Ch.182The Fifth Entanglement – Vampire Waltz (2)

Bar Enoch is always that kind of place. It’s decorated like an elegant European party venue, and they change the scented candles every hour to keep the smell of blood from mixing with the air.

At the bar, you can face the bartender, but the tables create their own intimate, small spaces, all separated from the rest of the bar by luxurious velvet curtains.

If you want to meet someone, you sit at the bar, and if you want to enjoy drinks and wine alone, you pull back a curtain, enter, and call an employee to place your order. Magic that suppresses noise always arrives on a silver tray alongside your drink.

In terms of size, it’s large enough to make Two Face look like a hole-in-the-wall, and while similar to Arachne with its spider webs spun by the Arachne in an abandoned building, the density of interior decorations and props was vastly different.

The detective headed to the bar again today. Though there were four bartenders, he always sat in the same spot—in front of the vampire bartender who was slightly older than him.

She was a rather attractive woman with long, wavy hair. Her job involved standing before the aromatic yet acrid scent of candles used to eliminate the smell of cigarettes, so she carried the scent of smoke, though not from cigarettes.

In that sense, she was quite metropolitan. The only difference in sensibility between her and the city was that the bartender emitted smoke to hide something, while the city simply emitted smoke.

When the bartender saw the detective’s face, she immediately reached for the orcs’ liquor, but the detective stopped her. He had reason to order something more expensive today.

“A glass of Saint’s Blood. Is that enough to ask a question or two about the customers here?”

Saint’s Blood was the most expensive brand among wines mixed with blood. It was worth the price. It was practically blood with a subtle fermented grape flavor, which vampires loved.

The ritual actions followed. The bartender poured the dark red liquid halfway into a glass and pushed it toward the detective, who then pushed it back to the bartender. Only then did the bartender speak.

“Has there ever been a single time you came to Enoch for the drinks?”

“There was one time. When the orc pub in Old Empire closed, there was no better place to drink orc liquor than here. Anyway, relax. I’m not trying to investigate your customers.”

Confidentiality was vital for bartenders. People trusted those standing behind the wooden counter because of this implicit yet absolute promise.

Breaking that principle would make even regulars unwelcome. The bartender, who had been enjoying the blood-mixed wine—or wine-mixed blood—with her fangs exposed, finally softened her expression.

“I was wondering why someone who would do his own investigating would ask me… But if not that, what do you want to know?”

“I need an informant. I’d like an introduction if there’s a decent informant among Enoch’s customers. You’ve already been paid, after all.”

That was something she could certainly do. Even people who wouldn’t trust the detective if he approached them directly would trust him if introduced by Bar Enoch’s bartender.

The drink in the bartender’s hand cost more than the detective’s usual information fee. She finally realized he wasn’t asking for a favor but paying for information.

She removed the glass from her lips, but the taste of blood mixed with the sweetness of aged grapes remained in her mouth. She somewhat regretted thinking this would be a simple conversation over a drink.

Still, a deal was a deal. The bartender didn’t show any further displeasure. She simply took another sip, savoring the aroma in her mouth and stalling for time, though not for long.

“As it happens, there is someone. Not a regular, but… since this is the only bar they use, I can introduce you.”

The bartender seemed quite confident, so the detective asked further. He knew a man who, while not an unattended god, could be a good informant.

“A taxi driver?”

“What? No, I wouldn’t introduce my father. It’s a woman who works as an informant, just so you know.”

The detective nodded at that. He remembered the taxi driver mentioning he didn’t raise his daughters together, and it seemed this bartender was his daughter. That’s what he thought.

Of course, if they were truly related, introducing family would be more natural, and the term “father” itself seemed somewhat awkward, but he decided not to dwell on it. The informant came first.

She emptied her glass and led the detective toward the curtained tables. She lightly tapped the wooden part supporting the noise-suppressing magic curtain. Soon, the curtain opened.

While vampires as a race supposedly liked brightness, the woman inside took this to an extreme.

The white ermine fur shawl on her shoulders was perfectly white, and her short evening dress was made of a sparkling material that reflected Bar Enoch’s antique lighting in a dizzying manner.

