The Dead Man's Commission
The sharp rap of knuckles against wood pulled me from sleep.
It was the next morning. I opened my eyes to the sound of knocking.
“Pardon the intrusion, Mr. Solomon.”
A voice came from beyond the door.
“A representative from the City Council says he has matters to discuss regarding your commission.”
“I’ll be right out.”
The City Council. So they’d finally come. I answered without a hint of surprise. I was already reaching for my clothes when the voice continued.
“Also, while you were asleep… your room grade has been upgraded. Your current room, 204, has been reassigned to 243. Please keep this in mind.”
“Understood.”
I’d been told that each floor of Hotel Snark held exactly forty-four rooms. The far end of the second floor. Even that was an unusually generous upgrade.
After finishing my preparations and stepping out of the room, I found the hotelier already knocking on the neighboring door. Beneath his immaculate uniform, bones rattled softly with every movement.
“Pardon me, Mr. Joseph. You have now exceeded the biological survival window for a guest who has not consumed any nutrients. Are you still alive?”
There was no answer. I didn’t bother paying it any more attention and kept walking. That was when the hotelier spoke again.
“Ah, Mr. Solomon. One moment, if you please.”
“What is it?”
“If the guest in room 244, Mr. Joseph, does not respond by midnight tonight… hotel regulations require us to forcibly open the room.”
“I see.”
The skeletal hotelier continued.
“Furthermore, should room 244 become vacant, your room will be adjusted to that location. Please bear this in mind.”
“……”
No matter how you looked at it, I wasn’t desperate enough to hope for someone’s death just to move one room number higher. I gave a noncommittal reply and continued on my way.
The tea lounge in the hotel lobby. That was where the City Council’s representative was waiting for me.
The commission to retrieve Dr. O’Neil’s soul.
The commission itself had been completed. But it was far from clean. Every single City Council agent who had come to collect O’Neil’s soul had been slaughtered by the Great King’s hand. On top of that, O’Neil’s soul had ultimately become bound to the Faceless Man and his “hotel.”
What that meant, I still didn’t know. But I was about to find out.
The tea lounge in the early morning was pleasantly quiet. The man was already there. At a glance, the word “bourgeois” might as well have been stamped across his face.
“Mister Solomon.”
A perfectly tailored swallowtail coat and silk hat that screamed luxury and elegance. Yet beneath them was a body so grotesquely fat that the fabric looked ready to burst, complete with a bulging belly. He wasn’t quite on Roche the pig’s level, but he still looked like he could put up a decent fight.
“You’re the City Council representative, right?”
“You may call me Baron Gould.”
I sat down at the table. The City Council representative, this pot-bellied bourgeois, took a refined sip of his black tea and spoke. Baron Gould. He flaunted the noble title attached to his name as if it were something to be proud of.
“I have come here as the proud representative of both the City Council and the bourgeois class.”
“Of course you have.”
“As I said, I am a very busy man with many important matters to attend to. The fact that I have gone out of my way to meet with you and speak like this… you would do well to show a little more respect.”
“I’m so honored I don’t know what to do with myself.”
I let out a dry laugh. Even so, I kept my expression neutral and played along with his nonsense.
“In the end, you did complete the commission. No matter how horrific the outcome, I will not deny that fact.”
“……”
“A promise is a promise. Business is business.”
“Glad we’re on the same page.”
The pot-bellied bourgeois, Baron Gould, continued. I didn’t deny that the commission had ended rather messily. Because it had.
“Therefore, in accordance with our contract, the City Council will extend its protection to you.”
“That’s good to hear. I’d like to hear the specifics of that protection in more detail.”
I said. Baron Gould pulled a single document from his coat and slid it across the table.
“The City Council’s protection will last for three months. During this period, there is one exception.”
Three months. Not short, but not exactly long either. No, it was longer than I’d expected. At the very least, it gave me enough time to come up with countermeasures against the threats hanging over me.
“And what would that be?”
“The City Council will not protect you from any threats you accept of your own ‘free will.’”
Baron Gould said.
“Oh, of course! A lowly, uneducated cleaner like you wouldn’t understand a difficult concept like ‘free will’! Please forgive me!”
“……”
“As a bourgeois and one who bears the duty of enlightenment, allow me to elaborate. Free will refers to any action you undertake according to your own desires—whether that be accepting a commission or harming yourself! Does that make it clear enough for an ignoramus like yourself?”
“Crystal clear.”
It was something I could have figured out without his condescending explanation.
“That is all I have to say.”
Baron Gould declared.
“I see. By the way, there’s one more thing I need to discuss.”
“What is it?”
“I need you to dispose of one more of those Detonation Runestones you gave me—or something equivalent from the Great War era.”
“……What?”
Baron Gould’s face twisted at my words. The distortion lasted only a moment. Then he burst into a laugh of pure disbelief.
“How absurd. Why on earth should we do that?”
“When I was carrying out the commission for the Haunting Family, I made a contract with them.”
“W-what did you just say…?”
I continued.
“A soul-binding oath. A geas, if you will.”
“!”
