Baron Gould

“Oh, you completed the commission splendidly.”

The next morning. Exhausted to the limit, Solomon came out to the lounge and was facing that very client.

“As promised, here is the data you wanted. As for whether the person in charge is alive or dead, you would know better than I would.”

Solomon said this as he silently handed over the biological culture fluid containing a part of Barbatos, the Demon of the Hunt.

“Splendid! Magnificent!”

With an expression of utmost satisfaction, Dr. Alaric Faustus of Prometheus Genetics’ Chimera Division 1 smiled.

“As expected, the claim that you are the contractor with the highest stock at the hotel was no empty boast.”
“Yeah, and thanks to that, I went through one hell of a fucking ordeal.”

FoSolomon unconsciously spat out a curse under the effect of 「Rough Tongue」. Dr. Faustus answered with an awkward smile.

“That level of risk is always something that must be accepted with a megacorp commission. Even so, quite a few contractors still hope to carry out our commissions.”
“Because of the pay?”
“Exactly, Mr. Solomon.”

Dr. Faustus replied with a smile.

“Just now, 1 billion krona has been deposited into your account, Mr. Solomon.”
“……1 billion krona.”

Honestly, it was not an amount anyone could call small. Even so, for Solomon, who still had a debt of 4.3 billion hanging over him, it had merely become 3.3 billion now. Of course, the fact that he was receiving 1 billion for a single commission was more than enough to say that Solomon, too, had risen to a sufficiently ‘high place.’

Aside from the fact that the road he still had to go was much longer. And beyond that, the cost of the gear required to carry out such commissions was also skyrocketing.

“With this, Mr. Solomon, you have splendidly handled our commission. I will make sure to remember your name.”

Saying that, Dr. Alaric Faustus tucked the culture-fluid sample into his coat and rose to his feet. On the surface, it looked as though he had simply put the sample into his pocket, but before long it became clear that flesh writhing inside him had ‘swallowed’ the entire sample whole.

‘He absorbed it as part of his own body.’

Insight Success. Even so, Solomon didn’t bother prying into that fact and feigned ignorance. The commission ended here. The promise had been kept, and he had been paid. So whatever he intended to do with the biological culture fluid of Barbatos, the Demon of the Hunt, was none of Solomon’s concern.

Right then, after Dr. Faustus, another figure took the seat in front of Solomon.

“Oh, so you were here.”

When Solomon raised his head, a familiar man was there.

Over a neatly tailored suit, he wore a coat bearing the emblem of the Sword Watch. At his waist hung two swords on a mechanical sword belt.

He was a blond man who looked like a bladesman at a glance.

“We meet again, assassin of Hotel Snark.”
“Yeah.”
“Mihail Cromwell, Second-Grade Bladesman of the Sword Watch.”
“I can see that.”
“Mihail Cromwell, Second-Grade Bladesman of the Sword Watch.”
“I said I know.”
“I see.”

When Solomon answered with deliberate brusqueness, Mihail, the bladesman of the Cromwell family, lowered his head.

“I offer you my apology.”
“For what?”
“Because, in the matter of the criminal Ripper, you brought about an ending somewhat more ‘orderly’ than this city’s order would have.”

For a bladesman who looked so rigid, it was an unexpected answer.

“That’s unexpected. I thought you’d at least treat me like some villain who obstructed law enforcement.”
“The law has value only when it is carried out ‘justly.’ Separate from Chairman Țepeș, the end Ripper met at his hands was truly just.”
“I see. So this city’s law seems rather far removed from justice, then?”
“To be honest, it cannot be called very rational.”
“I didn’t expect to hear that from a bladesman of the Sword Watch.”
“It is precisely because I am a bladesman of the Sword Watch that I say it.”

Mihail said.

“And for that reason as well, I want to entrust one commission to you. That is why I came here.”
“A commission?”
“To punish an evil that this city’s law and order cannot punish.”

Those were not words one would easily expect from one of the Five Great Houses that ruled the city.

“Of course, together with me.”
“……Together?”
“Vigilantism without a watcher is merely another form of violence. That is why I have a duty to watch over it. Because that’s—”
“Because that’s what a watcher is?”
“Because that’s what a watcher is.”
“……”

Solomon fell silent in disbelief. After a short silence, he asked back.

“From the sound of it, he can’t be punished through law enforcement carried out properly.”
“Far from punishing him, they’re in a state of not knowing what to do except cater to his whims.”

Mihail Cromwell, a Second-Grade Bladesman of the Sword Watch and at the same time a handsome man of the Five Great Houses’ Cromwell bloodline, spoke in a lower voice than ever, watching his surroundings in case anyone might hear.

“The target’s name is Baron Gould.”

Baron Gould. It was a name Solomon also knew by hearing. More than merely having heard it, in fact, he knew it rather too well.

─ Call me Baron Gould.
─ I came here as a representative of the proud City Council and the bourgeoisie.
─ As I said, I am very busy and have many things to do. Since I came to find you personally and speak with you like this… you would do well to show a little more respect.

