Ch.126Request Log #012 – Night of the Mafia (7)

I picked up my hat, dusted it off, and put it on. I also picked up the brass knuckles from beside the Orc bodyguard who was still on the floor, clutching his twisted knee and trembling, and slipped them into my pocket.

The Orc was quite determined. Even with his knee in that condition, when I went to retrieve the knuckles, he lunged at me as if he wanted to tear my wrist off with his unbroken tusks.

It wasn’t difficult to dodge him even when he was running on two legs, so avoiding him when he was throwing himself with just his arms was even easier. I snatched the knuckles and slipped away. I was beginning to respect bullfighters a little.

I lightly stepped on the Orc’s twisted knee as he tried to turn. Though I only applied light pressure, it certainly wouldn’t feel light to the one being stepped on.

“A failure is a failure. Rather than struggling with a broken body and living as a cripple for the rest of your life, wouldn’t it be better to call an Ogre who can still stand and get yourself to a hospital?”

What else could change a person if not pain and fear? They had the side effect of making people age too quickly, but few things changed people as easily as those two.

I ground my heel into his knee once more. I looked down at him as he gritted his teeth, seemingly determined not to scream pathetically. It was no longer my responsibility or my concern.

I left the gym. A young Dwarf delivery boy had been watching the brawl through the window, but when I came out, he pretended he hadn’t been looking and hurried away.

He looked about thirteen or fourteen—the age when fighting seems cool. If that hadn’t been the case, I would have chosen factory work instead of joining Blingkerton as an odd-job man right after graduating school at fourteen.

I ignored him and returned to my car. I pulled the acceleration lever with the Goblin thrown onto the passenger seat. It was time to return to Little Eire. The Morrígan would be curious why I’d brought a Goblin in workout clothes.

I wasn’t interrupted on the way to Little Eire. The street of pleasures revealed its true face in the morning sunlight. It showed its ordinary appearance, without fantasy or sparkle.

After stopping in front of Bar Reno, I carried the still unconscious Goblin on my back and approached the bar’s doormen. They now wore slightly anxious expressions.

A current was forming. Organizations were gathering manpower and equipment to prepare for conflict, and the process itself would remind everyone that they were preparing for war.

Who would want to risk their life for a position in a gang? Who could truly believe that the honor the mafia talks about is actually noble enough to sacrifice their life for?

Fighting only reflected selfishness, like a mirror. It made people realize that regardless of who won this conflict or which organization survived, whether the individuals on the front lines lived or died would be as random as a coin toss. Nobody wants to bet their life on a coin toss. Especially when they’re not the one flipping the coin.

Normally I wouldn’t have cared, but since my contract with The Morrígan involved preventing the conflict, I paid a bit more attention.

“I’m here on The Morrígan’s request. This Goblin is connected to the backers of this situation, so if we can extract information from him, we might be able to avoid the conflict. Got it?”

They didn’t question why I’d answered without being asked. Everyone in this street was probably thinking something similar. The doors of Bar Reno opened. Inside was full of unpleasant hybrids.

Selkie’s water-soaked servants were there, as well as the fairy in a green suit holding a gold-plated submachine gun. Last time he had mocked Bavan, but now he had a chilling look in his eyes and was prepared with a gun.

I was heading straight for The Morrígan’s office when the fairy in the form of an old man whistled. It was quite amusing to see him sitting on a jar instead of a chair, but I wouldn’t underestimate a mafia branch manager.

I walked up to him without responding and looked down at him, which made the ill-tempered fairy in the green suit grumble.

“It’s nothing new that New World bastards don’t know manners, but when one of the great Issi calls you, you should at least respond…”

He seemed to be expecting the proper respect due to a fairy who was once treated as a god. But he shook his head as if getting angry over such a trivial matter was meaningless.

“No, it’s fine. I should have paid extra for that. I called you over because I have something to tell you, kid. Bavan may be from another land, but she’s one of our family. I don’t know what The Morrígan wants, but if you let this go without even avenging Bavan, we’ll resist. I’m not warning you. Just tell her that we miss the great queen. You can do that much, right?”

The fairy stood up from the jar he had been sitting on and opened its lid. After examining similarly sized gold pieces from inside the jar full of gold fragments, he picked one and flicked it to me.

