A Dead Man’s Job

Knock, knock.

The next morning. He woke to the sound of knocking.

“Excuse me, Mr. Solomon.”

A voice came from outside the door.

“The City Council’s representative says he has something to discuss regarding the job.”

“I’m coming out now.”

The City Council. They had come. Solomon answered like it was nothing surprising. Just as he was about to get dressed and head out.

“And while you were asleep… your room grade has been upgraded. Your room has been upgraded from Room 204 to Room 243. Please take note.”

“Got it.”

They said Hotel Snark had forty-four rooms on each floor. The far end of the second floor. Even that could be called a drastic upgrade.

When Solomon finished getting ready and stepped out, the hotelier outside was already knocking on the next room over. Bones clattered beneath the neatly worn uniform.

“Excuse me, Mr. Joseph. You have exceeded the number of days you can remain biologically alive in your room without nutritional intake. Are you alive?”

No answer. Solomon didn’t bother with it and kept walking. That was when it happened.

“Ah, Mr. Solomon. Excuse me for a moment.”

“What is it?”

“If the guest of Room 244, Mr. Joseph, does not respond by midnight tonight… the room will be forcibly opened under the hotel’s usage rules.”

“I see.”

The skeleton hotelier said.

“And when Room 244 becomes vacant, Mr. Solomon’s room will be additionally adjusted to that location. Please keep that in mind.”

“……”

Even so, he wasn’t heartless enough to hope someone would die just to bump his room number up by one. Solomon gave a vague reply and kept walking.

The hotel lobby’s tea lounge. The City Council’s representative who was waiting for him.

The job to recover Dr. O’Neill’s soul.

The job itself succeeded. But it wasn’t something you could call clean. The City Council people who came to retrieve O’Neill’s soul were all killed by the Great King. And O’Neill’s soul, in the end, became bound to the Faceless One and his ‘hotel.’

Solomon couldn’t know what that meant. He was about to find out.

The tea lounge in the early morning was suitably quiet. The man was there. He looked like he had the word ‘Bourgeois’ pasted right onto his face.

“Mr. Solomon.”

A swallowtail tailcoat and silk hat that dripped luxury and elegance at a glance. But a body and gut so swollen with fat it looked like the fabric might burst. Though not to the level of the hog, Roach, it was a build that looked like it could at least put up a good fight.

“You said you were the City Council’s representative.”

“Call me Baron Gould.”

Solomon sat at the table. The City Council’s representative, the potbellied Bourgeois, spoke while elegantly sipping black tea. Baron Gould. Flaunting the noble title attached to his name like it was a point of pride.

“I am here as the representative of the proud City Council and the Bourgeois.”

“Of course.”

“As I said, I’m very busy and have many things to do. For me to seek you out and exchange words like this… you’d do well to show more respect.”

“I’m so honored I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Solomon let out a hollow laugh. Even so, he didn’t show it and calmly played along.

“In the end, you carried out the job. No matter how terrible it was, I won’t deny that fact.”

“……”

“A promise is a promise. Business is business.”

“You’re easy to talk to.”

The potbellied Bourgeois, Baron Gould, said. Solomon didn’t deny that the job hadn’t ended neatly either. Because it was true.

“Therefore, per the contract, the City Council will protect you.”

“Good. I’d like to hear the details of that protection.”

Solomon said. Baron Gould pulled a document from his chest and held it out.

“The City Council’s protection will be provided over three months, and there is one exception in this protection.”

Three months. Not long, but not short either. No, it was longer than he expected. At the very least, it was enough time for Solomon to come up with ‘countermeasures’ against the threat.

“What is it?”

“The City Council will not protect you from threats you accept of your ‘free will.’”

Baron Gould said.

“Oh, a poorly educated cleaner like you couldn’t possibly know difficult words like ‘free will’! Forgive me!”

“……”

“As a Bourgeois, as one who rightly carries out the duty of enlightenment, I’ll add this. Free will refers to all actions carried out according to your will, such as performing a job, or harming yourself! Do you understand now, even as an ignorant fool like yourself?”

“Crystal clear.”

It was something he could understand without hearing the explanation.

“That is all I have to say.”

Baron Gould said.

“I see. That said, I have something more to say about that.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll need to dispose of one more Rune Stone of Grand Explosion you gave me, or one more ‘weapon from the Great War’ on that level.”

“…What?”

At that, Baron Gould’s expression twisted. The twist lasted only a moment. Then he let out a laugh like it was absurd.

“Absurd. Why should we do that?”

“When I carried out the job at Haunting House, I made a contract with them.”

“W-what…?”

Solomon said.

“A soul oath. A geas.”

“!”

[Deception roll in progress…….]

Of course, there was no geas made with Haunting House.

“The content of that geas was as follows. In exchange for disposing of one more weapon on the level of the Rune Stone of Grand Explosion I received, I would be handed ‘O’Neill’s soul.’”

There had only been a promise.

“……!”

“It means that whether it’s a nuclear-explosion rune stone or whatever, you need to eliminate one more, or I can’t live.”

