The Perfect Bathroom Clean
Squish.
A commission is the purest expression of a client's desire.
Because a commission can't help but contain that desire.
That's why the Full Moon never bothers to ask for a client's identity.
There's no need to ask — you can deduce everything from the contents of the job itself.
There was even a dedicated manual for reading a target through their commission. It held hundreds of worked examples, prepared for every conceivable situation.
One thing it did not cover, however, was cleaning a bathroom.
Did he deliberately twist the order just to skirt the manual?
That man had known everything from the Servant Worm down to Raven's own number. Of course he'd know the manual existed.
Highly likely, then, that he'd twisted the instructions with the manual in mind. No one would ever approach a Full Moon operative just to have him scrub a toilet.
Hah. Then let me return the favor — and map out every inch of you.
Raven tightened his grip on the oversized mop, his face set like stone.
Caaw.
A crow's cry echoed from somewhere nearby. It was Raven's signal — the commission was complete.
That was fast.
I headed straight for Seban, squad leader of Unit 9.
"The bathroom's already cleaned? Really?"
Seban looked Milo up and down, his eyes openly skeptical.
Milo shot me an anxious glance. I gave him a small nod.
"It's— it's done, I'm telling you, it really is!"
"...Milo. If you've been slacking off again, I will report you to Hanswel personally."
Seban's warning was sharp and pointed. So he'd slacked off before too, apparently. I marveled at how Milo heard the exact same lecture everywhere he went.
"I'll verify it myself, right now."
Seban climbed the stairs at a brisk pace, and a nervous Milo shuffled up beside me.
"You're sure this is going to be alright?"
"Don't worry. I left it to a professional."
"Huh? When did you leave it to anyone?"
Just then, Seban arrived in front of the third-floor bathroom. With practiced ease, he pulled a stack of documents from the bag slung at his hip — a checklist detailing every bathroom cleaning requirement.
Documents in hand, Seban entered the bathroom wearing the exact expression of a Michelin inspector.
"...Huh?"
Seban's hawk-like eyes twitched violently. His mouth hung open, slack and stupid, just like Milo's.
Thunk. The documents dropped to the floor.
What the hell?
I followed him inside — and was greeted by pristine, blinding white.
The toilets, the sinks, the mirrors — not a single one had been missed. Not a speck of dust anywhere, as if everything had been purchased that very morning. It looked like the entire bathroom had been rebuilt from scratch.
"Th- this is... the bathroom-cleaning professional?"
Milo mumbled in a daze. At that, Seban finally came back to his senses.
"W- well, I still have to verify it."
He gathered up his papers and combed through every corner of the bathroom. He even got down on his knees to check behind the toilets — and found not so much as a mote of dust.
The sharpness in Seban's eyes softened by half.
"Flawless. In my entire career as a guard, I have never seen a bathroom cleaned this perfectly. It's... it's a moving bathroom clean."
Seban's voice trembled with awe. On the checklist in his hand, he didn't draw a circle next to the items — he drew hearts. He was thoroughly, deeply moved.
Then, without warning, Seban seized my hand.
"You are not a man who belongs in Unit 42. Come to my squad. I can even make you my vice-squad leader."
Seban's proposal came with an uncomfortably intense stare. Milo frantically knocked the man's hand away.
"You son of a— what the hell is this?!"
"Out of my way, Milo. That talent doesn't belong in a trash bin like Unit 42."
"W- well, sure, Unit 42 IS trash! But that doesn't make this right!"
"That's not what 'that doesn't make it right' is for. New recruit — join my squad and I'll give you the finest treatment. Immediate appointment as vice-squad leader, of course."
Seban clamped down on my hand. Milo looked at me with glistening, pleading eyes.
I clicked my tongue and declined.
"I appreciate the offer, but I must refuse."
"A shame. Truly not a man for Unit 42, are you. If your heart changes, contact me anytime."
Seban accepted the rejection with cool grace.
Scouted because I was too good at cleaning toilets. He'd even offered me a vice-squad leader position.
I had never heard such bullshit in my life.
Still, winning over Seban — the man in charge of the male dormitory — was a genuine windfall. I'd just carved myself a convenient route in and out of that building.
"You're free to clock out. We run on pure merit here — once the work is done, so is your shift. If you ever change your mind, say the word. Any time."
Seban made his pitch one final time and withdrew. Milo, who had been warily eyeing Seban the whole while, jumped in with urgent haste.
"Unit 42 doesn't lose to anyone either! So our squad's strong points are— ah crap, what ARE our strong points?"
"That's enough. I have no intention of joining another squad."
"Phew—."
Milo clutched his chest in relief, then tilted his head and asked,
"But why not go?"
"What do you mean, why not?"
"It's hard for me to say this, but... our squad IS garbage, isn't it? Bad image, nothing but grueling work, and the other squad members give you the cold shoulder. Damn it all — we're even more garbage than I thought!"
He wasn't wrong. Life would be far easier in a different squad.
But I had no intention of transferring.
Because the villains are all in Unit 42.
Republic executive Evelyn, the Saintess of the Outer God Scarlet, the Spear Ghost Ludrik, the barbarian Volcan — every heavyweight villain in this academy was packed into Unit 42.
Keeping them close was simply how you made sure you could deal with them the moment things went sideways.
"I'll, uh... I'll do my best to win the others over for you."
Milo said it with the face of a dog desperately needing to relieve itself.
"Win them over?"
"Well— the cold-shoulder thing, you know. I'll have a nice talk with them."
"Wait, was I being ostracized?"
"...Huh?"
"Kidding."
"Hahaha! Right! You're pretty good at jokes! Haha!"
Milo laughed so hard he clutched his belly.