So this fairy was on the pro-war faction. It might be too late to resolve this without bloodshed. Still, there was a way. If I could get the Matriarch and The Morrígan to talk, the matter could be resolved simply.

It wouldn’t end with conversation and laughter followed by “let’s stop the violence.” They would join forces to wipe out the ones who planned this, but at least the two organizations wouldn’t be killing each other.

I caught the gold piece that flew toward me. It was a retainer. After nodding briefly, I went straight up the stairs behind the bar toward The Morrígan’s office.

The corridor was slick with blood. It was an illusion. Blood rippled like in the trenches of the Argonne Forest. It was an optical illusion. The sound of crows cawing was deafening. It was a hallucination. It was a sign that The Morrígan was growing stronger.

It wasn’t terrible. Rather, it felt nostalgic. That’s why it was terrible. I passed through that corridor, knocked on The Morrígan’s door, entered, and threw the unconscious Goblin in front of her.

“This is the Goblin who called the thugs to Little Eire the day Bavan was attacked. Coincidentally, Bavan was attacked that day. Coincidentally, this Goblin knew as soon as he saw me that either the Italian mafia or the Irish mafia had sent me. Quite a remarkable coincidence, don’t you think?”

The Morrígan, whose hair had grown so long it flowed to the floor, gave me a smiling glance. She covered her mouth and smiled elegantly.

“Yes, a coincidence like no other in the world. Gancan?”

When The Morrígan snapped her fingers, Gancan walked in from the corridor that had clearly been empty, holding his own head and wearing a fedora. I didn’t care whether it was The Morrígan’s illusion or the fairies’ unpleasant magic.

“Take him away. Strip him and check if he has the Goblin mafia’s mark, and shall we leave the interrogation to Selkie? She was impersonated while this was happening.”

He would probably prefer this headless driver over being interrogated by the increasingly insane Selkie. The head in Gancan’s hands seemed to consider before answering.

“It might be good to leave him to the Ryanans who were attacked with the branch manager, The Morrígan. Don’t you think he might actually die if too much blood is drawn?”

So Bavan’s branch members were blood-sucking fairies too. This is why I disliked Irish hybrids. Too many of them had grotesque abilities and used magic as unpleasant as their powers.

Gancan lifted the Goblin by the scruff of his neck with an empty hand. He supported his own head with one hand and turned his wrist to look at me with that head. The head in his hand spoke.

“Would you like to observe? Selkie has a soft heart. She might act like she does when training the Rons, but she might also stop while crying. Bavan’s subordinates will be emotional.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re just inviting me to observe.”

I learned interrogation methods from the police. My police connection before Yehoel was an expert in such matters. He was such a thoroughgoing racist that he was shot dead by an unnamed Lizardman in some alley.

He had it coming. I didn’t care whether he hated Lizardmen or Orcs, but it was incredibly stupid to act that way until his head was taken.

I’m talking like I’m thirty-four, not twenty-four. People age quickly in this city. Perhaps it’s because I knew what it felt like to have a comrade’s blood pouring over my head when I should have been experiencing the vigor of youth.

Anyway, I followed Gancan with The Morrígan. The bar had basement levels too. The first basement level was a liquor storage. Going down one more level, there was a basement where sounds clearly wouldn’t leak outside.

In the middle of that basement, a rope was tied to a pulley, and the Goblin was hoisted up with his hands tied. Instead of waiting for Gancan to find a blade, I pulled out the skinning knife from my waist and tore off his workout clothes.

Gambler Arnold had a scale-shaped tattoo on his chest. Since the Goblin mafia had already lost much of their power by the time I started working, I couldn’t be sure if that was their mark.

“Is that their mark?”

Gancan, who had placed his head on a table in the corner of the basement and was selecting tools, only turned his gaze to look at the Goblin.

“Yes, befitting a race of money and trade, they use scales as their symbol. It seems they were trying to create discord between the Fianna and Cosa Nostra to make room for their own organization…”

I clicked my tongue briefly. One shouldn’t say everything based on conjecture.

“Now that we’ve brought him here, it wouldn’t be mafia etiquette to make him talk quietly. When will Selkie and Bavan’s subordinates arrive?”

