Ch.131Request Log #013 – Dealers’ Day (4)

“These sons of bitches knew our entire schedule! Or what, were they just lucky enough to come in during the 2-minute shift change and handle their business while we were handing over?”

Mikhail exploded with rage upon seeing Jacob Goldstein dead, still holding a glass of cocaine-laced wine in one hand after guarding him all night.

It had been the right decision to stay at the residence, assuming information about the safe house had leaked. It was definitely the right decision.

No, it wasn’t the right decision. The goblins had somehow investigated Jacob’s house beforehand. They even knew when he scheduled guard rotations.

They had been preparing to stab him in the back from the beginning. Though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly where things had gone wrong, he had immediate matters to attend to. The now-dead Jacob wasn’t important.

All eyes of the ogres, orcs, and goblins gathered there were fixed on him. After taking a deep breath, he assessed the situation.

“No need to spread our guys around. Jacob, that drug addict bastard, is dead. The gnolls and half-breeds hired a decent hitman, and we failed again. Shit… I’m going to the boss. They’ll be targeting him too.”

The ogres and goblins who had been pointlessly insisting they find the culprit immediately fell silent. Mikhail had some leadership ability. They left the mansion, abandoning Jacob’s corpse.

In truth, Mikhail’s words were mixed with personal anxiety. This was his first time seeing someone he was guarding killed. To avoid being blamed for the failure, he needed to at least protect the boss’s life.

Even as he rushed to get in the car, a goblin who had followed him out tugged at his collar.

“Mr. Mikhail, we don’t know where the boss is…”

“Just follow me! I left instructions to bring that junkie Jacob there too if anything happened.”

Only then did he realize how absurd this situation was. How could this possibly be happening?

It had been less than two weeks since they started groundwork for Jacob’s plan, and the Italian gnolls and Irish gangs had only met yesterday.

People were dying in just one day. Perhaps they should never have started this. If they had known such punishment would come—like slapping a child’s cheek for throwing a tantrum—they wouldn’t have done it.

As their convoy passed through the city, angels gathered. Naturally, they were on alert with goblin mafia gunmen moving in force. For now, they just circled overhead.

The goblin gang wasn’t on good terms with the angels. Like other organizations, the goblins had once tried to bribe angels to facilitate smuggling, but Eastman was shot and killed by that very angel.

Since then, the goblins stopped trusting angels. At least while that angel remained active. It was clearly detrimental, but it was a non-negotiable issue.

Under the angels’ surveillance, they arrived at the safe house where the boss was staying. The angels departed once the goblin mafia entered their own safe house.

However, Mikhail detected a strange odor. An unpleasant animal smell. Very different from the boiled pig skin smell that orcs emit when they sweat heavily… it was the smell of animal fur.

He couldn’t tell what had happened. The door to the basement prepared as an escape route was already open. It looked like someone had smashed through the locked door with brute force.

Inside, the gnoll scent and fur smell were even stronger. Mikhail immediately drew his gun. This level of lingering scent couldn’t be coincidental. Someone was still inside.

Female gnolls were physically weaker than orcs, but whoever forced open a door that even orcs would struggle with was no ordinary female. The gnoll smell was so strong he could only breathe through his mouth.

As he was about to go inside and check each room, the goblin spoke up again. He voiced the thoughts Mikhail was too excited and confused to articulate.

“Mr. Mikhail, wait. Don’t you notice there’s no gunpowder smell? If they entered without firing shots, then they’re dead. If they relied solely on brute strength and came in like beasts, they would have been hunted like beasts. By that logic, the people inside would be agitated, and if you rush in, you might get shot.”

It was certainly rational and reasonable. Mikhail cleared his throat lightly and called out.

“It’s me, Boss! Mikhail! Mikhail Semyonov!”

The only response was his own voice echoing through the basement corridor. His anxiety grew. To break in here without even the smell of gunpowder… that couldn’t be possible. No, it couldn’t.

Mikhail tried to regain his composure, but he had already experienced too many irrational events. Too many impossible things were happening.

After checking each room, they found no one in the basement. Despite examining each room, closet, and bathroom in the hotel-like layout, they saw nobody.

Only the boss’s room at the very back remained. While the outer door had been violently smashed open, the inner door showed no signs of damage.

As he was about to open the door, the goblin who had been sent to check the kitchen finally returned. Even this goblin, who was somewhat more thoughtful than Mikhail, tilted his head in confusion.

“There are signs someone cooked in the kitchen. The boss was definitely here, but where he went…”

Mikhail swallowed hard. He couldn’t help feeling ominous as he recalled a threat gnolls often made.

“We’ll find out when we go in.”

The door to the boss’s room opened. The table was neatly set with dinnerware. A steak sat on one of the plates. Steam still rose from it, indicating it had just been prepared.

The only clue was the steak. On the plate was a perfectly medium-rare steak, basted with butter infused with dill and thyme for flavor.

Mikhail’s face turned pale as he examined the steak. The goblins and ogres who approached after seeing his expression reacted similarly. The ogres seemed somewhat indignant.

Everyone had known what it was, but now they knew who it was. The reason was simple: there was a scale tattoo on the meat.

The hitman brought directly from Italy by the gnoll Matriarch returned to her mansion. Though she couldn’t speak English, she was far from bestial. The gnoll Matriarch asked with a satisfied expression:

“You’ve arrived just in time for lunch. Would you like to eat first?”

The Matriarch’s hitman briefly shook her head. Like a well-fed beast becoming docile, she had become quite gentle.

“Coffee is enough, Matriarch.”

That statement was proof enough. The Matriarch walked with light steps to the telephone and called Bar Reno. The call connected after just a few rings.

