Whispers in the Haunting Manor
The underground passage stretched endlessly, with no end in sight.
The humidity rose thicker and more oppressive than it had outside, heavy enough to make the air feel like it was closing in. Even though they had stepped indoors—just like inside Hotel Snark—Solomon could not remove his gas mask. He could sense the ‘air of death’ that clung to this place all too clearly.
The rats that occasionally scurried through the dark, damp floor beneath his feet carried no warmth of living creatures. They were more like rat ghosts, translucent soul-like entities whose bodies you could see straight through.
Just then, a faint breeze brushed across the top of his head.
He glanced upward. A ventilation shaft covered by a rusted iron grate hung high above him. Solomon climbed using his grappling wire and magnet spikes, then sliced through the grate with a portable laser cutter. All of the tools, naturally, bore the word ancient in their names.
It wasn’t just rusted iron.
He had assumed it was ordinary corroded metal, but on closer inspection the material held a deep, dark luster from the beginning. It was fixed in place as a single piece with no visible screws.
Insight Success!
Shadow Mithril
That was why the item had been provided. The standard webweaver kit would never have cut through it. On top of that, the shaft itself ran straight upward; without the proper equipment, even entering would have been nearly impossible. Fortunately, none of those limitations applied to Solomon right now.
“Wow, look at you. A proper little thief now, huh? Mommy must be so proud.”
“……”
The fairy fluttered lazily beside him as he climbed in silence, wings flapping without a care. Solomon swallowed the rising blood pressure and did his best to ignore the comment.
After climbing for some time, the shaft shifted from vertical to horizontal. Solomon crawled forward on his stomach. The damp, moldy smell gradually faded, replaced by the scent of old furniture and parchment.
He reached a metal grate where light and shadow intersected and peered down into the room below.
No signs of people.
Through his darkvision he saw only endless rows of bookshelves and tomes. Nothing else. There were not even any windows.
Regrettably, he could not see beyond the walls. Even though the distance was still within effective range, something blocked him. Perhaps the walls themselves carried special magical treatment. Soon enough, another insight roll gave him the answer.
Insight Success!
Wall Impenetrable by Scrying Magic
It changed nothing. Solomon immediately set to work.
The grate, like the previous one, was fixed in place with no screws to remove. He cut through it with the ancient-enchanted laser cutter once more and was about to drop down when—
“Wait.”
The fairy Oberon broke his silence and stopped him. His voice had grown unusually low.
“■■■─!”
That same bone-chilling wolf howl rang out. This time it was very close. Soon a silhouette resembling a hunting hound phased straight through the wall.
Black hound!
Solomon held his breath.
The hound that had passed through the wall continued on, slipping through the bookshelves as if they were nothing. It circled the room a few times before vanishing through another wall the same way.
“Those things…”
“Did you already forget this is the mansion of those black dog-bastard specters? What, you gonna play the noble gentleman and just waltz around?”
The fairy added, “Best not get too close to them. Transparency spells and all that shit won’t work if they’re right on top of you. Oh, and definitely don’t even think about stabbing them in the back.”
As expected, this would not be easy. Still, the one silver lining was that this vulgar fairy guide was apparently worth trusting with his life.
“They’re not patrolling the entire mansion all the time, right?”
“Don’t worry too much. I’ll let you know before they show up.”
“You can tell when they’re coming?”
“Yeah. Those black dog-bastards give off a distinct ghostly stench.”
So he could smell them.
“I may not look it, but I get called a bigger son of a bitch than any dog on a regular basis.”
“……”
Whether that was something to brag about was debatable, but Solomon chose not to comment. When he thought about it, the fairy was probably right.
At any rate, Solomon dropped down safely. He began examining the room and gathering information.
Countless books overflowed from the shelves. It didn’t seem wise to browse them carelessly, but he cautiously picked one up and opened it.
Insight Failed
The text was some kind of twisted, archaic script he couldn’t even begin to read. Without understanding the letters themselves, no amount of insight bonuses would help.
“Ack, my eyes! It’s some Arthur and Mordred erotica!”
At that exact moment, Oberon cried out from behind Solomon in genuine horror.
“And that damn beefcake king is the bottom!”
The instant Solomon heard that, he slammed the book shut and shoved it back onto the shelf.
“You can read this stuff?”
“What, you think a fairy can’t read the fairy language?”
“I’m looking for useful information. Any valuable books here?”
“All I hear are the screams, howls, and death cries of trees, man.”
“……”
“Books these days have no roots. No roots at all. There used to be an age when tree spirits fought each other for the honor of becoming pages.”
Oberon spoke with clear nostalgia.
“Back then everyone was begging to be chopped down first. Then metal movable type came along… Whoever invented that bastard is definitely burning in hell.”
It was an old story Solomon had no interest in. He left the shelves behind in silence and approached the closed door.
Because darkvision could not pierce the wall, he had no idea what lay beyond. The possibility of running into someone other than the hounds could not be ruled out.
He took out the Nightfall automatic crossbow he had stored on his belt. Then he removed all the bolt cartridges he had prepared in advance. Each cartridge had a special chamber where poison could be applied to inflict status effects. He took out the vial of Doom Poison he had readied earlier and let a few drops fall inside.
