Ace

That midnight, Solomon looked over the job details the skeleton hotelier had brought.

A job left unfinished by someone who had died in the neighboring room.

──
Target Elimination Request

Client: Grocery Street, the Selene Family
Target: Enforcer of the hostile orc gang “Wild Fist,” 「Priest of Pain」
──

A request to kill someone without questions, without reasons. Simple. Clear.

‘Priest of Pain…?’

Except for that vicious name. And the client wasn’t a stranger either.

The dark elf mafia, the Selene Family.

──
Before carrying out the job, go to the Selene Family mansion on Grocery Street.
──

Once, on a job for an “Elf of Honor,” Solomon had visited that place. How could he forget the dark elf mafiosos he’d seen there, for better or worse?

‘Better than going in blind.’

Solomon etched the destination into his mind and lay down on the bed. Either way, it wasn’t a job he had any reason to refuse.

‘The Five Great Houses, the Bourgeois, Beelzebub….’

In the past few days, Solomon had been inside the game of the most powerful forces in this city. And he wasn’t an outsider to Guild City’s power game anymore.

Because all of it was, ultimately, his story.

‘…My story.’

A narrative no one could deny, the story of a man named Solomon. Like it or not, he had the duty to bear responsibility for it.

So he had to become strong. He needed the stature of a strong man who wouldn’t shrink before the city’s renowned powerhouses, someone in their same league. Through jobs like this, right now.

At dawn the next day, the moment Solomon opened his eyes, he checked the gear he’d use and gathered his tools.

The Ghost Whale bone blade and the Nightfall automatic crossbow, the stealth coat imbued with an invisibility spell.

On top of that, after carrying out the Haunting House job, there were also three bottles left each of the top-grade invisibility potion and the vial of Doom Poison. Even if they were single-use consumables, their value was beyond words. Their killing power was proof enough. Enough to outright kill an Uptown great house mage.

‘Just in case, should I bring one of each?’

And the Ancient Webweaver kit he’d obtained while doing the Bourgeois job. He didn’t bother bringing that. This wasn’t a job that demanded infiltration through harsh terrain, covert movement, or background investigation in the first place.

Solomon finished preparing and stepped out of his room. Just as he crossed the hotel’s first-floor lobby.

“Y-you bastard!”

A familiar voice reached his ears. When Solomon turned his head, an unexpected face was there. Unexpected, or maybe at this point, just tiresome. Probably closer to the latter.

“Dr. O’Neill….”

The owner of the voice was the ghost, Dr. O’Neill. Wearing a pristine hotel uniform, floating around bluish.

“Mr. O’Neill, what kind of language is that to a guest?!”

Next to O’Neill was a hotelier ghost in uniform, also floating. His tone was like a supervisor scolding a new hire. From the look of it, they could probably drop the ‘Doctor’ title now.

“S-sorry, Chief Herbert!”

“You should apologize to the guest, not to me, Mr. O’Neill!”

“……”

“……”

Had they really found him a new job(?) like they’d promised, since he had nowhere to go? Silence settled in. It was the most awkward silence imaginable.

“Excuse us, Mr. Solomon. Since he’s new, his training is still—”

“No, it’s… fine.”

“Thank you for your understanding.”

As the one who’d sent O’Neill to the afterlife, Solomon didn’t exactly have anything to say either. So he mumbled a vague reply and hurried out, crossing the lobby corridor into a wide, open indoor space.

──
Rule 7. When going out, you may exit to any location within Downtown District 20 via the 「Door Room」.
──

A mysterious room where countless doors stood densely in midair, like a René Magritte painting. Without hesitation, Solomon passed between the many doors and opened the one closest to his destination.

Downtown District 8, Grocery Street.

Two to three-story red-brick houses, milkmen moving busily through narrow alleyways, the faint scent of freshly baked bread lingering in the air.

In a sense, it was the most ‘lived-in’ place in all of Guild City.

Kkaak!

Sending several dark spirits into the sky through the Black Bird Spirit bracelet, Solomon crossed Grocery Street. The deeper he went, the more he noticed dark elves in bowler hats and dark-brown coats.

What felt especially strange was how their looks toward Solomon had subtly changed.

A clear mix of fear and wariness that they didn’t want to get involved with him lightly.

[Insight success!]

Without openly threatening him or picking a fight, they quietly avoided his gaze and gave him space.

It wasn’t surprising.

The Solomon here now wasn’t the greenhorn from when he first accepted the Selene Family’s job. What had changed since then? Too much to count. He was level five now. His gear had changed in countless ways. And all the spells he’d newly gained as a shadow mage, and more. And all of it could be lumped together and summed up in two syllables.

Presence.

The way Solomon moved through the place was no longer that of some nobody contractor.

It was the kind of presence that fit a contractor of the assassins’ hotel, Hotel Snark.

Kkiiik.

At last, Solomon entered the Selene Family’s grand mansion in downtown’s central area. He could see the wide front yard and carefully tended gardens. They were filled with blooming flowers, blue and black.