Around that time, footsteps began to be heard from above. Not just one or two. The smell of salt water also began to spread.

Selkie, wearing an outer coat made of seal skin, and her subordinates with seaweed-like wet hair clinging to their faces were coming in. Selkie just smiled when she saw the hanging Goblin.

“Ah, we meet again. So… Mr. Michael, right? I remember Husband Detective Agency. And this Goblin…”

Selkie smiled uncharacteristically. Her mouth corners were raised and trembling, not looking quite sane, almost like she was having a seizure.

“Is this the Goblin who went around saying that I was burning down establishments without The Morrígan’s orders, while soaking in the sea that I can’t even go to?”

Her voice was filled with indignation. It wasn’t what this Goblin had said, and he had acted without knowing the story of the sea fairy who couldn’t go to the sea, but the insulted party rarely cared about such details.

Selkie, who had been speaking with madness and indignation, returned to her usual self. I didn’t know about anything else, but her symptoms had definitely worsened since last time. At this rate, she would go completely insane.

“Ron, Roon. Wake him up. I need to find out who ordered this. I’ll make him pay for insulting me, while also helping The Morrígan.”

He was only unconscious from being hit on the head, and he might have already woken up. In this situation, he would want to keep his eyes closed. I picked up a club from a nearby shelf and threw it to Ron.

Ron bowed his head briefly in thanks, rolled up his sleeves to reveal an animal tattoo that was half human torso and half fish on the lower body, then struck Gambler Arnold with the club. His body swung widely.

Arnold, who seemed to have already regained consciousness, gritted his teeth as if trying to suppress a sound, but Ron must have noticed what I had seen. One of the Rons approached, grabbed his chin, and lifted his face.

“He seems to have been awake. Let’s take our time.”

The Rons stepped back with their hands behind their backs. Selkie approached the Goblin, smiling like an innocent girl. The smell of ozone wafted from around her. The surrounding air began to dry.

As she approached Gambler Arnold, the air became increasingly dry. His green skin began to develop white patches, as if sunburned for a long time.

It gets drier and drier. Selkie was taking the moisture she craved from him. What started as patches soon turned into cracked skin with blood seeping through.

It wasn’t a lethal magic. It only had this much effect when she was this close for this long.

The tingling sensation felt all over his body began to turn into pain, and the Goblin tied to the rope began to struggle. Selkie, still with an innocent face, continued to suck moisture from him.

A transparent water droplet floated beside Selkie. It seemed to be the moisture extracted from Arnold. Selkie quietly extended her hand to Ron, and the Rons approached, making unpleasantly excited sounds as they rubbed their faces against her hand. The salt water that always kept the Rons wet stained Selkie’s hand.

Selkie still made innocent sounds. She seemed dreamy. She stroked the Goblin and whispered. Her voice was like that of a young girl.

“Mr. Goblin, please tell me. Was it really the Goblin mafia who ordered this? Are you just a low-ranking member? How much do you know? Hmm?”

Selkie giggled, smirked, took a step back, then approached again, but after that, her voice couldn’t be heard. The Goblin’s screams filled the basement.

Whatever else, it would be better to take Selkie to the sea after this matter was over.

Selkie still seemed to want to enjoy this moment, but Gancan’s body walked over and stopped her.

“Selkie, stop.”

Despite Arnold’s repeated cries that he would talk, Selkie’s touch didn’t stop, and his head drooped as he was about to lose consciousness. It’s ironic that the death fairy was the most normal one.

Selkie stopped at that moment. She didn’t throw a tantrum like a child, but extended her hand to the Rons again, waiting for them to clean her hands while blinking her eyes. When our eyes met, she smiled innocently.

Gancan gave water to Arnold, whose mouth was so dry he could barely speak. The Goblin, who couldn’t even lift his hands, trembled with pain and tingling even as he drank the water.

After that, he became docile. He looked like he would do anything to escape the pain in front of him. Still, he was a smart Goblin. He knew well what would happen if he talked.

Even with a mind wavering from pain, the Goblin tried to gather his thoughts. And shortly after, he barely opened his mouth.

