Iron Does Not Forget
Winter in the Limbus Pit, Part 4. The VIP room of Fleischhof, the finest restaurant and inn in D-Sector.
Inside the inn, where red lanterns flickered, a bizarre sound echoed.
Slurp!
"Kaaah!"
Wangcho was greedily devouring a plate of soup-drenched pasta with chopsticks. I had so much I wanted to say watching him, but I decided to hold my tongue.
At least swap the pasta out for actual noodles... please...
I turned my head away, feeling like I would suffer a qi deviation if I watched Wangcho any longer. There, Eri was dozing off, leaning against my shoulder. Looking at the soundly sleeping girl, I reviewed the events of the day.
It certainly was an eventful day.
I was fine, considering my mental age was well over forty, but it must have been a lot for young Eri to handle.
She worked so hard to act mature, far beyond her years.
From shooting a gun without hesitation to protect me, to finally casting magic. It had been an incredibly harsh day for a child.
Just then, Tao Chen, who had finished his pasta, picked at his fangs with a toothpick and spoke.
"Doctor. Did you say they sent someone from above?"
"Yes. Since Mr. Otto is in this state, the family is sending people to pick us up."
The distance between the Limbus Pit and Sanctum Hill was not something that could be covered on foot. Riding public transit in this situation was also madness, so we decided to wait quietly in the restaurant until the family's escort arrived. However, it seemed Wangcho had interpreted the news of the family sending someone in a slightly different way.
"Um... Doctor, if you don't mind me asking, what is your standing within the family?"
"Well, let's just say I cured the family head when he was hovering on the brink of death from a high fever."
"Hieeeek...!"
Wangcho still didn't know my real face, let alone my family or true identity. At this point, I was curious to see how long this misunderstanding would last, so I hadn't bothered to clarify.
And in a strict sense, it's not even a complete misunderstanding.
Am I a noble? Yes. Am I a personal physician? Yes. Do I have deep ties to the family? Yes. Except for the part about me being the young master, most of it wasn't a misunderstanding at all. And if you left out the fact that the noble family in question was a ducal house, the rumors were almost entirely true.
"Uh... I see..."
Wangcho's eyes rolled around. It was because of the sheer weight of the word 'noble.' Even a barony, the lowest tier among the nobility, was a walking disaster in the Limbus Pit. In this world where titles were determined by Tier, a baron was at least Tier 2. In these back alleys, where Wangcho, a Tier 1, ruled supreme all on his own, there was no point in counting any higher once you hit Tier 2. It was the same logic as how a civilian didn't need to distinguish between a nuclear bomb and a bullet—both would kill you instantly if they hit your bare body.
"So... is there any etiquette I should observe in front of them..."
Before Wangcho could even finish his sentence—
Tinkle.
Along with the cheap sound of a doorbell, the air inside the inn shifted. An elderly man with neatly combed white hair and an immaculate, wrinkle-free tailcoat stepped into the inn. It was Wilhelm, the head butler of our family.
The dignified butler's mere presence instantly transformed the atmosphere of the restaurant, which had still retained a somewhat savage air.
"Ah, Head Butler."
"Huh?!"
"As for etiquette... well, as long as you don't swear, you'll be fine."
The Wilhelm I knew wasn't a rigid man. He was strict during Eri's etiquette lessons, but that was only during class. Normally, he let it slide even when Eri spoke casually to me. ...Though he did occasionally sniffle and weep about how I finally had a friend, which felt like a slightly unpleasant misunderstanding. Regardless.
Besides, he's not some terrifying old man like in those typical clichés.
At first, I too had suspected Wilhelm was a hidden master. He looked like he might have swung a sword in his youth, or perhaps was highly skilled with monowires. But when I asked my father, it turned out the head butler hadn't risen to his position through martial might. He was originally a slum kid who delivered newspapers, but he had assisted my father so well with various administrative duties that he climbed to his current post. He wasn't the typical white-haired powerhouse you see in fiction, but a purely administrative genius.
