The Courage To Go On Living

The gigantic jeweled chandelier, ‘Star of Bethlehem,’ was the pinnacle of Baron Gould’s proud, extravagant mansion and its gold-laden lobby. That was true both figuratively and literally.
Though it hung from the far end of the absurdly high mansion, it was unspeakably enormous, as if reflecting his greed, and all sorts of lavish jeweled ornaments bloomed along its metal frame like fruit.

Jewels glittering densely like starlight in the night sky.
At the same time, that starlight was beautiful only while hanging in empty air. Seen up close, it was not starlight but a weapon filled with countless blade-like fragments.
And thanks to that absurd size and weight, even the anchor bolts and steel cables needed to secure a single chandelier were no exception.

The starlight became blades, the metal frame became spearpoints, and the steel cables became whips capable of shredding even a troll’s flesh and bone.
Along with the mass and kinetic energy born of that absurd size and height.

Paaang!
Before the falling chandelier could even smash into the troll, the steel cables meant to hold it in place came loose first and lashed toward the troll like dancers in a frenzy.

They were not mere steel cables. They were high-tension cables that had silently borne and secured a gigantic chandelier weighing tens of tons. The moment that restraint was broken, the energy with nowhere left to go was transformed into murderous kinetic force through a whip-like effect.

To say it tore through the air was not enough. The steel cables came loose and wrapped around the troll, and compared to that destructive force, the falling chandelier itself was little more than child’s play.

“Oh.”

Sensing the catastrophe belatedly approaching, the troll let out a short groan.

“Fuck me.”

Spitting out a vulgar curse that did not suit him.

Chwaaaak!
The steel cables wrapping around the troll butchered his body along the very path they traced. They wound around his shoulders, his collarbone, his ribs, and from every place the steel touched, flesh split and curled away along the grain. Destructive force beyond even the troll’s mighty bones swirled around his body as though feeding it into a grinder. By that point, the role of the falling chandelier itself was truly minor.

Kwaaang!
That didn’t mean a weapon weighing tens of tons could be ignored.

The starlight of the night sky shattered and scattered.
The gigantic chandelier structure plunged down like a stake driven into the troll’s body as it was cut, broken, and torn apart. And in the end, the one to drive a second stake into the first belonged to the shadow leaping with a blade in hand.

Kwachik!
Solomon’s Ghost Whale Bone Blade, driven down through an airborne leap, pierced the troll’s body like a stake. In a situation where flesh, blood, and bone were already spraying and scattering everywhere, it seemed doubtful any blood remained to spill, yet making that concern pointless, the troll’s blood burst forth again along Solomon’s blade.

Excessive Bleeding triggered. It forced out blood as if wringing out what was not there, and by that point, the troll, already shattered to pieces, was dead.

That was why the murderous intent, enough to snuff out even the last spark of life, became the share to be borne by the ‘partner’ so nicely sharing life with him.

“W-w-wait……!”

Baron Gould’s body burst apart on the spot. So horribly and grotesquely that having his heart pierced would have been the kinder end.

“!”

Seeing that sight, Mihail swallowed hard. Barely gathering himself through the pain, he looked toward the silhouette of the assassin adorning the steel cables and the falling chandelier.

“……”

The assassin wore a laughing clown mask. His face couldn’t be seen. And yet Mihail knew. He knew the face hidden beyond that comical clown mask grinning like a crescent moon.

“Can you move?”

The assassin in the laughing clown mask spoke to him. The injuries Mihail had taken were the sort that would have killed not only an ordinary person, but even those who fancied themselves strong, several times over.
Even so, Mihail, wearing the sad clown’s pierrot mask, nodded silently.

“……I owe you one.”
“For now, think about getting out of here first.”

The laughing clown said. No sooner had those words ended, the snipers on the second-floor balcony pulled the triggers of their automatic crossbows. Their grasp of the situation was late, but they acted nonetheless.

“S-s-seize them!”
“They’re Baron Gould’s assassins! Arrest them at once!”

The private mercenary corps, and even the Sword Watch, joined in as well. Even so, unlike their spirited shouting, their expressions weren’t especially good. Once the Baron they were meant to protect had died, their role ended there. The moment their employer died, the mission had already failed, and paradoxically, so had any chance of being held accountable.

Escaping while avoiding their movements was not especially difficult for the two clowns. Mihail had taken no small amount of damage from the troll’s blow, but even so, that much was possible.

‘……The other contractors aren’t moving.’

As he escaped the lobby, Solomon, the assassin in the laughing clown mask, coldly assessed the situation. The bourgeois were already pulling back and widening the distance. Those protecting them were also contractors working under the name of the hotel. And their role was to protect their own employers. So there was no reason for them to step in front of Solomon and Mihail out of some pointless sense of duty.

If he turned all of them into enemies, even Solomon would not be able to get out so easily. Fortunately, so long as he did not interfere with their commissions, they had no reason to make an enemy of him either.

It was not difficult to break through the halfheartedly fired bolts and the Sword Watch line that feared death. There was not even any need to use the meticulously planned escape route. There was no reason to refuse when the path ahead was wide open.

By the time the two of them had escaped the mansion, stars and moonlight were pouring down overhead.

“Huff, huff!”

Only then, taking off the laughing clown mask, Solomon leaned back against the wall, slid down, and let out a ragged breath.

“Why…….”

Watching him, Mihail murmured.

“Did you help me?”
“Don’t get the wrong idea.”

Solomon answered as if it were none of his concern, the laughing clown mask still in his hand.

“It was only for the commission, that’s all.”
“……I heard you gave up the commission because of the internal leak.”
“Yeah, for that commission.”