When he headed straight for the iron gate at the entrance, it opened on its own.

An old-fashioned mansion that didn’t fit an age of interlocking gears and steam pipes, evoking the fortress of a medieval noble.

“Welcome, Mr. Solomon.”

While dark elves who looked like members of the Selene Family watched him cautiously from all around, a gnome who looked like a butler approached and spoke.

“The boss is waiting for you.”

“Oh my.”

The Selene Family grand mansion, the Godmother’s office.

When he entered the office, a silhouette was sitting there with the backlit sunset at her back. She blinked at Solomon like he was a bit unexpected.

“We meet again, Mr. Solomon.”

“Mistress Selene.”

Following the elf mafia’s rules, Solomon formally showed respect and kissed the back of her hand.

The leader of the dark elf mafia that ruled the Selene Family.

A fur shawl draped over her shoulders, obsidian earrings that looked expensive at a glance. She was wrapped in luxury from head to toe, flaunting elegance.

“To think you’d be the ‘ace’ taking our job.”

Mistress Selene laughed as if she were genuinely surprised.

“…Ace?”

“As always, the hotel never fails to disappoint us.”

When Solomon asked calmly, Mistress Selene shrugged and smiled.

“But honestly, what the hotel’s shown us these past few days… has been truly disappointing.”

The smile faded from her lips. Solomon asked like it was someone else’s problem.

“Disappointing?”

“Two cleaners in a row failed the job.”

“What, two of them died one after another?”

Solomon frowned in disbelief. Not one. Two. And just as one became two, there was no rule saying two couldn’t become three.

“A lot of people died.”

“So then, was it the day before yesterday? The hotel business division’s ‘Quality Assurance Officer (QAO)’ came to apologize in person.”

A business division quality assurance officer. And an in-person apology, at that. You could feel the business worries you’d never imagine from the lofty image of an assassins’ hotel.

“He said they’d send a truly reliable ‘ace,’ unlike the idiots so far.”

“…How flattering.”

There was no need to say who that “reliable ace” was supposed to be. It wasn’t surprising. Still, hearing that the hotel side evaluated Solomon like that felt oddly new.

‘Was assigning me to Room 243 in the first place… for this?’

Only then did he realize. It wasn’t that he’d coincidentally ended up inheriting the neighboring room’s job. The hotel had moved him to Room 243 from the start, planning to dump this job on him.

As the ace who would put a period to the repeated failures.

Otherwise, the timing wouldn’t have lined up this perfectly.

“By the way, that’s impressive.”

“What is?”

“That greenhorn back then. To think he’d show up this dignified.”

Mistress Selene giggled like she was amused.

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

Just as the trait described, there was a reason for the favor she showed Solomon. The dice sound echoing from afar was proof enough.

“Cut the useless talk. Let’s talk business.”

Solomon said.

“First, I want to hear how you managed to get two of them killed in a row.”

“What’s so hard about it?”

Mistress Selene giggled.

“They tried to kill him and died. That’s all.”

“…Crystal clear.”

They tried to kill him and died. Dumbfounded, Solomon added.

“So they all got killed by that orc gang’s so-called enforcer, right?”

“Well, that’s…”

At that, Mistress Selene trailed off meaningfully.

“Strictly speaking, the ‘Priest of Pain’ isn’t part of the Wild Fist gang.”

“Not part of the gang?”

At the unexpected words, Solomon tilted his head.

“Didn’t you say he was their enforcer?”

“I don’t know how he ended up teaming up with those bastards, but he seems to have his own agenda.”

“What do you mean?”

“The ancient orc tribe of the Blood Moon Archipelago. You’ve heard of them, right?”

Mistress Selene continued. Of course, it was the first he’d heard of it. Even so, Solomon repeated her words anyway.

“An ancient orc tribe…”

[The virtue of ancient orc tribal society is to value only proof of strength above all else.
You’ve heard of it, right? The thing everyone dreams of when they’re born a man… the strongest creature on earth.]

‘No, I haven’t.’

At the narrator’s nonsense, Solomon blinked in disbelief. He should’ve guessed from the name “Priest of Pain,” or whatever, in the first place.

“At the very least, he’s not someone who belongs in a second-rate gang organization like ‘Wild Fist.’ But if we move directly, there are… eyes watching. So we had no choice but to borrow the hotel’s hand.”

“And they all died.”

“Finding him won’t be hard. He doesn’t seem interested in hiding.”

Mistress Selene held something out. A document with a rough map.

Lowland, Blackwater Pier 3, Docking Terminal 4-B.

“I’ll start right away.”

“Nice and quick, hotel’s new ace.”

“……”

That talk about “proving strength” wasn’t someone else’s business to Solomon either.

Because the reason he was doing this job was the same.

To become strong.

To gain the power to decide his fate with his own hands in a city overflowing with anomalies and monsters.

The power to write his own story with his own hands.