Ch.172Request Log #015 – Even a Single Drop of Blood Calls the Shark (7)

The ogres arrived in three cars. Two carrying bags with guns were in one car, the former Gourmet Society chairman in the largest car, and the two who had been talking at the door in another.

So all five ogres here must belong to the Gourmet Society. If there was going to be a fight, I’d need to deal with the two young ogres carrying guns first. The contractor with the submachine gun would be second priority.

The submachine gun would only be as useful against me as it had been against the Rat-Catcher, but rifles would pierce my skin. Even an Argonne Invincible couldn’t keep fighting after being riddled with bullets.

I’d left my duffel bag with guns in my car, so all I had was the pistol in my pocket. What weapons could I use in a place where I couldn’t bring guns?

It would probably be a restaurant. Ogres gathered at tables when they needed to discuss important matters. Food, tables, and stomachs were central to ogre culture.

That meant I’d probably only have dinner knives and forks. The consolation was that they’d be sized for ogre hands, making them dagger-sized in mine, and there would be plenty of them.

Now things were a bit more fair. I couldn’t prepare because I followed Yehoel’s stupid idea, but they couldn’t prepare for us because they didn’t know about the Argonne Invincibles.

The reason ogres trusted me so easily was obvious. Contractors might be good shots and stronger than average humans, but they rarely overcame racial differences.

So they believed they could persuade me in a place without guns, or intimidate me if necessary. But they were wrong.

The skilled driver quietly took us to… Manhattan, surprisingly. What started in Manhattan returns to Manhattan. Not Fifth Avenue. We needed to go deeper.

If their hideout had been near Cafe Caligula, I might have felt more personal motivation, so these ogres were somewhat lucky. No one spoke until the car arrived.

Following them, we arrived at a reservation-only restaurant typical of New York City. It had no sign, and the interior was completely concealed, making it impossible to see inside.

In some ways, it resembled a brothel. It wasn’t much different from one. People came to do what they enjoyed but were too embarrassed to show others. At least buying prostitutes was better than cannibalism.

We entered without a guide. An ogre guarding the counter inside greeted the old ogre beside me respectfully.

“W-welcome, Chairman! Anthony in the black suit must be your bodyguard, but this person…”

“He’s my guest. Ah, could you gather all our members? Five are here, and one has suffered an unfortunate accident… So Oleg should bring the remaining three. Please hurry. Call them to Dining Room One.”

How kind. He seemed to be subtly indicating death with the phrase “unfortunate accident.” So there were ten in total. I’d already killed one, so nine remained. Add one bodyguard and that made ten.

Normally, ogres wouldn’t fear a single human when nine of them were present. All they feared was the gun in a human’s hand. The two young ogres with gun bags checked their weapons first.

The former Gourmet Society chairman then seemed about to tell me I needed to leave my gun behind. I’d expected this, so I didn’t pretend to be surprised.

“You know how strict ogres are about food standards. At the very least, we don’t consider things that smell of gunpowder to be food. Could you check in your weapon too, Detective?”

As he spoke, he removed the pistol from his waistband and pushed it behind the counter. I also placed my holstered pistol on the counter. However, the contractor kept his gun.

“It seems your hired contractor doesn’t carry a gun?”

The ogre smiled warmly again. Judging by his smile alone, he seemed like a nice person, but that didn’t change the fact that he was a cannibal.

“Of course he works with a gun. That’s why we don’t let him inside the restaurant. He’ll only guard the outside, so you can rest assured.”

This was almost laughable now. They weren’t concerned about their lives at all, which made it sound like they were telling me I could kill them without worry. Though their intention was the opposite.

Still, I confirmed these ogres had no guns. We continued down a hallway carpeted with expensive rugs. It seemed the front entrance was the only way out of the building.

Dining Room One was almost banquet-hall sized. A massive table stood in the center, large enough for all former Gourmet Society members, surrounded by ten chairs.

The restaurant door was made of iron with wood layered over it to make it look like a wooden door. On the inside of the door was a receipt-sized scroll containing a noise-canceling spell.

