Ch.153Request Log #014 – How to Face Hatred (1)

The reporter had visited Two Face a few days ago, and now Leonard Price became a vigilante one last time.

Thanks to Supervisor Leonard’s confession as the mastermind behind the incident, the coordinated stories prepared by the other three, or all four including him, became pointless, and what could have been a drawn-out case quickly moved toward its inevitable conclusion.

In his final act, he had used his voice rather than a gun to stand up for what he had so obsessively called justice.

There is no salvation for those who regret too late, but such people don’t need salvation anyway.

After that, even this incident evaporated. A week without work passed by quickly. The money received from The Morrígan, the godmother, and Pandemonium’s patron was more than enough.

Still, he had no desire to visit the red-light district. Two pills from The Morrígan remained, but he hadn’t taken any for even a single day.

Today too, he saw the Argonne Forest. Hot blood still poured down over his head. He gained power. He lost something. He had sold his soul to buy power. The soul was worth more than the power. It was a stupid choice.

He woke up in bed, drenched in cold sweat. Since there was no hot water today either, he washed with cold water. The cold felt better.

Since he had removed the “out of office” sign from his door yesterday, he wore a proper shirt. He rolled up his sleeves and didn’t wear an overcoat. The season when concealing a gun while working would become inconvenient was approaching.

When there were no cases, his job was to spend time in the office from at least nine in the morning until seven-thirty in the evening.

At least on days when he didn’t put up the “out of office” sign, he didn’t have to wait long. Around ten-thirty in the morning, someone knocked on the door. Judging by the height, it would be a human.

He approached the door and opened it to find a man who looked like a factory worker standing there. It probably wouldn’t be a troublesome job. Troublesome jobs usually came from the wealthy.

“Is this the Husband Detective Agency?”

The man was holding a torn-out newspaper advertisement. It seemed the newspaper ad he had entrusted to a journalist acquaintance was running well. As long as they brought money, a client was a client.

“You’ve found the right place. Please come in.”

He brought the man inside and closed the door. After seating him in the client chair, he sat in his own.

The man sat awkwardly, knees together and hands placed on them as if sitting before a superior. Meanwhile, he kept looking around nervously as if worried something unpleasant might happen.

Judging by his anxious demeanor, this wasn’t a request for himself. Such people tended to act desperately rather than anxiously. They would try to explain their situation without even sitting down.

The client, who had been hesitating to speak, finally opened his mouth.

“Well, um, an acquaintance of mine was severely beaten and injured, and I was wondering if you could find the culprit? We did contact the police, but they didn’t pay much attention. They just asked if it was a fight between unions and… well… they dismissed it like that.”

Judging by his appearance and manner of speaking, he was a worker, and if a worker had been severely beaten, it wasn’t anything unusual. These days, business owners were trying to completely eradicate unions.

In this golden age, not many people wanted to join unions in the first place, and even if they did join, the lack of a unifying force meant workers remained weak. A single union couldn’t withstand a group of hired thugs.

There was a time when there were several organizations as large as the IWW, which I often borrowed the name of, but now the American Federation of Labor was practically the only one maintaining any real influence.

As a detective specializing in union busting, I naturally knew about unions. I asked casually:

“If you’re part of a union, you don’t really need to hire me. Your boss, or someone like that, probably hired people to beat him up. If that’s not the case, please tell me.”

Maybe another union used their people. A weak center meant they didn’t get along with each other either. The man shook his head.

“No, no. He’s not part of a union. Just, um… we call him the Advisor. He helps solve problems when issues arise among us, and he talks to company people on our behalf when they come. He runs a small shop and has no connection to unions.”

A central figure. When unions are weakening, factory owners would try to completely uproot labor movements, and to do that, they would need to cut off such central figures. This must have been done by the factory owner.

“Then there’s no need to look for the culprit. The factory owner hired someone. To remove a thorn in his side.”

The client waved his hands. He seemed to want to say it was nonsense, but he himself seemed half-convinced.

