The First Megacorp Request
The empire of the vampire lord, Vlad Tepes. Wallachia Co.
Surprisingly, their means of transportation did not involve bat wings sprouting from their backs, but rather a carriage drawn by four horses.
And those horses were not made of flesh, blood, and bone, but clad in brass and spring-driven muscles. Intricately woven steam pipes ran where veins should have been, and compressed valves throbbed like hearts.
An existence too elegant to be called a machine, too cold to be called a living thing.
“These are the steam horses that our Wallachia Co. prides itself on.”
Chairman Tepes introduced the four steam horses with evident pride. A coachman wearing a silk hat pulled low over his eyes opened the carriage door, and Solomon climbed aboard the Wallachia Co. carriage behind him.
Solomon and Vlad Tepes. A private meeting between just the two of them.
The carriage pulled by steam horses raced through the streets of the district, now a chaotic mess from redevelopment. Yet amid the uproar filling the avenues, no one dared lay a hand on their vehicle. Inside the cabin there was only an eerily profound silence and tranquility. Perhaps traveling in an expensive carriage truly did make all the difference.
“The ride is rather pleasant, wouldn’t you agree?”
“It’s incredible.”
Solomon answered as if the matter had nothing to do with him. Chairman Tepes gazed at the burning scenery beyond the window and spoke with clear enjoyment.
“From what I hear, you seem to have taken considerable interest in our organization.”
“……”
A sudden leap to the main topic. Solomon replied with more composure than ever, coldly feigning calm.
“The Black Museum, right.”
“Oh, what else could it be?”
“What’s your purpose in asking?”
“Well, let us call it a form of curiosity.”
Chairman Tepes continued with a gentle smile.
“To be honest, it is not common to become entangled with ‘us’ while living in this city. Ordinary people need not be mentioned, but even the so-called powerhouses or those of high station.”
“I suppose so.”
“Well, except for the occasional minor misfortune, of course.”
Occasional minor misfortune. Solomon couldn’t suppress a wry laugh as he answered.
“Nevertheless, you didn’t merely take an interest in our organization—you asked about it in an absolutely ‘proper’ way that leaves one speechless.”
Asked properly. That day, to the man who called himself Lord Bernier. About the Black Museum. And quite coincidentally, that man had not been Lord Bernier at all.
He was the very person in question—a Curator of the Black Museum and the Lord of the Flies… Beelzebub.
“I had terribly bad luck.”
Solomon answered, deliberately icy.
“They say it’s lucky to ask the name of the goddess who mocks and toys with our lives.”
Chairman Tepes chuckled in a cheerful voice.
“What I am curious about is not ‘who’ but ‘why.’”
Rather than how he had unluckily asked about the Black Museum in front of Beelzebub, the question was why he had asked at all. Solomon regained his composure like never before and answered.
“I simply happened to hear a rumor on the street.”
Deception Check
The vampire before him had not missed the agitation hidden beneath Solomon’s calm exterior.
“Ah, it’s a lie. The saddest and most pitiful way for the weak to protect themselves.”
“……You’ve quite the artistic flair.”
“Art is a nourishment that enriches and fattens life more than blood. It is my favorite aphorism.”
Solomon bit his lip hard. At least when estimating the level of “social interaction” against the opponent before him, clumsy attempts would likely prove useless. It was not purely a matter of combat strength. In eloquence, deception, insight—in every aspect, the being before him was overwhelmingly superior.
And from his experience in countless TRPG sessions, there was only one response to take before an overwhelmingly powerful entity.
“I received a prophecy.”
Do not play tricks.
“It was a prophecy that my life would be endangered at the hands of your organization, the Black Museum.”
“Oh, shall I guess? Who delivered that prophecy.”
Before Solomon could speak, Chairman Tepes continued.
“From the look of things, it must have been the lady oracle of the lake staying at the hotel.”
“Correct.”
“And to avoid that prophecy, you performed a high-risk request in exchange for the City Council’s protection……”
After speaking, Chairman Tepes chuckled with delight.
“In the process, you became irrevocably entangled with Mr. Beelzebub. Including the interest and scrutiny of quite a few of our fellow Curators.”
“……”
“Moreover, what you obtained by trying to evade the prophecy was merely three months of protection. No matter how one looks at it, it does not seem like a very profitable transaction.”
Tepes sneered as if the notion were absurd.
“Don’t you think it is truly a futile struggle?”
“I agree.”
To be honest, it was exactly as stated. When he had first heard those words, every desperate attempt to avoid the prophecy that his life would be endangered by the Black Museum had ultimately returned as a noose tightening around his own neck.
Now he had reached a point where, even if he wished to escape that organization called the Black Museum, he could not.
Yet he understood.
At the center of all this lay Solomon’s own narrative—one that even they did not know.
The joker card unknown to the being before him, to the Black Museum, and even to Beelzebub.
“Even so, I rather like that appearance of yours.”
At that moment, Tepes said something unexpected.
“What do you mean?”
“That desperate resistance against an evil that cannot be resisted.”
“……”
The words sent an involuntary chill across his skin.
It was by no means respect for the struggle or will Solomon displayed as a gentleman.
Rather, it was closer to the mockery of one looking down at a wriggling insect. A gaze of endless sadism, watching to see how far the bug before him could squirm and struggle.
He felt it to the marrow of his bones. No matter how plausibly the being before him packaged himself with dignity, decorum, and courtesy, the evil that could not be hidden beyond his flesh, blood, and bones. That very evil wriggled and throbbed with childlike curiosity.