We entered the lavishly decorated dining room through that door. The young ogre who came with us tore the receipt-shaped scroll to activate the noise-canceling spell. It would last about 30 minutes unless deliberately deactivated.

The former Gourmet Society chairman guided me to a seat at the edge of the table. It was obvious whose seat this had been, and as expected:

“That’s the seat of the tailor you dealt with. Please make yourself comfortable. Ah, appetizers will be served first since we plan to finish our meeting before the meal. The woman… let’s bring her after our conversation is done.”

Somehow it seems they want to make me the tenth member. Their actions were so kind that it seemed they wanted me to become one of them rather than work with them.

Soon, the ogre who had been at the counter entered with two other ogres and a woman who appeared to be half-ogre, half-human. Good thing I didn’t go to a real red-light district.

The ogre from the counter locked the door, then placed a silver tray he’d brought from outside in front of me. He handed the key to the chairman.

The chairman had the key. There was no other exit besides that door. The nine ogres each found their seats, but the former Gourmet Society chairman rose from his place of honor.

The ogre approached me, stood to my left—directly opposite his seat of honor—and placed his palm on the table. The keys jingled at his waist.

“Detective, do you know how many taste buds are on a human tongue? Not many. This means that no matter how you prepare ingredients, the tastes you can experience are limited. That’s why we eat taboo foods. We use not just our tongues but our brains and moral sense to taste not only flavors but also immoral sensations and forbidden pleasures. Every ogre wants to taste the ultimate dish.”

I wonder what an ogre who started this movement for good food would think of it becoming so dogmatic. They probably couldn’t think anything. The dead don’t speak.

After his impassioned speech, he opened the silver tray in front of me. Inside was soup. Soup topped with unidentifiable meat pieces torn by an ogre’s own hands. The chairman continued.

“Since you’re not an ideological person, I’ll put it differently. Why did you think we would hand that woman over to you so easily? It’s true we thought it would be fine if she talked about cannibalistic ogres, but she won’t even be able to speak. What do you think there is to eat in here? She’s an accomplice too.”

They fed her. And they’re trying to feed me too. People won’t care how they came to eat it, only what they ate. It was an excellent method for silencing someone.

“We didn’t threaten you with guns for the same reason. Once you’ve come this far, you must share our secret. What could a human without a gun possibly do?”

Laughter spread among the ogres seated around the table. It was mockery directed at someone who came here not expecting this to happen, thinking they could leave cleanly. I struggled to hold back my own laughter.

“Just one bite is enough. It’s not about how much you ate, but what you ate. You’re trapped in here with us, so you have no choice.”

That was a lie too. There was a knife on the tray in front of me. This meant the meal would continue after this, and there would be dishes requiring knives. Still holding back my laughter, I gestured.

The former Gourmet Society chairman, who showed no fear of me, leaned toward me. As if offering me a favor, he brought his ear close to me with a gentle smile.

“I’m not sure what you want to say, but I’ll listen, Detective. Is there something you’d like to ask?”

“You said one piece of meat would be enough?”

The ogre’s expression showed both puzzlement and joy. He seemed to think I would willingly go through with this. His voice returned with even more pleasure.

“Strictly speaking, it’s already torn up, so it’s not exactly a piece of meat. There are more courses to follow, so you can eat as much as—”

At that moment, I lunged. With one hand gripping his ear and the other grabbing his shoulder, I kicked away from my chair and bit into the chairman’s neck.

Ogre skin was typically very tough. It wouldn’t tear from a human bite. If it weren’t an Argonne Invincible but a normal person, it would have been impossible.

The normally gentle chairman let out an uncharacteristically panicked scream. He struggled, trying to push me off with his arms. My canines served their purpose. His fist struck my jaw, turning my face, but I turned it back.

Despite being an ogre, he was no match in a test of strength. I pulled with my jaw and tore off the chunk of flesh my teeth had gripped. I spat it out. I had no intention of chewing an old ogre’s flesh.

The bleeding was severe. He stopped struggling and tried to stop the bleeding by putting his hand on his neck, but he could only catch the blood that leaked with each heartbeat, not stop it.

