Caught in One's Own Trap
Lord Bawry of the Sewer Magic Tower was there.
At the same time, Roche’s new partner was openly groveling before the tower master he served, bowing with blatant deference.
At first he showed pure bewilderment. Then, unable to hide his joy that the most reliable ally imaginable had appeared.
So the guy was an underground mage.
An underground mage affiliated with the Sewer Magic Tower. Guessing his identity wasn’t difficult. At the very least, the rudeness and confidence he had displayed in front of Solomon clearly originated from the fact that he was a mage.
“Lord! Y-you came at just the right time! That goddamn bastard just now, he—”
“Goddamn? Goddamn who?”
“H-him! Right there!”
Like a child tattling to his parents, the sewer mage pointed at Solomon and raised his voice, not even trying to conceal his smug sense of superiority.
“Oh, that guy. That guy! So you know him, huh?”
“W-well, he’s one of those bottom-feeding fixers from the Lowlands! I-I was doing a little side job and this fucking guy—”
“Shh. That is one seriously fucked situation!”
“Hehe, right?!”
Lord Bawry played along, pretending ignorance as he turned to look at Solomon. The sewer mage, taking that as encouragement, began to rant even louder.
“Anyway, there are a few things I need to correct, my friend.”
Lord Bawry shrugged.
“The ‘damn bastard’ you keep talking about isn’t some lowlands sewer rat. He’s a fixer working for Hotel Snark.”
“Huh…?”
“Hotel Snark. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it?”
“!”
Hic.
The sewer mage swallowed hard at those words.
“Hic!”
An uncontrollable hiccup burst out of him.
“And honestly, this next part is more important. That damn… that man is actually my dearly beloved and respected ‘my brother.’”
“Y-yes…?”
“The reason I came here was to see that bro. Oh my god, did you seriously think I came all this way for a dumbass like you? I don’t even know who the hell you are!!”
“Y-yes, yes…?”
Roche’s new partner and the sewer mage echoed the words like a parrot. Between repeated hiccups, his face rapidly drained of color until it was the shade of lead.
“By the way, how many words did you just spit out?”
“…Yes?”
“I’m asking how many letters you just spewed, you moron.”
“Y-yes? N…?”
“Doesn’t sound like four letters. Can’t you count?”
“Yes…?”
“I’m asking if you know how to count numbers, you son of a bitch!”
“Yes!!”
“Then you can understand what I’m saying!!”
“Yes? I-I…”
Srrrng.
Right then, skewers shot up from the shadow beneath his feet, aimed directly at his eyes, nose, and mouth. They stopped with only a few millimeters to spare. And it wasn’t just one this time. Dozens—no, hundreds—of skewers had risen from every direction.
“Say ‘yes’ one more time. Go on, say ‘yes’ again!! I’m giving you a real, honest-to-god warning, you miserable fuck! Say that goddamn ‘yes’ one more time!!”
“F-forgive me, Lord…!”
Tears welled in his eyes as he panicked. Lord Bawry, who had been dead serious, suddenly burst into cackling laughter.
“Oh man. Forgive you? What in the world would I have to forgive you for!”
“Yes? N— I mean, th-thank you…! Thank you!”
“You should be begging for forgiveness from the brother right here, not me.”
“…?”
With that, Lord Bawry finally pointed at Solomon, who had been watching the entire exchange like it was none of his business.
“Starting right now, in front of my bro who works as a fixer for Hotel Snark!! I’m slapping a ten-million-crona bounty on your worthless neck!!”
“!”
He shouted with a straight face after laughing, his complexion cycling through shades of red and purple, veins bulging in pure rage.
The man’s completely lost his mind.
Solomon thought the same thing, utterly dumbfounded.
“That’s enough. I have no further business with him.”
“Oh, that’s a real shame. You don’t even want the ten million on his neck?”
“I don’t have the luxury of wasting time on pointless crap.”
At Solomon’s answer, Lord Bawry shrugged again.
“Then let’s do it this way. Hey, you—pig broker over there!”
“Yes…?”
He pointed straight at the fat Roche, who was still frozen in place.
“I’ll introduce you to my trustworthy fixer friends who work under me! Go tell them that whoever brings me that bastard’s head the fastest gets ten million krona!”
“Lord, please, I’m begging you…!”
“They’ll jump out of bed in the middle of the night and come running!”
“Of course they will!!”
Only then did the pig Roche leap to his feet with a cheer. Partnership be damned—his eyes were shining with more life than they had ever shown before.
They’re having way too much fun with this.
Solomon observed the scene as if it had nothing to do with him.
“L-Lord, I’m begging you! I-I swear I’ll never do it again!”
“By the way, you’d better keep that filthy mouth shut. Every single letter that comes out of it is going to add another million to the bounty on your neck!”
Lord Bawry snarled at the man who was now kneeling and pleading.
“LLordI’mbeggingyoulikethisIreallywon’tdoitagain! That’s already two thousand! Damn it! You’re walking around with a golden head that shines so fucking bright it’s blinding! Looks pretty tempting, doesn’t it?”
“…!!”
He belatedly clapped a hand over his mouth. Murmurs spread. Even among the patrons of the Dawn Lark Tavern, an unmistakable flame of greed ignited at the sheer amount. It was enough to tempt even Solomon inwardly.
Yet for Solomon, the immediate concern wasn’t anyone else’s neck—it was his own.
“I have something else to discuss.”
“I’ve been waiting for those words, my bro!”
Lord Bawry raised both arms high. At the same time, a sound echoed from somewhere far away.
Rattle.
…!