Unlike most vampires with dark hair, she had an atypically bright lemon-blonde color, and though dressed like a flapper, her hair had deep waves that reached down to her waist, making the entire curtained area sparkle.

With a cigarette holder between her lips, she looked at the unexpected visitor, took the bartender’s gloved hand, pretended to kiss the back of it, and let go. The scent of expensive perfume stung his nostrils.

“What’s this, Nadia? You’re bringing me a man. And one who smells quite appetizing at that. His blood is rich. Probably twice as potent as others.”

When hearing such typical vampire remarks, the detective clenched his molars. He reminded himself that they weren’t implying they knew something, but simply that they could sense twice the vitality.

He was only reminding himself internally, but at that moment, the vampire’s attitude changed. What was about to be a mischievous joke turned into interest, and she grinned.

“Still, you’re an interesting man. Though dressed like a gentleman, your body says otherwise. You’re a fighter. A fighter at Bar Enoch would be either a mercenary or a detective, but you have too much dignity to be a mercenary.”

Looking down at the chatty vampire who had started deducing, the detective smirked. Being polite wouldn’t help with someone like her. Such people needed to be entertained to work with.

“Detectives aren’t dignified people either. Not much different from mercenaries.”

The woman took a puff from her cigarette holder and blew the smoke toward the detective. Since she didn’t put much force into her breath, the smoke didn’t reach his face. She giggled, showing her snow-white teeth.

“Seeing how you don’t love your job, you must be a detective. So you’re looking for an informant? Come in and sit down. You don’t need to pay much. Just give me what you gave Nadia.”

She definitely had good intuition. Her personality was bright, typical of vampires, and even if he couldn’t buy information, she seemed like someone with extensive connections.

So the detective willingly entered and sat across from her at the table. He spoke to the bartender, whose expression had become slightly uncomfortable after what the informant had said.

“A glass of Saint’s Blood, and the other glass with Old Empire’s Elixir.”

Despite her inexplicable discomfort, she would never abandon her duties as a bartender. The bartender left, closing the curtain behind her, and the blonde vampire across from him began chattering incessantly.

“Nadia can be quite meddlesome. Oh, and if you’re a detective, may I see your business card first?”

The detective had no intention of refusing. After all, whether informants or detectives, they were people who sold trust, so expecting trust in return was natural.

As he thought this, the vampire looked at him. After a deliberate pause of about two seconds, she spoke playfully.

“Detectives work with their bodies, and we work with our mouths, but either way, we’re both selling credibility. When buying credibility, it’s best to exchange it for credibility rather than money.”

A woman with quite compatible thinking. Having such a compatible informant would be good. One of the reasons he kept buying information from that incompetent kobold was certainly their long relationship.

The detective took out a business card for Husband Detective Agency from his wallet and slid it across the table. Once again, there was a knocking sound from outside the curtain, and a bottle of Saint’s Blood and a bottle of Orcs’ Elixir were placed on the table with glasses. The detective naturally picked up the Saint’s Blood bottle, and the vampire picked up the vodka bottle, pouring for each other.

She seemed to have no intention of stopping talking even while holding her glass. The chattering sound had a vampire’s characteristically ominous yet comforting feeling, so it wasn’t unpleasant to hear.

“The quality of the card is good, but I wonder why I haven’t seen it before. Or are you so skilled that I couldn’t even notice? Ah, no need to feel pressured. I pretend to be a great informant, but I make quite a few mistakes like any amateur. Anyway, Mr. Husband, what information do you need? I’d be happy if something big drops a nice bonus my way.”

Though she seemed to be chattering, her voice was somewhat low, which made it pleasant to listen to. Whatever it was that appealed to her, an informant who liked him could be useful.

The informant paused again for about two or three seconds before continuing. She was a woman who couldn’t stop talking even after asking for a response. The content of her words was… strange too.

“Besides, even for a detective running a private agency, it’s not often that someone with proper credentials comes looking for information like this. Plus, you smell good. You know vampires can smell vitality and health, right? I agreed to work willingly because you have a vitality scent that others don’t. Yes! No need to be suspicious!”

