Solomon couldn’t grasp, the Faceless One fell silent for a moment.

As Solomon turned his head at that silence, there was another unfamiliar face again.

It was an old man’s face, aged beyond comparison to before. It looked precarious, like even standing with both feet at the edge of life was unsteady.

Wrinkles were etched everywhere, as if there wasn’t a spot untouched. The white hair was so thin it had nearly all fallen away.

“This face is the one issuing the command.”

A voice that was weak, precarious, wheezing and cracked, as if showing life’s tempests as they were. It was so alien it stood out even among the many faces the Faceless One had shown so far.

“…Understood. General Manager.”

“!”

With that unexpected title, the ghost in a hotel uniform bowed his head.

Deng, deng—

And soon, a bell rang out. A low, heavy mid-bass that reached every corner of the lobby. The sound of a grandfather clock bell tolling.

“Now, let’s go.”

Before they knew it, the Faceless One’s face and voice had changed back into that familiar flippant young man.

‘Before you could blink’ wasn’t enough to describe it. No, in a sense, it really had changed in ‘the blink of an eye.’

“Mr. Solomon, you’re coming too.”

“…Me too?”

“You’re no longer a third party in this matter.”

At that, Solomon blinked like it was unexpected. As for Dr. O’Neill’s soul, sure, that was true.

Even so, he could tell.

That ‘third party’ the Faceless One meant carried something far deeper than that.

“…Alright.”

Solomon quietly followed behind the Faceless One.

In the lobby corridor leading to the lounge, a fair number of hotel guests were filing out.

Not many, but not so few you could call it small.

Even so, as they passed and crossed, no one raised objections. They simply followed the instruction in silence.

As if each of them was used to this hotel’s rules.

Sometimes someone shot Solomon a suspicious look, but that was all.

Before long, Solomon passed them and headed for the tea lounge. An empty lounge.

The Faceless One, who entered first, sat at the wide table in the center.

His confident, unhesitating behavior, and the crafty face he’d shown only briefly just now, let Solomon infer enough about the man before him.

“Dr. O’Neill.”

The Faceless One immediately spoke Dr. O’Neill’s name. A lost soul who had drifted into this assassins’ hotel despite the job’s success.

The corpse collector, Dr. O’Neill.

His soul, killed by Solomon’s hand, was no longer the grotesque form he’d had in life.

He couldn’t be called handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either.

“As you know, thanks to you, Doctor, there have been quite a few ‘noisy’ incidents lately, both above and below the city. More precisely…”

— I-I…!

“Finish hearing me first.”

Just as Dr. O’Neill’s soul tried to raise his voice in protest.

Kwagik!

Before Solomon noticed, the Faceless One had Dr. O’Neill’s throat in his grip.

More precisely, Dr. O’Neill’s soul was drawn perfectly into his hand as if by a magnet.

As if pulled by telekinesis, or sucked into a black hole’s gravitational field.

— Keoheok, keok…!

Even as a soul, Dr. O’Neill struggled in pain like someone suffocating, unable to breathe.

The Faceless One continued with a colder, more emotionless expression than ever.

— Kehheuk, eogeogeok…!

“Go on and talk.”

“……”

Not to Dr. O’Neill, who was kicking his legs desperately like a living man, but to Solomon.

“Long, long ago, there was an organization called the Wardens.”

[Clue obtained! Wardens]

Solomon listened in silence.

“That organization was founded with the grand, absurd cause of protecting the world’s order.”

A pretty grand beginning. It looked like the story would be long.

“Ah, I can already see you getting bored. Sure, who wants to hear verse one and verse two of some useless ancient story? Fine, I’ll start with the conclusion.”

He didn’t.

“The Wardens ended up completely ruined. The end.”

“……”

“What, surprised? That’s the ending lofty justice usually gets in front of villains. And after that total downfall, as you can see… it became ‘this mess.’”

As if he’d read Solomon’s thoughts, the Faceless One spoke the very end out loud.

— Keoheok, eok…! T-This… let go…!

All while casually gripping Dr. O’Neill’s throat as he flailed in pain.

“This mess,” as you can see. Even an idiot could tell what it meant.

“Your organization… you mean Hotel Snark.”

[Insight success!]

“Good. You’re quick.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“The Wardens… and I, and this hotel, don’t move anymore for some cause about the world’s order.”

The Faceless One said.

“We ended a long fucking time ago. We do it for money. Ah, money’s so great.”

“……”

That was exactly right. What this hotel was nicknamed, and Solomon’s own livelihood as a guest here, were proof enough.

The assassins’ hotel.

“That doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten what ‘they’ did to us.”

Chwaaak!

With those words… something unfurled. At the sight, Solomon swallowed in shock. No matter how he tried to feign calm, he couldn’t.

“!”

Eight wings were there.

They were drenched in blood, grotesquely torn and twisted enough to expose bone, yet still scattering white feathers that shone pure and bright as snow.

“Honestly, that’s all that’s left.”

Spreading those horribly twisted angel wings, the Faceless One spoke.

“Hate and revenge.”

Hate and revenge. The endless vortex of those feelings pointed at only one target.

A conversation he’d had with Beelzebub came back to him.

The Black Museum. A criminal cabal that collected and preserved the city’s evil. Hearing that, Solomon had asked.

「Just asking out of curiosity, but is there some organization where kind-hearted angels band together and struggle for world peace or something?」

「There was.」

There was. In the past tense. And the subject of that past tense wasn’t far away. He was right in front of him.

The ending lofty justice usually meets in front of villains.

Only now did he realize. None of this, from start to finish, was someone else’s story.

Not in a TRPG world where angels and demons, ghosts and fairies, and every myth and legend lived and breathed.