I honestly couldn't care less how the Unit 42 members treated me. However much they froze me out, to me it barely counted as affection.
That said, I had no intention of just letting it slide, either.
Time to start reeducating them, bit by bit.
Just then, I felt a prickling gaze from somewhere — Raven. Now that he'd received his Assassination Coupon, he seemed to be angling for his chance.
His killing intent was subtle enough that an ordinary man would never have noticed it. But I was not an ordinary man.
Where I'd served, missing even the faintest flicker of killing intent meant losing your head. An intent of this caliber was practically a man standing on a rooftop shouting I'm going to kill you! through a megaphone.
Good.
I smiled with satisfaction at the killing intent drilling into the back of my skull.
A healthy dose of bloodlust does wonders for the circulation.
"Second order. Keep watch on Evangeline, and if anything goes wrong, send a signal."
Caaw!
A short crow's cry rang out. Raven acknowledging the order.
"Huh?"
Milo blinked dumbly at me.
"Not you."
"There's someone else here besides me?"
"Classified."
"Ugh."
Milo didn't even bother throwing a fit anymore. I chuckled and waved him off.
"Just go home and rest."
"Already?"
"What do you mean, already? The sun's setting."
Milo pointed at the sky, where the sun hung low on the horizon.
Apparently I'd spent far more time on Raven than I'd thought.
"Think they'll put you on night shift tonight too?"
"Probably. Scarlet will keep running me into the ground until she gives up. ...I'll try to put a stop to it, though."
Milo declared this with a face of grim resolve. I narrowed my eyes at him.
"Why on earth would you stop it?"
"Huh?"
"They're offering you night shift, and you want to fight it?"
"Come on, working mornings AND nights back to back? Isn't that just brutal?"
"THIS counts as brutal to you?"
The question was entirely sincere.
Even with a morning shift running straight into a night shift, there was time in between. More than enough to rest. This was supposed to be exhausting?
The boys on the front lines would have vomited blood hearing it.
"Under no circumstances are you to stop it."
I meant every word. Today was the day of the event that followed the entrance ceremony, after all.
"...Why are you so eager about it?"
Milo asked, dead serious.
Plenty of answers came to mind. But there was only one that mattered.
"Classified."
"Goddamn it!"
Milo stomped his feet in frustration.
"I'm sleeping tonight. I am WAY too tired."
"Did anyone ask you to stay? People might get the wrong idea if they heard you."
"Y- yaaaaagh!"
Milo foamed at the mouth.
Disgusting.
"Good work out there, kiddo."
When I got back to the guard quarters, Scarlet was there to greet me.
She held out the customary cup. A harsh reek of liquor rolled off it — and threaded through that reek, faint but unmistakable, the smell of actual poison.
So it's truly a deadly brew.
I took the cup and downed it in one swallow.
Scarlet's dangerous eyes studied me, hope glinting in their depths. I gave her a thumbs-up.
"That sharp kick is exquisite. Thank you for the drink."
"...Glad it suits your taste."
"I look forward to tomorrow as well."
"Uh... right."
The corners of Scarlet's eyes twitched. As she began to retreat, I hastily caught her.
"You're not assigning me to night shift?"
"N- night shift? Of course you're in."
"Wh- what kind of shifts are there?"
"Nights, it's back gate security and patrol— wait, why do you even want to know? Normally you'd just go in when you're told to go in."
Scarlet narrowed her eyes.
"So. Where am I going in?"
"...Back gate security. With Volcan."
The barbarian Volcan was the earliest-firing villain in all of Unit 42.
And she was pairing me with that Volcan for back gate security.
"Excellent."
"Th- that's... good? D- don't act tough— tch. Head straight to your post once mealtime's over."
And she was even giving me a meal break, no less.
Since when did guards have work-life balance this good? No wonder the game version got chewed through so easily.
"Do I even need a separate meal break?"
"What?"
"Can't I just eat while I work?"
Scarlet's expression flickered with bewilderment at my question — but only for a moment. Her signature smile snapped back into place.
"Take that up with Milo. You two are going in together."
"Understood."
I nodded along smoothly.
"...Eh?"
Milo blinked at me, dumbstruck.
The barbarian Volcan was a villain from the early stages of the game.
Volcan blew the Academy's back gate to pieces — and through that shattered gate, the Wanderers came pouring in.
The "Wanderers" were one of the Ten Enemies of the Empire — the persecuted minority tribes of the realm.
Their one and only goal was freedom.
The problem was that their idea of freedom differed considerably from what ordinary people imagine.
The freedom the Wanderers craved was wildness.
A lawless state of nature, where might alone was law — that was what they wanted.
To a Wanderer, everything that was not himself was a target for plunder. They robbed even each other.
It was why even the other Ten Enemies refused to have anything to do with them.
And Volcan himself was simply, overwhelmingly strong.
He possessed a berserker trait that made him explosively stronger the more his stamina drained — and on top of that, his raw physical stats were top-tier in their own right. The combination of the two made him nightmarishly difficult to stop in the early game.
Needless to say, none of that applied to the current me.
In the game, Volcan had been a horrifying creature — coated head to toe in dried blood, intestines draped around his neck like a necklace, swinging his fists without saying a single word.
We'd be working side by side, so Volcan was bound to come at me eventually — and I planned to use that as my opening to reeducate him, same as I had Milo.
A clean, flawless plan.
Except—
"I hear you were thrown straight into the night shift on the heels of your morning duty. Being new here is hard enough as it is — you must be worn through. I shall take the watch myself, so go and rest your eyes a while."
The problem was that Volcan was an absolute gentleman.
I was utterly dumbfounded.
"Damn it all! Hellspawn! Then why am I on night shift—!"
Milo looked equally stunned.