The Black Museum
I collapsed into sleep the moment I returned from my battle with the Magic Spear Specter and only opened my eyes again deep into the night. The clock pointed to the late hours.
…I slept for quite a while.
Given how exhausting the fight had been, it made sense. Solomon rose from the bed and calmly assessed the situation.
「Excessive Bleeding」
Upon a successful close-range ambush, the Bleed status effect lasts significantly longer and becomes much harder to remove.
The four universal rogue-type subclasses available separately from the rare archetype Spell Assassin. Among them, the support class focused on close-range ambushes—Reaper—had just gained a new ability.
On top of that, the ‘fated victory’ Solomon achieved against the Magic Spear Specter had brought him many things, whether he liked it or not.
「Potential Heavyweight」
📍 Effect: +30 Favorability with Hotel Snark faction and all clients, plus additional benefits.
📍 Tag: Special Dice, Non-Consumable Dice
When interacting socially with factions that have over +30 Favorability, add the value of the special dice to the roll.
「Mage Hunter」
Deals +2 Damage when attacking Mage-class enemies.
“Excuse me, Sir Solomon.”
A cautious knock sounded from outside the room. The purpose was easy to guess.
“The client wishes to see you.”
“I’ll be right out.”
Solomon didn’t hesitate. He stood up immediately. Late at night, the lounge of Hotel Snark—usually filled with nocturnal guests—was far quieter than usual.
“I’ve been waiting.”
The client in question, Lord Bernier, was already there. He wore an elegant black suit with a coat draped over it like a cloak, both hands resting on a mahogany cane engraved with an eagle’s head.
“You knew from the start that the job would turn out like this, didn’t you?”
Solomon sat down across from him and spoke quietly.
“Hmm. Could you elaborate?”
“The unexpected guest.”
Solomon answered in a low, sharp voice.
“That arrowhead bastard from Uptown.”
“Oh.”
“Look, I’m about to say some pretty nasty shit… Do I really have to watch my language in front of you?”
“There’s no need to filter your words. However—”
Lord Bernier replied calmly.
“I do apologize sincerely for the matter concerning the job.”
His gray-streaked white hair. The cross-shaped scar running across his right eye. Beyond the frailty expected of his age, the deep wrinkles spoke of a life battered by countless storms. Even in apology, Lord Bernier’s dignity remained perfectly intact.
“Yeah, well said, you damn old fart. I never thought I’d end up riding the goddamn express train straight to the afterlife.”
“Heh heh… It’s a relief to see you so full of energy.”
That alone wasn’t enough reason for Solomon to bother with polite speech.
“I don’t particularly mind if you vent your anger at me. However, I came here for a conversation of somewhat greater significance.”
“Did you think I had nothing better to do than sit around drinking tea?”
“As I said… you handled a situation far beyond what was anticipated with admirable skill.”
Solomon quickly regained his composure and replied. After a brief silence, Lord Bernier leaned forward slightly, drawing his upper body closer.
“In light of that, we can now take a more positive approach regarding the compensation we originally discussed.”
“I’m listening.”
In that posture, he spoke with extreme caution, his voice low as if conscious of watchful eyes even inside Hotel Snark.
“The information you wish to know cannot be provided by my decision alone… Therefore, by regulation, revealing it requires several procedures, including approval from my superiors.”
“So you’re saying you can’t tell me? Hmm, I’m starting to wonder what kind of bad shit is going to come after the bad words and bad thoughts.”
“Such impatience. Please, hear me out until the end.”
Lord Bernier continued without losing his composure.
Rattle…
A faint sound echoed from somewhere far away. Solomon soon realized it was the sound of dice rolling. The new dice he had obtained the previous night.
“Nevertheless, considering the ‘unexpected achievement’ you have attained, all those procedures are ultimately trivial matters.”
Based on high favorability, you have secured even greater compensation!
“In fact, beyond simply providing the information you need, you will receive rewards from us that far exceed anything you could imagine.”
Things that far exceed imagination.
There was no doubt it was thanks to the new dice he had obtained just last night. He never expected the benefits to come so quickly.
“Alright. Now I’m starting to have some nicer, cleaner thoughts.”
“Therefore, I will provide the information immediately. The rest of the compensation will be delivered in stages once the internal procedures are complete.”
“Then I’ll ask right away. What the hell is the Black Museum? And what are these Curators?”
Thud.
Lord Bernier lightly tapped the floor with his cane. A small friction sound followed, and a curtain of unease descended over the entire area.
A spell to prevent sound from leaking outside.
There didn’t seem to be anyone nearby to eavesdrop, and at first glance it looked like excessive caution. But knowing the ‘countless eyes and ears’ of this city, Solomon understood it was by no means pointless worry.
“The Black Museum… is officially designated as a special-grade criminal organization in Guild City.”