Usually, the bartender would answer, but this time it was The Morrígan. They spoke while still exchanging pleasantries. They pretended to be on good terms. Or perhaps they genuinely weren’t on bad terms at the moment.

“Did you finish your business well, Madam Morrígan? My daughter just returned.”

“As troublesome as they are as enemies, they’re convenient as allies, Matriarch Masseria. My hitman returned a little while ago… and the detective who served as what you called a notary also just returned.”

It had been exactly one day since the two organizations resolved to dispose of the goblins. All three targets were dead. The advisor who had received Gancan’s blood was still alive, but he was as good as dead.

“The same goes for you, Madam Morrígan. Oh, could you put the notary on the line if possible? We should pay him his fee from our side as well, and I’d like to discuss some matters.”

The Matriarch spoke with good manners. It wasn’t unusual for someone thrown onto the streets without proper education. Inferiority complex often becomes motivation. Only those who haven’t learned manners truly crave them.

The receiver was passed to the detective, and the Matriarch continued in a gentle, sweet tone. On such a joyous day, she could afford to be this pleasant.

“You see, I didn’t call you a gem for nothing. So, what do you want for compensation? Considering what you’ve done for us, how much would be appropriate?”

It was deserved compensation, and while he wanted to extract as much as possible, the detective had no intention of negotiating his salary with the Italian gnoll Matriarch in an Irish gang’s bar.

Fortunately, some of the words he had whispered to convince Giuseppina proved useful. The detective answered naturally, as if he had prepared in advance.

“I promised Branch Manager Giuseppina that I’d be invited to dine with you when this was over, so let’s discuss details then. More importantly…”

The detective turned his gaze to Selkie, who sat in the corner of the bar with the Rons. He briefly observed the fairy who was gradually going mad from being unable to reach the sea.

Though he didn’t enjoy getting involved with gangsters, having taken on this job, he would likely receive more work in the future. And the detective had no taste for working with lunatics.

Or perhaps there was still some compassion left in him. It would look good to ask a favor of the gnoll Matriarch for them in an Irish gang’s bar. It would improve his reputation.

“I’d like you to allow Selkie to at least dip in the sea. Being away from seawater has left her in terrible condition. Yet she won’t consider leaving New York to find another beach. With territorial disputes, it’s not easy for the Irish gang’s branch manager to cross through Italian gnoll territory to reach the sea.”

The Matriarch’s laughter traveled through the phone line. She seemed amused, as if the detective was being weak. To her eyes, it probably just looked like he was concerned about his reputation.

“Are you trying to pull a friend closer, Detective? For me… no, for the detective who took on this dirty work for us, I should gladly grant such a request. Very well. You can relay the message.”

Now Selkie would become a bit more sane. The world needed more people like those from the Gremory family. On the other hand, there were already enough lunatics.

Now that they had cut off the head of the goblin gang, conflict would soon begin. From that point on, it was beyond the detective’s responsibility. His job was to prevent war between the Italian mafia and the Irish gang.

The work wasn’t over yet. The most important part remained. He needed to end the call with the Matriarch and think about how to extract payment from the two gang leaders.

“Thank you for graciously accepting what must have been an unusual request, Matriarch. When you schedule our dinner, please contact Husband Detective Agency. Giuseppina should have my card.”

“I will, Detective. Look forward to the meal.”

The only thing one could expect from a relationship with gnolls was the food they prepared. And so the call ended.

For the detective work done for The Morrígan, the standard fee would suffice. He hadn’t killed anyone during that job and had genuinely investigated evidence and circumstances.

For the disposal job, he would need to bill half to The Morrígan and half to the Matriarch, but he had already asked the Matriarch for the favor regarding Selkie… It was a pleasant dilemma. Even with poor negotiation, the amount would be substantial.

As he was about to return to The Morrígan’s table, Selkie approached him, apparently having overheard the conversation. Her coat made of dead seal skin fluttered slightly.

Her expression showed less madness than before. She smiled and spoke softly, just as when she had tried to find humanity in the detective previously.

“Was it simply for your reputation? Or did you show me a bit of kindness, Michael? You’re the type of person who mocks kindness.”

The detective responded with a smirk. He didn’t deflect out of embarrassment for having shown kindness.

“I didn’t know you thought I even mock those who mock kindness. It’s both. It’ll be less uncomfortable to look at you when you’re more sane. If I show you goodwill, you’ll show me goodwill in return. Isn’t that what gangsters do well? Sharing comfort and glossing over good things as simply being good.”

The detective didn’t bother lying. Selkie, rather than questioning the truth of his words, smiled brightly, which was unlike her.

“Thank you for your honest answer, Michael. And thank you even more for your kindness. I hope a day comes when I can repay you. Sincerely.”

Even without immersing herself in seawater, just being shown kindness brought back some of her Gremory-like qualities. The world could never have too many people who were kind but not foolish.

He didn’t determine whether the reason Selkie went mad without returning to the sea was due to the absence of seawater or the absence of someone who could understand her, a being from the sea.

The detective returned to The Morrígan’s table. They got back to business.

“The job seems more or less wrapped up. For investigating your establishment and kidnapping Arnold the gambler, I’d like to charge the standard rate, if that’s alright? It probably won’t exceed a hundred dollars.”

Normally, he would have added extra charges for the fistfight with Arnold’s bodyguards, but this time he spoke as if asking only for the basic fee.

Such reassurance implied he had plenty of other aspects to exploit for money. The Morrígan, naturally aware of this, nodded briefly.

“I shouldn’t say this when setting compensation, but it’s incredibly cheap compared to what I’ve gained. Are you not being greedy because you’ll be well-compensated for assassinating that goblin?”

The detective nodded. Though less than an hour had passed since drug addict Jacob’s death, his name had long since become a sort of promissory note. This city had always been like this.