“No, no. Even the factory owner addresses the Advisor respectfully and treats him with considerable respect, so why would he suddenly do such a thing? It must be someone else. Probably…”

First, I needed to check the money. If there was no money, there was no reason for me to share what I knew.

“Before that, can you pay the fee? Finding a culprit without witnesses will take quite some time, and the rates should have been in the newspaper ad.”

“Of course! We pooled our money, so we should be able to pay for up to two weeks.”

He showed a bundle of bills. That amount would be sufficient. So I prepared to take a few curses and opened my mouth.

“There’s something I don’t mention in my newspaper ads. I’m also a detective specializing in leading hired thugs and union busting. And removing central figures like this is something factory owners often order. A well-crafted idea is more dangerous than a recklessly swung fist. There’s no need to investigate.”

At the mention of being a union-busting detective, disgust flashed across his eyes. I knew he wouldn’t like it. But the hatred soon passed.

“Th-thank you for being honest. Still, could you please meet the Advisor just once… I’m begging you. Really. He’s the best neighbor and best friend to us. If it really was our boss who did this, then there’s nothing we can do.”

A worker who tolerates hearing what kind of specialist I am is not something you see every day. It didn’t matter to me. The money was sufficient, and they wanted to spend it on me even after I told them what they wanted to know.

“He might tell you to move away, or union members might distance themselves from this teacher of yours. They attacked him because they thought he was dangerous. Anyway, I’ll take the case.”

Hope appeared on the client’s face. He looked like a child who had successfully called an adult when faced with a problem too big to handle.

“Thank you, thank you! Ah, could you go right away? He’s badly injured but still conscious.”

After nodding briefly, I awkwardly concealed my holster by pushing it entirely into my pocket and headed for the car. With the client in the car, I drove through New York to the hospital on Colombo Street that the client had mentioned.

It’s not a large hospital. At least there were no bars on the windows. In front of the building stood a few more people who looked like factory workers like my client, and when they saw him bringing someone, they also brightened up.

He seems to be highly respected. If he receives this much love, the factory owner had enough reason to crush him.

It wasn’t a warning to the workers. It was a warning to this so-called teacher. A few thugs would have gritted their teeth, threatening to kill him next time, and with workers gathered like this, the next time would be soon.

Following them into the hospital, I took the elevator to the 4th floor. It was filled with private rooms. The workers’ teacher using a private room?

While walking down the corridor, the client hurriedly began to explain, as if he also found this strange.

“Ah, well… the Advisor is university-educated. He knows one of the doctors at this hospital, so he got a private room.”

Why would someone university-educated be in the slums? And why would someone who still had friends willing to give him a private room long after graduation be in such a place? I couldn’t understand.

After reaching the room at the end of the corridor, the client knocked on the door.

“Advisor! We’ve brought someone! Someone who can find out who hurt you!”

An elf’s voice was heard from inside. His manner of speech was extremely refined, but his pronunciation was slurred. It seemed his face had been hit too.

“I told you clearly. Finding the culprit can be left to the police. I already feel indebted having to rely on my friend for the hospital, and I don’t want to be indebted to all of you as well… Sigh, you may come in. Kindness is kindness after all.”

It was a voice that smelled of ink. Only after those words did the client open the door and enter.

An elf was lying on the hospital bed. He had been thoroughly beaten, with not a single part of his body unharmed, and he barely turned his eyes to look me over as if even turning his head was difficult.

He was afraid. Not afraid of being beaten again. In this situation, he was afraid of getting entangled with people like my client again. Another troublesome matter.

I stopped the client who tried to enter with me.

“We need to talk alone. I’ve already explained to you briefly what might have happened.”

“Ah, yes! Please talk comfortably, Detective! I’ll wait outside the room!”

After nodding briefly, I closed the door and walked to the bedside. I pulled up a chair and sat down next to the battered elf, looking down at his face. He wasn’t an elf I knew.