Drip. Drip.
Only a few drops. Invisible to the eye. Since he was working while invisible, he had to do it by feel.
This should be enough.
He loaded three cartridges of bolts laced with the Doom Poison into the Nightfall crossbow. He set the multi-shot slider to single fire. He still did not know the poison’s exact effects, but it was clearly no ordinary toxin.
Creak.
He opened the door with extreme care. A long, straight corridor stretched ahead. As expected, there were no signs of life. Solomon moved through the interior of the old-fashioned mansion with caution but without hesitation.
— Hic… sob, sob.
Then a sound came from behind one of the doors lining the hallway. It was different from the hounds’ howls. It was weeping.
At first it sounded like a woman. Soon, from the other rooms, came the cries of both men and women. It was like a stereo broadcast of sobbing ghosts.
“This sound…”
“Souls held in hock by those bastards,” Oberon said, as if it had nothing to do with him.
“Well, it’s all their own fault, so don’t bother worrying about it. Selling their souls because they had nothing else to pawn.”
“……They sold their souls?”
“Yeah. A soul cannot be bound by another unless the owner explicitly consents via geas. Not even the Great Kings of the Nine Hells can do it.”
The drug-addict fairy’s voice had grown sharp and heavy, completely unlike his usual tone.
“A soul can only be dirtied by its own hands.”
“So it’s possible if they do it themselves.”
“Exactly. There’s only one way to rob a soul of its freedom—by throwing it away with your own two hands.”
The cold sneer continued.
“Isn’t it ironic? Giving up your free will of your own free will?”
The Haunting Family is a prestigious house of mediums and necromancy… and at the same time, a family of loan sharks. A soul is one of the most common forms of collateral they accept alongside the debtor’s flesh.
The narrator’s explanation followed. Solomon frowned silently.
He didn’t know the details, but it seemed those sobs belonged to debtors who had ‘sold their souls.’ The mansion itself was apparently a repository for the souls that had fallen into the family’s grasp.
“So when you say Dr. O’Neil’s soul is trapped here, it means he willingly gave up his own soul’s freedom?”
“That’s right. I don’t know what he traded his soul for, but there are no exceptions.”
Honestly, what Dr. O’Neil had traded his soul for was irrelevant to Solomon. What truly concerned him was the circle of powerful figures surrounding the mad scientist.
First of all, the one who gave me that request wasn’t Lord Bernier.
Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies. And during the mission itself, a mage belonging to one of the five great families of Uptown had even revealed himself in person.
Even after Solomon killed him, both the City Council and that swordswoman Violet remained obsessed with Dr. O’Neil. Just like the five great families. The situation was far from over.
Just what the hell is inside that bastard’s head?
At this point, his curiosity as a ‘player’ could not be helped.
「They say it could flip the entire City Council upside down. It won’t end with just a few of the bigwigs stepping down…」
That was what the necromancer from the Four Districts’ Necropolis Guild had said. After recalling those words, Solomon continued moving.
Whether he liked it or not, the answer to that curiosity was waiting somewhere ahead.
Before long, Solomon reached the corner at the end of the corridor.
The hallway turned at a right angle there, cutting off his line of sight. As he drew closer, he clearly felt the air change.
An open sensation. The narrow corridor ended, revealing a wide staircase that rose and fell, along with a hall visible beyond the cloister.
“!”
Solomon carefully hid his body behind a marble pillar along the wall and quietly observed the scene.
Beneath the fading light of a chandelier, two silhouettes stood out. A man and a woman, both wearing aristocratic, old-fashioned robes. It was not hard to guess that they were mages of the Haunting Family.
They look like they’re secretly plotting something suspicious.
Despite the way his heart sank the moment he saw them, Solomon calmly remained hidden behind the pillar and watched their movements. This might actually be fortunate. Rather than wandering the mansion with zero information, overhearing their conversation could provide a clue.
“What happened to Dr. O’Neil’s soul?”
“The problem is, right after his death his soul spent quite a long time in ‘Hell,’ so—”
The woman asked for the situation; the man answered and reported.
“It appears he suffered fairly intense torture from the demons during his stay… Due to the shock of falling into Hell, he has difficulty recalling memories.”
Clue Acquired!
Fallen Into Hell
“A shame. We should have recovered him sooner.”
“And—this is difficult to say, but… the Great King has proposed a deal regarding the matter.”
An unexpected name. Solomon quietly held his breath.
“A deal?”
“Yes. He claims to know the information inside O’Neil’s head… and demands a certain form of cooperation in exchange for sharing it.”
“Cooperation. What exactly did that slippery demon bastard ask for?”
The female mage, who appeared to be the superior, asked coldly.
“It seems he is searching for a soul. One whose life or death is not even clear.”
“One of the Great Kings of Hell is searching for a single soul that may or may not still be alive?”
“Yes. And the soul he is looking for happens to be—”
“Stop dragging it out and speak.”
“This is truly disrespectful, but…”
The male mage spoke with great reluctance, his voice extremely cautious.
“It appears to be the soul of that illegitimate child the Lord of Veil sired with a prostitute.”