So, there was no need for Wangcho to worry. In fact, there was a high chance the head butler would actually like the affable Wangcho.
"There's no need to be so afraid, so let's go."
Supporting Eri, I walked toward the head butler.
***
As Julian approached the head butler while supporting Erika, Wilhelm's eyes widened in surprise. But only for a brief moment. A warm smile returned to the butler's face as he guided Julian toward the carriage.
"Dr. Schnabel. Please, board the carriage first. I shall join you shortly after a brief conversation with this gentleman."
Wink.
The head butler gave a subtle wink out of Wangcho's line of sight. It was a signal that he would play along with Julian's act. Marveling at how he immediately picked up on the cue without a single word of prior coordination, Julian clicked his tongue in admiration, thinking that the intuition of a butler with decades of experience was truly something else.
With that, Julian and Erika boarded the carriage.
"Otto. You have done well. Once we return, I shall arrange for a healer immediately. As for the scar... my word."
The head butler murmured in admiration as he examined the wounds on Otto's face.
"...Is this treatment your handiwork, Doctor? You have pulled skin from another area."
"You can tell just by looking?"
"Haha. It is merely a trifling talent of mine. That aside, the procedure is artistic. At this rate, even a low-tier heal will leave no scar."
Hmph. Julian felt a swell of pride at the butler's praise. Indeed, one only sees as much as they know.
I was almost getting upset because no one had recognized my work until now.
While Julian boarded the carriage in a pleasant mood, the head butler helped Otto into the passenger seat. Then, he turned back toward Wangcho. The head butler addressed the boss of the Red-Light District in a gentle, polite tone.
"You must be Tao Chen, the boss of D-Sector?"
"...Yes, elder."
Wangcho quickly scanned the head butler, sizing him up. It was an instinctual habit bred from surviving in this gutter.
Tier 0. Barely bordering Tier 1, and no physical augmentations... none.
If a fight broke out, this was a helpless old man whose neck Wangcho could snap in under five seconds. Even the faint muscles felt beneath his tailcoat were nothing special—just an ordinary old man who was slightly healthier than average for his age. Yet, Wangcho did not make the mistake of judging Wilhelm solely by appearances.
He's a noble's head butler, which means he's practically the spokesperson for the family head.
Might was not everything in this world. Wealth, power, connections, political influence, intellect... The world was not so simple that a mere Tier 1 superhuman could act with reckless abandon based on physical strength alone. Therefore, Wangcho placed the head butler's standing slightly above Dr. Schnabel's. Unless Dr. Schnabel was a blood relative of the family head, there was no way a mere guest, no matter how valued, would rank higher than the head butler.
"I am deeply honored that an elder such as yourself would know of a wretch like me."
"Hmm."
The head butler scrutinized Tao Chen. After observing him for a few moments, he pulled an envelope from his breast pocket and handed it over.
"This is a small token of our gratitude for protecting our family's honored guest."
Plop.
The envelope was far too thin to be called a proper reward. He wondered if there was even a single gold coin inside. Thinking it was rather stingy for a noble, Wangcho peeked inside to check the contents. Instantly, his eyes bulged at the number of zeros written on the check inside the envelope.
"...!"
Holy shit. This is a 'small' token? They really live in a completely different world.
The words nearly spilled out of his mouth. Of course, since his neck was precious to him, he kept those thoughts firmly locked away.
"Th-thank you very much."
"Excellent. Usually, people of this region tend to suspect such goodwill first and refuse it. Seeing you accept it immediately without hesitation shows you are a fellow who understands proper etiquette."
You bet I do. The words almost slipped past Wangcho's lips. It was a lesson in etiquette he had learned the hard way when dealing with Dr. Schnabel's merchant guild in the past. What had they said back then? Doubting such a gesture was an insult to the other party, and depending on who they were, one had to be prepared to lose their head.
"I look forward to your continued assistance in looking after the doctor."
Leaving those words, the head butler turned around. At that moment, Tao Chen swallowed hard and called out to the butler's retreating back.