Deception roll in progress…
Of course, there was no such geas with the Haunting Family.
“The content of that geas is simple. In exchange for disposing of the Detonation Runestone I received, along with one additional weapon of equivalent power, they would hand over ‘Dr. O’Neil’s soul.’”
There had only ever been a verbal promise.
“……!”
“Whether it’s a nuclear detonation runestone or whatever the hell else, if I don’t get rid of one more, I die. That’s what it means.”
I said, not even blinking.
“I’m just an uneducated ignoramus, so I might be wrong, but this doesn’t seem like a situation where ‘free will’ really applies. You’ll protect me by doing at least this much, won’t you?”
“Y-you bastard…! Do you even understand what those things mean?!”
Baron Gould’s face flushed crimson, looking like he might explode at any second as he raised his voice.
“I understand perfectly.”
At that moment, a sound echoed from somewhere far away. The sound of dice rolling.
I instinctively recognized what those dice were.
Deception successful!
“Kgh……”
Baron Gould bit his lip in silence. No matter how furious he was, there was nothing he could do.
The concept of a faction’s “favorability” had nothing to do with the personal feelings the man before me held toward me. Since he had come to the hotel as my client, that fact clearly put me at an advantage.
“Don’t think for a second that we will forget this.”
“No need to forget it.”
I answered casually as I stood up, ending the conversation one-sidedly.
“Why forget? Remember it well. That way you can use it again the next time something comes up.”
“Kgh……”
Baron Gould’s hand trembled violently around his teacup, but he couldn’t utter another word. I left the silent baron behind and quietly exited the lounge.
The commission had been completed safely. I had obtained what I needed to obtain. Even if the conclusion wasn’t exactly clean, I no longer cared.
Because right now, only one thing filled my mind.
The City Council’s protection would last for three months. Excluding any threats I accepted of my own free will. Honestly, it was a rather ambiguous standard.
Still, for now, I had no choice but to trust it.
Another candidate who could protect me was Lord Bawry, the Sewer Magic Tower Master who claimed to be both my teacher and godfather as a mage.
Ever since our encounter with that unidentified creature in the underground waterway, he hadn’t shown his face once. As always. It wasn’t an urgent situation where I needed to track him down desperately.
When the time came, Lord Bawry would appear, just like he always did.
‘……This should be enough.’
The situation had been roughly sorted out. The threats that had been closing in on my throat had been temporarily resolved, and there were no commissions I needed to carry out immediately. Therefore, there was only one thing left for me to do.
Room 243.
‘……Let’s get some sleep.’
Sprawling out on the bed and letting my exhausted body recover from its fatigue.
* * *
Knock. Knock.
Midnight. The sound of knocking woke me once again.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
Even through the door, the stench of rotting corpses was unmistakable. When I opened it, a ghost wearing a hotel uniform stood in the doorway.
“It is with great honor that we confirm the death of the guest in room 244, Mr. Joseph. Accordingly, your room grade will be upgraded.”
“……Doesn’t exactly sound like something to celebrate.”
Even I wasn’t heartless enough to feel good about it. With that thought, I glanced at the neighboring room. Room 244. The door was already open. I had no particular desire to look inside, but—
“Additionally, due to the room grade adjustment, there are a few matters we must inform you of per hotel regulations.”
“What are they?”
“Since Mr. Joseph died while carrying out a commission, you, Solomon, as the new successor to room 244, are now obligated to take over and complete that commission.”
At those words, I let out a dry laugh.
“So in the end, you’re telling me to clean up someone else’s mess.”
The room grade upgrade was nothing more than a fancy facade.
“Of course, there are benefits as well.”
“Benefits?”
“Should you take over and complete a deceased guest’s commission, you will receive not only the original reward but also additional ‘performance points’ from the hotel.”
Performance points. I frowned at the suspicious name.
“The higher your performance points, the higher your hotel membership rank will become.”
“……”
“For reference, your current membership rank is the lowest—Bronze.”
Membership rank. I could roughly guess what the membership ranks provided by an assassins’ hotel meant. Just look at the room service I received.
Higher floors didn’t mean everything. It was a class system so thoroughly stratified in every possible way that even 21st-century capitalism would shed tears.
“Please note that while the commission itself can be refused, doing so will result in cancellation of the room adjustment as well as a performance penalty. We ask for your understanding.”
At the following words, I let out another dry laugh. It wasn’t zero becoming zero. It was a minus. In the end, this was the trust that Hotel Snark was built on. Faith constructed from blood.
“What will you do, Mr. Solomon?”
“……Do I even have a choice?”
“As I said, this is not coercion.”
The ghost in the hotel uniform said.
“It is a choice made entirely of your own ‘free will.’”
Its voice was laden with meaning. I remained silent. In this situation, how much of my “free will” could truly be considered free? It was impossible to tell.
“I accept.”
“Very well, Mr. Solomon.”
The ghost hotelier bowed its head.
“Then I will prepare the ‘room service’ for you immediately.”
It was the room service of the stranger next door—someone whose face I didn’t even know—who had died before he could finish his commission.