The First Megacorp Contract

The empire of Vlad Țepeș, leader of the vampires. Wallachia Co.

Surprisingly, their way of travel wasn’t with bat wings on their backs, but a carriage drawn by four horses.

And those horses weren’t flesh, blood, and bone, but had muscles of brass and clockwork.

In place of veins, intricately woven steam pipes coiled along their bodies, and compression valves throbbed like hearts.

An alien existence, too fluid to be a machine and too cold to be called life.

“These are the steam horses our Wallachia Co. takes pride in.”

Chairman Țepeș introduced the four steam horses as if proud.

A driver wearing a silk hat pulled low opened the carriage door, and Solomon boarded Wallachia Co.’s carriage after him.

Solomon and Vlad Țepeș. A private meeting with only the two of them.

The carriage drawn by steam horses raced through Tribe Street, now a hellscape from redevelopment.

But amid the upheaval consuming the street, no one dared lay a hand on their carriage.

Instead, inside the carriage there was only an eerie silence and an uncanny calm.

Maybe this was what people meant by handling business in an expensive ride.

“Isn’t the ride remarkably smooth?”

“It’s absurdly good.”

Solomon answered like it was none of his business.

Chairman Țepeș looked at the burning scenery outside the window and spoke as if amused.

“I hear you seem rather interested in our organization.”

“……”

Suddenly straight to the point. Solomon masked himself in a calm colder than ever.

“You’re talking about the Black Museum.”

“Oh, what else could it be?”

“What’s your intent in asking that?”

“Well, you could call it a kind of curiosity.”

Chairman Țepeș continued with a gentle smile.

“To be honest, it isn’t common to get entangled with ‘us’ while living in this city. That goes without saying for ordinary people, and even for famed powerhouses or those in high positions.”

“I’m sure.”

“Except for the occasional small misfortune, of course.”

A small misfortune that happens sometimes. Solomon couldn’t hide a hollow laugh as he answered.

“And yet earlier, you didn’t just take an interest in our organization. You asked about it ‘properly,’ to an almost absurd degree.”

He’d asked properly. That day, to the man who called himself Lord Bernier. About the Black Museum. And, truly by cruel coincidence, that man wasn’t Lord Bernier.

He was the one behind that question, the Black Museum’s curator, and the Lord of the Flies… Beelzebub.

“My luck was damn rotten.”

Solomon answered, deliberately cold.

“He said it was luck, to ask after the name of the goddess who tramples and toys with our lives.”

Chairman Țepeș chuckled amusingly.

“What I’m curious about isn’t ‘to whom,’ but ‘why.’”

Not how he ended up asking about the Black Museum in front of Beelzebub by bad luck, but why he asked at all. Solomon recovered a colder calm than ever and answered.

“I happened to hear rumors on the street.”

[Deception Roll Failed!]

The vampire before him didn’t miss the agitation hidden beneath Solomon’s calm.

“Ah, a lie. The saddest, most pitiful way the weak protect themselves.”

“…An artist has graced us.”

“Art is nourishment that fattens life more richly than blood. It’s my favorite maxim.”

Solomon gently bit his lip.

At the very least, gauging his opponent’s ‘social interaction’ level, a sloppy attempt wouldn’t land at all.

This wasn’t just about raw combat strength. In speechcraft, deception, insight, in every one of them, the existence before him was truly overwhelming.

And from countless TRPG experiences, there was one response to take before an overwhelming being like this.

“I heard a prophecy.”

He didn’t try to pull any tricks.

“It was a prophecy that my life would be in danger at the hands of your organization, the Black Museum.”

“Oh, shall I guess who delivered that prophecy.”

Before Solomon could say anything, Chairman Țepeș continued.

“From the look of it, the Shaman Priestess of the Lake at the hotel must have seen it.”

“Correct.”

“And to avoid that prophecy, you must have taken on a high-risk contract in exchange for the City Council’s protection…”

After speaking, Chairman Țepeș giggled as if delighted.

“And in the process, you became irreversibly entangled with Mr. Beelzebub. Including the interest and attention of quite a few of our fellow curators.”

“……”

“And what you gained to ‘avoid’ that prophecy was protection that lasts only three months. No matter how I look at it, it doesn’t seem like a trade that’s worth it.”

Țepeș sneered as if it was ridiculous.

“Don’t you think it’s a truly fleeting struggle.”

“I agree.”

To be honest, that was exactly it.

When he first heard it, every struggle he made to avoid the prophecy that his life would be endangered by the Black Museum ultimately came back as a noose tightening around his neck.

Now, he had reached a point where he couldn’t escape the organization called the Black Museum even if he wanted to.

Even so, he understood.

That at the center of all of this, there existed Solomon’s narrative that even they didn’t know.

A joker card that even the existence before him, the Black Museum, even Beelzebub didn’t know.

“Even so, I like that side of you.”

Right then, Țepeș said something unexpected.

“What about it?”

“The way you desperately resist an evil you cannot resist.”

“……”

At those words, he felt a chill without meaning to.

It wasn’t respect for Solomon’s struggle or will as a gentleman, not at all.

If anything, it was closer to sneering down at a squirming bug.

A gaze that looked down with endless sadism, to see how far the bug in front of him could writhe and struggle.

He could feel it to the bone.

No matter how convincingly the existence before him dressed himself in dignity, formality, and polite manners, there was evil he couldn’t hide beyond flesh, blood, and bone.

And that evil itself, writhing and pulsing with childlike curiosity.