“First, first… okay, I’ll admit it. The Eastman Gang, that is… it was the Goblin mafia who did this. Those guys were pushed aside, whew, pushed to the back by the Italian thugs and Irish hybrids. They once ruled the streets! So, they’re trying to take it back.”

The Goblin trembled but raised his head to look at me. I sighed. He knew that expressing hatred now would only increase his chances of dying from ninety percent to ninety-five percent.

“But, now that a detective hired by The Morrígan has openly smashed bodyguards in a downtown gym and brought me here, the Goblins must have come to their senses. They’ve realized that someone doesn’t want the conflict, despite being given an excuse for it, and is trying to stop their plan. So now, it will be a conflict between the Goblins and the two mafias.”

His situation assessment was accurate. Though he was trembling from pain and his pronunciation was quite slurred due to his half-paralyzed tongue, he was gritting his teeth and speaking.

“It won’t be a small conflict. We’ve increased our numbers as much as possible and hired Orcs and Ogres, giving seven even to individual businessmen like me. So if we fight the Goblins like this, won’t the result be the same? You’ll certainly win, but it will cost tremendous manpower and money. Mafias wouldn’t avoid conflict if they wanted peace! It’s all about money, The Morrígan.”

Gambler Arnold was true to his nickname, placing a bet. He was betting his entire fortune on The Morrígan being a mafia boss who didn’t want conflict.

He saw a chance to win. Survival was victory. Winning meant living, even if it cost him all his assets and connections. I could see why he hadn’t made such a bad impression when we first met.

The Morrígan approached him with interest. She smiled leisurely, as if she would certainly punish him but would listen if he had a sweet offer. The Goblin seemed to see an illusion too, as he flinched and shook his body.

“Your speech is long, Arnold. So, won’t you tell me what you want to propose to me?”

“I work alone, but I’m well-connected within the organization. There were those who suggested cooperating to increase power rather than creating discord between you two. Some who work with the Italian mafia opposed it, and I only helped once by changing the meeting place since they were my countrymen. Before I make my proposal, let me ask one thing. Can the gunshot wound your branch manager received be compensated with money?”

The Morrígan quietly nodded. Gambler Arnold was offering exactly what The Morrígan wanted.

“Yes, good… I’ll help the guys who worked with the Italian mafia join them, and I’ll bring all the guys who ran fixed matches with me and my industry connections under you. That’s my proposal, The Morrígan. And I’ll apologize to your branch manager who was shot while I was helping the Goblins and compensate with money.”

He was offering to cut off the arms and legs of the Goblin mafia to make it easier to take them down, along with the etiquette and apology that mafias supposedly live and die for. He knew how to persuade.

The Morrígan smiled. The question that naturally follows when dealing with a traitor came next. She made it clear that she wouldn’t be easily persuaded.

“How can I be sure you won’t betray me after joining? Those who betray once will naturally do so twice. Don’t you think?”

As if he had already thought of an answer, Arnold raised his head to look at me. He sighed as if it were obvious and said:

“Hey, fixer sir. How much do you charge?”

“I usually charge per head for catching traitors or runaways… but my basic rate is 20 dollars a day plus expenses. Are you thinking of putting a price on your own head?”

He kicked his workout pants, neatly cut by the skinning knife, toward me with his foot.

“Yes, I’ll put a price on it to survive today. My wallet should be there, take all the hundred-dollar bills inside. My head should be worth that much for negotiation.”

Using even his future life as a card to win today. I took three hundred-dollar bills from the wallet in the back pocket of his workout pants. I liked this Goblin.

After confirming this, Gambler Arnold sighed deeply. He looked at The Morrígan. Despite being tied up with both arms raised, he now showed confidence.

“Is this enough guarantee, The Morrígan?”

The floor rippled. Due to The Morrígan’s presence radiating around, the floor appeared covered in blood before returning to its original appearance. She was smiling too.

“I like you, Arnold. I accept. But you know that without the Matriarch’s permission as well, this means nothing. One side can start a conflict, but both sides must want it to end. Can you persuade that woman too?”

Arnold, who had won at the table where he bet his life, gritted his teeth. With a body full of bloodstains and cracked skin wounds, he nodded confidently.