The sound of dice rolling. The moment Solomon recognized it, another sound followed.
Crunch.
When he came to his senses, Solomon realized his entire surroundings had been swallowed by pitch-black darkness.
It felt exactly like being inside the belly of a shadow…
Insight Success!
…Why the hell did that succeed?
He had thought it was only a metaphor, but it wasn’t.
“Ever stayed inside a whale’s belly? It’s not as horrible as people think. Oh, don’t worry. This isn’t actually a whale’s belly.”
Before he knew it, Lord Bawry’s voice rang out from within the darkness. He made no attempt to hide his presence in the lightless void.
“Where are we?”
“Inside the shadow’s belly.”
“What…?”
“Shadows exist wherever there is light. At the same time, they exist nowhere!”
Lord Bawry’s voice continued from the dark.
“Which makes this the absolute best place for a quiet conversation. This city is overflowing with goddamn eyes and ears no matter where you go.”
“I see.”
It hadn’t been a coincidence that Lord Bawry had found him at the Dawn Lark Tavern. The man must have been monitoring his every move from the very beginning.
Solomon realized anew that the mage standing before him was a master of espionage magic—a cunning old fox from the Veil Family, one of the Five Great Families. Any clumsy attempt to hide his cards in front of this man would be utterly pointless.
“I won’t beat around the bush. You probably already know my situation. Thanks to all those eyes and ears.”
“Yeah… I know the rough details.”
Lord Bawry chuckled.
“The part where you’ve become a bird.”
“I figured as much.”
As expected.
“How much do you know?”
“Open your eyes wide and take a good look. Can’t you see it? Ooh, that mountain-sized, beautiful pile of shit!”
“Goddamn it.”
Solomon clicked his tongue as if none of this was surprising.
“Those people… seem to know quite a lot about the Black Museum.”
“They know plenty.”
Lord Bawry let out a disbelieving laugh at Solomon’s question.
“Things you couldn’t even begin to imagine.”
“I heard the basics about their organization from a man named Lord Bernier on the city council.”
That was why Solomon answered without holding anything back.
“I was told it’s a criminal syndicate that works with demons.”
“Saying it out loud is already a pain in the ass.”
“…As you know, I received a warning that my life would be in danger at the hands of a Curator from the Black Museum. It came through precognition. Any guesses?”
Lord Bawry did not answer right away. A short silence followed.
“Once upon a time…”
After the silence, Lord Bawry began to speak.
“Once upon a time, a merchant in Baghdad sent his servant to the market. The servant came back pale and shaking with terror.”
“…What?”
It was a completely random story. Solomon blinked, but Lord Bawry paid no attention and continued.
“The trembling servant told the merchant: ‘I was in the market just now—’”
He had bumped into a woman among the crowd. When he turned to look, the woman was Death.
She threatened me! So please, lend me your fastest horse.
I will flee this city today, all the way to Samarra, where Death cannot find me!
“Taking pity on his servant, the merchant lent him his most prized horse. The servant fled safely to Samarra. Some time later, the merchant went to the market, found Death, and asked her:
‘Why did you threaten my servant this morning?’
“Death replied, ‘I did not threaten him. I was merely startled. After all—’”
I had an appointment with him in Samarra tonight. Seeing him in Baghdad simply surprised me.
Solomon listened to the story in silence. It was a fable he had heard before. The real question was why Lord Bawry was telling it to him now, of all times.
“…Why are you telling me this now?”
“Your tragedy began the moment you jumped on that horse and fled for Samarra!”
Lord Bawry cackled.
“…What?”
“You said you asked Lord Bernier for information on the Black Museum.”
“I did.”
“Unfortunately, Lord Bernier of the City Judicial Bureau’s Special Affairs Office has been missing for over four weeks.”
“…Did I mishear that?”
Solomon blinked. His heart plummeted. At first he couldn’t even process the meaning of the words. Or rather, he didn’t want to process them.
“His body was unearthed during construction early this morning.”
“Ah.”
Yet he had no choice but to understand.
“Furthermore, the corpse was swarming with flies rarely seen in these lands. They are known as ‘great king flies.’”
That name does not refer to the great king fly or assassin fly of the order Diptera. Strictly speaking, they are not even insects in biological classification.
They are tiny demons that swear absolute loyalty to their king from the deepest pits of Hell.
No wonder the name had felt so ominous. Solomon was speechless.
“King of the Flies…”
“Consider yourself lucky. At least Beelzebub is a demon who understands the dignity of a king.”
The dignity of a king. The words brought no comfort whatsoever. Because the fact that it was a king was the problem.
“I’m going to lose my mind.”
Even saying his heart had sunk felt insufficient. It felt like being smashed over the head dozens of times with a hammer.
The Lord Bernier who had visited Solomon that day, offering him a chance, had already been a fake from the very beginning. And Solomon, more excited than anyone, had eagerly spilled everything he knew about the Black Museum. He had created interest where there had been none.
“So, how was your ride on the Samarra express?”
“I want to open the window and jump out right now.”
The ever-polite Lord Bernier—or rather, the great king Beelzebub wearing his corpse—had said those exact words to Solomon.
— You will receive compensation from us beyond your imagination.
The paradox of the oracle. The appointment in Samarra. All the puzzle pieces finally clicked together. In the worst possible shape imaginable.
The warning the monocle-wearing elf broker Yuria had given Solomon had, paradoxically, become the very trigger that drove him into this crisis.
— We value your performance more than anyone… precisely the value of your ‘irreversible performance.’
The trigger had already been pulled. By no one else but his own two hands.
Directly.