Solomon said, not blinking once.

“I’m an uneducated idiot so I wouldn’t know, but this doesn’t really seem like a situation where free will gets involved. You’ll do at least that much to protect me, right?”

“How dare a wretch like you…! Do you even know what those things mean?!”

Baron Gould raised his voice, his face turning red-blue like it might burst.

“I know very well.”

Then a sound echoed from afar. The sound of dice rolling.

Instinctively, Solomon knew what that die was.

───
Trait 「Potential Big Shot」
: +30 affinity from both the Hotel Snark faction and all clients, and gain an additional <Big Shot Die ⚅>

<Big Shot Die ⚅>

Tag - Special Die, Non-consumable Die
: When dealing with a faction whose affinity exceeds +30, you may add this die’s value to social interaction rolls.
───

[Deception successful!]

“Keuk…”

Baron Gould bit his lip without a word, like there was nothing he could do no matter how angry he was.

A faction’s ‘affinity’ was separate from the personal feelings the man in front of him had toward Solomon. As long as the man before him had come to the hotel as Solomon’s client, that point was clearly in Solomon’s favor.

“Don’t be mistaken… that we would forget this.”

“There’s no need to forget.”

Solomon answered calmly.

“Why would you forget? Remember it well, and use it again when something comes up later.”

Unilaterally ending the business and rising from his seat.

“Keuk…”

Baron Gould couldn’t say a word, his hand trembling as he gripped the teacup. Solomon left the silent baron behind and walked out of the lounge without a word.

The job ended safely. He got what he needed to get. Even if the ending wasn’t exactly clean, Solomon didn’t care anymore.

Because what filled Solomon’s mind right now was only his story.

The City Council’s protection would last three months. Excluding threats accepted by his free will. Honestly, it wasn’t a standard you could call very clear.

Even so, for now, he had no choice but to believe it.

As another candidate to protect Solomon, there was Lord Bowery, the Sewer Mage Tower Master who called himself Solomon’s mentor and godfather as a mage.

After encountering some unidentified creature in the underground sewers, he hadn’t shown his face at all. As always. And it wasn’t a situation where Solomon had to desperately hunt him down right this second.

When the time came, Lord Bowery would show himself, as always.

‘…That’s about it.’

The situation was roughly sorted out. The threat that had risen up to his throat was relieved, if only for the moment, and there was no job he had to carry out right away. So there was only one thing Solomon needed to do.

Room 243.

‘…Let’s sleep a bit.’

Sprawling out on the bed and letting his exhausted body recover.

Knock, knock.

Midnight. He woke to the sound of knocking.

“Excuse me.”

The stench of rotting corpses that he could smell even from outside the door. When Solomon opened it, a ghost in a hotel uniform was standing there.

“Fortuitously, the death of the guest of Room 244, Mr. Joseph, has been verified. Accordingly, your room grade will be upgraded.”

“…Doesn’t sound very fortuitous to me.”

Even Solomon wasn’t that devoid of conscience. Thinking that, he glanced at the room next door. Room 244. The door was open. He didn’t particularly want to look, but.

“And due to the room grade adjustment, there are a few things I must inform you of under hotel regulations.”

“What is it?”

“Because Mr. Joseph died in the middle of carrying out a job, as the new successor of Room 244, Mr. Solomon has the ‘obligation’ to inherit that job.”

Hearing that, Solomon let out a hollow laugh.

“So in the end, you want me to clean up the mess.”

The room upgrade was nothing but a nice-looking pretense.

“Of course, there is an upside as well.”

“An upside?”

“If you inherit and complete a dead guest’s job, you will receive not only the original payment, but also the hotel’s ‘additional performance points.’”

Performance points. At the suspicious name, Solomon frowned.

“The higher your performance points, the higher your hotel membership tier.”

“……”

“For your reference, Mr. Solomon’s membership tier is the lowest. Bronze.”

Membership tiers. He could roughly guess what membership tiers meant in an assassins’ hotel. Just like the room service he received.

A higher floor wasn’t everything. It was a class system that drew distinctions and rankings everywhere you looked, enough to make even 21st-century capitalism weep.

“For your reference, you may refuse the job itself, but please understand that you will not only lose the room adjustment, but also receive a penalty that reduces your performance.”

At that, Solomon let out a hollow laugh. It wouldn’t go from zero to zero. It would go negative. In the end, this was Hotel Snark’s trust. Faith built on blood.

“What will you do, Mr. Solomon?”

“…Do I have a choice?”

“As I said, this is not coercion.”

The ghost in uniform said.

“It is, to the end, a choice made by Mr. Solomon’s ‘free will.’”

With a voice that was ominous beyond words. Solomon fell silent. In this situation, how free could his free will really be? There was no way to know.

“I’ll accept.”

“Very well, Mr. Solomon.”

The ghostly hotelier said, bowing his head.

“Then I will prepare the ‘room service’ immediately.”

The room service of a job that some next-door stranger, whose face he didn’t even know, had died without finishing.