How to Live Like a Big Shot
That night, in Room 104 on the first floor of Hotel Snark, Solomon mulled over the request Yuria the elf had given him.
‘Elf mafia?’
One of the colossal criminal organizations exerting influence over the entire Downtown area—the very heart of Guild City.
‘They value the organization’s code and elven honor above their own lives.’
A mafia composed solely of elves, just as the name suggested. A corporate-style criminal syndicate.
‘There are five major families in Guild City. Even the largest guilds can’t act freely inside the territories they control. They even hold sway over the city council.’
He remembered reading about them in the rulebook. Along with the orc gangs and the werewolf cartel, they were counted among the three greatest criminal powers in the city.
‘So what exactly am I supposed to do?’
‘For the moment, nothing at all.’
‘What?’
‘The request hasn’t arrived yet.’
‘Hasn’t arrived…?’
‘It will soon.’
Yuria had answered with her usual crisp tone, the monocle glinting over her eye. Then she left, as if she had truly glimpsed the future. All that remained was to wait.
Fortunately, Solomon was far from the kind of person who had to sit around twiddling his thumbs.
Hundreds of financial guilds crowded the second district of Downtown.
Known as the Golden Street, this place was the spiderweb’s entrance and exit where every kind of wealth in the city gathered and dispersed.
The golden colonnade that symbolized the district, the ceaselessly moving mechanized armed transport wagons, and the gold-plated clockwork figures polishing the brass steam pipes without rest.
And right in the middle of that Golden Street, Solomon had only one destination. It wasn’t hard to find.
The tallest, grandest, and most expensive-looking golden fortress in the entire second district.
As if even gold weren’t enough, they had plastered it with sapphires, rubies, diamonds, and every other gem imaginable, then slapped the name Shylock Bank across it in glittering letters.
‘…What a vulgar fucking display of wealth.’
The pinnacle of nouveau riche excess.
In a way, it was almost impressive how they managed to make gold and jewels look so cheap.
Without hesitation, Solomon strode between the golden pillars and entered the bank.
Inside, unlike the gaudy exterior, the place exuded the oppressive dignity befitting Guild City’s premier bank.
A massive gear-shaped desk dominated the center. All around it, countless automated devices tirelessly counted checks, certificates, and banknotes.
The lobby felt like one giant, intricately moving clockwork mechanism.
Automated guardian machines patrolled every corner. Beneath their medieval knight armor, countless gears and springs meshed and turned visibly.
“What business brings you here today, sir?”
A gnome in a red suit approached as if he had been waiting.
“I want to open an account.”
“Oh! Thank you very much! Our bank offers three types of private accounts, with details varying according to the source of assets and transaction range! Do you have any specific requirements?”
“In the name of Hotel Snark.”
“!”
The gnome’s words cut off the instant he heard the answer.
His eyes widened, and the color drained from his face so clearly it was almost comical. He looked like the Grim Reaper had just walked through the door.
“M-my apologies, sir! I will escort you to the VIP reception room immediately and assign a first-class financial coordinator!”
The gnome bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched the floor.
“Shylock Bank guarantees your privacy above all else. We stake our very lives on maintaining the absolute confidentiality of this process!”
Unfortunately, this city is overflowing with every kind of disgusting suspicion and distrust…
Shylock Bank is different. There are plenty of unfilial children who can’t trust their own parents but can trust Shylock Bank. In fact, their parents are pretty much the same…
Even the blatantly intimidating guardian machines seemed to understand the situation. They bowed their heads very slowly but unmistakably before Solomon.
A silent acknowledgment: This customer exists on another level.
He followed the flustered gnome into what appeared to be a cozy private room.
Soon after, a goblin in a green suit entered. He carried himself with the relaxed confidence of a superior. He looked like an entirely different species from the goblins Solomon had first drawn blood from in this world.
“Oh, my apologies for the delay. I am a first-class financial coordinator for Shylock Bank…”
“Skip the pointless pleasantries.”
“Of course! Time is money! I much prefer conducting smart business with Hotel Snark clients!”
With that, the goblin began spinning a crank attached beneath the desk with brisk turns.
“Allow me to briefly explain the secret account we open for Hotel Snark customers.”
“Go on.”
“Officially, this account belongs to the unofficial high-tier category and is protected by PAF-7 layer encryption protocol per regulations.”
With a hiss of steam pressure, an unidentifiable mechanical device rose from beneath a drawer.
“Furthermore, all deposits and withdrawals are routed through a currency path obfuscation system. Using fragmentation protocols, the funds pass through dozens of relay channels across the continent, each disguised as a ‘perfectly legitimate nominal transaction’ with its own airtight alibi.”
“…Can you stop speaking in riddles and just say it simply?”
“In other words, sir, your account… formally exists, but in practice it is a cluster of fully anonymized nodes!”
“……”
The goblin continued manipulating the device with practiced ease.
“To put it in the absolute simplest terms! Your account exists everywhere and nowhere, like blades of grass across the whole world.”
“Ah! Now that I understand perfectly.”
It was still complete nonsense.
Click. With a cheerful final sound, the goblin stopped operating the machine.
“There. Account creation is complete.”
“…Already?”
Solomon was taken aback. He had expected at least some paperwork, a signature, or a checkbox to tick.
“Yes, no additional procedures are required. Deposits and withdrawals can be made freely at any window or branch. For special services, you may request them directly from us or have Hotel Snark handle it on your behalf. And finally…”
The goblin continued.