He was the man who had shown himself back when Solomon carried out House Haunting’s commission. He was, quite literally, a ‘pot-bellied bourgeois’ to whom the word bourgeois suited better than anyone.

“So, shall I hear what kind of things he’s done to deserve dying?”

Solomon asked back. Mihail Cromwell answered.

“Embezzlement, kidnapping, slave trading, the murder of political enemies and disposal of corpses……”
“I think I’ve heard enough.”
“I’ve only just begun the first verse.”

At those words, Solomon swallowed in disbelief. When it went beyond the first verse into the second and third, even Solomon could only swallow in shock. If such a thing as a man who deserved to die truly existed in this world, Baron Gould could well have been the textbook example of one.

“There really is no one more fit to be killed.”
“Right, because that’s—someone fit to be killed.”
“……”

Solomon accepted it well enough. In truth, whether the man deserved killing or not, Solomon’s role in the end was to carry out the job as a contractor of the hotel. Even so, if he was going to kill someone anyway, it did make his mind a little lighter if the target was an irredeemably vile villain. It also meant fewer troubled dreams.

“By the way, why me?”
“My greatly respected ‘senior bladesman’ mentioned your name personally.”
“I see.”
“They said that since you’ll likely be seeing each other often from here on, it wouldn’t be bad to see your face once as a test.”

Solomon had a rough guess as to who that ‘senior bladesman’ was, but he didn’t bother saying it aloud. In any case, there was no reason to object to someone evaluating him favorably.

“What an honor.”
“─It is, in fact, true as well.”
“Can’t you do something about that habit of tacking on obvious things at the end of every sentence?”
“─Because it’s a habit.”
“……”

Solomon asked back in disbelief.

“So what exactly am I supposed to do?”

In any case, the man called Baron Gould was clearly not someone of low standing. So for a bladesman of the Sword Watch, whose role was to keep the city’s order, to specifically wish for his ‘death’ was plainly strange. The Sword Watch, after all, was openly called the bourgeoisie’s dog.

“A bladesman of the Sword Watch stabbing a bourgeois in the gut in broad daylight doesn’t seem all that ordinary.”
“Strictly speaking, it is not something I can decide on by myself.”
“So in the end, it’s a decision from someone further up the chain.”
“Oops, I’ve said too much.”

Mihail Cromwell gave a belated cough. Solomon too kept silent without prying any further.

“I’ll convey the rest through the hotel’s room service. For reference, the commission begins at midnight three days from now. Keep that in mind.”
“Three days from now.”

After finishing the conversation about the commission, Solomon immediately crossed the lobby of Hotel Snark. He headed beyond the corridor lined with antique oil paintings, toward the place called the Tailor.

As if not just anyone could enter, a hotelier was stationed at the entrance. Even so, the moment he saw Solomon, he stepped aside without hesitation.

“Oh my, my honey!”

There stood a permed woman in a dress reminiscent of a peacock. The very witch who had cast Cinderella’s Magic on Solomon—or rather, his fairy godmother.

“Oh my, it looks like you came back alive from the ball with your prince!”
“I barely made it back alive.”

Solomon answered evenly. And it was true. As she said, had it not been for the ‘magic’ she had cast on him, Solomon’s chances of surviving Dr. Faustus’s commission would have been effectively zero. To that extent, her service had been nothing less than Solomon’s lifeline.

“The ball is always thrilling! That’s why you always have to pay attention to the dress code!”
“……Yeah, as you can see, I came because that ‘dress’ got damaged.”

Unfortunately, thanks to taking a solid hit to the back of the head from his own shadow hand, everything from the coat to the armor layer had been torn to shreds. On top of that, even seemingly minor shots like Shadow Bolts left damage in the end. In fact, once Solomon actually took off the stealth coat, it was basically little better than a rag.

“Oh, don’t worry, my darling! With a tiny bit of ‘magic,’ the dress will be repaired in no time! It’s not a problem!”

Chwarrrk!

Saying that, the permed woman pulled aside the curtain and revealed the scene behind the sewing room in full.

“Now then, it’s time to work a ‘little magic’ for Cinderella, my cuties!”
“Please kill me…….”
“Go fall into the Nine Hells, you goddamn hell-hag…….”
“Why…… does the work…… never end……?”
“Is this hell, by any chance? Did I…… fall into hell?”

There sat the fairies in front of the sewing machines with the eyes of dead fish. Their golden wings drooped limply, and pitch-black dark circles hung beneath their eyes.

“Oh my, my cuties. It’s magic time for the princess!”

As the fairy godmother worked her ‘little magic,’ life returned to the eyes of the nearly dead fairies.

“Whew! Labor is the best!”
“Being a designer really is the best!”
“To be able to do the work we love endlessly day and night, how are we such blessed fairies?!”

After handing over the stealth coat and armor layer, Solomon silently turned his head away.

‘I saw nothing.’

As an undeniable silent accomplice in a scene of labor exploitation pitiable enough to bring tears to one’s eyes