Before the other ogres could rush over, I grabbed the key ring from the chairman’s waist. He had worn it to make me feel trapped, but it didn’t help much.

The half-ogre shouted something very obvious, or perhaps ridiculously absurd:

“Y-you murderer!”

If that made me roll on the floor laughing, they might have had some hope of subduing me. I grabbed the dinner knife from among the utensils in front of me, which was as large as a dagger to me.

I jingled the key ring in front of their eyes and smirked. Until now, I had been trapped with them, but from now on, they were trapped with me.

“Then the city will thank this murderer today.”

While the ogres who didn’t know how to fight were in disarray, the two who had brought guns to the tailor shop began charging at me.

I always take out the leader first. When the leader dies, two or three less mature ones will charge. Once they’re dead too, the rest become terrified. It’s almost human instinct.

An ogre approached me and swung his fist widely. I stepped back just half a step, letting his fist cut through empty air in front of me. I saw his center of gravity falter as he put his weight into the punch.

I pulled on the shoulder that had come close to me while swinging and made him roll on the floor. Another ogre tried to strike me with a chair, but I avoided it by simply turning my body. I immediately dove in with my fist raised.

I threw two light punches to make him raise both hands, then put my weight into a blow to his jaw where his guard was now open. The ogre tried to maintain his posture but lost his balance as his knees buckled.

Thinking they could win with greater numbers, another ogre charged from behind, so I took off my suit jacket and threw it at his face, then approached while he was waving his arms in the air.

“Jos, g-get back!”

The ogre who had rolled on the floor shouted as he barely got up, but it was already too late. By the time that ogre removed my suit jacket from his face, I was already right in front of him.

I sliced his neck with the sharp meat knife. The blade passed so smoothly, like a tongue licking across, that it was obvious what kind of meat this knife was prepared to cut.

That massive heart killed its owner. The pounding that tried to send blood to his head killed him. All I did was help it along.

The next charging ogre I dispatched in a manner befitting their large, strong race—shattering his weak knee with my own, then stepping on his fallen jaw and snapping it to end his life. Only then did the ogres begin to panic.

One Gourmet Society member ran to the door and pounded on it as if trying to call the contractor outside, but the iron door they had installed to trap victims was now trapping them.

Or perhaps, since they were now the victims, it was serving its purpose perfectly. One of them pounded on the door as if to break it down and shouted. There was no response from outside.

“H-help! Anthony! This crazy murderous bastard is killing us all!”

I grabbed the wrist that was drawn back to pound on the door. When he tried to resist with ogre strength, I pulled him away from the door, pushed him to the floor, and lightly climbed on top of him.

I stabbed down with the blade, then hammered the knife handle with my other fist like a chisel and mallet to drive it in. That ogre also stopped screaming.

This one meat knife was enough to kill all nine. I placed the used knife back at my seat and pulled out the key ring from my waist. Now I approached the door and opened it.

Thanks to the noise-canceling spell, the contractor hadn’t heard anything. The contractor standing outside, watching, turned at the sound of the door opening. He must have thought an ogre had opened it.

“Finished already? Looks like that guy ate without hesitation…”

As he naturally raised his head and found nothing at his eye level, he slowly lowered his gaze. Before his eyes could reach me, I reached out, grabbed his head, and pulled him into Dining Room One.

I took his submachine gun and threw it away, then climbed onto the waist of the contractor I’d laid on the floor. He was no match for me in strength. I couldn’t tolerate cannibalism. I couldn’t accept the idea of consuming even the sense of taboo-breaking immorality.

It was a sin. Any of the Argonne Invincibles who survived by greedily stealing the lives of their comrades with both hands would have said the same. So I couldn’t work with these creatures.

Looking down at the contractor, I told him. I recited in a voice that felt like chewing and swallowing my words:

“Looks like you went through the same initiation ritual. And since you passed, you’re working here.”

Shortly after, I changed into the contractor’s clothes and left Dining Room One. What I had worn was in no condition to be worn outside.