“You probably know who did this. So do I. I’ve already told the client, and I believe you know that moving away or keeping your distance would be best. Someone who teaches people like them wouldn’t be ignorant of such things. Isn’t that right?”

The elf, who seemed to have difficulty even speaking, painfully nodded while pulling down his chin. The factory owner must be quite fearful. If he’s an elf, it would have been simple to kill him.

“Of course I know. The factory owner where Ken works hired thugs to send after me. Both methods aren’t bad, but unfortunately, I already rejected the first method two weeks ago. That’s why I ended up like this… I have a sense of mission for the slum where I live. Ah, haha…”

The teacher laughed awkwardly. He’s a good person. Why is someone who should be living in the San Francisco Imperial Territory lying here in New York? I clicked my tongue briefly.

“So, you couldn’t handle those thugs when you were healthy, and now you’re going to try to stop them with that injured body? Anyway, please tell me everything you remember about those thugs. I’ll take care of them.”

They probably weren’t that skilled anyway. Thugs who only know how to beat indiscriminately are just low-level ones. But the teacher shook his head.

“No. If we fight back, it’s obvious who the factory owner will target next. I just want to maintain the status quo. Please guard this room and make sure I don’t die in the hospital.”

He seemed to know that after one failure, they would spend more money next time. Is it worth risking your life for common factory workers? Probably not.

Sleeping in bed would be difficult now. If I just received the money, I wouldn’t need to care, but I couldn’t protect him until he fully recovered. I told him the amount the client had brought.

“The client and his colleagues pooled together enough money for just two weeks. That won’t be enough.”

He was resolute. His intention not to harm my client or the people gathered in front of the hospital was crystal clear.

“It’s more than enough. Lying in a hospital room all day, I needed someone to talk to anyway, so this works out well. Ah, please speak comfortably. From our conversation so far, you probably already know what kind of person I am. I dislike hierarchical relationships.”

At those words, I gave him an honest response. There was a term used for people who live around workers, trying to teach and unite them.

“You look almost like a Red to me, teacher. Though slightly better than The Idealists, I suppose.”

The elf on the hospital bed seemed not to have expected such a harsh comment, as he stroked his chest with his arm that was wrapped in bandages until the bone healed.

“I think my heart hurts more from hearing that than my beaten body… Still, you’re an honest person. Ah, I’d like to know who Ken brought. I can’t look at a business card in this state, so you’ll have to tell me verbally. Please.”

A person who makes jokes after being assaulted and lying in a hospital. Again, I had nothing to hide.

“Michael Husband from the Husband Detective Agency. Ironically, I’m a detective specializing in union busting. I’m also an expert at leading hired thugs to do things like this. And you?”

If the client had asked me to speak comfortably, I would have shown a bit more courtesy, but he was not the client but the target of the request. The elf painfully smiled and answered.

“We have the same name. I’m Michael too. Michael Lanshore. But… if you’re a detective specializing in union busting, why are you here…?”

Since there must be at least a hundred thousand Michaels in New York, I wasn’t surprised. Still, calling him Lanshore would be easier for distinction.

“I don’t discriminate against clients as long as they can pay. And shouldn’t you be the one answering why you’re here? Someone who’s university-educated and has enough of a relationship with a hospital doctor to get a private room, why are you here? In this golden age, just licking the sweet nectar would make your stomach not just full but about to burst.”

The elf laughed weakly and then trembled in pain with his hand on his chest. It seemed laughing had aggravated his injuries.

“If you suck nectar, your stomach will surely swell like an aphid’s. I’d rather be a human than an aphid.”

It would be easier to have The Idealists guard this room and leave, but that would be breaking a detective’s responsibility. A detective sells trust.

“You don’t look very human in that state either. You look almost like cargo. What are you planning to do after two weeks?”

“I’ll think about it after seeing you for two weeks. If you’re not truly trustworthy, two weeks won’t even come.”

I decided to reconsider my statement that only the wealthy assign troublesome tasks.