"M-may I ask if the noble lords themselves will be taking action regarding this matter? Or perhaps you will be dispatching an order of knights?"
At those words, the head butler's steps toward the driver's seat halted. He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Wangcho. A faint, almost amused smile played on the old butler's lips.
"Have you ever seen a noble dispatch a knight simply because they were bitten by a rat?"
"Th-then... are you going to overlook this matter?"
"A noble's sword and honor are not so cheap. However, one cannot simply stand by when a rat gets on one's nerves. When catching rats, one must leave it to the sweepers."
The old butler looked up at the sky. Snow was beginning to fall gently. A precursor to a heavy blizzard. Wiping away the sleet that had settled on his spectacles, the butler spoke.
"Ah, now that I think about it, this old man hasn't handled such matters in a long time and made an error in my work. I was supposed to prepare a guide to lead the sweepers, but I completely forgot."
Having finished cleaning his glasses, the old butler pointed to the envelope in Tao Chen's hand.
"Could I trouble you to guide those sweepers? If you complete the task successfully, I shall grant you the exact same amount once more."
Fuck. I've been hooked.
Was this his plan from the very beginning?
That single thought dominated Tao Chen's mind. This old man hadn't made a mistake in his work. He had planned this from the start. But it was too late to refuse now.
"U-understood."
"Thank you."
Click.
The head butler closed the driver's side door. Wangcho stared blankly at the departing vehicle. And an hour later, the 'sweepers' arrived.
"Sigh... This is why they say you should never mess with nobles..."
The moment he saw the faces of the arriving sweepers, Tao Chen let out a deep sigh.
***
Crunch, crunch.
The sound of combat boots treading on snow echoed through H-Sector. Tao Chen glanced sideways at the black-clad crowd following behind him.
The Merkur Grand Merchant Special Execution Department—the Ironclad Special Mobile Team... was it?
They were an incredibly alien presence, completely out of place in the chaotic streets of H-Sector. Black leather trench coats reaching down to their knees. Fedora hats pulled low to block the heavy snow, paired with goggles. Gas masks connected to the packs on their backs. And in their arms, they carried highly customized magi-tech weapons and firearms.
Just how much does all that gear cost?
Tao Chen sniffed unconsciously. It was a habit of his that flared up whenever he was in the presence of expensive items. Perhaps because they were high-end equipment maintained with premium oil, a pleasant scent tickled his nose. The more he calculated the value of those scents, the more Tao Chen felt the sheer unfairness of this world.
It's been a while since I've seen a merchant guild's private army tearing through the Limbus Pit.
In this empire, military force was the exclusive domain of the nobility and the imperial family. Those who knew all too well that power came from the tip of a blade would never allow anyone else to hold the hilt.
Yet, the nobles themselves couldn't actively deploy their own knights and private soldiers. A sword and armor engraved with a family crest were not things that could be sent just anywhere. If they dispatched a knight just because they were bitten by a stray dog, the knight's prestige would plummet to that level. Moreover, the cost-benefit ratio was terrible. On the other hand, they couldn't trust mercenaries who knew nothing of honor or loyalty.
To scratch that itch, capitalists began offering "grey zone services" to the nobility.
I remember some bastard from H-Sector messing with a noble in the past and causing a massive uproar... Sigh. Did these idiots learn nothing from that?
Hitmen, special task forces, security departments, external special operations teams... The names varied wildly depending on the nature of the merchant guild. But their essence as the guild's hunting dogs remained unchanged.
They served two main roles. First, to handle matters too dirty for knights and too risky for mercenaries—scratching the itch of those fastidious nobles. Second, to clean up the guild's dirty laundry while the noble looked the other way in return. And the reason the private soldiers were deployed this time fell squarely into the former category.
This is why I tell people to never, ever mess with nobles... Seriously, these gutter trash.
Tao Chen looked up at the sky. Heavy snow was pouring down as if trying to cover all the filth of the world. Yet, in stark contrast to the white sky, the black procession before him marched forward, trampling the snow underfoot.
