The Junkie Fairy and the Conscience Bomb
“……You seem to know this fairy pretty well.”
“Know him? Every time I think about this piece of shit Oberon, my blood boils.”
Violet was openly grinding her teeth. Whatever grudge she held from the past ran deep.
Oberon. Yet another Oberon. Solomon recalled the title that should naturally accompany the name and asked again.
“Oberon? You mean the Fairy King Oberon?”
“Whoa, this mortal guy knows exactly where it hurts.”
At Solomon’s question, the hippie fairy ‘Oberon’ let out a dry laugh.
“Yeah, back in the day they called me king. Aigo, those were the times. The good old days. All the nice times are gone now. All thanks to those hell-bound, motherfuckers from the five great families~”
After laughing, he drooped his long, shaggy hippie hair and beard as if lost in nostalgia. The melodic, rambling tone of his voice was surprisingly—not just decent—actually quite beautiful. The fact that it was beautiful made it even more shocking.
“So, what kind of dirty work are you trying to drag an innocent fairy into this time?”
“You’re the perfect fit for this job. Trash like you is exactly what we need.”
“Damn, this big sis is being prickly again. Whew, all this stress is making me want to chant some magic. Let’s see, where did I put that spell…….”
Having said that, the druggie fairy pulled something out and began to chant his so-called ‘spell.’
Even by fairy standards it was tiny—almost too small to see clearly. It was a pouch. The kind used to hold powder, like a medicine bag.
The fairy pinched some of the powder with his fingertips, brought it under his nose, and snorted it hard.
“This is the spell for happiness! I am the great mage of love and peace! Ooooooh!”
“……You’re a fucking mess.”
It was clearly not his first or second time doing this. In a way, it even looked like proper spellcasting.
“I’ve seen every kind of magic from the bottom of the nine hells to the fairy realm, but I’ve never seen anything that beats this. What? The five great families of the beginning? They can all go straight to hell!”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what we’re here to talk about—the five great families.”
“Wait, did those idiots pick a fight with big sis’s workplace again?”
“……Pretty much.”
“Man, this is all because they don’t know how to cast the happiness spell. Those dumbasses who don’t even know the M in magic…….”
Violet cut into Oberon’s endless stream of nonsense.
“Enough with the drug talk. This man here is planning to rob one of those idiot great families’ mansions.”
“Oh shit.”
“We need a skilled guide. You in?”
Maybe his skills really were undeniable. The answer came instantly, without a second of hesitation.
“I might miss my own mom’s funeral, but I’d never miss a chance to fuck over a great family. If I had to choose between the two? Oh, sorry mom.”
“…….”
“…….”
Solomon was genuinely speechless and shut his mouth. This fairy seemed determined to disgrace his parents in every possible way.
“So, which great family are we hitting?”
The fairy, shining with the triple titles of junkie, trash, and unfilial son, asked. Solomon answered calmly.
“The Haunting family.”
“I don’t know what we’re stealing, but let’s rob those motherfuckers blind until even their ancestors’ souls are crying tears of blood! I’ll take the lead! You coming too, big sis?”
The moment he heard that, the fairy Oberon shouted with excitement.
“Watch your damn mouth.”
Violet answered with an incredulous expression.
“If a Sword Watch blade-user breaks into a great family’s territory, it won’t end with a simple clash.”
“You act like a blind old woman who can’t see a thing, but you’ve got a surprisingly girlish side. The type that only remembers manners when it’s convenient? Winning during the day and losing at night……”
“……Looks like you’re the one who needs some manners injected.”
Srrrng. The silent sound of a sword hilt sliding out of its sheath rang out.
“I brought several etiquette injectors just for moments like this.”
“No, big sis, that’s not what I meant…… I was just saying.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you all getting along so well.”
I’m not sure ‘getting along’ is the right term here.
Leaving the conversation between the two—or more precisely, the person and the fairy—behind, the medium Adina smiled and spoke.
“Then I’ll leave this child with you for a while.”
“My thanks.”
“Let’s go, mister!”
“…….”
It was like a mother leaving her troublemaker son at someone else’s house for a few days.
“May no threat in this world stand in the way of your future.”
And in a voice more mysterious than ever, laced with the enigma of foresight.
The next morning, Room 204 at Hotel Snark.
Knock knock.
At the sound of knocking, Solomon rose from his seat immediately. Yesterday had been an overwhelmingly busy day in more ways than one. As for whether he had gotten any decent sleep—yeah, right.
That damn alcoholic fairy bastard…….
He had drunk all the Clere Obscure vodka Solomon had saved for sleeping, scattered some unidentified glowing powder everywhere, and even while Solomon was trying to sleep, he had spent the entire early morning drunk, wailing and laughing hysterically. Solomon had nearly developed dark circles from it.
To make matters worse, the fact that such a tiny body could hold that much vodka was, in a sense, magic in itself.
“Room service.”
“……Yeah.”
With heavy dark circles and a haggard expression, Solomon opened the door. Just as expected.
When the zombie hotelier saw Solomon, the rotting flesh under its chin twitched.
“You don’t look well. Was the bed uncomfortable?”
“An unwelcome guest showed up.”
“Oh…… my condolences.”
Sure enough, the zombie hotelier was standing in front of the door with a cart piled high with various items.
“In addition to the mission details, we have prepared supplies that will assist with stealth operations. Please review them thoroughly.”
“My gratitude.”
The zombie hotelier wheeled the fully loaded cart into the room. Solomon immediately examined the room service contents, starting with the list of equipment that would help with the mission.
The five great families—at least with Solomon’s current abilities, confronting them ‘fair and square’ would be suicide.