Solomon continued.

“But then, a new commission came in.”
“A new commission……?”
“With compensation I just couldn’t ignore.”

A new commission with compensation too great to ignore. Mihail blinked for a moment. It didn’t sound like a casual excuse. And yet he still couldn’t understand. Had the City Council truly wanted Baron Gould dead after all, rather than merely as a formality?

“That ‘bladesman’ you admire so much said she’d like your neck returned still attached.”
“……!”

No. Mihail fell silent, as though struck in the head with a hammer.
It was then.

“Honestly, even among birdbrains, I didn’t expect one this birdbrained.”

A voice of scorn rang out.

“Write my name in your suicide note and kill yourself, you idiot parrot-head.”
“Violet……”

It was the voice of the very bladesman he admired so deeply.

“By comparison, crows truly are spiritual creatures. As expected, my eye wasn’t wrong.”
“……Who exactly are you praising by comparison right now?”
“To be honest, you really exceeded my expectations.”

When Solomon asked back in disbelief, Violet shrugged.

“I was even considering stepping in personally if it came to that.”
“Then why not just step in yourself from the start?”
“No matter what, getting directly entangled in City Council business would be no small burden for me. So it’s truly fortunate it didn’t come to that.”

Violet shrugged.

“When all’s said and done, I’m still just the bourgeoisie’s dog bitch.”

With a bitter smile she didn’t bother hiding, as though mocking herself. Perhaps she too had her own circumstances. There was no way to know.

“Mihail.”

After the bitter smile, Violet returned to her usual cold poker face and spoke.

“……Yes.”
“I trust you know better than anyone what it is you’ve done.”
“……”

Mihail did not answer. He simply removed the sad clown’s pierrot mask from his face and stayed silent with a dark expression.

“Had you resolved yourself to die?”
“I had.”
“I see. The resolve to die.”

Violet sneered.

“That’s the easiest thing in the world.”

She added with a sneer.

“Because you were never brave enough to make the resolve to go on living.”
“……”

The resolve to die and the resolve to go on living. Strangely enough, Violet said the latter was the harder and braver resolve.

“Mihail, as of today, you’re fired as a bladesman.”
“……Huh?”
“I thought from the beginning that you’d kill Baron Gould and come back alive. That’s why I didn’t stop you. Even if you didn’t have the ability to make that possible, I believed you were at least moving with that intent.”

He hadn’t. From the beginning, it had been something done with death in mind.

“But to think you’d truly gone in prepared to die. Unfortunately, I have no intention of keeping company with someone who wants to die. Not now, not ever.”
“Violet, I……”
“Someone who wants to die only ever does things that get himself killed. Am I wrong?”

Violet shot back sharply. Mihail remained silent.

“As for me, I don’t have even the slightest intention of dying obediently.”
“……Agreed.”

Watching the exchange between the two, Solomon cut in. He too had no intention of dying. No, the only thing in Solomon’s head was to go on living. To survive in this world even with a blade at his throat. That was his sole goal, his one and only quest.

“Go back to Cromwell.”
“……!”
“I’m sick of your adolescent excuses and your running away.”

At last Violet said it. At those words, Mihail caught his breath. Cromwell. Mihail’s bloodline, and one of the Five Great Houses standing at the peak of this city.

“Go back, and accept the power flowing in your bloodline. If you want to stand before me again and spout nonsense, then at least earn qualifications that won’t shame the name ‘Ironblood Carnivores.’”
“I……”
“Haven’t you been singing the same tune like a parrot?”

Violet snapped at Mihail as he tried to say something.

“If you truly believe that action defines life, then prove it through action.”
“……”

Solomon had no way of knowing what had happened between them, or why Mihail, who bore the name Cromwell, rejected his own house. To be honest, it was none of his business.

“……Understood.”

Mihail Cromwell started to say something, then gave in. After a silence, he quietly bowed his head. Thud. The mask in his hand slipped and fell to the ground.
The pierrot mask. The face of the sad clown.

The commission was over. Not the assassination of Baron Gould, but the privately given commission he had received through Violet.

‘The compensation…….’

Though he had breezily told Mihail he’d been promised outrageous compensation, the reward Solomon had actually been promised was far from that. Though that didn’t mean he had moved for nothing, with no compensation at all.

‘This body.’
‘……What?’
‘What, were you just now having some happy little fantasy about marrying off our third daughter?’
‘No, it was the fourth.’
‘Impressive stamina. Well, if you want to use this body that way, do as you please. To be honest, that decorative head of yours is rather my type. You wouldn’t even need to spend the compensation.’
‘…….’

She herself. That was Violet’s compensation.

‘For reference, you only get one use, so keep that in mind.’
‘Doesn’t sound like a particularly profitable deal.’
‘Really? Does the chance to make use of one of the seven Special-Grade Bladesmen sound that trivial to you?’
‘…….’

And this was the result. Perhaps he should count himself lucky for having completed the commission at all. Returning to Hotel Snark after leaving the scene, Solomon dragged his heavy body across the lobby.

“Oh.”

It was then.
The troll’s voice, the last one he had heard, came alive again at his ear.

“As expected, you weren’t an ordinary contractor.”
“!”
“Isn’t that right, Mr. Solomon?”

There before him stood the troll who should have died back at Baron Gould’s mansion. And it was not even the bluish form of some ghost. It was a perfectly living, breathing body.

“How…….”
“As a joke, they say cats have nine lives.”

The troll shrugged as he answered Solomon’s stunned question.

“It’s nothing compared to a cat, but my life is similar enough.”

And he said it in the most brazen tone yet, to the very person who had taken one of his lives right in front of him.