“Just a criminal organization?”
“Indeed. A criminal cabal that collects and preserves the evil of this city. Its scale is not particularly large. The city estimates their numbers to be between twelve and fourteen members with high probability.”
A criminal cabal that collects and preserves the evil of the city.
“And Curator is the title given to those who belong to the organization.”
“Exactly.”
Listening to this, it sounded like the kind of criminal organization a bunch of edgy, chuunibyou psycho artists would form. Or maybe it actually was.
“Do they cut off innocent people’s heads in the name of ‘bloody art’ and hold exhibitions or something?”
“Their motives are far more complex and elegant than that.”
Lord Bernier said with a bitter smile.
“Either way, their methods of operation are a minor issue. Their true danger lies elsewhere.”
“And that is?”
“The fact that demons walk alongside them in that organization.”
“…Demons?”
“Yes. Demons from the Nine Hells.”
At first, Solomon thought it was a metaphor.
“Among the demons whose true names are known, there are Ishtar and Beelzebub. In addition, there are three other candidates who are highly likely to be demons or their contractors.”
“?”
Thanks to his experience with TRPGs, Solomon immediately understood the weight those names carried.
Ishtar—the goddess of Mesopotamian mythology and the Whore of Babylon. And Beelzebub, Baalzebul, Belzebuth—though the pronunciation varied slightly, they all pointed to the same being.
The Lord of the Flies.
Only then did Solomon truly realize once again that this world was a goddamn TRPG world.
I’m fucked.
At the very least, with five seats already occupied by demons or demon contractors, guessing the rest wasn’t difficult. Birds of a feather flock together, after all. Even if that flock wasn’t exactly a pleasant one.
“Just out of curiosity—there isn’t some organization where kind-hearted angels gather together to fight for world peace, is there?”
“There was.”
“Was?”
“Unfortunately, that information lies outside the scope of your request.”
“……”
The fact that he used the past tense made Solomon lose any desire to ask further. After all, ignorance is bliss.
Still…
He soon realized something. Back then, the elf Yuria had said that becoming Lord Bawry’s disciple would block a life-threatening crisis with 100% certainty. Was Lord Bawry some kind of demon slayer? His appearance certainly looked like he could chew up demons, but still.
In the end, it means an organization of that caliber doesn’t consider me worth grinding their teeth over.
In other words, the threat was closer to the level of getting hit by a truck by sheer bad luck. Whether getting run over by a truck driven by demons could simply be dismissed as bad luck was another question entirely.
“Officially, the information I can provide regarding your request ends here.”
Lord Bernier said.
“Separately, I have deposited 300 million krona as the request fee into your account. Once internal approval is complete, additional compensation based on your achievements will be provided.”
“I hope you’re not just throwing in a few extra coins to make yourselves look generous.”
“Oh, hardly. We value your performance—more precisely, the value of your ‘irreversible performance’—more highly than anyone else.”
Irreversible.
The meaningful phrasing made Solomon frown. Just as the words implied.
“I look forward to working with you in the future as well.”
With that, Solomon calmly accepted the situation.
Thud.
Lord Bernier tapped the floor lightly with his cane once more. He then bowed politely to Solomon and turned away. The coat draped over his shoulders like a cloak fluttered elegantly with each step.
At that moment, a sound rang out. It was the sound of dice rolling.
Huh?
No message of success or failure followed. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure if it had really been the sound of dice.
Did I mishear?
Solomon dismissed it as unimportant and stood up. Either way, now was not the time to hesitate.
Sir Solomon, you will soon face a threat to your life.
From the Curators of the Black Museum. Remember that name.
It was time to run as far as possible to escape the tragic oracle.
* * *
At that same time.
Even late at night, this city never slept. More precisely, while nobles and the bourgeoisie could enjoy sweet dreams, laborers could not.
Under the night sky, heavy machinery operators digging up empty lots to expand the city were a prime example.
Machines powered by arcane engineering tore up and overturned the land on the city outskirts to build new towers of gears and steam pipes.
It was not particularly surprising when, during the process, the occasional buried corpse was uncovered. The laborer stopped the machine, climbed down, and examined the body.
“Goddamn it, there’s nothing but fly eggs.”
At least several weeks had passed since death. Black rot had begun along with a foul stench, and the belly was so bloated with gas it looked ready to burst at any moment. The clothes looked rather expensive, but not enough to bother stripping and selling.
Suppressing his nausea, the laborer searched the clothes and pulled out a leather wallet. Inside was a bundle of business cards that appeared to belong to the man.
Director of the Special Investigation Division, High Prosecution Bureau, City Judicial Bureau — Lord Bernier.
To someone who could not read, it meant nothing.
Nor did he know that the countless flies buzzing around the corpse, laying their eggs, were swearing loyalty to their great king who had come from the deepest depths of the Nine Hells.