Come to think of it, hasn't it only been a short while since the Merkur Merchant Guild grew large enough to hire private soldiers? You're telling me they built these monsters in just two years?
Organizing a highly loyal and well-trained private force required immense time and money. It was only natural. While handling all sorts of dirty work, they would inevitably learn the guild's dirty secrets; if their loyalty was low, those secrets would leak. Thus, only second-class grand guilds or higher, with abundant capital and infrastructure, possessed private armies. Most of those were established guilds with decades of history.
Yet, the Merkur Merchant Guild, despite being a newly emerged guild, had raised a private force that rivaled them. And in just two years.
Doctor... what on earth did you raise? Did you brainwash them or something?
Wangcho recalled the murderous intent that had washed over him just before leaving the restaurant. The moment they heard Director Schnabel had been attacked, their amber goggles had glowed a deep, blood red. It had sent a shiver down Wangcho's spine for the first time in a long while.
Individually, they aren't Tier 1, but when you combine their magi-tech gear and training...
If it were a one-on-one fight, Wangcho would barely scrape a victory. But if there were two of them, they would easily take his head. And now, these monsters were sweeping through H-Sector in entire units.
"Uh... aren't you guys cold?"
Tao Chen muttered, his breath puffing into white mist. But the men following him didn't even reply. There was no casual chatter, no pre-battle tension, nor any excitement at the prospect of slaughter. They merely stared straight ahead with dry, emotionless eyes behind their goggles. Only the occasional clinking of spare magazines and grenades against their chest armor broke the silence.
"Hold."
Suddenly, the commander at the front signaled with his hand. The twelve squad members behind him halted in unison. Without taking his eyes off the path ahead, the commander asked the empty air, "The guards?"
"Dealt with."
The answer came from a side alley.
Whoa, startled me.
A detachment that had appeared without a sound approached, dragging the limp bodies of red-nosed clowns. In their other hands, they held blood-stained daggers in a reverse grip.
"Then we continue."
Having merged with the detachment and grown to a force of twenty, the unit continued to march through the snow. As they headed toward the theater, curtains were drawn shut across the street windows. Before long, they arrived at their destination.
"We've arrived. That's the theater of those crazy bastards who are dying to laugh," Tao Chen said, adjusting his grip on the handaxe slung over his shoulder.
Although he had only been tasked with guiding them, Wangcho had no intention of just standing idly by. He had been crossed, so he had to pay them back to set an example. Since they had already discussed this, the commander didn't say much about it.
"21:58. Two minutes ahead of schedule. The guiding was clean. I will report this to headquarters. There will be additional compensation."
"Uh, thanks..."
*Clack.*
As if by prearranged signal, the simultaneous sound of magi-tech shotguns being pumped echoed through the blizzard. At the end of their gaze stood a dilapidated, massive building.
Lachenden Grand Guignol
It was a theater said to have been provided by a noble who was pleased with the artworks delivered by the Lachenden Carnival in the past. The commander stared silently at the faded sign of the theater.
"..."
"Commander?"
"...It is nothing. The objective is annihilation. Take no prisoners."
The commander's voice echoed from inside his gas mask. The two men standing beside him nodded and headed toward the entrance.
*Bang!*
There was no warning shot, nor any demand for surrender. The heads of the two clowns shivering at the entrance burst like ripe tomatoes.
"Deactivate stealth. We breach."
*Psssshhhh!*
At that signal, the mana furnaces strapped to their backs began to violently vent steam. Powerful magic engravings generally had terrible fuel efficiency. The Ironclad Special Task Force solved this drawback by carrying mana furnaces on their backs.
The steam venting from their backs flowed through tubes into their breathing apparatuses. Exhaling thick steam from the vents at his mouth, the commander led the way.
"Eisen vergisst nicht. (Iron does not forget.)"
"Eisen vergisst nicht."
Along with that chant, countless red lenses flooded into the dark theater.