Fortunately, this mission didn’t require that. If it went well, it was supposed to be a peaceful request where no one would end up with a hole in the back of their head.
The supplies provided by the city council for the request had been prepared solely for that purpose.
The first things that caught his eye were two types of potion vials.
A small glass vial kit. Sets of five ampoules each containing blue and purple liquids, sealed and labeled with their effects and instructions.
The blue one is a top-grade invisibility potion.
It wasn’t the degraded level 2 spell used by the stealth coat. Nor was it even the original level 4 invisibility spell. It was a full-powered level 6 enhanced invisibility spell with the ‘top-grade’ modifier attached.
The purple one is ruinous poison.
It looked like it was meant to be applied to weapons or crossbow bolts on the spot. Ruinous poison. From the name to the color, it was desperately advertising that this was no ordinary toxin.
They had called it a ‘peaceful’ request where, if things went well, no one would get a hole in the back of their head. Suppressing the chuckle rising in his throat, Solomon continued examining the equipment they had provided.
An ancient webweaver kit?
It was a toolbox containing items with the exact same name and type as the one he already owned. However, it wasn’t hard to guess the value of the two additional letters attached to it.
It really is strange. The wheel of history rolls forward, yet so many things in this world claim they work better when the wheel rolls *backward*.
Myths, legends, epics…… of course the ancient ones cannot be excluded.
Ancient grappling hook wire, ancient auto-spider set of seven varieties, ancient portable cutter…… At this point it felt like he was going ancient himself.
It could be considered a historical upgrade to the webweaver kit he had received before. In any case, he could only hope it lived up to the name.
And finally…….
A single stone engraved with indecipherable hieroglyphs.
“Oh, it’s a massive detonation runestone.”
The unwelcome fairy guest approached as if he had been waiting and spoke.
“Massive…… what?”
The name sounded dangerously explosive at first glance, so Solomon frowned.
“I must have misheard.”
“You heard right. Did you really think those bourgeois bastards would leave evidence lying around saying ‘please catch me’?”
The fairy Oberon cackled.
“Even if you fail, this explosion can blow everything away. Nice and clean. I like it.”
The best way to solve a problem is to remove the problem itself.
And this massive detonation runestone…… looks like it can *remove* quite a lot of problems.
“This is ridiculous.”
Solomon stared at the runestone in genuine disbelief. Now that he looked closely, the engraving was glowing an ominous, fiery red. It didn’t seem suitable to leave around the room, and carrying it on his person was even less appealing.
“Whoa, there are usage instructions written here too! Let’s see…… it says it’s set to explode ‘conscientiously’ if the request fails?”
“If the request fails? How the hell would they even know that?”
“That’s the beauty of a geas.”
Still cackling, Oberon pointed at one of the documents left with the room service.
“I told you. It explodes conscientiously.”
“……What?”
The talk of ‘conscientiously’ wasn’t just empty words.
The Requestor (hereinafter “Redacted”) enters into the following geas with the contractor from Hotel Snark (hereinafter “Contractor”) prior to commencement of the request.
1. “Redacted” shall not, under any circumstances or for any reason during the execution of the request, cause harm to the “Contractor.”
2. The “Contractor” is obligated to carry the Massive Detonation Runestone at all times during the request…… (omitted)
The Massive Detonation Runestone will detonate solely in response to the “Contractor’s powerful conviction that the request has failed.”
3. The protective clauses provided as success compensation for the request are not included in this geas.
It was exactly as written. Solomon’s conscience would rather trigger a massive, clean explosion and physically remove every ‘problem’ than tell a lie.
“……This is going to give me cancer.”
“What are you worried about? They said they’ll fix you up later.”
Finally, to begin the request, he was told he must drop his blood on this suspiciously shady contract and swear to uphold it.
Solomon swallowed the nausea rising in his throat and continued reading the contents.
Confidential Infiltration and Asset Recovery
📍 Target: Soul of Dr. O’Neill, the Corpse Fusionist
📍 Location: Uptown, Ancient Moon Street, Secret Mansion owned by the Haunting Family
🎁 Note: If coordinates are recalibrated to the spirit realm, refer to the following:
Ghosttown… Dorset Square… 221B Baskerville Street…
「The Black Hound Specter’s Mansion」
The recovery location was a secret mansion owned by the Haunting family. One of the five great families’ estates. The Haunting family, representatives of mediumship and necromancy—the literal mansion of the soul binders.
Although the explicitly written location was ‘Ancient Moon Street’ in Uptown, the reality was different.
Its very nature seemed far removed from a mansion that existed in ordinary form.
A spectral mansion built upon the gray zone between life and death—Ghosttown. Exactly the same principle as Hotel Snark.
That was the destination where Solomon would now go to carry out the request. And the information stopped right there. At this point, there wasn’t even a one hundred percent guarantee that Dr. O’Neill’s soul or whatever was actually inside the mansion.
Passing through Ghosttown to infiltrate the mansion of the great family that best understood and manipulated souls throughout Guild City, then stealing a ‘notable item.’ Looking at it this way, the probability of success didn’t seem particularly high.
The massive detonation runestone, burning fiercely and aggressively asserting its presence, was proof of that.
And the partner who was essentially being entrusted with Solomon’s life in this matter…….
“By the way, if it looks like the runestone is about to explode conscientiously, give me a heads-up.”
“Why?”
“What kind of question is that? A living fairy needs to stay alive. Did your conscience explode or something?”
“……I don’t know about my conscience, but my patience is definitely about to explode.”
He felt like tears might actually come out.