Was she just talkative, or was she responding to something he’d thought? It was just an idle thought. Finally, the informant stopped talking.

“It’s nothing related to work. I’ll pay the standard rate. What I’d like you to look into is…”

How much should he say? Talking about the warlock-soldier didn’t seem like a good choice. An informant would surely look into the detective himself first, so he couldn’t leave any strange loose ends.

The woman was still looking at him with bright, interested eyes. It didn’t seem quite normal for her to act this way when he hadn’t properly spoken yet, but perhaps this was just how she was.

He decided to be more cautious. She was in Bar Enoch and seemed to be a good match as an informant, but there was something unsettling about her.

“No, first I need to know what kind of information you specialize in. I already have two informants who work the slums, and I have police collaborators. They’re quite capable, so I don’t necessarily need a new operator in those areas.”

“Me? I’m… what’s that neighborhood where the dwarves live? I go there every day but can’t remember the name. Ah, Littlehold? I’ve been in charge of that area since the previous informant died. I also have connections with the mafia, so I can find rumors circulating in the back alleys. Oh, and as you can see, I’m not a woman with limited connections, so I can find more information elsewhere too.”

If she took over the territory after Littlehold’s informant died but couldn’t even remember the street name properly, was she perhaps among the illegal immigrants who arrived afterward? The detective thought without batting an eye.

If so, she wouldn’t be of much use. He needed to know about Littlehold before death magic swept through. No, wait. She might have blended in with the influx of people who poured into Littlehold afterward.

The informant fiddled with the noise-suppressing magic curtain and then leaned toward the detective. She whispered as if not wanting to lose a good client.

“Have you heard rumors that the light of rituals has been frequently seen in Littlehold lately? I could find out which building. Ritualists generally make many enemies. Someone might hire a detective for a job related to a ritualist, or… you might have a personal grudge. I can’t read minds, you know. Still, it’s valuable information, right?”

Had he found the right person? He liked her bold attitude in whispering ominous talk about ritualists, but… Yes, he decided to trust her for now.

The detective continued to look at the informant with a dry expression. A face constantly grinning is as hard to read as an expressionless one. To read it, you need to know when that person smiles.

“It doesn’t seem that useful, but… yes, it might be needed sometime. Clients are willing to pay double when ritualists are involved.”

I could do it without taking a penny if it involves ritualists. The detective swallowed his words. The informant continued.

“Really? Then I’ll give you something first, consider it an advance. I think we’ll be working together for a long time. Oh, I’m so glad I came to Enoch today. I originally came to see my father, but even without him, I met such a good client. Ha, I really am lucky.”

The informant stretched with a light-hearted expression. She poured more vodka into the detective’s empty glass, filling it almost to the brim. The detective didn’t refuse.

She looked at the detective who had downed the entire large glass and opened her eyes a bit wider. Realizing his tolerance was different from normal humans, she grinned.

“My eyes are never wrong. Your vitality is on a different level from others. What’s your secret? Have you been eating white deer meat? Ah, you won’t tell me anyway, right? Then, when do you smile? No matter how good a deal I offer or how nice things I say, you don’t seem to smile at all. I’m not an informant for nothing—I like knowing things. Tell me.”

If it had been deer’s blood that made him this way, he would have been glad. It was definitely not a deer. The detective remained silent, and the vampire could at least read his quietness.

Fortunately, she didn’t press further. If she had, this comfortable and fortunate atmosphere would have naturally collapsed. The vampire once again removed the cigarette holder from her mouth and exhaled smoke. It was like a sigh.

“It seems you won’t answer anyway. I wanted to know. Oh, I’m always smiling, you know. The world is full of joyful things, isn’t it? Living isn’t difficult. Making big money is easy too. When I look in the mirror, I see only joy, so I overflow with smiles. You seem like that kind of person too, so I was curious why you don’t smile.”

She’s like the Golden Age. Disgusting. Only the outer shell glitters like gold. This time, the detective also hid his intentions with a smile. The vampire informant seemed even more curious.