“That is why this is an opportunity for resistance that I offer you.”
“Opportunity……”
Just then, the carriage came to a stop. As if waiting for the moment, the coachman opened the door. The face visible beneath the silk hat was also like the steam horses. It was not a human but an automaton moving through a combination of metal, pipes, and spring mechanisms.
Soon they alighted in MegaCorp Street of District 1, the very symbol of Guild City.
A world of super-giant corporations that transcended even the category of “great guilds.” In truth, the value of District 1 boasted more than the combined worth of the other nineteen districts.
In other words, the bourgeois who stood as actual competitors to the “Five Great Families” that had guarded magic since ancient times in Guild City’s Uptown were precisely the rulers of this District 1.
The bourgeois like the being before his eyes, Chairman Vlad Tepes.
And the headquarters of Wallachia Co. was, in one sense, in a very easy-to-understand form.
It was a blood-red monolith towering high into the sky like a skyscraper.
A demonic structure that felt particularly alien even in District 1, MegaCorp Street, where it was hard to believe this was a steampunk setting.
“Please, come in.”
Right in front of it, Chairman Vlad Tepes politely bowed his head toward Solomon.
“There is much for us to discuss—your ‘resistance,’ our business, and finally, the request.”
Solomon followed the path upward through the blood-red monolith. Surprisingly, he rode an ultra-high-speed elevator so smooth that even the 21st century would weep.
The office of Wallachia Co.’s leader, Chairman Vlad Tepes, was located there.
Rather than a corporate office, it was a Gothic-style interior exuding a distinctly antique atmosphere, as if a medieval lord would reside within.
Even in broad daylight the lighting was dim, and beneath the softly rising silver candelabra, black-and-white marble had been luxuriously installed. Medieval collectibles such as armor and swords were often visible among the decorations lining the walls.
Finally, beyond the luxurious reddish-brown table where he sat, a cross-shaped window offered a panoramic view of the cityscape.
“Please, have a seat.”
This was his empire, the throne permitted at its pinnacle. Solomon sat on the soft leather sofa across the table from him.
“As I mentioned, I would like to request one commission from you, Sir Solomon.”
There, the Wallachia chairman, Vlad Tepes, spoke.
“Of course, this request will be officially registered through the hotel. Therefore, I will make it clear that there is no concern of it being ‘absolutely impossible to fulfill or a trap.’”
A request registered through the hotel. In other words, since it carried the hotel’s guarantee, it was at least the minimum measure Solomon could place some trust in.
“You’re giving up that heart in exchange for this request?”
“To be honest, three months is simply too long.”
Chairman Tepes shrugged.
“Because food that should be fresh loses its flavor and taste.”
“No—after three months it will spoil and become inedible? Then why would I have any reason to carry out your request?”
“Revenge is a dish best served cold. …Even if it is not exactly a dish.”
At Tepes’ meaningful smile, Solomon remained silent.
“Besides, three months appears to be a truly ‘appropriate’ time for revenge to cool. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“……If you say so.”
In the end, it meant he needed to accept the request in order to resolve the man’s lingering grudge.
“Moreover, it is not such a bad story. After all, this will finally make you, Sir Solomon, a professional with experience receiving commissions from a super-giant guild—a megacorp.”
“Professional experience, huh.”
“In this city there are countless volunteers for the position of cleaner, yet most of them are fools who fail to realize they themselves are the trash that must be swept away.”
Vlad Tepes muttered with a sneer.
“Even at Hotel Snark, only an extremely small number of operators receive requests from the megacorps of District 1. In a sense, they could be called the true cleaners of this city.”
“I am truly honored.”
In the end, there was some room for compromise on Solomon’s part as well. Career experience mattered anywhere. This world was no different.
“So, I’d like to hear the details of the request now.”
“Oh, of course. It is not difficult. As always, I have only one request.”
Vlad Tepes said, revealing his greedy fangs.
“Gourmet cuisine.”
“You haven’t forgotten my conditions, have you.”
Solomon said.
“No matter what, I will not aid in your evil.”
“Oh, of course. Rather, this matter… should be called good rather than evil.”
“What do you mean?”
“The heart of a sinful man.”
Vlad Tepes said with a smile.
“You may or may not know, but lately there have been unsavory incidents in which prostitutes on Raspberry Street are being murdered.”
“……This is the first I’m hearing of it.”
“Because the Sword Watch is controlling information while conducting their search. They will likely catch him soon.”
“What do you want?”
“Hand that man over to me before they do.”
Hand that man over.
“More precisely, that villain’s… ‘sinful heart.’”
Vlad Tepes said.
“As I told you, even a sinful person possesses their own unique flavor. At least, becoming an ingredient would be a somewhat more ‘valuable end’ than vanishing inside a solitary prison cell or upon the execution platform.”
“……”
In short, the request was to catch the criminal before the city’s police organization and deliver him to him.
It did not sound like an easy request at first hearing. Nevertheless, he knew. The opponent was Wallachia Co., the megacorp among megacorps. Moreover, they were the very organization that knew every evil in this city like the back of their hand.
“You have information to track him, correct?”
“Oh, that is one of the greatest advantages of working with a great guild.”
Vlad Tepes smiled as if it were nothing surprising.
“I have already sent the additional materials to the hotel, so please review them there.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
With those words, Solomon rose from his seat.
“By the way, please do keep this in mind.”
As he stood, Chairman Tepes added in a cold voice.
“I am not one to tolerate failure.”
A request where failure could never be tolerated. Hearing those words, Solomon let out a hollow laugh.
Because it had always been that way.