“That is why this is a chance to resist, offered by me.”

“A chance…”

Right then, the carriage stopped.

As if he had been waiting, the driver opened the door.

The driver’s face beneath the silk hat was like the steam horses as well.

Not a person, but an automaton that moved by a combination of metal, pipes, and clockwork devices.

Soon, they arrived at District 1, Megacorp Street, the symbol of Guild City.

A world of true megacorporations, beyond even the category of ‘colossal guilds.’

In truth, District 1’s value boasted a presence greater than all the other nineteen streets combined.

In other words, Guild City’s uptown… the competitors and bourgeois who effectively stood against the ‘Five Great Houses’ that have guarded magic since ancient times were the rulers of District 1.

Bourgeois like the existence before him, Chairman Vlad Țepeș.

And Wallachia Co.’s headquarters, in a sense, had a very easy-to-read form.

High up in the sky, it was a blood-red monolith rising like a skyscraper.

A demonic structure that felt especially alien even on District 1, Megacorp Street, where you could hardly believe this was a steampunk setting.

“Come in.”

Right before it, Chairman Vlad Țepeș bowed politely to Solomon.

“There’s much to discuss about your ‘resistance,’ our business, and finally, the contract…”

Solomon followed that path to the upper floors of the blood-red monolith, riding a smooth high-speed elevator that would make even the 21st century weep.

The room of Wallachia Co.’s head, Chairman Vlad Țepeș, was there.

Rather than a corporate office, it was a Gothic-style interior steeped in an old-fashioned atmosphere, like a medieval lord might stay there.

Even in broad daylight, the lighting was dim, and beneath the softly glowing silver candlesticks, black-and-white marble had been laid in a luxurious finish.

Along with the ornaments lined along the walls, medieval collectibles like armor and swords could be seen here and there.

And beyond the luxurious reddish-brown desk where he sat, a window designed in the shape of a cross looked down over the cityscape.

“Have a seat.”

This was his empire, and the throne room permitted for the empire’s pinnacle.

Solomon also sat on the soft leather sofa across the table from him.

“As I said, I would like to ask Mr. Solomon to take on a contract.”

There, the Wallachia chairman, Vlad Țepeș, spoke.

“Of course, this contract will be formally registered through the hotel, so I will also make it clear that there is no ‘risk of it being impossible to fulfill or being a trap.’”

A contract registered through the hotel. In other words, as long as it had the hotel’s guarantee, it was the minimum measure Solomon could trust to some extent.

“You’ll give up this heart in exchange for that contract?”

“To be honest, three months is too long.”

Chairman Țepeș shrugged.

“Food that should be fresh loses its aroma and taste.”

“So you’re saying it’ll spoil in three months and you won’t be able to eat it. Then why do I have any reason to do your contract?”

“Revenge is like a dish that tastes better the more it cools… even if it isn’t food.”

At Țepeș’s meaningful smile, Solomon fell silent.

“And three months seems quite ‘appropriate’ for revenge to cool. Don’t you think?”

“…I’m sure.”

In the end, it meant he needed to take the contract even just to resolve the man’s grudge.

“And besides, it won’t be such a bad deal. Either way, this will finally make you an experienced hire who has taken a contract from a megacorp.”

“An experienced hire.”

“This city is full of people who volunteer to be cleaners, but most of them are idiots who don’t realize they’re the trash that should be taken out.”

Vlad Țepeș muttered with a sneer.

“Even for Hotel Snark, only a few contractors ever receive contracts from District 1’s megacorps. In a sense, they are this city’s cleaners.”

“How flattering.”

As a result, there was room for compromise for Solomon as well. Experience mattered anywhere. This world was no different.

“So, I’d like to hear the details of the contract now.”

“Oh, of course. It isn’t difficult. As always, my contract is only one thing.”

Vlad Țepeș said, showing his greedy fangs.

“Gourmet.”

“You haven’t forgotten my conditions.”

Solomon said.

“No matter what, I won’t contribute to your evil.”

“Oh, of course. Rather, this matter… is far from evil, you should call it good.”

“What do you mean?”

“The heart of a sinner.”

Vlad Țepeș said with a smile.

“You may not know, but lately, unfortunate incidents have been occurring where prostitutes on Raspberry Street are being murdered.”

“…First I’ve heard of it.”

“The Sword Watch is controlling information while conducting the search. He’ll probably be caught soon.”

“What do you want?”

“Hand him over to me before they do.”

Hand him over.

“More precisely… the villain’s ‘sinful heart.’”

Vlad Țepeș said.

“As I said, even sinners have their own flavor. At least compared to vanishing in a prison cell or on an execution platform, becoming food would be a more ‘valuable end.’”

“……”

In simple terms, it meant catching the criminal before the city’s police organization and offering him up to Țepeș.

It didn’t sound like an easy contract.

Even so, he knew. The other party was Wallachia Co., the megacorp among megacorps. On top of that, they were part of an organization that could see every kind of evil in this city as if it were in the palm of their hand.

“You have information to track him, right?”

“Oh, that is one of the greatest advantages of carrying out a contract with a giant guild.”

Vlad Țepeș smiled as if it was nothing surprising.

“I’ve already sent the additional materials to the hotel, so please review them there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, Solomon rose.

“And please, do keep this in mind.”

Toward him as he stood, Chairman Țepeș added in a cold voice.

“I am the type who does not tolerate failure.”

A contract where failure could never be tolerated. Hearing that, Solomon let out a hollow laugh.

Because it always had been that way.