“As a complimentary service for opening the account, we have deposited 100 million krona.”
“A service?”
“Absolutely! To a Hotel Snark client, a mere 100 million krona is pocket change. Please consider it a small token of goodwill.”
“……”
One hundred million krona—nothing more than pocket change.
He suddenly remembered the moment he first opened his eyes in this strange world. Back then, he had stolen a piece of bread just to survive. A worthless crust of bread, and he had risked his life to steal it.
Then he recalled the outrageous tab for the equipment Maya the smuggler had provided on credit. Even though she had called it a favor, he had wondered if he would ever be able to pay it off in one lump sum. That had been only a few days ago.
Now things were different.
After finishing his business at Shylock Bank, Solomon’s schedule was still far from over.
The nineteenth district of Downtown, known as Ironheart Street.
As the name implied, the district specialized in weapons and equipment of all kinds. From standard military-issue arms to custom gear for contractors and fixers.
Simply stepping onto the street was enough to feel the hammer strikes, the metallic clangor, the swirling soot, and flying sparks reaching all the way here.
Unlike Shylock Bank, however, finding the Deadlock Guild in the nineteenth district was no easy task.
‘Where the hell is it?’
From what he had heard, their guild and workshops didn’t even have a single easy-to-spot sign.
That was when it happened.
“…Solomon?”
A voice from behind. When Solomon turned, he saw a face far more familiar than the voice.
A blonde woman in a black leather jacket—Maya the smuggler.
“Maya.”
“Hehe, what brings a big shot like you to these streets?”
“…That’s a big shot’s secret.”
Solomon answered as if it had nothing to do with him. Maya shot back with an incredulous look.
“A secret? Don’t tell me you’re planning to make deals without this Maya?! Let me tell you, trading directly with me is several times more economical than going to the guilds and buying everything one by one—!”
“Enough. I’m looking for the Deadlock Guild.”
“…What?!”
“I need to get the automatic crossbow I’m using modified.”
Maya blinked at him with an even more dumbfounded expression, as if watching a rookie make an absurd mistake.
“Look, Solomon… you’ve only just arrived in Downtown. You probably don’t know much about the Deadlock Guild yet.”
“I don’t.”
“Unless you’re carrying some mythical weapon or hero’s relic, those stubborn bastards won’t lift a finger. Even if you tried to make a reservation, you’d be waiting at least a century.”
Solomon simply nodded without denying it.
“I happened to receive something.”
“Receive what?”
“A modification ticket for an automatic crossbow, usable at the Deadlock Guild.”
“A modification ticket…? You didn’t get scammed, did you…?”
“Don’t worry. It’s a geas promissory note I received from someone at Hotel Snark.”
“?!”
Technically it had been from an elf, not a person, but whatever.
At Solomon’s words, Maya fell silent for a moment, unable to process the meaning. After a brief pause, she blinked rapidly, her eyes widening as she sucked in a sharp breath.
“They gave it to you as a welfare benefit. Said to keep working hard and punching holes in the backs of people’s heads.”
“Well… the name Hotel Snark is certainly trustworthy.”
It seemed that in this world, that name was synonymous with absolute credibility.
“You look like you know where the Deadlock Guild is. Mind taking me there?”
“Well… it’s not that difficult.”
Maya replied.
“Also, give me your account details.”
“Why?”
“The Ghost Whale Bone Blade. I’ll pay back the 100 million krona I owed you for it right now.”
“Oh my god.”
Maya blinked in disbelief.
“You’re paying back 100 million just like that, so casually?!”
“I got lucky.”
“Whoa! Solomon, you bastard… you really have become a big shot!”
“You’re making too much of a fuss.”
In front of the flustered and delighted Maya, Solomon shook his head with feigned humility.
“Anyway, where is the Deadlock Guild?”
The reason the Deadlock Guild workshop was so hard to spot was utterly ridiculous.
Beneath a worn sign that read “Abandoned Sewer! No Entry!”, a hole barely large enough for a rat led into an underground passage. That was the entrance.
The two of them headed straight down the passage. Before long, the blazing heat of a forge and the metallic clang of metal striking metal assaulted their skin.
Clang. Clang. Heavy, rhythmic hammer blows and sharp, irritable shouts echoed through the space.
Everyone wore rough, indifferent expressions. Long braided beards were visible on both men and women.
Even while blackened by the forge’s heat, their eyes remained as cold and sharp as ice.
There wasn’t even a reception desk to greet customers at the entrance. The underground workshop opened up immediately.
Quite a few dwarves in the workshop didn’t even glance at the two newcomers. It was as if they hadn’t noticed their existence at all.
‘This is… what do you call it? An ambush angle…’
That was when it happened.
“Here it is. I ignored the weight and loaded every spec you requested for maximum output.”
“Thank you.”
Not far away, two figures were conversing. A customer and a dwarf. The customer was an orc. A massive one, easily over three meters tall, wearing a perfectly tailored white suit.
The dwarf, on the other hand, wasn’t in work clothes but traditional British-style formal attire that resembled a man’s kilt. He seemed to be the only one in the workshop handling customers.
Thud!
What the kilt-wearing male dwarf pointed at was a hammer. It was so enormous and heavy that it couldn’t be carried by hand and had to be loaded onto special equipment.
A super-sized striking head fit for heavy construction machinery. Rows of blades were even stored along the pillar-like handle.
The orc grabbed the massive hammer with both hands without hesitation and spoke calmly.
“Looks like the next guest has arrived.”
The orc in the white suit spoke without even turning around.